Sweating bullets, Jon saw that he had to perform a one-eighty around a guy giving another guy head in order to reach the safety zone that was the kitchen. However, when he came out of the one eighty, instead of stepping into the kitchen, he crashed into the well endowed and exceptionally plastered girlfriend of his boss, Erica.
"Excuse me," muttered Jon, who was turning red as he knelt down to pick up the groceries.
Erica drunkenly wrapped her tail around Jon's face and stroked his cheek, before taking a seat on a nearby end table. Clearing his throat, it took Jon quite a few minutes to re-bag the groceries as every time he reached for an item, Erica's tail would worm its way under his clothing to caress his body, while at the same time she would innocently rearrange her dress this way and that.
By the time he got everything re-bagged, Jon was positively beaming with embarrassment as Erica was busy caressing her breasts in front of him.
"Ummm…I'm sorry for bumping into you like that."
"That's okay sugar," purred Erica as she finger-stirred her drink. Pulling it out, she slowly sucked it dry and said, "I didn't mind that you felt me up."
Tugging at his collar, he stammered, "I…I wasn't trying to…umm…feel you up." before stepping into the kitchen with his groceries.
Erica sighed lightly for a moment, then stepped into the kitchen and sat down on the counter. While she was watching Jon create another food tray, she began fantasizing about what it would be like to fuck her brains out using him instead of her current boy toy, who wasn't that much of a toy anymore. A few minutes later she pinched her thigh to stop herself from climaxing.
'Holy shit that was close! I think it's time to use this boy the way God has intended him to be used.'
She hopped down from the counter and ambled over to the fridge, where she promptly took out a bottle of rum and a bottle of cola, grabbed a couple of plastic glasses from the counter and made a couple of rum and cokes. For him, she added a couple of drops of GBH, and with hers, a half nickel bag of cocaine. Mixing them thoroughly, she whistled to get his attention.
When he looked up, she offered him the drink and said, "Thirsty?"
"I think not."
"Come on. I've been watching you all night. You've been working like a border collie. You need to relax for a spell and enjoy the fruits of your labor."
Jon was hesitant to drink anything that he didn't touch first. Last time he did, he got so hammered that it cost him almost five thousand to make a few certain people not perform home surgery on him.
"It's one of your faves, rum and coke. C'mon, it'll do you good," she purred.
Jon pursed his lips and furrowed his brow for several seconds. Inhaling sharply, he took the drink and said, "Because it's from you, I accept."
Jon spent the next twenty minutes working on the food tray and sipping his drink. By the time had finished both, he was looking green, feeling lightheaded and on the verge of going nighty night right there in the kitchen. Erica down the rest of hers in one swallow and hopped down from the counter. Fixing her micro dress, she walked over and caught Jon just before he collapsed. Calling over a couple of beefy partygoers, she had them carry Jon to his bedroom.
After they dropped him on the bed, Erica reached under her dress and pulled out a couple of fifties. Paying them off, she quickly shoed them out of the bedroom and locked the door. Untying her shoulder straps, she said very quietly, "School is now in session."
The steady rain that had been falling for much of the day turned into a deluge by the time Bradley had pulled into the funeral home parking lot. Maneuvering the car to a space at the far end of the lot, the first thing that he saw was the parking lot itself was almost filled to capacity.
"Shit. Look at all these cars. You think that someone important had died."
"Well, in their minds, this person was just that important," said his driver.
Bradley raised an eyebrow at that comment. In his world, his person was just another disposable part. If one died or went to jail, another was ready to step up and take their place.
Taking out a mini-cigar, he leaned over for a light from his driver. Taking a hard drag, he held the vodka soaked Connecticut tobacco in until he became lightheaded. Opening the door, he blew out the smoke, and when he'd finished, the second thing that he saw was the long line of people waiting to pay their respects.
Sighing, he checked his appearance one last time while waiting for his driving to come around with the umbrella. Stepping out, he took one last drag and dropped it to the ground.
Casually strolling to the front entrance, Bradley could feel the multitude of eyes burning a hole through his skin. By the time he had gotten there, he saw nothing but black hatred and bitter contempt in everyone's faces.
Taken aback, Bradley nevertheless turned to the angry crowd and said, "I am here to pay my respects, so I don't have time to waste with any of your fuckin' bullshit. If you got a problem with me, that's fine. I'll be more than happy to deal with you at another time and at another place. In the meantime, go fuck yourselves."
(c) 2013 by G.B. Miller. All rights reserved.