Chapter 2: Coitus Interruptus
"Virtue is to vice as coal is to diamonds." - Karl Kraus
*
Veronica started. A sound caused her to leap awake.
She had been asleep, but she didn't know for how long. Trent lay beside her, his arms and legs spread out. He quietly snored.
'The sound of the motorcycle didn't wake him up,' Veronica thought.
The engine revved again. It sounded ferocious, just like her boyfriend Rod.
She quickly checked the clock on the night table. It was nearly 5:00 PM.
'When did I fall asleep?'
She looked around the room for something to wear. Her only clothes were up two flights of stairs in her bedchamber. Once Rod walked inside there would be no time.
'Maybe I could meet him naked? He always likes that,'
The downstairs door opened and she heard footsteps. It sounded like he wore his jackboots today.
"Nicky, it's me! Where you hiding?" It was Rod.
Veronica quickly ran to the bathroom, her heart full of dread and anticipation. She cleaned the dry cum off her thighs and breasts.
'I hope I haven't missed a spot. He'll whip my ass for sure,' Veronica wasn't sure if she feared or craved the proposition of Rod whipping her.
She tiptoed downstairs, hoping Rod hadn't woken up Trent.
Rod had been a member of the Vector Enterprises Domestic Security Detail (the DSD). The DSD provided bodyguards and armored vehicles to the senior executives at Vector Enterprises. The extra security was necessary because "moral traditionalists" (a bloodless euphemism for the Christian terrorists who showed the secular God's love through pipe bombs and death threats). The DSD called the groups "Psychos for Christ", "Jihad for Jesus", or simply "The Germ Lovers."
Why anyone would want to kill people who save people from horrible, socially stigmatizing diseases puzzled everyone at Vector Enterprises. It seemed to defy all logic, reason, and decency. These groups found salvation in sickness and turning sexuality into a fearful fatal act best left to the stifling confines of monogamy.
Besides being morally vacuous, disease-loving psychotics, they were boring too! And they wanted the rest of humanity to live joyless, boring, sex-hating lives just like them.
The fact that Vector Enterprises also owned porn studios, gay bars, and family planning clinics didn't help. Those were deal-killers in the bygone age of "Family Values." But the "moral traditionalists" routinely lost ground when their leaders became exposed as hypocrites and frauds. Their ranks included closeted gays, prostitute aficionados, and abusive parents.
Rod had met Veronica at a corporate soiree. She was working as a coat check girl. It was around four years ago, before the Big Cures Program went public.
She had been twenty-one, Rod had been thirty-three.
Rod's twin passions involved the motorcycling and bondage scenes. To Veronica, an impressionable Russian girl from a strict family, Rod's leather menace mesmerized her.
With the money he saved from his security work, he planned to open a private dungeon somewhere in downtown Cannes. He began cultivating a client list and searching for potential properties.
He took off his mirrored shades and put them in the front pocket of his heavy black leather jacket. The silent beach house became filled with sounds as his jackboots and leather chaps.
"Roddy!"
When Rod turned around he saw Veronica. She walked towards him, an unbuttoned white shirt barely covering her buoyant breasts. Her boxer shorts rubbed against Rod's tight jeans.
"Nicky!" He said kissing her.
As he kissed her, Veronica took off his biker cap and put it on her head.
"I missed you so much," He began to kiss her neck.
"Me too," She whispered in his ear. Then she bit his earlobe.
She sighed, her body loosening while his black leather gauntlet gloves caressed her ass.
They kissed again, this time Rod bit her bottom lip. His teeth clenched her lip until she pulled hard.
"Been behaving yourself?" He asked.
She innocently nodded, her green eyes staring intently into Rod's.
"Then I can give you my reward," He smiled rakishly. He guided her hand to the bulge in his jeans, letting her gently fondle his cock. The pulsing beast ached to break out.
"Veronica?" It was Trent.
Veronica froze. She bit her lower lip and looked away.
"What's a matter?" Rod asked, slightly confused.
"It's my boss,"
"He's here?" Rod became more confused. "I thought he worked weekends? Doesn't he stay at the Vector Corporate Residence when he's working?"
"That's just it. He's done working. At least for now. I think?" She was glad Rod hadn't caught on.
"I'm sure he won't mind the maid fucking her boyfriend at his place. It's big enough for the three of us. Plus, he's a swinger anyway," Trent unleashed his throbbing cock from his jeans. "He might get off on watching us."
He smiled rakishly again, inhaling quickly as she stroked the long shaft.
Then Trent, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants, walked into the hallway and saw them.
"Veronica, can you call that Chinese place for dinner. I'm sure you're hungry too, the way we fucked in the --"
Trent froze, dropping his newspaper on the floor.
"Um, this is awkward," Trent said breaking the silence.
"Rod, I'm sorry," Veronica began apologizing, her eyes moistening.
"I didn't tell you to stop, bitch!" Rod said, his voice even and cold.
"Hey! You're talking to one of my employees!" Trent snapped.
"Back off, rich boy! This is my girlfriend,"
'Christ, do I ever get to have one all to myself?' Trent thought, more annoyed than offended.
"You fucked her. Now it's my turn,"
He pushed aside her shirt and scooped up her breast, his thumb caressing her nipple.
"Now suck my cock, slave!" He growled, pinching her nipple hard.
Veronica gasped in pain and then said: "Yes master," The moment she craved had arrived. Being humiliated in front of her boss would only make it more pleasurable.
She began sucking his cock. Her brows furrowed as she emitted little sighs. His cock didn't taste like Trent's, it tasted like leather and cigar smoke and gasoline. Memories of dim biker bars and rundown strip clubs flooded her mind. On amateur night she gave him a show he never forgot.
Trent understood now. This wasn't some yob hooligan abusing his girlfriend. The bondage scenario enriched their relationship with a theatrical depravity.
Its rawness and artificiality aroused him.
"You!" Rod pointed at Trent. "What's his name?" He asked Veronica, still vigilantly savoring his erect cock.
Releasing him from her mouth, it made a comical suction noise, like opening a tightly sealed jar.
"Trent," she said quietly.