The Minotauress

wild animal it was plaguing the otherwise quiet town. Nevertheless, it was Dean who bravely ventured into the long-closed and very dangerous gypsum mine and saved the twins when he heard the babies crying from within.' Another quick video clip of Dean passing the babies back to their sobbing mother. 'Yes, Dean Lohan, the hero of a town, and the hero of a nation. From DeSmet, South Dakota, this is Laura Von Paulus, KSKY News.'

Ajax, Arianne, and Shirley applauded, whooping it up. Dean blushed. 'What a man!' Ajax exclaimed. 'Our hero!' Arianne added. Then, Shirley, whose big tits wobbled beneath her blouse: 'We should have a party! A celebration! Invite the whole town!'

It sounded like a great idea to Dean, but... 'I can't,' he regretted. 'I have to go back to Seattle, but I'll be back soon. Ajax, how would you like to quit stuffing envelopes and live here at the mansion, as Shirley's assistant?'

'Sounds good to me,' Ajax said, swigging beer. 'To tell you the truth, I'm damn sick of that goth commie nipple-pierced pinko save-the-whales rain-hole. And I'd love to be Shirley's assistant.'

Shirley gave Ajax a tight hug and restrained the urge to shove her hand down his pants. 'I have all kinds of things you can assist me with, honey,' she said.

'And Arianne,' Dean said next, 'I'll be sending you to the best rehab center in the state. But I'm off now, folks. I'll be back in a few days, with my loving wife!'

Dean stalked off to the front door; Arianne followed, grabbed his arm before he could leave. 'Dean,' she pleaded, tears in her eyes. 'I can't make it without you.'

'There, there,' he attempted.

'I love you!'

'Arianne, I've already told you, I'm married. I'm in love with someone else now, and I'll be bringing her back to the mansion to live with me. If I weren't married, it'd be you,' he lied. 'But I am married.' He consolingly touched her skinny junkie cheek. 'So that's the way it has to be.'

Arianne nodded dejectedly. 'Sure you don't want to fuck my brains out on the floor one last time, for old time's sake?'

'No, really, Arianne—'

'One last blowjob? I'll swallow.'

'No, I—'

'Knock my teeth loose and shit on my head?'

Dean's brow jittered. 'We'll always be friends, Arianne. I promise.' Then he briefly kissed her on the cheek and walked off for the Blazer.

««—»»

By sundown, Dean was landing at Sea-Tac International airport, and not fifteen minutes later, he was pulling up into his own driveway. There's no place like home, he thought with the widest of grins. He grabbed his suitcase and charged into the house, his heart racing to see his loving wife once again.

'Honey! I'm home!' he shouted with glee in the foyer. He checked the kitchen, the TV room, but Daphne wasn't there. Upstairs, he deduced, and ran up. 'Honey? Did you see me on TV?' Then he barged into the bedroom, his smile a beacon of love.

He looked at the bed but it was not Daphne who lay there in wait for him.

'Who the fuck are you?' Dean asked.

It was a tall, naked man who lay on the bed, his head shaved, a satanic goatee around his chin, devil tattoos all over his skin. He was smoking marijuana and reading a comic book called Grub Girl.

'Who the fuck are you?' the man snidely replied.

Dean dropped his suitcase, aghast. 'Well, pardon me, but I just happen to be Dean Lohan and I live here!'

The bald man's face crinkled. 'What? Daphne's married?'

'Damn right she is! To me!'

The man shrugged. 'Muff is muff, so don't get your dander up.' He toked more of his joint, flipped the next page of the comic. 'She never told me she was hitched, so I ain't doing nothin' wrong.'

There's a naked tattooed bald guy in my bed! Dean finally got the full brunt. 'Who the FUCK are you!'

'I'm Thron,' the man said.

Dean gawped. 'You? You're... Mr. Thron?'

'Yeah.'

'You're my wife's boss?'

'Yeah.'

'BULLSHIT!' Dean railed. 'Guys with shaved heads and devil tattoos don't own high-end clothing companies!'

Thron cocked a funky brow. 'Clothing company? I run a fuckin' outcall whorehouse, pal. And your wife's one my whores.'

Dean's eyeballs felt as though they'd jettison from his head. 'Whuh-whuh-what? '

'Magic Fingers Escorts,' Thron related, not taking his gaze off the comic.

It must've been a good comic.

'Look it up in the phone book,' Thron suggested. 'I'm not ashamed of what I do. Any decent-looking woman with a working pussy is stupid if she doesn't sell it. Money's what makes the world go ‘round, and Daphne's slapping on some extra spin, let me tell ya. She's a real trooper, she takes all the kinks—you know, the scat guys, the enemas, the guys who like to wear diapers. Daphne's something. And—as you well know —she's hot. She begs to fuck me. What am I gonna say?