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Introduction:

Dedicated to George in Cincy.
Mixed Metaphors VIII

The next morning was a whirlwind of doing everything the same or similar as Tuesday. Getting up, showering, getting dressed, coffee in the cab. Becky was in a quandary and sat back wondering if this was really her life. She was no longer in control, and was acting on everyone else’s orders and demands. Not that everything was bad. She just wasn’t making any of the choices.

She wondered if anybody else went through the same thing. There was a lot of work to do before the day was over and it was just Wednesday. She loved to work, however hoped everything would soon settle down so she could get into a nice comfortable rut. She glanced at Tony who seemed to take it all in stride.

He was running a week in advance, contemplating the Italy trip. Becky leaned over and kissed his cheek. He looked around quickly as though he had been slapped, then smiled at her. His smile melted all of her fears and concerns. She relaxed when her stomach, lungs and heart all went back to their original place in her abdomen. She was now ready for whatever came at her. Ms. Johnson called her into her office before she could even put her things away.

“Becky, I want you to work on some copy for the tattoo ads. Nobody else seems to get the concept of what you have in mind. One or two lines to start should get the ball rolling. I saw your drawings this morning and I like them very much. Also we need a few drawings, or pastels for a book we are pushing. It’s called “Paradise Lost.” The book is about an old Donald Trump type character, who looses his money and has to live with the people he spent his life scorning. Do you think you can come up with something by Friday?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Yes … I know you will.”

Becky returned to her office and sat down at her easel. Why would any parent want to purchase tattoo band-aids for their kids?

“Excuse me … Miss. Davis?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Diane your new assistant. Is there anything I can do … or get for you?”

“A cup of juice would be nice. I don’t drink coffee.”

“Yes mam. I’ll be right back.”

Becky got on the phone and called Tony. He answered,

“Anthony Miller, may I help you?”

“Tony what’s going on with the cute little dark haired assistant. Am I falling behind already?”

“No that was Ms. Johnson’s idea. She felt you were working on too many important projects to be bothered with little details. The girl is an assistant slash secretary. Try her for a few days and see if she works out. Johnson knows you are worth your weight in Grape Jelly. She just wants to keep you happy … OK?”

“Thank you kind sir. Talk to you later. Bye.”

Diane came in and laid a mauve colored paper napkin on Becky’s desk, then set a glass of orange juice on top of it. She asked,

“Will there be anything else mam?”

“Yes, Diane is it? Please call me Becky.”

“Are you sure it will be all right mam … I mean Becky?”

“Yes it will be all right.”

Ok she thought; why would little kids want tattoo band-aids? Why do adults want tattoos in the first place? The tattoo makes them different; good. It gives them the ability to display something that they could not normally display. What is the history of tattoos? Becky went to her computer and clicked on the Internet for Google. She ran history of tattoos and received almost 6,000,000 responses. Wow that’s a lot of interest in tattoos, she thought. She took the first article.

”The word tattoo is said to have two major derivations- from the Polynesian word ‘ta’ which means striking something and the Tahitian word ‘tatau’ which means ‘to mark something’. The history of tattoo began over 5000 years ago and is as diverse as the people who wear them.

Tattoos are created by inserting colored materials beneath the skins surface. The first tattoos probably were created by accident. Someone had a small wound, and rubbed it with a hand that was dirty with soot and ashes from the fire. Once the wound had healed, they saw that a mark stayed permanently.

Despite the social sciences' growing fascination with tattooing, and the immense popularity of tattoos themselves, the practice has not left much of a historical record. In ancient times the area between Russia and China had a lot of people with tattoos. The tattoos are believed to have reflected the status of the individual.

Status … that’s good. In Egypt a female mummy displayed several lines and dots tattooed about her body - grouping dots and dashes were aligned into abstract geometric patterns. This art form was restricted to women only, and usually these women were associated with ritualistic practice.

The Polynesian people believe that a person's “mana”, their spiritual
power or life force, is displayed through their tattoo. Women were generally tattooed on the hand, fingers, wrists, and sometimes even on their tongues.

In India, tattoos are put on the human body by monks who incorporate magical powers into the design while tattooing. Women are excluded because monks are not allowed to be touched by them and because they believe women do not need the extra boost, as they are already strong enough on their own.

Around year 1100 ad the Arab trader Ibn Fadlan described a meeting with some Vikings. He thought them very rude, dirty - and covered with pictures.

As with other artistic mediums and cultural developments, vocabularies continually evolve, reflecting the depth and potential of body marking and of the contemporary imagination. In recent years tattooing has emerged to the forefront of popular consciousness. Today styles range from the traditional to the sacred and innovative.

Becky thought about some girls and their need of placing a design right above their butt on the lower back. Why that location she wondered. Maybe it was placed there, so the guys would have something to look at while having sex doggie style.

Ok thought Becky, why would little kids want tattoos? Well she thought for the boys, it might be;
1. Show of strength.
2. Individuality.
3. Feelings for family and culture.
4. Fearlessness and Bravery.
5. Power.

Let’s see, thought Becky. Appeal to the mothers, as they do most of the shopping in the family, and are concerned with the welfare of the children. Make the mother feel good by making the child feel better. The Vikings were powerful explorers and warriors, just as little boys pretend to be. The Egyptians had their Queens and Hi-priestesses.

“For all the little Warriors, Vikings and Angels in your life. Help protect them, even when they know they don’t need it.”

Becky called Ms. Johnson and said that she had something regarding the tattoo slogan. Johnson told her to come in, so they could discuss it. Becky had sketched a colored pencil drawing of a little boy, dressed in a Roman Soldier costume. A mother was bending down and placing a band-aid on the boy’s arm. Johnson looked at the drawing and nodded her head, then read the copy. She said one word,

“Wow!”

Becky looked at Johnson and waited. She read the twenty-two words over and over, mouthing them the last time. Johnson looked at Becky and smiled.

“You are good girl. This is great. I think J and J are going to love this.”

“Thank you by the way,” said Becky, “For the assistant.”

“You are welcome. You need your gray matter for important things, not for trivial pursuits.”

“The book, Paradise Lost?”

“Yes?”

“I believe I have an illustration of a little old man sitting on a bench in Central Park, that might fill the bill. In fact I have about twenty drawings to choose from. Almost half are colored pencil. I can bring them in tomorrow morning if you wish.”

“Yes; I would love to see them. Tomorrow will be fine. Right now I’m going to show this,” she said pointing to Becky’s copy, “to Travis. Good girl, thank you.”

Johnson almost skipped out of her office, leaving Becky standing there wondering if she wanted her to stay or go.

Becky thought, ‘Hey, she knows where I work,’ and walked back into her office. She sat down at her easel and tacked up a photo of a Hugo Boss model in a very nice tuxedo. She began to draw a nine by nine picture of the tux that would be reduced later to four by four. Just then a figure looked in her door. It was Tony.

“Lunch?”

“Wonderful. I was just contemplating eating my pink pearl.”

“Your what?”

“Pink pearl eraser.”

“Oh eraser,” said Tony nodding his head, “Well no need for that since you now have a good job, we can afford to eat out.”

“I knew it Tony. You just wanted me for my money.”

“Guilty as charged. What are you in the mood for?”

“Fettuccini Alfredo.”

“Ok that sounds good.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“What do you mean, what is it? You just said you wanted it for lunch.”

“Yes I’ve heard of it before, and the name has always interested me, but I don’t know what it is. The first time I heard the name it sounded like a mafia gangster. Someone like “Meatballs Carbonara.”

“FYI … Fettuccini Alfredo is a dish consisting of fettuccine noodles in a rich cream sauce, with Parmesan cheese. It is delicious especially with a good wine.”

“Ok Wino I’m ready, let’s go.”

“I’m not a wino. I don’t have my own doorway to sit in. Esca restaurant. It’s just northwest of here toward the river. They have some of the best Italian food in Manhattan. You will love it.”

“Is it expensive?”

“Esca is the best, and the most expensive Italian restaurant in New York.”

Grabbing a cab, Tony told the driver, “Esca please.”

The driver took off and headed up 43rd st. Tony got on his cell phone and called 212-564-7272 on his speed dial.

“Yes this is Mr. Miller. I would like a nice table for two … about five minutes… Mr. Miller … Smith, Travis, Miller and Johnson. Yes that Mr. Miller. We are just pulling up in front right now. Thank you.

In the restaurant, Tony slipped the headwaiter twenty dollars and he led them to a table. A young waiter in a tuxedo, came up to the table and asked if they would like to hear the special for the day. Tony said yes and the waiter half closed his eyes, and then began to recite the special.

“The centerpiece of the menu is Crudo. It is the Venetian answer to Sashimi. Morsels of profoundly fresh seafood paired with odiferous olive oils and flavored with roughage, like watermelon radishes, chives, and volcanic sea salt. The rest of the menu is based on many crowd-pleasing pastas, grilled whole fish, and a brick-red Sicilian stew, of fish and shellfish that gives bouillabaisse a real run for its money.”

“Please give us a minute,” said Tony and the waiter left the table.

Tony, what is odiferous?” whispered Becky.”

“It means perfumed, scented, sweet … sweet-scented, something like that. Do you think you would like to try it?”

“No. I just wondered. I still want to try the Fettuccini Alfredo, and maybe a small salad.”

“Cesar?”

“Salad? … that would be fine, and a coke with no ice.”

“You and your cokes.”

When the young waiter returned, Becky could not help looking at his long eyelashes, blue eyes and the dimple in his chin. He had no facial hair except for a pencil thin moustache that looked as though it had been drawn on with an eyebrow pencil. He resembled a young Rudolph Valentino. She actually did not care, as it appeared he was more interested in Tony than he was in her. She would never really understand gays, she thought. Well to each his own. She wouldn’t leave Tony for the original Valentino under any circumstances. Tony had ordered two Fettuccine Alfredo lunches a coke, with no ice for Becky and a bottle of 1992 Napa Chardonnay. When she asked why he chose Chardonnay Tony said,

“Chardonnay is a very nice light white wine with flavors of green apples and peaches. It also has a hint of honey and vanilla to give it a rich, buttery finish. Would you like to try a glass? It will cleanse your palate, and it will also stand up to the flavors of the thick creamy sauce.”

“Mmmmmm the only thick creamy sauce I want is the one that you provide,” she whispered, a hint of sexuality in her voice.

“Now … now,” said Tony, “we’ll have none of that.”

“It isn’t for you. It is my dessert. I like it because it only has about ten calories per teaspoon.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Sonya told me.”

“Ten calories. Not the way she drinks it. You watch, one weekend she is going to gain about fifty pounds.”

“Well I like it.”

“And I like … that you like it.”

The waiter brought their lunch and Tony finally talked Becky into taking a sip of his wine. She said it was good, but didn’t want to have any as they had to return to work and she didn’t want to go back half drunk. They talked about work and she told Tony about Ms. Johnson’s reaction to her work.

Tony said he knew, as Johnson had stopped in his office and shared the information with him. When Becky mentioned the fact that Johnson had displayed an interest in the old man in the park drawings for the Paradise Lost book he was ecstatic and very proud.

Upon returning to the office, Becky began working on her drawings of the Hugo Boss spots. Between two and five o’clock, Diane came in to check and see if there was anything Becky needed. Becky told her she would call her if there was anything she could think of. She then said to just work on anything they had given her. Diane looked down at the floor a little concerned and said,

“Ms. Johnson told me just to make sure you had everything you needed. I’ve just been sitting out there all day with nothing to do. Please don’t tell her as she might fire me.”

“Don’t worry, nobody is going to fire you. Who could bring me juice like you did?” Becky said smiling. Diane frowned, still not convinced she was on solid ground.

“Tell you what. I really need an objective opinion on some of my work. Do you think you could do that without peeing your pants?”

Diane laughed out loud and then caught herself, a little embarrassed that she was so loud. She looked at Becky and asked,

“Objective?”

“Yes … your unbiased opinion, not influenced by personal feelings, or prejudice. You know how you feel about something without worrying what anybody says.”

“Yah … I guess.”

“Get us a couple of cokes and come back right away.”

Diane was only gone two minutes when she returned with the bright red cans of coke. After handing one to Becky, she studied Becky’s drawings with a very interested look.

“I like these three … but this one kind of rubs me the wrong way for some reason. I think maybe it is the lit cigarette he’s holding. He is really dressed nice, like he is going on a date. I keep thinking what the girl is going to think when she kisses him. God this guy tastes like a dirty ash tray.”

“Uh huh,” said Becky, “then what?”

“What if you put one perfect rose in his hand? Anybody looking at it would know he was waiting for a date. Most people don’t like cigarettes anyway.”

Diane looked at Becky, still concerned about her reaction. When Becky smiled and nodded her head, Diane relaxed and smiled back.

“Young lady,” said Becky, “I believe we have a winner. If everyone likes it, I’m going to tell them it was your idea, if for some strange reason they don’t; I’ll say it was mine. Did you take a lot of psychology in college?”

Embarrassed, Diane looked down at the floor and mumbled,

“I had to quit high school in the tenth grade because I got pregnant. I never made it to college.”

“Well where did you come up with that idea,” asked Becky, tipping her head toward the drawing.

“I don’t really know, just a gut feeling I guess and I read a lot.”

“What do you read? Did you see this in a fashion magazine?”

“No. I read the Britannica. I got the idea from a writer named A. J. Jacobs. He wrote a book called, ‘One Man’s Humble Quest to Become the Smartest Person in the World.’ He is the senior Editor for Esquire, and has written for the New York Times and several other publications. The book is a comedic take off on the Encyclopedia Britannica from A to Z. That’s how I’m getting my education.”

“That’s fantastic. Diane if you get any more … feelings, don’t keep them to yourself. We need those kind of observations around here, seriously.”

“Thank you mam. I want you to know I really enjoy working for you.”

“Working with me… not for me … ok? By the way the name is Becky and you are Diane.”

“Becky? … Thank you again … Becky.”

“Stop me if I’m being too personal but, did you get an abortion?”

“No I got a Jimmy. His father’s name was Jim Hutchins. We went together in high school; then he graduated and went into the Marine Corps when I was fifteen. We were very much in love. Jimmy junior came after his father went to Iraq and was killed there. When my dad found out I was pregnant he kicked me out and we have been on our own ever since. That’s why I need this job so bad.”

“How old is Jimmy?”

“He’s six, and just started school.”

“Diane, I have an idea. What are you doing Saturday?”

“I usually stay home and study. I don’t want Jimmy smarter than I am until he graduates from college. Why?”

“Are you interested in a play date for Jimmy?”

“A play date?”

“Tony and I are taking care of three little boys all day Saturday, and Saturday night. I thought you might like to join us. We are going to have a clown, a magician and who knows what else? It might be fun. Can you come?”

“I guess I don’t need a babysitter, so yes. Jimmy and I would love to join you.”

“Great … write your name and address here and we will send a cab to pick you up around noon?”

“I’m afraid we can’t come that early. I’m a waitress on the weekend. I work six in the morning until two in the afternoon.”

“Really?”

“Rent is just too high to make it on one paycheck.”

“I’m glad you told me that. How much do you make here?”

“Seven hundred sixty nine a week, but my rent is $1700 a month which leaves me a little over $250 a week for everything else. A descent babysitter for jimmy is almost a hundred a week. Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not complaining; it’s just the way things are.”

“No. I understand very well. Ok so a cab can pick you up at two thirty?”

“Better make it three o’clock.”

“Ok three it is. Tell me…what do you make as a waitress … total?”

“With tips around two hundred, maybe two-ten for both days. Why?”

“No reason. I was just thinking that’s all. Hey it’s late. You better get going.”

“Ok … Well goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Diane?”

“Yes?”

“Where do you live?”

“In the village.”

“Perfect,” said Becky smiling, “just perfect.”

“What?”

“See you in the morning Diane.”

“Goodnight.”

“Sweetie you ready to go?” asked Tony standing at the door.

“Just let me put my art materials away.”

As they rode down in the elevator Becky asked a question.

“Honey can I get my salary cut a little?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I have my reasons. Can I?”

“Yes … I guess. How much?”

“Twenty thousand a year.”

“Twenty thousand a year? You know I’ve had a lot of people who have wanted a raise, but never have I heard of someone wanting their salary cut. What is going on baby?”

“It’s my assistant Diane. She is a single mother and has been working seven days a week for over six years. By the way I invited her to the party at our place on Saturday.”

“Good. The more the hairier.”

“Merrier,” said Becky.

“Oh yah hairier would be a Sasquatch … right?”

“Sasquatch?”

“Yah like in Big Foot.”

“Tony … you are such a nut. Do you know that?”

“I’ve heard.”

Tony hailed a cab and gave the driver their address. During the twelve-minute trip, Becky began to argue her side, like an attorney with a client accused of first degree murder.

“I just thought if I took a pay cut, you could give Diane a raise and she would have some time to spend with her son.”

“Baby, do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes!”

“No you don’t, because it is a lot more than that.”

“Where does she live?”

“Somewhere in the village. I’m not sure where.”

“Did you know Sonya’s building has Eight unoccupied apartments? Four two bedrooms, Two one bedroom and Two studios. How about renting her a two bedroom apartment for a dollar a year? Would that save her any money?”

Becky’s tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she multiplied 1700 times 12.

“That’s twenty thousand three hundred and ninety nine dollars a year. You would do that for Diane?”

“Yes and for you, because I love you so much sweetie. Tell her tomorrow and we will have a moving van at her apartment Sunday morning.”

“Sunday … that will all be overtime.”

“Details … details.”

Becky began to cry and held Tony’s arm tight. They rode the elevator up to their floor, then got off and went into the apartment. Becky felt strange as she wondered how Diane would react to their idea of her moving.

Remember last Saturday when you asked me why so many people had to have so many problems, and I answered, I don’t know baby. Just the way it is I guess.”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ve changed my answer. We will just have to take care of things one person at a time.”

“Do you know that I want you more than ever right now.”

As he stood there she removed his jacket, his tie, shirt, and then unbuckled his belt. Becky dropped his pants to the floor, then pushed him just a little until he was seated on the large overstuffed chair. She was on the floor between his legs when she opened the front panel of his jockey shorts. Becky smiled as she took a hold of his thick penis and pulled it out into the air.

“Sweetie, I know you have been working hard all day and are probably tired. We don’t have to do this now. We can skip a night.”

“No we can’t. I’m not doing this just for you. I’m doing it for me and all the girls out there who don’t have a man, for all the guys who have a problem with ED, for all the older men who take Viagra by the hand full, for the women who are no longer whistled at by the guys in the puck up truck. I’m doing this for everyone who loves the feeling of wonderful sexual contact.”

Becky slowly lowered her mouth over Tony’s penis, a long string of drool, running out the side of her mouth saturating the bulbous head of his cock. Her thick lips kissed the smooth head and licked the upper ridge. She kissed it again, and then began sucking. Tony felt like every nerve ending of his body was in his penis. The rest of his body was on stand-by, held in suspension, waiting to see what she would do, all of the time knowing what was going to happen.

She sucked the whole tip into her mouth, as a little girl would suck her thumb, not knowing what pleasure was to come when she was old enough to perform fellatio and feel the sweet warm cum squirt out of a penis onto her tongue, then swallow the slippery liquid down her throat.

Although the first time Becky had preformed such a service was less than a week passed, she knew it was the one thing she could do for her man to satisfy his carnal desires. Becky sucked harder, feeling the veins in Tony’s cock, swelling up, his hands automatically holding her head in a death grip as he began to fuck her mouth.

She was now sucking just hard enough to make a small vacuum. He began to move his hips faster as he slid his penis in and out of the beautiful blonde’s mouth. Grunts and groans came from Tony, as he no longer was in command of his penis. It had only taken ten extremely painful; intensely distressing tortured minutes, until the perspiration was running from his forehead. His thighs were in pain, his calves tingled and his back was tightening as his testicles squeezed even tighter and fired sperm into his lover’s mouth.

Becky, who was now a serious devotee of cock sucking, swallowed the creamy liquid and continued to nurse on Tony’s penis until it was devoid of any telltale sperm. She sat back on her legs and looked at the man sprawled on the chair with his eyes closed, then mumbled almost in a whisper,

“Thank you baby.”

To Be Continued …
19 comments

READERReport

2007-10-13 14:51:02
working on ch. 15 now. og

READERReport

2007-02-28 15:21:50
Just finished chapter VIII. I can't get over the way you weave soul-felt anime, empathy, and altruism into stories that appeal to all the fundamental or basic and the higher senses that we have. This is exceptional work, it is literature.

It appears that you are using voice recognition software since some of the mis-spellings wierd and yet wouldn't be caught by the spell check (e.g., heal for heel; puck up truck for pick up (truck); hokey for hookey; and another I can't find now but significant like peace for piece. There were several others and they seemed like bumps in the road and were distracting as I read.

Nevertheless, Mixed Metaphors is a really GOOD piece of work.

READERReport

2007-02-11 21:55:23
Once again I am pleased to join your grateful readers. I see I'm about 5 months behind. Gotta read fasther. jmc in KY.

READERReport

2007-01-21 10:20:02
your stories contain so much intellect and humor, not to mention the storyline. Very much looking forward to the next addition and have no doubt it will satisfy the many many loyal readers you have... including myself! Great stuff! ps... to all the cockheads who leave disturbing comments about og's writing, fuk off and dont read it

READERReport

2006-11-27 07:48:21
SLM BEN ALTAN 22 YAŞIN DAYIM KENDİME GÖRE MANİTA İSTİYORUM

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