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The Toy Maker

By twilightdreams69 All Rights Reserved ©

Erotica / Romance

Blurb

"Keep your eyes open, Tara. You know the rules." The husky voice penetrated my thoughts and willed me to open my eyes. Jason's sultry gaze wandered over my wiggling body as I bit back a whimper. I felt myself dripping onto the silky sheets. Somehow being watched while I writhed in pleasure managed to turn me on even more. "God," My voice shook and I saw Jason smirk out of the corner of my eye. "Please, turn it up." "Why should I?" His words held a tone of mockery; He enjoyed watching me squirm. My chest rose and fell heavily as I tried to bring myself to answer his question. "B-because, I need it." He cocked his eyebrow and chuckled. "I thought you wanted to take things slow." His fingertip circled my erect nipples, teasing me and making my moan from his slow touch. Another chuckle escaped him and I felt my body quiver with desire. "Tell me what you want and I'll do it." I exhaled in relief, finally. "On one condition." His words trailed off and my heart beat pounded through my throbbing body. Jason leaned down to where my head rested against the pillow and let his warm breath wash over my neck. "You submit to me."

Sausage Fingers

“Ms. Holloway I’m afraid we are letting you go.”

“What?” I said, leaning in to face the bastard head on.

Mr. Farmer continued, “Due to recent budget cuts your job here at Intercorp. has been terminated.” Cold pebble shaped eyes peered at me through the most hideous pair of 1986 glasses ever created.

“This has to be a joke. I’m the best Accounting Assistant that this company has.” I argued.

He scrunched up his pink colored face and laughed. “I think best is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you?”

Steam spewed out of my ears as anger rose to the surface. “I created the system that all of our financial department uses, so no.”

Mr. Farmer leaned back and sighed, “Please turn in your ID on the way out.”

The anger spewed over like a volcano and before I could put a cap on it my fist had already made contact with the mahogany desk. Mr. Farmer jumped at my outburst and used his sausage fingers to contact the front office. “Jamie, please send security to escort Ms. Holloway from the premises.”

“No, this is ridiculous. I just took out a loan on my car and my bills are due at the end of the month. You’re putting me on the streets.”

“That sounds like your problem.” He said with a smug expression highlighting his fat cheeks. My hand twitched with the urge to smack him. Why? Why me? Why not Brandon two cubicles over who watches porn during meetings or Susan who mysteriously disappears to the bathroom for twenty minutes each day.

I laughed as the realization hit me, “This is because I know about the affair you’re having with Jamie, isn’t it?”

He blinked rapidly at my statement before putting on a transparent poker face. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about me seeing you fucking your secretary over this desk while your wife went to Tahiti for the weekend.”

Mr. Farmer held his stance, “Despite whatever heinous story you have concocted in your sick little mind to cope with being fired, I assure you that I love my wife.” A twisted grin stretched across his wrinkly lips.

I shook my head, “You sick son of a-”

“Now, Now, Mrs. Holloway there is no need for a temper tantrum.” For a defenseless man stuck in a compact room with a furious woman he sure was bold.

“You’re a bastard.”

“Yes, but I’m the boss. You’re just the rat who wandered in here off the streets.”

I locked my jaw, “I worked hard to be here.”

Mr. Farmer chuckled. “Who do you think everyone will believe? The man who signs their paychecks or the bitch who hides away in her cubicle and holds no authority.”

I grit my teeth as the door swung open and two security guards gripped my arms.

Mr. Farmer approached me with humor dancing in his eyes. “I think it’s time you learn to take orders. Leave, Ms. Holloway.”

My eyes narrowed as I watched a wicked grin stretch across his round face. The guards dragged me through the building and tossed me out the entrance along with my belongings. I grabbed my purse off the street before someone could swoop in and steal all I had left.

I turned to the parking spaces in front of the office and let the panic set in when I realized that my car was no longer there. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I marched to where I had parked.

“It’s gone, lady,”

I swiveled on my heel to see an old man in an oversized coat sitting in the alley. “What do you mean it’s gone?”

He continued peeling his orange, “They towed it,”

“For what?”

“How should I know? You’re the one that’s a shitty parker.”

I groaned, “This can’t be happening.”

“That’s what I said when I watched a bird peck out a cat’s eyes, all for my leftover sandwich crust.”

A dozen different swear words swirled around in my mind and marinated my brain in anger and resentment. I gave the building one last glance before starting the long walk home.

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