*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
Derek Boudreaux checked his mailbox. Three banks down, one of the numerous tenants that lived in the apartment complex likewise checked their mailbox.
Derek had tried once to engage the neighbor in conversation. The neighbor had claimed not to speak English. He then glared at Derek when Derek answered him in fluent Spanish.
There was a thick envelope addressed to him from the law firm of Coutre & Associates. Derek looked at the DeGarde, Louisiana address and wanted to stuff the envelope back into the box, wanted to claim that it wasn't his. He had not been in DeGarde since his father called him a 'disgusting little faggot' and bodily picked Derek up and threw him from the house.
"Maybe the fucking cock sucker died," Derek thought and closed and locked his mailbox again.
Robin Nguyen was already home; Derek wanted to ask the slender Asian man why he had not picked up the mail. They both drove right past the mailbox queue.
Robin was stretched out on the couch, watching the evening news, smoking a Dunhill cigarette. Derek had asked him, time and time again, please smoke outside. The smell was impossible to get rid of once it permeated the carpet and furniture and drapery.
"Hey," Robin cheerfully called out when the door closed.
"Hey," Derek agreed and bent and kissed Robin's cheek.
He yelped then laughed when Robin playfully slapped his rear as he walked past.
"Salad for supper; top shelf, dressing's already on it," Robin said.
Derek dug the large bowl out, grabbed a fork and sat at the table. He used a tine of the fork to open the envelope and straightened the folded pages open.
Zack Miller was dead.
Derek stopped chewing as he read the letter again.
Zack Miller was dead. The letter from Sophia Coutre did not say how Zack had died, just that he was deceased and her law firm was handling Zack's estate.
"Holy fucking shit," Derek said.
"What?" Robin asked, pushing the 'Mute' button on the television.
"Zack's dead," Derek said.
X
X
X
Derek thought that working at Miller's Electronics had to be the coolest job in the world. Fresh out of high school, graduating by the skin of his teeth, no prospects for college, Miller's Electronics was a dream job. All day long, the chubby eighteen year old played video games, set up televisions, listened to great music, and watched the latest video releases.
And his boss, Zack Miller, a guy in his late fifties or early sixties, smoked weed and had no problem slipping Derek a few good joints.
"Hi, I uh, y'all do video transfers, right?" the simpering man asked as he clutched a brown paper grocery sack.
"Yes sir," Derek agreed pleasantly.
"I uh, I got about fifteen, uh, how much, you know, to um, copy them onto dvds for me?" the man asked, clutching onto the bag possessively.
Derek pointed to the sign at the front of the counter that clearly showed how much to copy material from VHS tapes onto discs.
"Um, oh, okay, um, like I said, there's about fifteen, sixteen of them; I didn't count them, just dumped them in here," the man nervously said and gripped the bag even tighter when a group of high school students strolled in.
"Okay, well, let's see what we got here; Derek, why don't you see if you can help those kids?" Zack said, putting his hand on Derek's rump to push his employee toward the milling kids.
"Hi, help y'all?" Derek smiled.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, y'all got you know, like payment plans here?" one of the youths asked.
Derek discussed the layaway plan while also keeping an eye on the kids that were hovering near the video game display rack.
When the youths saw that Derek wasn't going to be lulled away from his observation of them, they left again.
"Take me about three, four hours; why don't you come back tomorrow and pick them up?" Zack pleasantly asked the man as he slid the receipt for the customer to sign.
"Okay," the man smiled and pocketed his receipt copy.
Derek played a video game while keeping one eye on the door for any customers.
"Hey Derek, want to see something?" Mr. Miller called out from the stockroom.
"Sure," Derek said and stepped into the dimly lighted area.
He stepped up to where his boss was sitting at a workbench, leaning back in his chair.
"This is what that guy's wanting copied," his boss said and Derek looked at the screen.
Derek goggled as a man was on all fours, one large black cock sliding in and out of his mouth while one large white cock thrust in and out of the man's anus.
The older man chuckled and turned up the sound on the screen.
"Aw yeah, aw you my bitch, huh? You a bitch?" the black man said and pulled his spurting cock out of the man's mouth.
"Mm hmm," the man agreed, trying to catch the black man's sperm as it shot onto his face.
"Aw yeah, you a good pussy, you good and tight," the white man said and pulled his spurting cock out of the man's slimy rectum and sprayed his semen onto the man's buttocks and back.
Mr. Miller turned the sound off and pressed a button. The screen suddenly became just a blurred and fractured image as Zack sped up the transfer process.
"Well, you certainly can't go out on the sales floor like that, can you?" Mr. Miller chuckled.
"Huh?" Derek asked, pulling his eyes from the blurred screen.
"You're dicky's all hard," the older man smiled.
Derek looked down and his face burned with shame as he realized he did indeed have a tremendous erection tenting his Khakis.
"Here, let me help you with that," Mr. Miller said and unzipped Derek's slacks.
"Mr. Miller!" Derek whispered hoarsely.
The older man bent forward and wrapped his lips around Derek's cockhead. The man's thick mustache tickled the sensitive flesh and Derek gasped and groaned as a fat tongue tickled his cock.
"Oh," Derek whined as he shot a forceful stream of semen into his boss's mouth.
"There," Mr. Miller said, pulling Derek's briefs up.
He patted Derek's crotch softly, zipped Derek's khakis up and then pointed to the door.
Derek stumbled back to the counter where he stood, trying to catch his breath.
A moment later, he smelled the sweet stench of marijuana and knew Mr. Miller was smoking a joint.
Derek helped a woman pick out a few games for her son's fourteenth birthday, helped a man pick out a good subwoofer for his car's stereo system.
"Hey Derek, why don't you do a few of these transfers?" Mr. Miller called out while there was no one in the small shop.
