"You want to worship my cock but can't think of the best way. It confuses you just a little bit to think of what the best way is to show your love for it. I will tell you because I am your friend and want you to do what makes you happy. Worshipping my cock makes you happy and I will tell you how the best way is to accomplish that. Would you like to know how to worship it, Lucille?"
"Yes. Tell me." She spoke in barely more than a whisper, obviously taken into some sort of alpha state by the pheromones and his use of language. Her eyes showed the glassy look of the drugged, but the same shine of one hungry for more as well.
"I will tell you, Lucille. Because I am your friend. You treasure me. You know that I hold the most beautiful cock you've ever seen and you long to worship it. Because you worship my cock, you treasure me above all others as possessor of it. I like you, Lucille. And that's good. It's good that I like you because I want to honor you with my cock. This is a great honor and you're so happy to have it. You know that it is a special honor and you love that I'm willing to let you have it, even for a short time. You know that you deserve this honor because you are my little cocksmoker, Lucille. I want you to tell me this now. Tell me you are my little cocksmoker."
Lucille spoke with flat affect, but the words were enough. "I am your little cocksmoker."
"Oh yes. That's a good girl. You're such a good girl, Lucille. I want you to remember something: You are my little cocksmoker. It makes you so happy to be my little cocksmoker. You want to worship my cock, but you will only be allowed to when I tell you you're my little cocksmoker. This will be my name for you when you are allowed to worship my cock. Do you want to worship my cock now, Lucille? Do you want to be my good little cocksmoker?" Joel thought perhaps he had gone too far, but the repetitiveness was often necessary in hypnotic states to drill the point home, and it was his favorite obscenity.
"I want to be your good little cocksmoker," she parroted.
"Excellent. Now I will tell you how to worship my cock, Lucille. You will be my good little cocksmoker. You will kneel before me, take my penis into your mouth, and give me the best blowjob you have ever delivered. You will worship my cock by blowing me, Lucille. Do you want to do that?"
"Yes. I am your good little cocksmoker."
She rose stiffly from Joel's desk and knelt before him. This was all going swimmingly. Lucille had a little trouble unbuttoning Joel's slacks, but he helped her out and she was well on her way to making him one very happy advertising executive. As she got the zipper lowered, his penis sprang out, already fully erect from all the mental foreplay he had been enjoying. She smiled, obviously happy to be pleasing the cock she worshipped. She licked the underside of his head and was just taking the crown into her mouth when the phone rang. The phone? This wasn't how his fantasy went! What phone? Then Joel heard it again. The phone. He'd been daydreaming again. His fist was wrapped securely around his engorged penis and he had been masturbating vigorously when his dream sequence was interrupted by the ringing phone.
"Fuck it. Let the machine get it." He tried to recreate the scene, but the moment had been lost. He gave up, felt his penis start to go limp, and went back to washing. Joel heard the answering machine pick up. He strained his ears for the message. It was Lucille. "Her ears must have been burning," he thought to himself. She had gotten all the materials together from Records for the McDonald's campaign. That girl could work like lightning sometimes.
He put his head back under the water, thought of the way she had smiled just before opening her mouth to take is penis into it. Oh, how he loved to see that smile, her smile, the smile of a woman hell-bent on pleasing her man. With a hair full of shampoo bubbles, it struck him "The smile! Of course. 'I love to see that smile.' No. 'I love to see your smile.' No. 'I love to see you smile.' Close. We… 'We love to see you smile.' That's it! That's the new campaign." He leaned forward, but shampoo rained into his eyes and he was forced to finish his shower in haste in order to get to a pen and pad. Joel wrapped a towel around his waist, dripped all the way into his study, and wrote the following on the legal pad on his desk:
"'We love to see you smile.' Friendly. Affectionate. Not at all like other fast food jingles. Encourages feelings of happiness and peace. The sort of place you'd want to visit. Like a friend's house. The sort of place that cares that you came, not just some other burger joint that wants you to drive through and throw your money at the second window. Demographic: Any person with teeth, all areas, especially metropolis areas, all socio-economic statuses, especially low to upper-middle class and working class, both genders, all religious affiliations. Workers are typically teenagers and early twenties. Everyone is more attractive when they smile. This assures the consumer that they are getting a quality experience from someone who really cares about their food and their service.
Better experience for the consumer and the worker. Smiling faces a must. Need: signage in the employee bathrooms as well as on the cash registers, new shirts, buttons, aprons, new bags and cups with the motto (and maybe a smiley face?) , and a set of commercials featuring attractive young girls smiling like they can't wait to" Joel paused here. He wanted to say "can't wait to swallow your cum" but he would probably have this sheet of paper tacked to his cubicle wall for the next couple of weeks – having the note he scribbled in his excited idea phase was more of a motivator than his paycheck – and didn't want to get chewed out for it. Instead he wrote "can't wait to make you happy." It was a pleasant compromise. Plus, he knew what he meant, and it was his campaign. He couldn't wait to get started.
