The Weapon - Lex - part 27
By Diana the Valkyrie
The job
Update: 11/11/2003 to valkyrie05


Morning came. Bright sunlight poured in through the gap between the curtains,
and I could hear the merry sound of traffic hurtling past. I looked around; I
was alone. I was disappointed, she'd said she'd see me later.

I went to the motel lobby, and found their diner. The breakfast was lukewarm
and greasy. I ate slowly, hoping she'd turn up, but by the time I'd finished
the third cup of coffee, she still wasn't there, and I had to start thinking
about what to do next. I could head back to San Andreas and eat whatever
humble pie it took to get my job back, except that Cattermole would probably
block that, because she'd be blaming me for the discovery debacle. Besides, is
that what Wendy would have wanted? I decided that it wasn't. Then I thought
about Cute Chicken. Maybe my destiny was there - after all, they seemed to be
closely linked to the Guardian of Humanity, even though they didn't know it.
Although I wasn't sure if I could handle that much responsibility. So, maybe I
should just declare my independence; go out and get another farming job. God
knows there's always a demand for farmers like me.

In the end, I did what I usually do. I did what was easiest. I walked down to
Cute Chicken, and saw the receptionist.

She remembered me from yesterday, which helped. "I'm here to see about a job,"
I said. She looked at me. "Casting, third floor." I blushed a bit, she thought
I was a porn actor? "No, I'm here about a farming job. Where's your info
department?"

I got to see the head farmer; I think she only saw me on the basis that I
seemed to be with Sandy Gentle the previous day. "You're about to bump up your
farm by a few dozen boxes," I explained, remembering what had been said at the
meeting yesterday. "So I reckon you'll need another farmer or two?"

She nodded, and asked about my experience. I told her, exaggerating only a
little, as one does. Hell, in a little hick company like this, any green
farmer would be more than capable. She didn't think very long about it; she
hired me, and sent me to see Personnel.

Personnel processed me in a couple of hours, including taking up a reference
from Roberts and Williams. Fortunately, Cattermole hadn't put the poison in
about me, so I came up clean. Wow, I was so glad to be free from that evil
bitch. Then she told me to report to the first floor, Casting. "But I'm a
farmer," I pointed out. "Routine," said the personnel lady. Don't you just
love it when people give you these non-explanation explanations.

Casting was in an uproar. When I arrived, the first thing I was told was, "Get
your clothes off." "No, I'm a farmer," I explained. "I don't care if you're a
fisherman - get naked, cowboy." "No, really, I'm here to help with the
computers." That just earned me a funny look. "Son, around here, you don't do
just one job. Get your underwear off."

And that's the moment that I discovered that when you work for a porn company,
you do porn. Never mind that my figure's more like a pear than a peach. Never
mind that I've still got some of the acne I had when I was a teenager. They
just didn't care. Apparently, a plain-looking guy just makes the girls look
prettier, and people only call me plain when they're being kind.

So, I got naked, and sat in a plastic chair, which stuck to my bum in an
uncomfortable way while I waited to be told what to do next. No-one gave me a
script to read, or anything like that. I began to think that maybe Cattermole
wasn't the worst possible fate a guy could face.

So then they called my name, and I shuffled forward, my hands crossed casually
in front of me, hoping that people wouldn't laugh out loud. "See, kid, here's
the scenario. She's a housewife, her hubby's cheating on her with half the
girls in the office, so she's trying to make him jealous by bonking the
pizzaboy from "Naked Pizza". You're the pizzaboy. So, you act all surprised
when she offers you a tip on the couch. Gottit?" I nodded. Someone shoved a
large flat square box in my hands, and pushed me onto the set.

"Hello, sweetie, come here and I'll give you your ... tip" said Sandy.

I supposed I should have guessed it would be her. But us farmers don't think
too fast when we're naked. I gawped. She looked a sight; a great mop of fine
platinum blonde hair, a figure that would launch a thousand ships, high heels,
and all set off in a translucent white silk dress with a long flared skirt.
Suddenly I remembered that we were on video, and I had a role to play. "Uh," I
said, "pizza". "I hope you remembered the extra mozzarella," she replied,
licking her lips with a suggestive leer.

She stepped in close, and I could smell the perfume on her hair. All the blood
rushed up to my head, then it changed its mind and stampeded down to my
genitals. I forgot about the pizza, my grip on it weakened, the box tilted and
slipped out of my hands, bouncing off my erect penis on the way down. "Is that
a pepperoni, or are you pleased to see me," she said, smiling. "Uh," I
retorted, wittily, "pizza."

She led me to the couch, and her hands were all over me. Not that I needed any
tempting, I had the sort of erection you only read about in the pornospams.
"Go down and see me some time," she said, and toppled me over, so that I was
lying down with her on top of me, but then somehow our positions reversed, and
I was on top of her. I was in control of the most erotic woman in pornospace,
and I immediately set about making the best of it. "Uh," I said, "pizza".

"Slowly," she said, whispering in my ear, "not all at once." No matter how
hard I pushed, she was tight and difficult to penetrate; I felt as if I was
trying to push a peeled banana into a clenched fist. But gradually, that fist
opened like a rosebud blossoming into a rose, and allowed me entry.

It must have taken me several minutes of huffing and grunting to fully
penetrate her. Knowing that she was an experienced porn acrtess, I wasn't too
surprised at her self-control. Knowing who she really was, I wasn't surprised
at anything she did. But once she had me fully inside her, I was still amazed
at how totally she took control.

In retrospect, I realised that this was all for the benefit of the camera. But
at the time, the way she made me shudder and squirm, shout and scream, was all
very new to me. Even my wildest fantasies involving Jane Cattermole didn't
reach this kind of level. And, I can assure you, some of my fantasies
involving Jane Cattermole were really extreme.

Most of it was an erotic sensation, but at some points, I was actually feeling
pain. Or maybe my overloaded brain just went off the scale, and started
interpreting extreme pleasure that way. I don't know. I wanted it to stop,
now. And I wanted it to go on for ever. I wanted her to stop putting her
fingers there, and there; "Stop! Please, oh please!" I begged. But I missed
the touch of those fingers when they moved away, and screamed "More! Please,
oh please, don't, don't stop!"

I was on top of her, the man dominating the woman - but she was in control,
the experienced woman handling the naive boy. And each time I looked down, I
could see that face surrounded by the mass of fine platinum blonde hair, the
face of Sandy Gentle, porn goddess extreme. Just the thought of her was
driving me wild. I had a load of her disks, and it must be every man's fantasy
to be where I am right now.

And then, in a final screaming spurting explosion like a thousand volt
electric shock, the safety feature of the human brain detected an overload,
and cut out.

The next thing I knew, I was wrapped in a terry-cloth dressing-gown, lying on
the floor by the wall. I could hear sexual activity not far away, and when I
opened my eyes, I could see Sandy with a man wearing a peaked cap ... and
nothing else. I had no idea how long I'd been out, or how many men she'd
ploughed through during my absence. I was only aware of an immense lassitude,
a wish to do nothing but lie still for a very long time. I closed my eyes
again, and drifted off to sleep.

After a while, of course, the hardness of the floor got to me, and I woke. My
shoulder was painful where it had been in contact with the floor, my neck felt
like it was broken. I carefully levered myself into a sitting position, and
look around.

There were a few other bundles of rags lying on the floor; I guessed that
these were more like me. But the cameras, the lights, the hustle and bustle -
that was all gone.

Sandy had gone too. I was sad about that, but also a bit relieved. because it
meant that I didn't have to face her; nor did I have to face my own
inadequacy. Or, even worse, her cheerful sympathy and reassurance.

I thought about the Guardian of Humanity, and about the plain fact that she
isn't human. I consoled myself with the thought that I wasn't actually a
failure with a woman, because she isn't. But now, more than even before, I
knew that I could never act as her Wielder - I couldn't even cope with the
sexual part of that role, and the thought of all that responsibility made me
shudder.

But at least I could brag about my part in a Sandy Gentle disk.