Editor's Note: Warning: disturbing, more than anything. --The Van Gogh-Goghs
It was the nose. Sure, I can't say the firm, round body wasn't an
attraction. And yes, I would be lying if I said orange skin didn't rev
my rockets. But it was the nose, that long, luscious, pronged
proboscis, that I would see seared across my vision as I woke up,
sweaty and hot...fast-fading half-remembered dreams of all the ways he
would use that nose on me...
There was plenty of material for fantasy. I saw him in office nearly
every day. I was a lowly temp. He was working on the script for his new
video game, "Q*Bert 2: Analog Boogaloo," which I'm told was a
masterpiece, a grand vision writ large in CMOS chips and assembly
language, something that would surely popularize the study of
pre-industrial coal societies in the same way that the original Q*Bert
game fueled new research into three dimensional geometry. In a word:
pure genius. In another: sex pot.
I'd always been wary of approaching the master at work, but when he was
nearby my eyes never left those slender legs, that ripe belly, that
long hunk of man-meat on his face.
And so, when I was in the elevator and I heard a voice cry out, "hold
please!" I felt a little electric jolt of joy when I saw him -- him,
him, him!!! -- jog in past the doors.
He was huffing and puffing -- out of shape from summering in Europe,
I'd heard. So I decided to seize the conversational opportunity.
"I bet you could have stopped the elevator door from closing with just
your nose," I joked. And then I laughed at myself. I'm an idiot. Why
would I say something like that?
But he laughed back. "Yep."
"Yessss..." I used my sexy voice.
"Uh, yep. A nose this big is pretty useful."
I began to suck on a finger in a sexy, sexy way. (I tasted Doritos.)
"For a lot of things, I bet."
"Mmmmm hhmmmm." He stared up at the numbers above the door.
"Lots and lots of things." And then I winked, but since he wasn't
really looking my direction, I decided to kick him in the shin
simultaneously. "Ouch, fuck!" He screamed out.
"I never thought you'd ask!" I cried out, stripping my clothes with one
hand and pressing the elevator stop button with the other.
He struggled to get away, but having played his game endlessly, I knew
all of his movement patterns. There was no way for him to escape my
hungry grasp. Firmly sitting upon his terrified face, and during the
next four minutes I experienced a greater joy than any simple boy such
as I deserve.
The next four months, after I was fired for assault and sexual battery,
were filled with court appearances and appointments with a shrink. I
only saw him occasionally, rushing to or sitting in court behind his
bodyguards. I'll always have my memory of our forbidden love. But
especially precious to me is my videotapes of him on the stand as I
cross-examined him, shouting "liar!" each time he denied harboring a
secret love for me. You could tell from the way he recoiled in horror
that he was hiding something. At the very least, I knew.
Since I've been fired, I've spent my time reprogramming the Q*Bert
coin-operated game in the garage. Sure, it's no "Leisure Suit Larry."
But let me say, the new "hot tub" level I added is really fucking hot.
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