Spilling Guts

Part 45 - "Fun" Inventions

Apparently, the upstairs got the "fun" inventions. The illustration caught Will's eye first, a long shape with a wonky looking middle. For some reason there was a crank on one end that made him think the device was from a steam-punk torture chamber. Then he saw the diagram of the inner gears and miscellany inside the wonky length, designed to take two bean shaped beads inside it and twirl them. According to the file, the shape consisted of...

Silicone?

Will dropped the folder like it had sprouted a mouth and called him daddy.

Out of all the files to pick up... Okay. Just a fluke. I got the weird one of the bunch. Move on to the next one for now. Nice and boring- HOLY SON OF A WOOKIE!

Will flipped through the rest of the folders, all of them containing something salacious, raunchy, or just plain "why would you put that anywhere near an orifice? That many gears will catch on something. Mostly hair." His face burned, and he refused to look up and see if any of the other desk jockeys noticed his state.

Am I being hazed? I feel like this is a hazing.

It felt like being dragged through an adult specialty shop for the first time; bright colored shapes, bindings, too-plush models of body parts, and shelf after shelf of oils and lubes that promised the world, shame creeping under his skin like tiny goblins. He had no problems with intimate aids in the bedroom, he had his own, but seeing designs for them in a workplace setting left him shook.

The embarrassing, questioning thoughts that had run marathons through his mind in adolescence were taking another round in his adult life. And dragging up old insecurities. Back then, after the face-burning embarrassment of the adult shop, he had realized what he actually needed to feel intimate and comfortable with himself was another person.

And there was no chance of that happening anytime soon.

He had punched, cursed, and snapped at Louis, and yet some part of Will still lingered on the awkward crush that had settled in the pit of his stomach like a needy puppy. Another hunger that would not be sated. It had curled up inside him far easier than Louis ever did.

If bodies were the only factor, Louis and I have been extremely intimate with each other. Not that it meant anything.

Even the thought brought a deeper heat to his cheeks.

Hazing. You're being hazed. Just put in the information one line at a time. Get it done. And think cold thoughts. Iceberg thoughts. Stuck in a blizzard on Hoth thoughts. Hanging upside down in an ice cave thoughts. Luke Skywalker freeing me from the cave with his light-saber and then holding me tight as we ride off into-

Nope. Focus.

When he reached the part of the file that described in detail what the device was intended for, the language was surprisingly clinical. Reading further into the description, he realized someone had actually tested the thing for the intended purpose.

"Excuse me!"

Will jolted, snapping the file closed as he looked up at the person calling him. A man stood at the entrance of the patent office, wearing an expensive looking three piece charcoal suit and a sardonic grin with teeth too straight and too white. A trio of suited people with briefcases and ear-buds surrounded the man like an entourage. And for some reason, probably because Will sat at the desk closest to the door, the man was looking at him.

"I've been waiting five minutes to talk to my representative." With an insulted flourish, the man slipped off a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses that did more to declare a tax bracket than protect eyes from light. "Do you know what five minutes is worth to me? More than you make in a year. Could somebody ring her up, please?"

It was a voice and tone that expected everyone around them feel like a customer service representative on their last prayer during Black Friday. The other workers around Will pointedly looked away, leaving him to the wolves.

"Or do I need to do everything for myself around here?"

"I'm..." Will shrunk under the man's gaze and glanced at the reception desk. The receptionist, the first guard against people like the suited man, was missing. "I'm sure the receptionist will be back in a moment."

"Do I look like I have a moment?"

Shit. What do I do? This guy could get me fired or in troub-

Wait a minute. I've stared down the barrel of a gun. I've been strung up in chains expecting to be executed. I've been buried alive in a mine, shot, car-bombed, fought with cult members, and I have logged a minimum of fifty hours holding a pissed, coffee-soaked, blond agent inside me. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

"Now, I can come back later, but later means I'll be coming with my shareholders and their lawyers to talk for me, and I wonder what they'll say about selling my work to-"

Before Will could snap back how little he cared about this man and his lawyers, Najarro swooped in with a tak-tak-tak of her high heels. She had an indulgent smile that sharpened the point on her eyeliner.

"Mister Caster," she crooned as she held her hand out for him to shake and smirk over. "Early again to see me?"

"For you, yes," said Caster, his face melting from indignant to indulgent as he kissed her knuckles. "Your people here-"

"Are busy. Menial workers. Don't mind them." Najarro took back her hand, rubbing two of her longer nails together like a mantis. She looked back at the "menial workers" and gave a quick wink before turning back to Caster and his people. "Our project managers are eager to see you. And I can't wait to see what you've come up with. This way, please."

Caster, like a preening rooster, offered his right elbow, and Najarro curled her clawed hand around it with a simper. Flirting accomplished, Najarro escorted Caster and his entourage upstairs and away from the desks and her people, her figure swaying to and fro.

"Who was that?" asked Will, still frozen in his seat.

"One of the inventors the higher ups have been negotiating with for the last couple months," said Higuri. "Real arrogant ass. At least he's sober today."

"Yeah." Will held up the file for a rather barbaric looking device meant to go where the sun didn't shine unless in a particular yoga position. "I know where this could go."

Higuri held up a folder of his own. A blueprint for something missile shaped that required four triple A batteries. "Same."