My Boss

The Disconnect

Once I have clothes on, Goldman catches hold of the collar of my shirt. He shoves me forward, pushing my trembling body toward the open door. I walk out of his bedroom while trying desperately not to start crying again.

"Well, well, well, I guess you've gone soft on me, Goldman. Shit, that boy should be dripping cum from his ass all the way to his legs."

The guy with the gun grins at me. It's one of those disgusting, perverted grins. Seeing his wide, twisted smile instantly causes an unspeakable fear to crawl beneath my skin. If Goldman wasn't standing here beside me, I believe this man would have done horrible things to my body.

"Shut up, Luther," my boss forces me to the couch, "I'm not in the mood for your trash talk. I need this boy working tonight, so get Ron on the phone."

"I'm a step ahead of you, pal. I called Ron and he's waiting for the goods. The stupid idiot was damn near about to scream his fucking head off when I told him."

As I listen to them talk, I realize I'm prepared to do anything to get out of here.

"Do you think he should change clothes," I hear Luther ask. My head is lowered but I can sense his eyes bearing down on me.

"Ron isn't going to complain. The suit looks nice, anyway. I'm more worried if he'll perform well. I couldn't get shit out of him in the bedroom."

"Oh, really? I thought you said he'd be a good one."

Suddenly, I feel Goldman's large hand against my cheek. The gentle caress makes me raises my gaze to stare teary-eyed at him.

"You're a good one, aren't you, Scott?"

Every part of my body feels stiff. Staring at Goldman's green eyes was always hard for me. And it was all because of my feelings. I cared so much. And yet, now, his gaze petrifies me for another reason. I can't look at him because I'm terrified of this man. I don't know who I'm looking at anymore. Is this the real Goldman? Is this the person who admired all my hard work and told me every day, he was thankful I chose to work at his company?

"Tell me you're a good one!"

Goldman quickly grabs my hair, holding it tightly with his fingers. Without any hesitation, he pins my head against the sofa cushion. I release a startled yelp as I feel his fingers clench tighter. He doesn't say anything as he applies more pressure. And the more I scream, the harder he pulls. In a split second, I understand what he wants.

"I'm a good one," I sob the words against the sofa.

Goldman slowly untangles his fingers from my hair. Luther begins to laugh and I can hear him walking over to us. Soon, I feel his hand stroking my cheek. I desperately want to move away but I fear my rejection would cause Luther to retaliate. And I don't what to see the horror he can do.

"Yeah, just look at him. Nice, brown hair and pretty, blue eyes. His body is sweet, too," Luther doesn't touch my cheek anymore. Instead, he decides to sit beside me on the couch. I'm still laying on my right, so when he sits down, my head is near the side of his huge thigh. I smell his odor. It's harsh and burns my nose. I hate the stench of cigarettes.

"You know, Goldman, you owe me. And I wouldn't mind taking a hit at this one just to make us even. 'Cause the more I look at him, the more I want this pretty boy. You could leave me and him right here on the couch. We'd have a good time." Luther pats my head, " Isn't that right? You'd ride big Luther's cock, wouldn't you?"

His words cause me to feel so much terror that I urinate. I hear Luther's laughter again. It's a deep, heinous chuckle. The sound of it, I believe, will forever be forged in my brain.