Jobs

Act 10 – The Style Editor, the Crossword Puzzle Maker, and the Photographer

s*x is like a blot of ink, spreading darkness over my tainted virginity.

~ Gia Thatcher

I love getting penetrated multiple times while writing the Daily Crossword.

~ Carressa Montana

Your p***s looks so much bigger through the lens of my camera. Let me zoom in.

~ Valentina Hobgood

Monday, 8AM

There are three women sitting in ergonomic office chairs, separated by the partitions of their respective cubicles. All three are working hard to piece together parts of The Washington Post.

The first on the left has shoulder-length carroty red hair. She takes care of the Style section because she is the youngest and the most stylish.

The 39-year-old in the middle has her hair in a dark shade of brown, parted in the middle to keep it age-appropriate. She is the oldest of the three and is responsible for preparing the Daily Crossword for the Games section of the website.

The last one sitting on the right wears the same hair color as the second, but she wears it super short like a Mia Farrow cut. She is the assigned photographer because she has a good eye and lightning-fast reflexes. Nothing escapes her lens.

“Can you believe it?” Gia, the redhead, starts muttering, “The man told me, in the middle of writing an article yesterday that…” she air-quoted, “…‘I wanna f**k you with my s*x’ is what he said. And girl I pushed my finger out and waved it like the ghetto woman that I am and said ‘Can’t you wait till tomorrow?’ coz I mean, girl, it’s my day off—! It’s bad enough already that I’m working on a Sunday, trying to pepper the f**k out of the Style section just to meet my deadline. Ugh! So I believe I reserve the right not to have anything hard up my v****a on a busy Sunday, thank you very much,” Gia exclaims with emphasis, cattiness thick in her raspy voice.

Carressa is listening while trying to figure out fresh words for the Daily Crossword, and at the same time micro-managing content for the other games they have available on the website. Valentina on the other hand does a satanic eye-roll while overlaying the photos she took of an event from an art exhibit last Saturday onto Photoshop, “Tell me about it,” she scoffs, “I don’t even call my man my boyfriend. I’m his end-of-week shag and that’s it. But I’m not complaining. I chose to be in this open relationship … so yeah,” she shrugs.

“You guys…” Carressa interjects and exhales an audible sigh, “…just focus on the task at hand, please. Also, Gia, you need to cover tonight’s fashion show. Origami Rose is opening for our first-ever Fashion Week. Can you believe that shít? Washington is now doing Fashion Week. I can’t even…” she stops and pinches the bridge of her nose then combs wisps of hair away from her face, “…right, let’s all just keep working,” she mutters to remind herself.

“Well…” Gia’s shoulders droop as her fingers flourish over the keyboard, “…for what it’s worth, ladies, at least we have a job and get s*x on a weekly basis. It’s a silly arrangement…” she looks to both girls and both girls look back at her, “…even you guys have to agree on that,” she whirls her index finger to both girls and the two girls pull wicked smiles.

They all share the same laughter, trying to appease the stress of work, and their personal lives.

Origami Rose appears from backstage wearing a fashion-forward kimono as her last model does a pose at the end of the snow-covered runway. Ori reaches the end of the walkway and looks to the audience to flash a smile of profound gratitude, waving her hand while trying to hold back tears of melancholy that are threatening to spring from her small, glassy eyes.

Her dreams have finally come true. She is now a designer of her own fashion house which she named after herself. Origami Rose, a fitting name for a fashion label, with her winter collection aptly titled ‘The Harpy’s Malevolence’ … a nod to her mother, and their heritage.

A bevy of glitter bombs flash to take pictures of her as she receives a bouquet of roses from one of Washington’s most eligible bachelors, Mr. DuJean Le Blanc who, with photos of them together, appears to be Ms. Origami Rose’s financier and millionaire boyfriend.

Valentina is taking pictures at the end of the runway, the battery indicator on her camera telling her that she can only take a few more shots because she forgot to charge it.

Gia on the other hand plods her way through the crowd with phone in hand, ready to record her interview with the now-famous Origami Rose who’s backstage entertaining a few, select people.

“God damn it,” Gia mumbles as she slips through and in-between the masses. She’s wearing something slick and body-hugging tonight in order to help her get through the crowd like a very slick oil slick, “Excuse me, boobs coming through,” she mock-shouts while lumbering through the thick crowd, not giving a care in the world about the two, no, make that three, three men who have managed to cop a feel of her bosoms and tight ass, “Yeah, keep squeezing till the milk comes out,” she eye-rolls as she squeezes through the tight crowd … tighter than her v****a.

Finally she reaches Origami, and with a quick whip of her carroty hair she goes into interview mode, “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Ms. Rose,” she steals the designer’s hand for a quick but firm handshake, “I’ve a couple questions for you. Answers to which you will provide so I can make you front page and center on our fabulous website,” she speaks with a cheery and confident voice, eyeing down the less than fabulous and much smaller newspapers who, just like her, want a scoop of what’s hot and trending in the world of local fashion, “Shall we?”

She steals Origami away to a private corner which the famed designer didn’t have a problem with because she doesn’t have a bad bone in her body to say no. All the other fashion bloggers and writers are fuming with righteous contempt as one Gia Thatcher steals their scoop, “I promised two questions and two questions I shall ask. First, what kind of woman do you have in mind when you design your clothes?” Gia asks and thumbs ‘Record’ on her sleek mobile phone.

Origami delights in the question and starts answering in a fluid manner. She has gone leaps and bounds from simple to chic to absolutely fabulous in the span of a few short months. All thanks to one Mr. DuJean Le Blanc, whose s*x was like winning the frigging state lottery~!!

“I believe it’s best if I design for the woman I aspire to be. As a women’s designer I always regard myself with kindness and ask myself how I want to look. And from there I make my designs while keeping in mind my customers. I design for myself a piece and then I expand it to all shapes, sizes, and age groups. The wider you cast your net, the more fish you will get,” Origami laughs at that, “Not that I think women are fishes but you get the point.”

Gia is enjoying herself with Origami that she is pained by her second question. She is listening to Ms. Rose while at the same time weighing whether or not she should pursue the next bullet, which is to ask if the rumors are true that Mr. DuJean Le Blanc—prized multi-millionaire—is Ori’s sugar daddy, and whether or not it’s factual that he paid her for s*x, “So, Ms. Rose…” she clears her throat while imagining an angel perched on one shoulder and a devil in the other. She decides to ask what is right, “…is it true that you and Mr. DuJean Le Blanc are going steady?” she paraphrases with a smile, not wanting to hurt somebody else’s feelings. The thing about Gia is that she may look like a b***h, but she sure does know when not to act like one.

Origami’s cheeks are as pink as the cherry blossoms on her fashion-forward kimono, “Yes, we are going steady. In fact…” Gia holds her breath, anticipating the scoop she has been waiting for, “…in fact we’re getting married early next year. He already proposed,” Ms. Rose pulls the hem away to reveal her dainty wrist, “He didn’t buy a ring because the gesture is old-fashioned. Instead he bought me this,” she shows Gia her pricy Cartier bracelet; studded, encrusted, crowned, and bejeweled with diamonds. Both ladies swoon over the stunning piece of jewelry and Gia finds herself melting at the thought of finding love … something she does not have.

“It’s a stunning piece,” Gia murmurs, thinking to herself if her man will ever buy her diamonds.

Gia slumps on the ground while her man relaxes in the sofa. Her knuckles whiten as she jostles her man’s díck. Up, down, up, down, up, down goes her hand, vice-gripped around her man’s throbbing p***s, threatening to spill hot cúm the harder she sucks on the engorged head.

She dips her face even lower as the man’s c**k slips past the hot ring of her lips. Her head is bobbing up, down, up, down, up, down while the man moans sexy and delicious adjectives.

Gia’s forehead is now touching the man’s stomach. Her hot mouth worshipping the hard díck like it’s a God. Oh Lord, his c**k is really big, too big that she has trouble sheathing her teeth behind her lips. She chokes as the man rams her throat with the fleshy, naked head. Both her orifice and the man’s p***s get hotter as friction is established, “I’m coming,” the man whimpers, almost like a sob, as sensations rack and pile like a ladder for his orgasm to climb, “Aah fuck.”

The man pushes Gia’s shoulders away, effectively stopping her from juicing him dry, “Bed. Spread-eagle,” he orders her and Gia obliges.

She lugs herself to bed and plops onto her back, spreading her legs wide, waiting to be chastised.

The man shoves his face between her legs, licking the side of her thighs slowly and sensually before driving his tongue dead center to where an elongated nub is aching. The tease is overwhelming as Gia rolls her hips further up for her limbs to spread, her hands guiding the man’s head as a hard, wet tongue invades the dampness of her sodden cúnt, “f**k…” she whines and mewls like a w***e as pleasure builds between her legs at an alarming rate, “f**k me now.”

Her man rips a packet with his teeth for a rubber to come out. He strokes the condom down his hard flesh and lathers it with lubricant, smacking the lubricated length against his palm. Each smack sending a hot chill down Gia’s spine as she anticipates to be ripped open by the abusive size of her man’s hard battering horse c**k.

Her screams trill in her head before the sound escapes her mouth; the man pushing the warm head followed by an agonizing procession of an inch at a time. She is convulsing over the bed like a woman possessed as the man rams himself in, hitting something within her that elicits a moan much stronger than the last she is giving.

He takes her in one position after another, flipping her over and over until he feels content about the angle he is trying to hit. They do this for minutes long, hours even, who knows. And they do it over and over today … because it’s a Monday.

Thursday, 8AM

“What’s another word for v****a?” Carressa asks, and both Gia and Valentina look at each other before shouting “Cúnt!”

Carressa flicks her attention left and then right, giving her two horny co-workers a pointed stare and an indignant pout.

“Seriously?” she lifts an eyebrow, “You guys want me to put four blocks going down with the letter C as clue for a word that is synonymous to v****a?” her face is a surprised mix of amusement and shock.

“I don’t see why not?” Valentina comments dryly and she is seconded by Gia. Valentina is going through the photos she took from Origami’s fashion show, “Hey G…” she calls Gia’s attention, “Are Ori and Le B—”

“An item?” Gia interrupts, “Yes they are,” she authenticates the status of the relationship but then quickly snaps her attention to Valentina upon realizing something, “Oh my God. You are so not reading my column are you!?” Gia accuses, appalled.

“I don’t,” Valentina responds with an eye-roll, “I rarely have time for myself with all the constant editing I do with the photos. I’m a one-woman salvation army doing what’s supposedly a two-man op. So no, Gia, I don’t read your column. I don’t read anything, actually,” she shrugs.

“Meh,” Gia brushes her off then turns to the woman on her left, “So Carressa, you doing something other than missionary with your man tonight?”

“Hmm…” Carressa hums, “It’s always been missionary with him but he likes doing me that way,” she explains while extending the word-block longer to accommodate the term ‘Nether Lips’ in place of ‘Cúnt’ “…older women are less malleable.”

“You should do yoga,” Valentina interjects, “I do yoga on Sundays when I’m not busy with my man. Flexibility makes your limbs shake less when a man f***s your brains out,” she suggests and Carressa takes her advice with a grain of salt, “I better get going. The cast of Breaking Bad are visiting our city after their win in the recent Emmy’s. I need to take pictures for Gia’s column,” she winks at Gia and Gia gives her a phony smile.

“Hmm…I don’t mind missionary. For as long as I get a hard p***s inside me I’ll be fine. Damn with all the other positions. He can get that with other women,” Carressa dismisses with her hand and it makes Gia bristle with righteous alarm, “How was your yesterday? Did your man treat you right?” Carressa inquires and Gia gives her signature ‘same-old, same-old’ shrug, “Ooh, that can’t be good,” Carressa sucks air through her teeth and Gia mumbles another lazed expression.

“Hmm…” Carressa hums again, she is fond of humming before her sentences, “…I’ll try to be on top tonight. It might spice things up. What’cha think?”

“As long as you make the man cúm,” Gia answers, dryly.

Carressa is down on all fours. Each limb trembling and trying to hold her body up as the desire to be taken crawls to every inch of her skin, seeping through her nerves with an electric chill that makes her wet, hot, and wanting.

The man kneels behind her, trailing his hard, fat c**k down her tailbone. A bottle cap opens and slick fluid pours down her crack to wet her aching pudenda. A straight hand sheathes between her nether lips as four fingers dab lubricant to each vaginal fold, the middle finger pointed and brushing the taut, sensitized clít.

“I wanna be on top this time,” she blurts out in the middle of her man giving her oral, “Oh f**k, when you finish down there I wanna be on top,” she repeats and the man acquiesces her request.

Her clít is positively aching for some friction as she positions to sit on top of her man. The bed is wide and soft and plush with satin, add the handcuffs that are attached to either corner of the bedpost which she uses to secure her man’s hands away from touching her, “Heh,” the man hums a faint laugh, “You on top. This is new,” he observes, amused, “Come on. Come down,” he beckons and so Carressa does, impaling herself slowly as the man’s love muscle sheathes upward, filling her with a delicious feeling of all man, all nine inches of hard man inside her 39-year-old v****a.

His eyes roll shut and his lips tighten to a beautiful O as she rolls her hips with hot friction, frequently hitting and rubbing the warm edge of his stiff c**k against the tender flesh of her v****a. She throws her head back as she whirls her hips in sweeping circles, hitting every sensitive nerve within her as she delights in the pleasure. She took Gia’s advice to use handcuffs to secure her man. She now has control, dominating her man with a clenching friction, and it gives her power.

Saturday, 8AM

“Even Jesus had a rest day when he created this damn Earth,” Valentina exasperates as more and more pictures pile for editing, “I need to make my man happy tonight,” she speaks softly as she applies the changes to a picture she Photoshop-ed.

“Well,” Carressa cuts in, “I made my man happy the other night. I think he’s quite proud of me for being on top.”

“Most men want their women on top,” Gia chimes in, “That way we do all the work for them and they just lie in bed waiting for their dícks to cry out,” she rakes her fingers through her hair, “Gravity is pleasure, Carressa. It’s that simple. We sit on top, impale ourselves, and then gravity pulls us down to the point that the men are fúcking our stomachs.”

“It feels good though,” Carressa mutters, feeling smug because she is getting good s*x from her man, which Gia doesn’t seem to get with hers, “It feels really good.”

“Ugh,” Gia exhales, “Rub it in why don’t you,” she dismisses Carressa and turns to Valentina, “Hobgood, wanna go see a movie tonight?”

“I can’t…”

“You cúnt.”

“Watch your mouth little lady! And don’t call me Hobgood. It’s so gross,” Valentina censures Gia, “Besides, my man wants some sexy time tonight,” she shakes her shoulders and pouts.

Gia snarls and Carressa laughs, “Of course he does,” Gia sighs in defeat, “He always wants sexy time with you.”

“Aw, are you jealous?” Valentina teases her and what it does is make Gia all the more furious.

“You guys are cute,” Carressa observes, “Always young, always restless. As long as you make the man happy in bed, then he’ll never leave you,” she lectures them, “When you’re my age you’ll understand that you just have to take what you can get. I don’t mind sharing my husband with the things that keep him busy, because that’s just what wives do. You guys’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Amen to that,” Valentina says, and then rises, “I need a stronger camera with a much higher resolution. I’ll be doing errands too. I’ll see you guys tomorrow if we need to rush on anything that’s last minute…”

“Sure thing,” Gia mumbles while finishing up an article, “Carressa…” she calls the much older woman’s attention, “…you ever get tired of sharing your man with his work??”

Carressa gives it a few seconds of thought, “Nope, not at all, for as long as he comes home and gives me money for the kids schooling so I can keep being a mother and a wife.”

“You’re the coolest mom ever,” Gia praises her, “I wonder if Valentina is at ease with this arrangement we have.”

Carressa shrugs, “As long as she makes the man happy. That’s all there is to it.”

Valentina’s back is splayed over her man’s torso as she dunks herself onto his hard-on, “Harder!” she shrills as the mattress quakes to the sheer magnitude of their tantric movement.

The man’s hands cup and squeeze her breasts while she holds on to the handlebars of the bed, trying to dunk herself mercilessly to hug and savor the juicy length of her boyfriend, “Aaahh…” she moans at the feeling of fullness that leaves and re-enters her body in quick succession. Her man’s hard length slipping out just as quickly as it punctures, taking her closer and higher to that place she wants to reach, a heavenly place that can only be reached with the help of a good niner.

Her man bites her neck as their movement picks up. Their hearts thrumming faster as orgasm builds up. Valentina wails her desperation to come as the delicious ache of having rough s*x ripens her body with pre-orgasmic shivers. Tingles wrap her every bone and coat her every vein with a delicious kind of warmth and heated lust, making her s*x hot and volcanic, “I’m coming!”

The man bucks his hips higher to allow his lower body purchase. He repeatedly knackers her senseless like a hungry peasant, and she is the lovely maiden holding the basket of goodies, dangling the promise of an orgasm before his eyes which makes him commit his movement with adulterated sadism; ramming her, fleshing her, making her cúnt unrecognizable as his díck stretches her further with each unforgiving thrust, pushing in deeper to hit all her pleasure points that cannot be reached otherwise if they did another position.

She screams her pleasure as her cúnt sputters a white deluge of relief, a kind of relief that shatters her being into a messy heap of nerves as she relishes every delicious surge that escapes her body; over and over and on and on her juices flow as she suctions the health of her boyfriend’s manhood. Her chest rises and falls and so does him as he continues to batter her to fill his condom again…and again…and again…all night long.

Sunday, 8AM

“You are glowing like a fúcking glow stick,” is Gia’s observation of a more incandescent and bubbly Valentina, “Must be the s*x huh? I can tell,” she muses.

“Indeed it is,” Valentina pulls her neck up high, proud of herself.

Carressa smiles, “This is what I like about our relationships. It’s singular in its purpose but plural in its meaning. We make a great team, you guys,” she praises them.

In walks a man wearing a tailored suit, he dips his face low to give Carressa a light peck on the cheek, “Hey hun,” he regards her with warm delight, “Hey girls,” he greets Gia and Valentina, “You guys up for a foursome tonight?” the man asks while massaging his wife’s shoulder. Gia and Valentina look at him and together they say, “Sure, Mr. Montana.”