She walked into the office and saw Marsha in front of her desk with a mass of manuscripts thrown messily into piles. She had been reading material for the next issue.
'What is it now, Marsha?' Carole sounded tired. 'What do you mean, 'now', baby? Have I asked too much from you lately?'
'Yes you have! What's going on with Steve Hayes? And don't give me this bullshit that you don't know what I'm talking about.'
Marsha picked up a manuscript and skimmed it. 'I don't. Why would I have anything to do with you and Steve Hayes?'
'That's just it. You don't. But something tells me you do.'
'You're more confused about this than you think. Listen, just forget about Steven and let's concentrate on us. I just bought something I'm sure you'll like. Ben-Wa balls.'
'Marsha, would you please level with me,' Carole pleaded. 'What's happened to Steve? Why haven't I seen him?'
Marsha eyed her carefully, then opened her desk drawer and set several papers in front of her. Carole picked them up and scanned them.
'These,' she said, slowly, 'these are his resignation papers. You mean, he's quit!'
Marsha nodded. 'Just like that.'
'I don't understand. Why would he do something like that? Not unless… Marsha, you didn't talk to him, did you?'
Marsha said nothing.
'Goddamn it, you bitch!' Carole snapped. 'Why did you talk to him!'
'Because he was fooling around with you!' Marsha's voice challenged hers. 'You've my private property, not his toy!'
'I don't believe this!' Carole screamed. 'You told him to flake off with that reason?'
'Was there any other?' Marsha asked.
'Do you know where he's gone?' Carole asked calmly.
'As a matter of fact, I do. He's with Today's Twat. But don't think you can get him back, he won't want you now. I told him if he dares so much as touch you, I can get him blackballed from the business, he'll be finished, washed up.'
'Then that'll be the two of us!' Carole said.
'What?' Marsha did not follow her.
'I quit, you fucking BITCH!' she said, and ripped out of the office, leaving Marsha with her mouth opened in surprise.
The first thing Carole did was call up Steve, now that she knew which magazine he was working for. It took a few minutes to get him on the line, but she was successful.
'Steve…' she said, then relaxed. 'You should have said good-bye.'
'I-I can't talk now,' he said. 'There's a pile of work on my desk that's gotta get done.'
'Steve, I know you know about Marsha and me. She spilled it to me. I'm not gonna deny it. It's true, and it's over.'
'Over?' he said.
'I'm through with her. Through with this place. And I need you.'
'Carole…'
'Don't worry about getting blackballed. Marsha might try, but what's she got to gain? She doesn't have me any more. And Goddamn it, I'm horny for that big fucking dick of yours!'
'How about comin' by my place tonight so we can fix it up, eh?'
'No sooner said than CUM!' she laughed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mark Spaulding was depressed. He had just received the news that his set designer, Gregg Connelly, had committed suicide. And the problem was, Gregg hadn't left any note about why he did it, no explanation. One of the tenants in the apartment building he lived in smelled gas and notified the landlord. They found him naked on his bed, asphyxiated.
Mark decided he needed a little cheering up. He pressed his intercom button down. 'Sharon, could you please come in here for a moment?'
'Yes, Mr. Spaulding,' she replied.
Sharon would cheer IT up, all right. He still remembered the gang-bang the other day. Now that was a lot of fun. He liked ft when she was held down, helpless, while she was getting cock shoved into her from all directions.
Sharon entered the room with a smile. 'Yes, Mr. Spaulding?'
'How about shutting that door and giving me a blow-job? I need some head, baby.'
She walked up to his desk, stroking his arm. 'I have a better idea. Why don't you take off your tie?'
Mark liked the way she was talking. Real sexy. He was getting a hard-on just listening to her speak. 'Okay, honey, anything you say. But what's up?'
'I want to see what it's like for you to screw me with your hands tied behind your back,' she told him, pulling his tie around his wrists from behind his chair.
'Sounds great,' he said, interested.
She secured the tie good. 'Okay, now close your eyes, and I'll be right back.'
'Okay,' he said, wondering where she was going to go. It didn't matter. He was so fucking horny, and he knew that she had something up her sleeve that would get him excited.
Mark had his eyes shut tightly. He could hear Sharon moving around him, walking into the private bathroom connected to his office, and the rush of water running. Hmmm. What was she up to?
'Now just sit back and relax,' she was telling him, pulling down his zipper to his fly and taking out his cock. It was nice and stiff. It throbbed as she held it in her hands. 'But keep your eyes closed.'
'Hurry up, baby,' he moaned. 'I feel like cumming right now. I'm gonna squirt all over your dress.'
She took his slab of meat and guided it somewhere. Suddenly, he felt burning pain on his dong. It was stinging like crazy. He yelped and blinked his eyes open. Sharon was dipping his prick into a glass of scalding-hot water.
'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?' he cried.
'Giving you exactly what you deserve,' she told him.
'You bitch, it BURNS!' he yelled.
Sharon was kneeling on her knees, between his legs. His dick was hanging out of his pants, still rigid as a baseball bat. She had his prong in her hand and was about to guide it into the glass of steaming hot water again.
'No!' he begged. 'Don't!'
'You fucked up everything between me and George, you bastard!' she snapped. 'He won't have anything to do with me and it's all your fault!' He struggled with the tie around his wrists, but she had pulled it too tight.
She gripped his meat in her hands. 'I hope it feels good.' She pushed his joint into the glass. The water stung his rod. He howled aloud, jerking in his seat.
'Christ!' he whimpered.
'Again,' she said, dunking his pork into his water. 'Again!' She pushed it in deep and kept it there for a few minutes. His prick was beet-red.
'No more,' he begged. 'Please…'
'Yes!' she growled. 'Some more!' She groped his cock and plunged it into the glass, the scalding-hot water burning his hairy root. He squeezed his eyes shut and screamed in agony.
'And I have another message for you, Mr. Spaulding. I quit this frigging joint!' She took her purse and left.
