This is a work of fiction although some scenes may have been modeled after events that are real and possibly autobiographical. Any resemblance to real or actual events, and/or persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental and not intentional.
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"Kye"
Part 2
The first phone call came three days later, on Tuesday evening.
"Is this Dominic?" the caller asked?
I didn't recognize the voice. "Who am I speaking to?" I loathe telephone sales, and wanted to make quick work of any attempt to sell me something, like insurance, home repairs, or dance lessons. Well, maybe I'd try the dance lessons.
"Dominic, you don't know me, but I'm calling for Kye." He paused. "Do you remember Kye?"
I was stunned. I just sat there, not being able to speak.
"Dominic, are you still there? We need to talk about..." Without really thinking, I had pushed the button and ended the call. If this was somebody's idea of a joke, they had a really warped sense of humor. After what he had said to me, why on earth would Kye, or anybody who knew him, want to talk to me? Maybe it was an attempt to extort some money out of me. I was in the closet, but since I had never had a girlfriend, had never really dated females, then maybe I was vulnerable to rumors and speculation. I had never given it much thought, but as I got older, maybe I needed to create a more believable story. "Always working, always working" just wasn't going to be enough to hide behind forever.
I was startled out of my mental fog by the ringing of the phone, which was still in my hand. I didn't recognize the number. I answered the call and cautiously held the phone to my ear. "Dominic, don't hang up. Please listen, I wanted to talk to you about..."
Again, I hit the "end" button, this time flipping the phone across the room onto the sofa. No more phone calls tonight. That didn't seem to stop the unknown caller from trying. In the next forty-five minutes, the phone rang more than a dozen times. Doesn't this guy give up?
Then I heard the familiar tone of my text message alert. I checked the phone and saw that the text was from Donnie, my assistant manager at work. CALL ME NOW. DONNIE was all he texted. Sounded like an emergency, so I called him.
"Hey, Mr. Bartolo, don't you answer your phone? I tried calling you at least five or six times. We've got a problem down here that I think you should take a look at, right away." Donnie didn't usually talk that fast without giving me a chance to speak, so I was sure that whatever was happening, he was right in telling me that I should get to the store immediately.
Even though it was almost midnight, I hopped in my Jeep and drove as fast as the speed limit would allow to get to the grocery store. My grocery store. Well, I didn't own it, but I was the general manager, something unheard of at the age of thirty-seven, in the Gregorson chain of Food SuperStores. At the corporate headquarters last year, Mr. Gregorson himself had told me that I was on my way up, up, up in management, and "too bad you're not RELATED so that you could be chairman some day." I'm sure he knew I was single, and I think it was a play to get his ugly daughter married off. The woman, at least forty, was not just ugly...she was the epitome of the woman who could peel paint off a wall by just walking by it. I wanted to succeed in life, but not at that price. I'd just have to settle for gaining a lot of other experience as I climbed Gregorson's ladder, ending up just short of the top.
As I drove up to the front door, Donnie bolted outside. "Honestly, Mr. Bartolo, I had no idea how to handle this. I tried...we tried...you gotta do something quick. Come see.
I had never seen such a distraught look on his face. He took me straight back to the produce department. There was produce spread all across the floor, and there, rolling around in the middle of it all were two women and two men... naked. All four of them, naked...well, except for the leather dog collars and wrist cuffs they all wore. And one guy had a leather cock ring and ball stretcher on his junk.
And they were all having sex. Moaning, groaning, rip-roaring sex. The women were embraced in a sixty-nine position, writhing from the ecstasy they were delivering to each other, and the younger man with the cockring was entering them from all angles, first one, then the other, in their pussies, in the ass, even occasionally forcing his cock into the mouth of one of the two young ladies. His hands roamed all over their bodies, stroking, caressing, pinching. The other man was shouting out orders, demanding different positions, or more energy and speed in the sex. If this had been on the Internet, it would have set a record for hits, but they were in my store! In the produce department. Having sex! The women were young and beautiful, and the man had what counts, a cock probably about nine or ten inches long. And thick. They were putting on a great show. The women groaned loudly as the man penetrated them repeatedly. The "director" would occasionally shove his shorter, but thicker, cock in an available hole, mostly that of the younger man, but his job was not to enjoy participating, but rather, keep it going!
Our elderly security officer was trying to talk them into stopping. His efforts to physically break up the spectacle before I arrived had resulted in one of the men shoving him away, and into a display of chips and salsa on the edge of the produce department. So he was trying to talk some sense into them. Any of them. But they seemed to be only part coherent, not hearing what he was saying. Maybe they were on drugs.
Several customers had stopped to watch, some in horror, some with slight smiles. The ones with smiles didn't appear to be going anywhere in the near future. Other shoppers had gathered up their purchases in disgust, complaining all the way to the checkout about how disgusting it was. Thank goodness that it was late, and only a few kids had been in the store.
Donnie and I did our best to break it up, trying to grab a participant and drag them away, but they fought back, intent on continuing their orgy. At that moment, the younger man shouted, "I'm cumming" and gushed all over the back of one of the young ladies. The older man must have been able to cum at will, because as soon as the younger man began spurting his spooge, the older man delivered a huge load onto the face of one of the young women.
At almost the same time, a male voice yelled, "Let's go!" from the front of the store. The four sweaty bodies jumped up, grabbed their clothes, and ran toward the back of the store, into our work area, and out a side door. We ran to follow, but by the time we got there, all four had piled into a white van and it sped off.
Donnie and I looked at each other, not knowing if we should be mad or laughing hysterically. All that produce had to be cleaned up and destroyed, so we each grabbed a broom and mop to get started. As I worked, dropping the produce into large garbage cans, I replayed what I'd just seen over and over in my mind. Those women were gorgeous, especially to a thirty seven-year-old virgin. I imagined how things might have been different if I had taken one of them to Senior Homecoming instead of Tricia. That had been a real disaster. I got a bad blowjob, and she got slimy panties as I came all over her before even penetrating her willing pussy. And that was the highlight of my sexual expertise. Even the episode with Kye a few days ago offered better jack-off sessions. But I imagined that the roles were reversed, that I was slapping him, abusing him, forcing my cock down his throat, gagging him on my seven inch Italian sausage till I came, both in my fantasy and all over my bed...
I was startled back to reality by a scream from the front of the store. Donnie and I ran to the registers, and from there we could see Sarah, our college-aged cashier, standing at the office door, looking like she had seen a ghost. She was rubbing the side of her head, and pointing into the office. Our safe was gone. We'd been robbed. While we had all been focused on the sex show in the produce department, someone had robbed us. I began to feel really, really sick.
Apparently, after all the attention shifted to the produce department, the furthest area away from the office, two guys came in behind Sarah and grabbed her, covered her mouth and dragged her into the office. When they found the safe, they hit her on the back of the head and knocked her out. Now the safe was gone. The open cash register had been emptied, too, right down to the last penny.
Time to call the cops. And Mr. Gregorson.
When I finally got home, it was well after six o'clock a.m., and the sun was coming up. I was embarrassed by what I had told the police, and what I couldn't tell them. I couldn't remember much about any of the exhibitionists except the size of the younger guy's cock. And the wild sex. I don't think that information was going to help them catch anyone. I grabbed a beer, sat on the couch, and fell asleep. I awoke to my phone ringing again, about nine-thirty a.m. It might be Gregorson, or the police, so I answered quickly, "Hello."
"Hey man, I really need to talk to you."
"Who is this?"
"I called you last evening, about Kye."
Holy fuck, him again. "Don't ever call me again" I screamed into the phone. "Leave me alone. He has humiliated me enough!" The evening's events had just about made me crazy, and lack of sleep was about to make me do something stupid. "Don't ever, EVER call me again," I shouted again. I ended the call, then stared at the phone, wondering if I should slam it onto the floor or try to throw it through the nearest wall.
Before I could decide, there was a knock at my front door. Who the fuck could that be? I was in no mood to see anyone right now, not even the fucking Girl Scouts selling fucking cookies. I approached the door and decided to use the peephole to see who was out there, even before letting them know if anyone was home. All I could see was...something...I couldn't make out what was blocking my view.
"What do you want?" I surprised even myself with how grouchy I sounded. That should chase away whoever was on my porch.
The object moved a little further away from my door, and it began to come into focus. It was my driver's license!
"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" I shouted.
"I want to talk," came the mumbling voice from the other side of the door.
"Just drop the license, and get off my porch. In fact. get off my property!" I was giving myself a headache with all the shouting I was doing. I peered back through the peephole, and saw a dark figure walking down the steps and out of view.
I went to the window, just to the left of the door, and parted the blinds to look out. I couldn't see anyone. I looked as far to the left and as far to the right as I could. No one on the porch, no one out in the front yard. I suppose they could have hidden around the corner, but I had no intention of opening the front door. I continued to peer out the parted blinds until I was sure that whoever had been on the porch wasn't going to come back.
What kind of fool did they think I was? Open the door to a stranger? Especially someone who claimed to know Kye? I had given these fuckers more of my time than they deserved, I thought to myself. Right now, I'm going to go crawl into bed and get some more sleep. I turned and walked directly into the body of a large black man. I fainted.
....to be continued....