Cuts of My Life (The Chronicles of Enhanced Males Book 2)

by Doc King

  - I don’t like men who say they’d call, and then they just don’t.

  - The circumstances were different.

  - What kind of circumstances?

  I should just say: I didn’t know you were a fucking psycho back them. But you should never tell crazy people they’re crazy.

  - I’m simply in a bad place right now. What happened between us was really wonderful, but it would never work in the long run.

  - How do you know if you haven’t tried?

  - Believe me, my life’s in ruins. I destroy everything I touch. I can’t drag anybody along.

  - Great. I’m often destructive myself. We’d be a great couple. Can’t you see?

  - Alice... Really... I’d like you to stop calling me. Ok?

  - You fucking asshole, I’ll call you whenever I like. Until you…

  I hang up.

  What a fucking mentalcase. By the end of my working hours, the phone has rung sixteen times. How could I’ve been so stupid, why did I give her my number? But I never do that with one night stands. I don’t get it. The psycho must have been snooping through my phone while I was asleep at her place.

  Alice continues calling me tomorrow and the day after that. Apart from that, things are coming along rather well. I don’t want to let Bryan’s actions piss me off. It is what it is. For some reason, they prefer him over me, but what’s important is that the team works and that ideas for improvement are coming from all directions.

  Friday morning, I meet with Angela so I could inform her about my progress. She’s still being formal and pouty, but she’ll come around. I’m not going to push it. After that, I go out for a cup of coffee with Greg. Last night he had another mishap with Kiara. Once again, I’m trying to talk him into contacting the therapist. He promises that he will, with a warm handshake.

  I round up my team at ten thirty and we get rolling right away. Around a quarter to twelve, Bryan storms into the office. Behind him, Laura is shrugging her shoulders. It’s ok, I nod at her.

  - I’d like to ask all junior associates to leave me alone with Mr. Davison – Bryan says in a penetrating and commanding voice.

  My team members are giving me puzzled looks. It’s ok, I nod at them, too. They bow their heads and walk towards the door in silence. At the door, Liu and Rob look at me once more, with penitent expressions on their faces. It’s ok, I nod once again.

  Bryan is looking at me the whole time. Bryan, with a look that would pierce a bulletproof vest. When the last one of my associates goes out, he does something utterly unexpected. He bursts out into laughter.

  - Man, are they obedient.

  I still don’t understand a thing. I look at him in silence. He gets a bit more serious, pulls up a chair and sits across from me.

  - So, Mark, how’s it going? – he’s still being cordial.

  - Oh, ok. – I muster.

  - Listen, I’m sorry you misinterpreted everything. I’m not here because I want to harm you in any way.

  I’m silent.

  - They asked me to come here so I could identify the cracks in the ship, so to speak, and help patch them up. And not just that, but also to fortify the ship and make sure it can sail safely.

  - I didn’t know you had such literary aspirations.

  He laughs.

  - I identified your project. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve done an excellent job designing it, but it’s not ideal. There were better candidates for revision, but their project would not bring as much benefit as yours. The Kolba project would soon get shaky, and once things start going downhill, it takes a lot of time to restore the balance. And it also costs money.

  - How do you know it would get shaky?

  - Thanks to the accurate parameters I have developed over the years. They enable me to make predictions that are 93.7% accurate. That’s why companies hire me.

  - And what do these parameters say about my project?

  - It’s complicated. – he stops smiling. – That’s not why I’m here.

  - No?

  - I was glad to see that the project is yours…

  - Now that I believe. – I continue shooting arrows of sarcasm at him.

  - Listen. I wanted us to work on that project… Together. We would’ve been a great team. But the board said it was out of the question. My insisting on it didn’t help at all. In the end, I had no choice but to take over the project.

  - And when you failed to do so, that didn’t stop you from stealing my best men. Yeah, it’s really obvious you wanted me to be involved in everything.

  - There, Mark, now that’s your problem. Always has been. That nature of yours and your paranoia. You’re always searching for conflicts, even when there aren’t any.

  - You have been trying to destroy my life for years, you fucking bastard.

  - Destroy your life? I was the only one who was there for you the whole time, even with all the messed up things you did.

  - You were the one who did those messed up things!

  - I think you tend to misinterpret everything, Mark. People abandoned and avoided you because of your actions, not mine. I was your only true friend.

  - Get out, you prick!

  I get up with my hands fisted. I’m ready to tear him to shreds. Fucking manipulator. And he just smiles nonchalantly and gets up. At the door, he turns to me once more.

  - I feel sorry for you, Mark. I really do.

  - Get out... – I hiss.

  Laura is at the door, with a terrified expression on her face. Bryan gives her a charming smile and slides down the hall.

  - Mark... Are you all right?

  - I am, Laura. Thank you. Could you leave me alone now, please?

  She stands there for another moment, and then disappears behind the door, looking equally concerned.

  I can’t breathe. My breath has shortened to half a second. My heart is pounding like crazy. I need a bag. A fucking paper bag. I find one in a drawer, God knows how long it’s been there, and I spill the chocolate candy from inside onto the table. I breath in from the bag. And exhale into it.

  After a few minutes, my pulse is back to normal. I collapse into my armchair, feeling weak and completely lost.

  ***

  I stay at home over the weekend. I don’t go anywhere. I don’t answer my phone. To be honest, the only person who calls me is Alice. Forty missed calls. I decide to watch movies, eat healthy food, and work PE exercises. Although I should take a two-day break after every five days of exercising, I still decide to do the exercises during the weekend. And not just that, I double the sessions.

  I can tell that the therapy is helping, because on Monday, I arrive at work feeling fresh and rested. I do my best to avoid Bryan at all costs. It seems that he’s lying low. I take advantage of the current situation and focus all my strength and attention on the project. The team is moving full steam ahead, and I’m happy about it.

  I take a break just after noon. I’ve got to take a leak. However, the cleaning lady, Rosa, is standing at the door, all worked up, blabbering in Spanish. The few words she says in English let me know that’s not going to happen. She’s just started cleaning, and doesn’t want to let me pee. Unfortunately enough, my bladder is just about to burst.

  - Why now, Rosa? During the working hours?

  - Later. You come later.

  The ladies’ room is Rosa-free. I hope no one will see me. I take a peek inside. It’s empty. I go into one of the stalls, lock the door, and pee with a sigh of relief. I’m not even done yet when I hear the sound of the door opening and two women talking. I climb up onto the toilet, so they don’t see my shoes.

  One of the voices belongs to Cathy Lutz. The other one just gives short responses, which makes it hard for me to recognize her.

  - That’s what I’m talking about. I knew there was something. – Cathy giggles.

  - Unbelievable.

  - Oh, yeah. I suspected he must be gay, since he never went out on a date with any of the girls from the company. He’s immune to women. I he
ard that Theresa and Anna Channing… oh, you know Anna, from the third floor… The one with big tits, yeah. They were, like, openly flirting with him. And nothing. The guy just blows them off.

  - Mhm.

  - It all makes sense now. He’s got a teeny weeny wiener in his pants. Poor thing.

  They giggle.

  - I think this new hottie went to college with him. I heard him talking to Matt… Oh, the slimy one. Yeah. They were talking last week, but so that everyone could hear them. It was really lame. He supposedly had the chance to see his dick and the guy was really frustrated about it.

  - I don’t know. I think Mark’s cute. I don’t really mind that his dick is small. – says the unidentified female.

  Fuck, they’re talking about me. My breath and my pulse are racing again. I break out in a cold sweat. My hands are sliding down the stall walls. I’m trying not to slip from the toilet and make my presence known. That fucker Bryan.

  - Trust me, you would mind. Small dick becomes really annoying really fast. Steer clear of those.

  They giggle and get out of the ladies’ room.

  I stay inside the stall for a bit longer. A few moments later I peek above the door. There’s no one inside. I slowly get out and tiptoe out of there. Rosa is still cleaning the men’s room, her back to me. I somehow get to my office. A thousand thoughts are chasing through my mind. What should I do? Should I go see Bryan and confront him directly? No. That’s not how you resolve problems with him. I need to be patient and take it slow with him. Come up with a detailed strategy.

  But the problem of this gossip about my penis that is spreading like wildfire cannot be solved with patience and waiting. I have to think of something right away.

  I can think of only one thing. The one that will make me break the principle I’ve been sticking to ever since I’ve started working at ThinkBean.

  I walk out of the office and start buzzing aimlessly through the halls. I go upstairs. I see Christine from accounting standing in front of the vending machine. Cute, sort of short, chubby, light brown curly hair. She’s worked up because she didn’t get the candy bar she wanted. She’s wearing a knitted dress that reveals all her attributes. Just what the doctor ordered.

  - Hey, Christine. What’s bugging you?

  - Hey, Mark. This stupid machine. First, it didn’t respond, and then it spews out this peanut bar I’m allergic to.

  - Wait, let me try. Is this the one you want?

  - Aha.

  I insert a coin and push the button. Nothing happens. I shake the machine a bit and out comes flying the candy bar.

  - Here you go.

  - Thanks, Mark. You’re a true knight in shiny armor.

  - Yeah, all I need is a white horse.

  We both laugh.

  - Hey, Christine. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while.

  - Yes? – her eyes grow wide with expectation.

  - Would you like to go out for a drink with me sometime? Tonight perhaps? I haven’t got any plans, so if you’re up for it…

  - Gladly, Mark, but… I have to be somewhere.

  - Well, ok, maybe some other time then…

  - You know, you could come with me. I volunteer at an organization that helps the elderly, socially disadvantaged, and the like. We’re organizing a charity tonight. What do you say?

  I despise activism, but I can’t tell her that. Besides, I just said I’ve got no plans for tonight. Plus, I can see through her dress that her nipples got hard.

  - Why not. I’ve always wondered how that works.

  - Great. And afterwards, I’m taking you out for a beer.

  ***

  Christine and I spend the evening at a soup kitchen in Brooklyn, giving out food to people who haven’t been given much in life. We finish around ten past eight and walk to the pub in silence.

  - You’re really quiet, aren’t you?

  - Hm? Oh, yeah. – I smile – This is both sad and uplifting at the same time.

  - It is, isn’t it? It doesn’t take much to make people happy. Nor to make yourself feel better.

  - Exactly.

  At the pub we talk casually and laugh a lot. Christine is pretty cool and has a likeable sense of humor. I start wondering if it’s ok to proceed with my plan. I’ve heard that she doesn’t know how to keep a secret and that she can’t resist gossiping. Once she sees how big my dick really is, tomorrow, everyone at ThinkBean will know as well. And that’s my goal. But Christine seems to be a great girl. It doesn’t feel right, taking advantage of her.

  However, one beer after another, we soon lose our inhibitions.

  - Would you like to come up? – she asks me when we get to her building.

  This is the moment when I’m supposed to say no. But I want to get laid tonight, and the sight of her body and gigantic breasts just make me want it even more. I offer her my hand to take me up.

  She’s a bit clumsy in bed. She sways and she sighs, lets me have her in any position, but it’s all rather gawky. Her pussy is small and tight, so she often gives a painful moan when I get a bit carried away. But the way she looks at my cock is priceless. She touches it with her tiny fingers, wraps both hands around it, moves them as if she was polishing it. She blows it only halfway down. She even chokes twice. She cums in a few short flinches, and I cum right after her, all over her tits and neck.

  I’m going back home shortly after midnight. Proud of myself and the way everything turned out. Marketing in the nutshell. All that’s left is for Christine to do her part. I’m just wondering what I’ll do with her. I think it will be easy to keep her on standby and available for some casual sex. Just as long as she doesn’t fall in love.

  My street is empty and dark, illuminated by the whitish street lights. I make a turn towards my house. As I walk along the driveway, I search my pockets for the keys. At the door, I realize I won’t be needing them. It’s open halfway. A shiver goes down my spine. Someone broke in.

  At moments like this, actors in thrillers or horror movies usually walk in, without dialing 911. And we, who are sitting in the audience think to ourselves, what an idiot, of course you’ll call for help first and stay out.

  But now I’m precisely that idiot who slowly walks into the house. The hall lit with the bright lights coming from the living room. The TV is on, but the sound is off. I peek inside. There’s no one there. I tiptoe to the pantry where, like every responsible citizen of the US and a baseball fan, I keep my bat.

  There’s some noise coming from upstairs and I see faint yellowish light. I carefully go up the stairs, keeping my bat in front of me. To my left, I see yellowish light coming from the bathroom, with the door left ajar. I can hear water running. I push the door carefully with one hand, and squeeze the bat tight with the other. My heart is pounding like it’s going to burst any second. The water is flowing into the tub, but the shower curtain is blocking my view. I quickly move it to the side, but no one’s there.

  I’m so stupid. Again, like in a movie. Someone must be creeping up to me from the dark bedroom behind me, which was supposed to be the place I check first. My skin is crawling again and I turn around swiftly, ready for an attack. But there’s only darkness in front of me. No monster or serial killer.

  I tiptoe to the bedroom door. I open it silently and hit the switch on the wall. The windows are wide open, but there’s no one inside. I close the windows and when I turn around, I’m scared out of my wits. On the wall above the bed, there is writing in blood red: Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t.

  It’s freshly written, since the paint is still dripping and glistening. I shake with the sudden rush of adrenalin as I go downstairs. I turn on all the lights and check every corner of the house one more time. There’s no one.

  Who could’ve done that? Bryan? Possibly. He’s crazy enough for something like that. The fear and anxiety are suddenly replaced by anger. I could bash the motherfucker’s head open. I’m not calling the police. I’ll deal with him myself tomorrow.

  Tonight, I
don’t want to sleep in my bedroom upstairs, but I sit on the couch and decide that’s where I’ll spend the night. At some point, bright lights pointed straight to the room wake me up. They’re flickering, as if they’re getting fainter and then brighter. I realize it’s a car, flashing at my living room window.

  I run out, and the car backs up, with tires squealing, and goes full speed down the street. I’ve just woken up and I can’t see what car it is. I just figure out it’s some kind of budget hatchback. I can’t remember if Bryan owns one of those.

  I go back into the house. I don’t sleep a wink until the morning.

  Tomorrow, the first thing I do is go after Bryan.

  - You son of a bitch! – I catch him in his office.

  - Take it easy, Mark! What’s going on?

  - Breaking into my house like that!

  - Wow, wow. What the fuck are you talking about? A break-in?

  - You know damn well what I’m talking about.

  - No, Mark, I don’t.

  - Cut the crap. I know it was you. I know.

  - How could you possibly know that?

  I’m silent.

  - Of course, Mark. You know nothing. As usual, you’re basing everything on assumptions and conspiracy theories.

  - I’ll prove it, you fucking asshole. It was you.

  - You can try. But, until then, be careful about making accusations. They could come flying back like a boomerang.