Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... anyway."

"Three?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

******

After two and a half hours of torturous, clock-checking insomnia, I fall asleep. Six hours after that, I stumble into the kitchen, where Jack is waiting for me with tea.

"Thanks," I say. "For everything."

"You needed real sleep."

"Yeah."

She knows me. She probably knew when I'd conk out down to the quarter hour -- just as my self-appointed reckoning with her was at hand. I sit down and sip my drink. It's a soothing decaf. She knows I'm probably headed back to bed sooner rather than later -- depressingly sooner, you might say.

"I'll do the interview," I say. "Please tell me you know I don't want to leave."

"I know," she says. "I know you love me, Corin. I know it."

I'm already crying. "If it doesn't work... I'll try the pills."

"Don't d--"

"Please" I say, and it's violent, because, for fuck's fucking sake, I've been trying, and she's been letting me. "Fuck, please, Jack, can it be for us? Can it please be for us?"

She breaks down and cries, and I can tell that it's pure empathy. It hurts her to see me like this. She reaches out across the table. I reach out, too. We clasp hands. It's too little, too late, but it still means something. It means we're both weak, and neither of us know what to do without the other. I was a lost cause; she could have been okay without me, but she let me in. It's a fuckup that I just can't blame her for.

If I leave on her terms, I think she'll be okay ...

... eventually. I'll be like a dog that really did go to a farm upstate. It'll be enough for her that I'm happy.

Then again, maybe that's just what dogs who really do go upstate tell themselves about the heartbroken humans they leave behind.

******

I don't talk to Jack about the interview process. We don't fuck anymore, either. Things at the apartment are... not great. She hangs out with friends a lot. I don't have any. I work. Extra hours is what it took for my boss to begin to suspect that something was wrong with me. Once again, I'm so deep into a fucked-up situation that I didn't even know how to take that.

The first interview was with the most serious woman I've ever met. Swear to god she was neutered, but then she had me fuck her, and she milked me to within an inch of my life. Then she brought in another girl, and it was obvious there was always going to be another one. I got mad, and that powered me through for a while. Eventually, though, I simply couldn't fuck anymore. There at the end, my flaccid six inches was being destroyed by another completely fresh pussy whose owner was riding me cowgirl, and Ms. Ultra Serious was fist fucking my asshole like a boxer practicing body blows. A literal nurse helped me out of the building and into a private car. The driver helped me get into the apartment. Jack wasn't there. I was relieved.

I made the cut, apparently. Things got serious in a hurry. I had to sign something called a 'nondisclosure agreement,' which... what even ...