Luckily, Nicole did not need to come get him. Desiree kept blowing up his phone enough that any form of escapism was fruitless. Not to say he didn’t get enough fruits, though. She sent so many sweater yams that he would never go hungry or wanting. It’s amazing what different angles did, how in some they looked no bigger than a pear or an apple, while in others, when they were squeezed together, each rivaled cantaloupes or even honeydew. And, as each shot passed, it was getting clearer that she loved the camera. By the last shot, those dusky tips could probably cut diamonds.
But every single one lead to his inevitable defeat- defeats. He couldn’t keep his head -either one- in the game. In the last game, he missed playing a land two turns before and couldn’t play a wipe, leading to his defeat. Much to Beatrice’s displeasure. She huffed, but a haughty squawk wormed its way in, rustling down her plumage as she stowed her deck.
“I must say. You, having a phone? I don’t like it. Not at all,” she stated, giving that red rectangle a dirty look. “Who was texting you so much?”
“Next time, tell her to stuff it while we’re playing.” She clacked her deck box shut. Hard. “Felt like I wasted my time today.”
“Sore winner much?”
“I do not count those as games. You didn’t win a single one out of the thirty-two we played!”
“That’s not true! There was... well... there... What about... huh...”
He growled, putting his deck away as well- but stopped as his phone buzzed- exclaiming as Beatrice snatched it.
“H-hey-” And fire frothed at his mouth as she laughed, a wry thing.
“No wonder you couldn’t focus,” she said, handing it back. “She has you wrapped around her tail.”
“Oh really? It’s a wonder your cards aren’t soaked in drool- hold on... Okay. If my floor was steeped in spunk because of you, I would have forced you to clean it up.”
“Somebody would have to,” Wesley stated, sitting beside with a handheld console. At least it wasn’t his book, though, given the sounds coming from it, Francis wasn’t sure if that was an improvement or not. “I wouldn’t have.”
Francis scoffed. “Whatever. So what if I lost? I was having fun-”
“But I wasn’t,” Beatrice interjected. “I know what you’re capable of, what those decks are able to do- I helped build them, for crying out loud!”
“And you upgraded yours since the last time we met! I’m still running the same lousy cards-”
“Not an excuse.”
“It really isn’t,” Wesley said. “The newest set didn’t really bump up the power level. In truth, Dom is still the Dom.”
“Sadly true. Good thing I made my money in the first week.”
“Fine! Okay? My head wasn’t in the game,” he grumbled, standing up and slamming the chair against the table. He shook his phone at her, fire still frothing from his maw. “You know when the last time I had one of these was? The 3GS was the top of the line!”
“I’m not condemning you having the phone, Francis.”
“Then what is it? Oh, I ruined any fun you had by having a fucking social life! Hear how pathetic that sounds?”
“Yes. So why couldn’t you balance it?”
“Buddy needs laid bad,” Wesley remarked, snickering- hissing as Francis tried to snatch the system from his hand. His tail whipped out, wrapping around Francis’s leg long enough to make him jerk- only to let him fall on his own, coiling back in. He resumed snickering, clicking away on his game. “You tilt too easily... Don’t threaten the electronic.”
“Wes,” Beatrice exclaimed, leaping over the table to Francis. He groaned, flat on his back, while the room around continued to grumble with his collapse. “Have you lost your mind?”
“No. No. I deserved that,” Francis grumbled, and moaned as he set up. His fins on his back ached something dear, the folds only beginning to open as the naga lashed out. The concrete where they dug in had splintered, thankfully, but made him wince with each broken bit of it that fell off. He sighed, and leaned on Beatrice as he stood, exhaling. “Look... I’m sorry.... I know I wasn’t into it today. God knows I wanted to be-”
“It’s fine. Really. I understand how it feels to be starved for attention for years.” She patted his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “Just remember to keep your head in the game the next time, okay? Even if you need to take a few minutes to recompose after a message.”
“I will I will... though you could use that to your advantage. You have my number n-”
“No. I don’t want to cheat to get my victories. I love a challenge... So, are you going out with the featherbutt from last week tomorrow or can I expect your happy tuchus back down here?”
“Sadly, no. To both. She hasn’t tried to reach me all week. Feeling a little neglected now-”
“Which one?” Wesley jumped in again. Joy. “Cassidy?”
“Her father had an emergency business meeting. She requested the week off school to watch over the homestead while he was off.”
“What about her mom?”
“Eh. She’s off in the tropics. Kind of find it funny a harpy is taking pictures of birds... Always thought it like it was comparable to soft-core porn-”
“Treading thin ice,” Beatrice muttered.
“How do you even know any of this?” Francis said... and his eye twitched as Wesley ah’d.
“Right. You don’t have social media –or didn’t I should say-”
“My best advice?” Beatrice interjected. “Don’t.”
“Didn’t plan on it,” Francis said.
“Good,” Wesley said. “Can’t stand it, but I get paid to handle the store’s MANY social media accounts.”
“He’s my favorite lucrative sin eater,” Beatrice stated, giggling... while still holding Francis.
“Anyways, her dad put up on his feed about the sudden outing from the tri-state area and asked ‘his little soldier’ to ‘guard the castle’.”
“That’s... cringe,” Francis said. And cocked his brow as he chortled.
“Not if you’ve actually seen their place. It’s on-par with Vereor Nox.”
“They’re THAT loaded?”
“You didn’t know? He owns High Tower Construction Consolidated. They’re the ones currently making renovations to Vereor Nox. They, also, handle national and international deals on buildings that accommodate those that are more... flying-inclined. Her mother, is a military contractor with how to use harpies in times of war. She gained a lot of prestige and credibility with her paper The True Valkyries: The Rise of the Harpy Brigades during the Great Wars.”
“So... they’re loaded.”
“Filthy. Almost as rich as the Brimst’s.”
Francis scoffed. “That’s not saying much compared to Eve-”
“And we both know that’s not a fair comparison. Like an ant to the fucking sun... Anyways, her father said he’ll be back home Monday. She should stop by at that time.”
“If her father lets her-”
“Ryan? He’s a chill dude. He already knows about you.”
“I’m not even surprised... What? Did he threaten to disown his little girl if she went after a brute like me?”
“Nope. Only that he got to meet you by the third date.”
“Huh... That’s... huh... Well, what about the mom-”
“Catherine?” Beatrice jumped in. “She’s a joy. As big a nerd as me. She even made a proxy of a famous card using one of her favorite pictures from her expeditions –two actually. One for herself and one for me. Next time you’re here remind me to show you- ooh! I know. I can go find it and send you a pic later. It’s really stunning.”
“No doubt... Anyways, I should head off. Nicole’s going to have my ass one way or another...”
She did. Oh, she definitely did. He didn’t need to go to jail to worry about his rump being ravaged, though he was starting to wish for it. A hulking, burly man would have been more dignified than being pegged by a four-foot green dominatrix GILF. His only consolation was that he was able to release inside her. There truly was no better feeling than filling a girl’s womanhood with hot seed.
But that was the only consolation. Especially with the trial he faced that day. Francis lurched into the bathroom, walking as though the stick was still up his... He reached back and, with a single, meek yip, removed that intruder at last. His hand shook, seeing nothing but red as he glared at that long, purple member. It was almost longer than his arm, and twice as wide, and seemed to be made of a cheaper plastic, collapsing in as the outer edges melted away.
He tossed it into the sink, leaving it to snap and pop and crackle away as the water hissed and steamed on him, washing away his sins once more. It was coming to the boiling point, and he wasn’t talking about the water. Something must be done with that crazy goblin. What could he do, though? Anything, if he tried any uncouth action towards her, she would report straight to Eve and regale false-truths. Yes, there were horrible, degrading sexual acts between them; no, he wasn’t the one perpetuating them. She would spin it that way... She would most definitely spin it that way. So what could he do... He wasn’t going to find it today, alas.
He sighed, and turned the water off, stepping out. He grabbed a towel, working his most precious item, that rod that knew no quarter, that, somehow through even the worst came out looking good as new. Ms. Bobbitt would be his greatest foe, but, somehow, he knew he would come out on top if she even tried... but... there was a greater challenge facing him, one that he was not looking forward to tackle, waiting in that horrid black bag. He steeled himself, gave one more pass with the towel, took a deep breath... and approached the bag.
Its zipper hissed, and he could have sworn he saw the Devil’s forked tongue riding with those metal teeth. The white inside was not of light but the darkest darkness, gleaming, almost twinkling. He didn’t even bother with boxers, and began to put on that monkey suit. The shirt was easy enough, its bagginess helping some to take the pain away from how... proper it was, but the vest ruined that. He put the pants on next, grumbling at how it hugged his legs. Even just bending to get it around his knees seemed to dig into his calves, and it wasn’t any better as he righted. His member was pressed hard along the left leg of it, reaching down to the knee, and it might as well have been a vice-
“No,” he said, and his thumb hissed on his palm. Sparks flew after the fourth and he reached down, just below the knee. “Hell. No.”
Smoke rose, yet the material gave away so sinfully. It was almost as if it was just as thankful to be away from him, and, with one rotation around each leg, his calves were free. There wasn’t a single loose thread, the edge, instead, burnt black, giving it some “style”, some... originality. He ditched bow tie and jacket, as well as seared off the sleeves, leaving only enough of a flap to rest on the top of his shoulders. He wiped off the few ashes that stuck, sighed, and brushed his teeth, humming. Much better.
Nicole had breakfast ready by the time he entered the kitchen. Oatmeal. She sat at the table, swaying side-to-side, her lids fighting to even be considered half closed. Snapping open as he stomped in. She blinked, several times, and turned her head, looking him over. Frowning.
“Now why’d you go and run a perfectly good suit?” She said.
“Ruined? Improved,” he said, and flipped up the collar of the shirt. “I now look like an investigator who pushed too far and is now scrounging in a fight for his life before the perps find out he survived. Or, if you prefer, a normal day in the life of Johnny Depp.”
“Right... Sorry for the lackluster delivery this morn, laddie, but you right worked it outta me. Ahm tuckered out... Can ye handle cleaning yer bowl?”
“Then Ahm gonna go lay down... Take care of the lassie tonight, all right?”
“Oh, I plan to. I plan to.”
He chortled... but she simply yawned- before gasping.
“Right. The lamia stopped by earlier. She brought ye a charger.”
“Eh? Charger? Phones haven’t learned to charge themse-”
He cut himself off, and rushed into the bedroom... Finding his phone, THANKFULLY, on the nightstand. Given all that happened last night... There was no telling where it might have been. The last thing he needed was to give himself a prostate exam to find it... He clicked it on, and found that it was at 9% battery, and 99% overloaded with more pics from the lamia.
“Vain is as vain does,” she grumbled, scrolling through... and saw a message from a number he didn’t recognize.
Strange. Not unheard of, but strange.
Methinks you have the wrong number, he sent... then followed it up with: This is actually Mega Sexy.
He checked the time of the message, wondering how long he could expect for an answer- only to receive an answer instantly. From a message about four hours before.
No. No... I think I’m talking about you.
And who do you think this is?
The dragonman himself, of course.
… Who is this?
We’ll say a not-so-secret admirer. I’ve been watching you since day one at the Academy and, I must say, I am quite smitten.
Who talks like this anymore? He rolled his eyes, and sent the next message. Okay. Keep your secrets. How did you get this number?
So if I shoot her a message and ask her who asked out of a handful of people that don’t run at the sight of me-
He didn’t even have time to send it before they responded again.
She won’t be able to tell you.
Francis erased his message... then sent a new one.
And why is that?
I have my ways.
A mind-reader, then? Those are as easy to-
Again, they sent a message before he even had a chance. And a chill crept down his spine.
Regret is a powerful thing, isn’t it?
She sent another, then another.
It brands upon a soul like no other.
Though people try to hide it, those that can see it can truly know man.
I can help yours.
You have so much. We both do.
What do you say?
Francis’s thumb hovered over the keyboard, and a cold chill ran down his spine- and he jumped as the screen flashed with the warning for the battery. He rolled his eyes, backed out of that chat, and returned to the kitchen. Nicole was at the table, snoring away, but at least she pulled the charger out and placed it beside the bowl of goop. Hot, cold; it didn’t matter. It was snot to him. Tasty snot, but snot none the less.
There was a plug behind the table, and he looked through Desiree’s latest pictures... After yesterday, he was starting to get disenfranchised... starting to... Really, it was coming off as too... “try-hard”. What person eats a banana, a hot dog, an ice pop, AND a Toblerone all at the same time? Who wastes food like that! Deep-throating the massive ice-pop was entertaining in its own right, especially with how there was a pause in between shots and the blood-shot in her eyes, but he’ll give her this: She had spirit.
But... no matter how much he pushed it to the back of his mind, that “admirer’s” text kept encroaching. It was like a shadow, looming ever closer, ready to stab him in the back. He could hear static, growing in that tiny little hovel, and see a pair of eyes upon him. Like so many years before.
Thank goodness for technology then! He was on Desiree’s network, so he could get online. What better way to kill time than watching idiots on the tube that vouches you can show yourself- and, before he knew it, there was a knock at his door. He paused the video he was on, showing some buffoon die over and over again to animatronic animals in a run-down pizza joint, and went to answer, greeting with all smiles... gone as it turned out to be Cassidy.
She squealed as she launched herself into his arms, swinging him around and out of the apartment, stopping as she locked her lips on his. The harpy held him, tighter than any time before, moaning as she clawed and pulled and clung to him. What breath he could catch was savored. By both of them.
At last she broke away and heaved a heavy sigh, smiling at him.
“I missed you,” she said, wistfully... then frowned looking over his attire. “Uh-”
“Cass. I can explain,” he said, but it was too late. Tiny arrived. Always at the worst moment! The fang exclaimed, looking at his attire, her face lost between disgust, horror, and indignation. “What?”
“What did you do to my suit!” She boomed.
“Your suit?” Cassidy said... and hung her head. “Oh. I see... I... I won’t get in y-”
“Don’t get any ideas, Cass,” Francis said. “It’s only the one date-”
“If he even gets that,” Tina said, pulling at one of the lapels. “That was a $900 suit!”
“Yeah, a $900 suit with no character. I gave it my... personal touch.” He chortled, and smacked Cassidy’s rear, making her yip. And look up. “It’s only the one date, Cass. Calm your tits.”
She groaned... and shot Tina a dirty look.
“I get next weekend, then,” she said, and fell into his chest. “It’s already bad enough I need to do all of this week’s tests tomorrow... I was so hoping to cuddle.”
“If you like, you can go cuddle with Nicole until I get home.”
“Asleep at the table... I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“Oh thank God. This week was Hell... Better be ready though, Francis. I’ll huggle you like never before.”
She huffed... before pecking his cheek and skipping in. The harpy closed the door behind her, leaving the two alone. The static returned, the shadows... the eyes loomed over Francis- whom cleared his throat, smirking at Tina.
“Alright. So you carrying me or-”
Tiny held up her hand, and in it was a set of keys. She pressed the button on one, and a car below flashed. It was pocketed and replaced with her phone, her eye twitching as she looked and saw what he did to her suit.
“Starting out, we have a reservation at a local Italian restaurant,” she began, scrolling down. “That will take us approximately two hours, whereupon I need to call my brother-”
“What?” He said, but was ignored as she continued.
“Then there is a matinee at the drive-through, a double showing. The first movie will run about two-and-half hours, where there is a fifteen minute intermission and I call Tyson again, then the second will be two hours even. I call him then, tell him we’re leaving, and stop at the cafe for thirty minutes to enjoy a cup of coffee before sojourning-”
“Can I talk a moment!” Francis boomed, making her jump... He cleared his throat again, and held out his hand. “May I see your phone?”
She... she handed it to him- and cried out as he crushed it in his palm. The Fang clawed at his hand, hoping to wrench something of use free from his clutches, only for even that to be in vain. He pushed her aside then turned his palm over, raining down the broken plastic and liquid crystal upon his landing sight before wiping his palms clean.
“There we go,” he said... and shot her a dirty look. “Seriously. Checking in with your brother?”
“Yes... You have any idea what you’ve done!”
“I gave you some freedom. Now, here’s how the night’s going to go: We’re going to do what you said because that sounds dope, but without a fucking leash.”
“Still shouldn’t have done that to my phone-”
“You can always get a new one and thank me later.”
She growled, and flitted down to the car... but he could have sworn he saw a smile.