Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final - Sex Stories

Stable Employment Pt. 02 - Final

... A sleek carpet that looks like a postmodern painting delineates our space within the larger room. "What do you drink?"

"What are my options?"

"Almost anything. Apologies, but sometimes being a good host means bragging about your stash."

"Something crisp and cold," I say. "Believe it or not, I'm a little hot and a little dehydrated."

He chuckles. "I believe it. The room's okay, though? I can cool it down, dry it out, anything you want."

I shrug. "I honestly didn't notice."

"Good interview weather, then."

The still-naked blonde supermodel sets a drink down next to me. The ice clinks in the glass. My eyes are inexorably drawn to her body, and neither she nor the man seem to mind that I'm so easily distracted. My drink is a light brown; a moment later, I see an ostensibly identical one next to my host. It doesn't look like booze -- neither the fake nor real kind -- and I don't detect that telltale scent of alluring poison, either. I take the glass and have a sip. I recognize it; it's iced tea and lemonade, mixed together. It's excellent. Shit, it's exactly what I needed.

"You're a fan," he says. "Me too. I wish we knew who first came up with it. He, or she, was clearly a genius. Lost to the ages, though."

I raise my glass in a fake toast. "To enjoying other people's genius."

He hurries to grab his glass and clink mine in the air between us. "That's excellent. I'm stealing that. You might even say I'll be enjoying it later."

He thinks he's funny. ...

... He wants to be funny. That bothers me.

He takes a sip, then sets his drink down. I empty mine. With a raised eyebrow, he wordlessly asks if I want a refill. I give him a shrug in the affirmative. I get another lovely view of the naked supermodel, and another refreshing drink. I will myself to refocus on him, though. I'm not a guest. I'm an interviewee.

"So," he says. "Corin. Corrine Caroway in all the major databases. It's a long and winding road that's brought you to my door. I know parts of it were awful, but I'm glad you're here."

"Is that... a song lyric?"

He dries out, just like Jack does sometimes. "Yes, Corin. It is a song lyric -- from a song by the single most popular rock band of all time, who were so incredibly famous that nearly their entire library survived... well, you know. I'm so glad you're vaguely aware of that fact."

"Yeah," I say, taking a tone. "Vaguely. The, uh... Shiny Boys, right?"

"Okay," he says, shifting in his seat, "I'm ninety-nine-percent sure you're fucking with me, but, congratulations, you've pressed one of my buttons. Point to the dickgirl. Put it on the board. It's 'The Copper Tones,' and anyone who's truly interested in music will be better off for having listened to everything they ever recorded."

I shrug and grab my second drink. "Sorry, I don't really listen to old music. Or man music. We've got our own scenes now."

"Bit of a Jilly-come-lately to one, no?"

Well, he wasn't lying that I pushed one of his buttons. ...