Chapter 1
Being summoned by the boss was never a good thing. Granted, Nigel was rather low on the pecking order of Tucker & Fitch Security, a recovering alcoholic in his late forties who never made middle management. Still, it was disconcerting. Her shift would start in two hours, and whatever the issue was, she was determined to charm her way out of it.
His office, fittingly located on the first floor next to the restrooms and the fire escape, was far away from anyone who held even a shred of power or influence. She took the elevator up and strode toward his office in her ridiculously high heels, the clicks of her steps echoing in the corridor.
With her long blonde mane down and a figure-hugging tube dress, she turned heads, enjoying the attention of the office staff as she walked by. The red dress was so short it just about covered her crotch and so low-cut that her breasts barely stayed in. Under the flimsy fabric, the barbells of her nipple piercings were clearly visible.
Outside his office, she adjusted her braless breasts and knocked.
“C-Come in.”
Nigel stuttered when nervous, and the unmistakable smell of booze hung heavy in the air. This couldn’t be good. Sure, some minor stuff had disappeared, but it was unlikely that anyone had caught her on camera. Whatever happened, the night watch always topped the list of suspects, even though it was usually the customers’ own employees who were stealing.
She smiled at him. “How are you, boss?”
“Fine.” He pointed at the worn wooden chair in front of his desk, and she sat down, glancing at the window behind him. The brick wall outside was close enough to touch, and the small monitor on the right side of his desk gave more light than the window.
“Listen, Quinn,” he continued after a short break. “There have been…” – he gestured vaguely – “some complaints.”
She raised her eyebrow. “About me? I’ve done my job, done my rounds. Never once fell asleep or anything.”
“That’s… that’s not it. We have come into possession of… uh… some camera footage.”
Quinn bit her lip, a knot forming in her stomach. Impossible. She knew the positions and angles of all the cameras in the warehouse; if they had caught her on tape, she’d already be talking to the cops.
“What footage?” she asked, looking him right in the eye.
He avoided her gaze and sighed, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“What footage?” she repeated, this time sharper.
When he finally turned the monitor, Quinn glanced at the frozen scene on the screen and immediately relaxed. That’s what this is about? she thought. Really? It could have been way worse.
“The neighbors saw you and filmed it,” he said. “They say it’s been going on for weeks.”
Quinn shrugged. “So you’ve got Ralph and me fucking. Hardly my first sex tape. What’s the big deal?”
“On the job.”
“We’re entitled to a break, and it’s not like we left our posts. This is where our patrol areas overlap.”
He said nothing. While he gnawed on his lip, Quinn grabbed a stack of papers from his desk – stapled printouts he’d made like a caveman. Her personnel file. Amused, she noted that someone from HR had faithfully pasted all the movies listed on her CV, starting with Alyssa’s Anal Antics. The past employment section alone covered two pages.
She tossed the file back on the desk, making him flinch.
“Y-you had sex in public,” he said after a long pause, “wearing Tucker & Fitch uniforms. And you did… certain things. Uh…” He gulped, raising his hands helplessly. Instead of explaining, he just pressed play.
On the screen, Quinn leaned against a dumpster with her uniform pants bunched around her ankles, Ralph taking her hard from behind. Despite herself, she felt her cheeks warming, watching him slam his impressive dick into her ass. Sex with him was rough and raw and dirty. The man knew exactly how she liked it.
If Nigel had watched the entire thing, the smell of alcohol and his stutter made sense. It wasn’t just a regular assfuck; this was something a boring guy like him didn’t see every day. Nothing he could ever dream of doing with his wife.
He probably has a hard-on.
“It’s okay, you can stop,” she said, and he immediately paused the video.
She sighed and shifted in her chair. Her bowels were uncomfortably full; she had saved plenty for her shift with Ralph tonight. He was a fan of her movies, especially the filthy ones, and she loved sucking him clean afterward. Despite the age difference, they had fun. Sure, he was twice divorced and old enough to be her father, but in a way, they were kindred spirits. A software engineer by trade, he had been made redundant by artificial intelligence, relegating him from a high-paying job to minimum wage. Just like AI had destroyed her career in porn.
Nigel squirmed in his chair, staring at the desk. “I… uh… I’m afraid we will have to let you go.”
Damn. With college out of reach, her parents had made her get a job, any job. Porn had worked great for a couple of years until AI took over, first in mainstream movies and then in the more extreme niches where she earned her money. Movies like Bowel Blasters, Brown Town Tales, or Packed Panties 3 were now produced without human talent.
Fuck this!
She pulled down the fabric of her dress to expose her bare breasts. “Surely, we can talk about this?” she said, leaning forward. “You can do all the things to me Ralph did. Fuck any hole you like.”
“S-sorry,” stuttered Nigel, his face beet red, staring at her pierced nipples. “Th-they have seen the video upstairs. It’s already done. M-my job is just to tell you.”
“Seriously?” she shouted, leaning over the desk, her heavy breasts dangling. “After almost two years on the night shift, they’re firing me over this? People fuck all the time, you know. That’s how the species procreates!”
Maybe not in this particular way, but that was a technicality. She cupped her left breast with one hand and adjusted the nipple piercing, making sure it was perfectly aligned.
“It’s k-kind of dirty…”
“So? What a bunch of stuck up wankers.”
She felt the rage bubbling up inside her: sweaty palms, heart rate rising – all the telltale signs she had learned to watch out for in that court-mandated anger management class. Now would be the time to inhale, exhale. One deep breath was all she managed.
No. Not today.
“You know what?” she shouted, kicking off her heels. “I’m giving Tucker & Fitch a parting gift. And this one’s coming straight from the heart.”
Nigel scooted back in his chair, his voice high and close to panic. “W-what are you d-doing?”
She climbed on his desk and hiked up her short dress, her smooth, bare crotch at the same level as Nigel’s open mouth. With a grunt, she opened her bowels, releasing everything she had saved on the keyboard and the wooden surface. A steady stream of urine drenched her personnel file and the other printouts as the brown, stinking mass piled up on the desk. The stench of a long-overdue bowel movement instantly filled the tiny office, making Nigel gag.
“Tell ‘em to go fuck themselves!”