The Business of Valentines Day

“Whaddya mean you don’t have any! Roses are the biggest money making pieces that…yes I know what today is! Why the fuck do you think I’m calling you for? Listen, fuck it, what do you have left?....fine, fine, I’ll take a hundred bucks of that then and I’ll pick it up in half an hour…yeah, screw you too, asshole,” Dean slammed the phone back down into its cradle that sat on his desk. He put his hands to his face, pushed his chair back and leaned towards the desk, resting his elbows on the desk and mumbled through his palms, “I hate this fucking day, you know that? I really hate it.”

I smiled. It was four in the afternoon on February fourteenth, Valentines Day. The significance of the day had been lost on my boss until he was at lunch and one of his buddies had shown him the diamond necklace he had gotten for his wife. So instead of going over the sales projections this afternoon with me as we had scheduled, he spent the first two hours attempting and failing to get reservations at any resturant in town and then the last hour phoning florists.

“You do know what ‘baby’s breath’ is, right?” I asked.

Dean spread his fingers apart so I could see the blood shot and tired eyes that the afternoon’s exertions had brought. “Why? If it’s something that’s not going to get my nuts cut off, what do I care?”

I stood up and coming around to his side. I typed in the search bar and pressed enter. Dean had been married for eighteen years, I had been working for him for twelve. In those years he had never forgotten a birthday, anniversary or Valentines Day; mainly because he had one hell of a personal assistant that made sure he was always covered. She had retired in early December and Dean was forced to hire someone new to fill her shoes. Unfortunately, that person was you, and you didn’t think that the president of a company needed a babysitter so as a result Dean had already spent most of Christmas Eve shopping and now….yeah he was fucked. Dean hired you because of your exceptional abilities, but I had to keep on telling him that having a personality should have been on his list, but he wouldn’t fire you even though I knew that you didn’t take the job to be his personal assistant; you took it so you get my job – vice president. In the short time you had been with the company, you had never missed an opportunity to tell Dean your qualifications and why they were superior to mine. You even had gone out of your way, in small unnoticeable ways to everyone but me, to sabotage some of the projects I was working on, not enough to make the company lose any money, but enough that you could whisper and plant the seeds of doubt in Dean’s head. You would have probably have it too if you hadn’t already shown that you were a femi-nazi and weren’t going to play to Dean’s ego but earn it on merit. Fortunately I understood that if a person wanted to earn the big bucks, it still meant you’d have to unclog a toilet or two.

“Ah, there we go,” I said as a picture of ‘baby’s breath’ popped up on the screen.

Dean’s hands dropped from his face which turned white. He looked at image flickering on the monitor and groaned, “I just bought a hundred smackers of fucking weeds? Belinda’s going to fucking kill me.” His forehead hit the desk…hard.

I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, this wouldn’t be the case if you didn’t have such a cunt for a P.A.”

Dean’s eye opened and looked up at me, “I just don’t understand why you don’t liker her. You’re single, she’s single. You’re a big prick and if she’s what you say she is, I would have thought it’d be natural for you two to get together.”

“I still say she has an adam’s apple,” I retorted. I had never told Dean that you and I had several heart to black heart talks and you had made your intentions clear: by May you expected to see me pushing a shopping cart down the street from where you sat – what used to be my office.

“Besides,” I added after checking my watch, “She may just be leaving the company in…about two minutes.”

Dean groaned, “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” I said, “And I’m hurt that you would thing such of me. I am just providing a token of appreciation for every thing she’s done around here on this fine special day.”

“Oh fuck,” was Dean’s only comment.

“Want some coffee?” I asked.

“Put some stricknine in it, will ya?” Dean answered, “It might be less painful that tonight’s going to be.”

As I walked to the door I replied, “Oh, I think something will come up that will make your day a little brighter.” I walked past your desk that was right outside Dean’s office, grabbed two coffee’s and headed back in, not bothering to close the door behind me. When Dean’s door was open, your desk and the side profile of you busyily typing was in plain view. I set the coffee’s down and moved my chair beside Dean’s, who responded by giving me a ‘what the fuck are you doing” expression and spread so figure sheets out across the desk in front of us. I sat down and looked at my watch; one minute to go – hopefully.

My fears were unfounded when there was the jingle of the door and the sounds of footsteps up to our second floor office. I could see who it was: the man had to be in his seventies, longish gray hair that hadn’t seen a comb for weeks, a long mustache and beard with the leftovers of the afternoon’s meal dangling from some of the whiskers. His long coat was dishevelled and dirty, too large to fit correctly on his slight frame and it went down to his ankles. He wore a set of well worn hiking boots on his feet. He walked straight to your desk. He coughed to catch your attention. You looked up from your monitor and frowned but still said with a syrupy voice, “Yes, can I help you?”

I reached to the office stereo system and pushed the ‘play CD’ option. A hard, sexy beat pulsed out as I turned up the volume and washed the office with the Nine Inch Nails song, “Fuck you like an Animal”. Your jaw dropped as the man began to sway like a marionette with its strings crossed and knotted. Dean looked at me as I leaned back and shook his head, but like when you’re driving past a horrible accident, his eyes went back to the old man’s epileptic inspired dance prowess.

The old man leaned towards your desk, licked his cracked lips. He twirled unevenly around and then one by one, the buttons on his long jacket were undone. He shimmied his shoulders and his jacket began to slip from his shoulders to the floor to reveal a very bony and pail chest with flaccid skin hanging loosely and slapping against his sides. The man wore no pants, just a pair of “Depends”. I heard you gag as he began to gyrate his hips, his bones and joints snapping and popping trying to snap apart as the loose flab jiggled around. The man blew you a kiss and as his hands shakily went to the sides of his “Depends” both you and Dean let out a “Oh…my…god…don’t” but he did.

The “Depends” flew off and in time with the beat, the man started doing pelvic thrusts while lifting the loose flesh of his breasts as if he was feeling himself up. The worn leather look of his scrotum drummed harshly against the mid region of his legs where it hung, and his shriveled, and crusted dick, though not very big, made a satisfying slap sound as it bounced off and on the top of his sack to the song’s rhythm. You didn’t move, you sat there immobile, even as the old man turned around and bent over, spreading his wrinkled and fallen ass cheeks at you.

The song ended. The old man, panting, came up to you and kissed you on your hands, which seemed to be trying to become part of the desk in front of you. “Happy…Valentines…Day..baby,” he hacked out, then added, “Could…you…give…me…a…dollar?”

“Just a moment, sir,” you said. You got up and retrieved the man’s jacket, helped him put it back on, with a pencil you handed the “Depends” back and then you’re eyes looked straight towards me, your nostrils flared and a snarl emblazoned on your lips. You came and bent down to my ear and whispered.

“You are a fucking dead man.”

“Moi?” I said shocked, and looked at Dean, “I do believe she’s not happy that I tried to play match maker...” I gave a sniff and wiped away a non-existent tear, “…I’m just trying to bring some joy to her life.”

“Prick!”

“Cunt!”

Dean’s face turned red. “That’s enough! Both of you are acting like a couple of vultures after a dead mouse!” We both stared at Dean.

“I don’t think that vultures feast on….” I started to say but Dean cut me off.

“That’s not the point!” He huffed and glared at us. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “This is what’s going to happen. I am going to leave and take my darling wife her bouquet of…” he sighed, “baby’s breath. You two aren’t leaving this office until your little bitch slapping contest is resolved and then tomorrow morning we’re going to be one big fucking happy family, got it.?”

I looked at you, you looked at me.

“I’m taking your silence as an agreement,” Dean said through gritted teeth as he straightened his tie. Without another word he walked into the reception area and down the stairs to the door, with the actual intention of leaving us in an empty office…alone…with letter openers and staplers within easy reach. The old man still stood there. I took him by the elbow and whispered in his ear and he left, giving you a shy wave as he did. We heard the door close and we looked at each other.

“Well,” you asked snidely, “What now?”

I took out a deck of cards and grabbed a bottle of rye from Dean’s stock in the cabinet underneath the water cooler and gave you a wink, “Wanna play poker?” An hour went by quickly. You were pretty cocky – I was down three hundred bucks and had to open another bottle of rye. You looked at me as I poured us a couple more drinks.

“See this game is representative of your entire problem,” you announced.

“How’s that?”

“You play it safe and lose, or if you do win, the pot’s so small it doesn’t matter,” you explained. “I take risks and win the big ones.”

“It’s just a few bucks, nothing that really matters,” I said indignantly

You gave a snort and said, “So let’s make it matter.” You narrowed your eyes and gave a half smile. “Whoever loses the hand, loses some clothes.”

I looked at you and said, “Strip poker?”

“I didn’t think you’d have the balls for it.”

“I’d say you don’t either,” I snapped back, “but the way you strut around here, I’m not sure that you don’t.”

“I’m more woman than you can handle.”

From what I had seen, I had to say that was hard to believe that you were a woman at a1l, but I sat down and growled, “Deal.”

Three more ryes and five hands later you had lost your shoes, socks and blouse. I suppose I could have told you that the cards were marked, but then again, I was staring at two potential reasons not to. I’m not sure how that happened, to tell you the truth, but since you were a terrible poker player, I was starting to appreciate some of the assets that you brought to the office that I hadn’t noticed before. I don’t know why you didn’t wear more form fitting clothes, the rounds of your petit breasts looked like a milky white treat, and though the scowl said other wise, or it may have been just colder in the office than I could feel, your nipples where hard and stretched the fabric of the bra, were telling me that you wished for less confining clothes as well. I almost forgot to look at what cards you had.

“Shit!” you cursed as I showed my hand and unsnapped your bra. I didn’t bat an eyelash; I had my poker face on. Obviously you were looking for a reaction because you looked at me for a moment, stood up and said, “Fuck it.” You stood up and took off your pants and stood there with your white granny panties.

My poker face must not have been as good as I thought. Your cheeks went slightly red and you nervously pushed your hair over your ears with your hands. It was either you suddenly became shy or something close to your toes must have caught your interest. But it was only for a moment, then the bitch was back and you snarled, “Happy now? Mr. Big man sees some tit?”

Your breasts, once released from their fabric prison were even more tantalizing. The puffed nubs of each were the apex of the large areole I had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. Your breasts firmness countered your age, there wasn’t nary a hint of a sag in either. I wondered if that was because of your lifestyle or a mirror of your personality. My cock hardened as I looked at you, something, from the quick look you gave down and then looked back up with a startled expression on your face, you didn’t think I was capable of but were pleasantly surprised to see that I was.

“Look, you’re naked, I’m lightheaded enough to think you’re actually pretty hot – what do you say we just call a truce for a couple of days,” I suggested, “Let Dean calm down and then go at each other’s throats, deal?”

“Deal,” you said, “A week and then we’ll go for each other’s throats…” Your voice faltered on the last two words and you rolled your eyes and gave a short laugh.

“What?”

“I’m sitting here half-naked with a guy that I hate but soon as you said that you thought I was hot and that we’d ‘go at each other’ I hoped you meant you wanted to have sex, silly isn’t it?” You admitted, “It has to be all that ‘be with someone’ shit that I’ve been hearing all day.”

“Well, Valentine’s day isn’t a good day when you’re single,” I paraphrased. We were silent for a few minutes.

I said, “So….wanna fuck?”

“Excuse me?”

You crossed your arms, hiding your firm and plump nipples from my view, but made no movement to get your blouse or pants back on but just stared at me. “Look,” I began to say.

“So a woman who is secure enough with her body to have a little game of strip poker automatically means that she wants to get laid?” you barked out. “Did it occur to you that you aren’t the Adonis that every woman dreams about and that it’s not all about that pathetic piece of skin you have dangling between your legs?”

“It was just a suggestion,” I said defensively, “We’re both adults, we’re both single and…”

“Do you like my tits?”

What the hell was this? I had to hand it to you, you were the mind-fuck queen. I drawled out my answer, “Uhm, yes?”

Your arms dropped.

“I’m not going down on you,” you said resolvedly, “I don’t do that – and no cumming in me – that’s too personal of an experience that’s shared only with my lovers.” I held my tongue from saying that I didn’t even think that with your personality you could even get a cock hard, and if you did manage it, how the hell could you say that a stiff one buried in you wasn’t personal? But instead…

“That’s alright, it’s cool, where’s the fun if you do something that you’re not into, right?” I assured, “but do you mind if I eat that fine pussy of yours?”

You thought for a moment and then said yes. I asked if I could take off my tie and put it around your eyes. You asked why.

“Listen, I know that it’s the booze that’s doing the talking,” I said plainly, “I’m not who you’d want to spend Valentine’s Day with, I’m fine with that. I figure, if you can’t see me, then tomorrow morning you can just put any guys face that you want to actually be with in my place a hell of a lot easier than seeing my face right in front of you.”

“That makes perfect sense,” you admitted, “you know, you’re right – I wouldn’t even look at you twice if we were at a club. Since we’re being truthful, I really didn’t want to wake up and remembering your face fucking me.” I took off my tie and put around your eyes, tight enough to stay in place but loose enough that it didn’t make you uncomfortable.

I led you to the sofa that we had in the office for the long waits that you preferred clients to have before they saw Dean and you laid down. I knelt on the floor beside you. “Last chance to back out,” I said in your ear, so close that you could feel the heat of my breath tickling your lobe.

You smiled, “Nope, part of being a leader is sticking with things once you’ve made a commitment. Now kiss me and no more talking – I may not be able to see you but you’ll destroy the fantasy if you speak.”

The other part of being a good leader, I almost said, was knowing when to just follow directions. I kissed you lightly on the lips at first so I could taste the combination of rye and cherry lip balm. Your lips were softer than I thought they would be, and as I ran my tongue just inside your slightly parted lips and the tip of your tongue flicked mine, I realized that you had surrendered yourself to the moment. Our kisses got stronger and more urgent, I had to brace my one hand on the back of the couch and the other on the edge of the sofa so I could stop myself from standing up and straddling you right there and then.

I released one of my hands from their duties and slowly trailed my hand from your cheek down your chin to your neck and then to breasts. I circled around each breast with my fingertips and then with my palm moved my hand back and forth down your stomach until I reached the white elastic part of your panties. Your tongue forced itself deeper into my mouth but you made no move to put your arms around me.

I didn’t go underneath the fabric of your underwear at first, just ran my palm along the bristly outline of your mound of pubic hair, the sensation of its softness tickled my palm and made you tremble. I slid my hand down the outline of your pussy, feeling the wetness that was soaking through warming the bottom of my fingers with each caress up and down. Your lips were so plump, so soft I knew that I had to touch them without the material of the panties hindering any of your skin’s glorious texture to my touch. I kissed you harder, our tongues lashing together in preciseness for maximum effect without showing that one was weaker than the other.

My hand went underneath your panties, and my cock twitched at the feel of your hairy bush sliding through my fingers. My finger tips felt for the first time your sweet pussy lips skin on skin, and for the first time your own hand moved as you grabbed my wrist and forced it lower and inward toward you sopping vaginal hole. I began to thrash my tongue around even more forcefully, spurned on by the feel of your tight vaginal muscles against my stroking fingers and the warmth of the soaked fabric on the top of my hand. I lifted my hand up and started to take your panties off. Without breaking our kiss you lifted your ass and tugged violently at the side of the fabric barrier until they slipped off your curves and managed to easily slip them off your legs and tossed them to the side.

I broke our kiss as you squirmed from my cupping of your succulent pussy lips. You whispered, “Nooooo,” but changed it quickly to “Yesssss” when my lips touched the skin just behind your ear. I took your earlobe into my mouth as my middle finger began to feel the spongy tip of your clit. I let my open mouth run down your neck as I periodically would flick my tongue out to taste the warm salty flesh my mouth was atop of, each time you would quiver and a new wave of heat would hit my palm. My lips made it to your sternum. I planted gentle kisses as I my head went down the length of middle of your torso and back up to your breasts again. You held your breath.

My mouth hovered over your breasts. I took my free hand and I pulled gently on one nipple, then the other. I took your right nipple between my teeth and started to bite and tug gently at it while my other hand massaged the warm flesh underneath your left breast. Your back arched to make me take your breast deeper into my mouth, then you brought your back down and brought you’re hips up to make my finger on your clit rub harder. You moved your hand around the side of the couch, seeking my pants and when you found them you began to caress my front with the back of your hand quickly, matching the short breaths you were taking with every nibble I took of your voluptuous areola. Soon though, your hand stopped it’s back and forth on me and you started to rub up and down your own thigh as it gyrated, moving my hand to where you wanted it to be.

I let my open mouth breath hot breath underneath both your breasts, you shivered, and cooed to yourself someone’s name; I didn’t listen, I didn’t care. My lips traced the outline of your ribs lightly and I gave your thigh a long kiss.

“Eat me,” you said with an almost pleading tone, “Fuck me with that tongue….oh, I want it so bad.”

I moved down to your wanting mound. I ran my tongue along the left side of your outer fold downward and then upward on the other fold. Your leg began to tremble. I took my tongue and put it between the top of your pouty vaginal folds and pushed it open. I moved my head back with my tongue out and its tip made the short journey to the right side and pushed it open. I slowly began to work my way down the entire length of your welcoming lips, pushing open and then dragging back. The trembling became more intense.

I partially stood up, leaned over into you and moved my face so it was perpendicular with your pussy’s lips between your legs. I thought you’d resist my moving from my side licking but you let out a low guttural laugh as my nose tickled your clit as my tongue flicked deep inside your wetness. The aroma of your excitement was intoxicating, even more so as it covered my face from cheek to cheek, nose to the bottom of my chin. I lapped and nuzzled your labia, every initial thrust of my tongue on an new area caused you to sigh hard and lift your hips into me even further than I was.

My chin slid easily along you’re the bottom ridge of your labium; the combination of my saliva and your own fluid seeping from your pussy ran down your perineum, down your ass and was soaking into the fabric of the couch cushion. I placed my middle and index fingers into your sopping hole while I extended my pinkie so it could glide up and down your slick ass crack as far it could reach as my fingers began to pump in and out of you. I pushed my fingers in slowly, letting the touch of my flesh stimulate yours, each time I would bring them out most of the way; I would apply a little pressure on your sunken anal well with my pinkie.

With my other hand I spread the top of your pussy lips a little wider and thrust my tongue just under your clitoral hood and around swirled it quickly around your clit’s base. You moaned and clutched at the cushion while your hips began to move back and forth. I began to move my fingers quicker; I felt your anus’s tightness around the tip of my pinkie as it began to penetrate it. You groaned, I thought you were uncomfortable with it but you pushed your hips down on it, pushing it in even deeper with every stroke.

I moved my tongue and lapped at your moist flesh just above your vaginal hole, letting my lips brush your outer lips with every upward movement of your hips.

I stopped shifting my hands, I had felt the last bit of resistance fade way and my pinkie slid easily and I started pumping hard on your vagina and anus while your hips violently snapped back and forth with my own thrusts. You began to moan constantly, I put my mouth to your clit and hummed along its sensitive top. Your hips locked, your legs trembled and your pussy and anal muscles clamped down hard on my fingers.

It seemed like minutes that you remained motionless but then muscles untensed, your ass dropped to the sofa’s cushion and you screamed, “Ooooohhhhhhhhh fuck…yes, yes, YES!”

A flood of your juice spewed around my hands and sprayed a thick coating on the cushion between your legs. Your entire body was shaking as my fingers slid back and forth with your movements smoothly, with no resistance. I kissed your clit and another wave of cum broke through and covered my hand and wrists.

I went to like you just above the top of your vagina, but both your hands came to my face and pushed me back, pulling my fingers out and I landed hard on my ass.

“I want you in me, so bad,” you whimpered, “I want your cock so bad.”

I smiled and began to unzip my pants but stopped. You heard the lack of zipping.

“What’s the matter, baby?” you asked in half moan, both hands rubbing down the sides of your pussy lips as you moved your hips in a circular motion.

“I don’t have any condoms,” I admitted, “But if you don’t mind…”

Your lips pouted but you said firmly, “I can’t….I want you but I can’t…”

I reassured you that I understood but we were right across from a drug store – if you could wait, I could run over and pick some up.

“Oh, fuck yes!” you said, rubbing your hands even quicker. “But hurry, baby, I want you so fuckng bad…..I want to feel you in me…..hurry!” I told you not to take the tie off and to make sure that you didn’t cool off because I’d be back to dive into your juicy pool. I leaned down and flicked my tongue deep into your vaginal pooling; you squealed in pleasure and soon as my tongue was out, your fingers plunged into your deep end. I zipped up and hit the stairs.

I ran quickly down the stairs from our second story office, when I got to the door I could still hear you playing with yourself; keeping yourself ready. The pharmacy across the street’s neon ‘open’ sign glowed like a beacon to the port of a safe haven. I opened the door and yelled, “Two minutes, babe, I’ll be back in two minutes!”

“Uh…uh….nnnuuuuuhhh,” was your response.

I closed the door and quickly and walked quickly, the tightness of my cock against my jeans was unbearable, I wanted to pull it out and just release the load that you created smoldering inside – but it passed. It was time to show you that I could be a hard business man in more than one way.

I went down the side alley to the back of our office and to my Lexus where the Micheal Jackson-wanna-be old man stood waiting for me. I slowed my pace as I neared him and straightened my tieless shirt and coat; apologized for taking so long. “You made quite the impression on that fine woman,” I added, nodding towards the office window, though the shades were drawn I had left open just a crack. I heard the slight but soothing sound of you still moaning.

I did a quick check and there behind him were the four bottles I had placed underneath the tires, which I put there to keep the old man from disappearing after his performance. I suspected that they, the fifty and the hint that there were a couple more bottles in the trunk had kept him from straying too far.

“I did?” the old man said unsurely. He watched me with anticipation in his eyes as I peeled two twenties and a ten out of my wallet and handed them to him – just as was agreed when I had come across him as I was going to lunch when he was going through the garbage bins off to the side.

“In fact,” I commented, leaning in close conspiratorily, attempting to ignore the strong reek of “Strawberry Angel” emanating from his body, “You made her feel very…womanly.”

“I did?” The man’s eyes widened in surprise then quickly were replaced by pride. With great bravado he said, “I did, didn’t I.”

“You did, that you did,” I opened my car door and reached in the back, bringing out a bag of stuff I had purchased at lunch after first approaching the man. I stood back up and pointed up to the window. “She’s still up there, waiting, wanting to feel your strength against her…naked.”

“She is?”

“But she’s shy,” I whispered, “So she’s wearing a blindfold so that she won’t hide her true feelings away.”

“Ohhhh,” the old man said understandingly, “I do have that effect on people – especially women like her – you know the one’s, they act all like you’re a piece of shit around others but in private, they give you money.”

I fought the urge to laugh and took out my purchases for the man. “Here,” I said, “Considering the day, she wants it done all romantic like, and…” I handed him a pair of two foot white wings that fit like a back pack and a box of penis shaped chocolates – I had added a special topping to them in the bathroom just after I had returned from lunch and anyone else had gotten back to make sure you would remember this day for, well, I didn’t really care if you remembered or not, I would and that was the important part. I helped the old man with his jacket and the wings. I couldn’t help but notice that in the time he had been in the office and now he hadn’t found either a bathroom or a new “Depends” as, with coat on the crook of his arm and chocolates in the other crook began walking down the alley and you.

I light a cigerette and the old man was half way down the alley when I realized that I couldn’t do it to you, not like this. I ran up to him and opened my wallet, taking out the condom that I had in it and handed it to the old man. “Don’t want to knock her up, now do you?” I said.

The old man thanked me and then I heard a clack sound and a slurp. He spit out his dentures and put them in his pocket of his coat. “Don’t want these chompers fallin’ in her hair in the middle of passion,” he said with a wink. The old man hesitated, I asked him why. “It’s been a few years,” he said, “-I’m a might worried the pen was run out of ink, if you know what I mean.” I nodded grimly and assured him that I understood. I took two small blue pills out of the tissue that I had placed them in earlier that day – thank god Dean and his wife liked to have “nooners” and that Dean always made sure that he was up for it, and gave them to him. The old man popped them into his mouth.

“Now you’ll be able to dip your quill into the ink well without a problem,” I told him.

He thanked me and continued on his way.

I got back to my car and sat down, my feet placed firmly on the pavement and waited. I heard the crash of the office door and saw the old man, wings bent but his dick up run past the alley entrance and a naked you hot on his heels swinging the box of chocolates at him as you screamed, “Fucking pervert! I’m going to fucking kill you, you filthy fucker!”

I took out my cell phone and made a call.

“Good evening, this is emergency response, what is your emergency?” the voice on the said.

“Hello, this is a concerned citizen – there’s a drunken naked woman running down 50^thstreet by Schumman’s Pharmacy attacking some poor homeless man with some sort of blunt object.”

“We’ll send a police officer to the scene right away.”

I thanked the person and hung up.

Tomorrow morning you’d be late – you’d have to explain to Dean that you spent the night in the clink, and you’d be facing charges of public drunkenness, indecent exposure in a public place, assault and more than likely you’d have the beginnings of a nasty chest cold. Moments later there was a flash of blue and red lights that rushed past the alley entrance; quick response time, I was impressed.

I hoped that you would take this in the spirit that it was meant; it was to show that Valentines Day, for men, wasn’t about showing the one they love that they cared. It wasn’t about chocolate, flowers, cupid, or even getting laid. It wasn’t my fault that the person I cared for the most was me and that I gave myself the greatest gift of love – job security, now was it?

I swung my feet into the car closed the door and started the engine. I drove up to the alley entrance and clicked on the signal to go left. I looked over to the right side and down the block I saw two blue uniformed officers in the midst of a struggle with someone who obviously was putting up on hell of a fight. My cock gave a twitch and I felt liquid warm spreading arcross the front of my pants. Looked like I might be a little late too – I would be going to the dry cleaners…and get my car seats steamed. I was worth it though, teaching you a lesson in smart business tactics was part of being an unknown mentor, after all. Or maybe, I thought for the briefest of seconds, Dean was right, I am just a big prick….