The Seduction

by Scribe

Part Four: Courting

“Carey, does Oswald have any allergies?”

Drew put down his pen and looked at Mr. Wick. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“Allergies. Does he have any? I don’t want to give him something that will make great pink welts break out all over that delicious white body.”

Drew thought. “Well, aside from the obvious ones of hard work and good sense, I can’t think of any.”

“Good, good.” Nigel scribbled on a notepad. “Godiva chocolates, okay. Now then, as to a sweater. Cashmere, or Angora? I lean toward cashmere myself, but I know Ed Wood used to have a bit of a fetish about Angora.” Wick’s eyes got dreamy. “And the idea of having dear Oswald rub that fur all over my naked body...”

“I don’t think Oswald would go for Angora, sir.”

“I wasn’t referring to the sweater just then, Carey. He DOES seem to have a lovely amount of body hair.”

“More than I needed to know, sir.”

“I’m expecting a delivery. When it arrives, just send it in, would you?” He went back into his office, muttering to himself. “Large? Extra Large? Double X? And what about the size of the SWEATER?”

Drew shook his head. “Oh man, and I thought Mimi was bad about Antonio Banderas.”

“Don’t say his name, pig. You profane it.”

Drew sighed. “Mimi. Welcome back. Gosh, has it been six weeks already? Time flies.”

“Not when you’re scrubbin’ toilets it don’t. Damn, violate ONE little restraining order. I TOLD ‘em I wasn’t aimin’ at Melanie. If I was, I would have pegged the bitch right in the head with that rock. It just had a note to Antonio tied around it.”

“The world just doesn’t appreciate you, Mimi. Thank god.”

“What’d I miss while I was gone, pig?”

Drew scratched his chin. “Well, let’s see. Casey retired. Louann in shoes had her baby, right next to the half off rack. We had the March Madness sale, and took in five percent more than last year. That’s about it. Oh, and Wick is in lust with Oswald.”

Mimi scowled. “What, when I’M available?”

“Well, that IS rather a pressing argument for homosexuality in general.”

“Bite me.”

Oswald entered, carrying a clipboard, and a small package. “Hi, Drew. Hi, Mimi. I didn’t know Ringling Brothers was back in town.”

“Yeah, they said to tell ya they’re sorry, but ya can’t have your old job back ‘cause they shut down the FREAK SHOW.”

“Gee, Mimi, I hope your mom and dad can handle early retirement.” Drew responded. “Oswald, why are you here? Mimi hasn’t joined the ‘Poison of the Month’ club again, has she?”

“Nope. Got a package here for Nigel Wick. From...” He consulted the clipboard. “Nigel Wick.”

“He said to take it in.”

“Okey dokey.”

Oswald went and knocked on the office door. From inside, Wick called, “Yes?”

“Delivery from Global Parcels.”

The door opened. An arm darted out, grabbed Oswald by the shirt front, and jerked him inside. The door slammed. A moment later there was a yell, and Oswald burst out, holding the clipboard over his bottom. He ran to the far side of Drew’s desk as Wick sauntered out of the office. “My, you’re a quick little bunny, aren’t you?”

“Drew, he put his hand on my butt!”

Drew looked at Wick sternly. “Sir?”

Nigel rocked on his heels, looking innocent. “My hand slipped.”


“Mr. Wick, I think you’d better sign for your package and let Oswald get back to work.”

“Oh, very well.” He held out his hand, and his voice was deep. “Come to me.”

Oswald stared at him, then skimmed the clipboard through the air like a frisbee. Wick caught it neatly, and sighed. “You’re so athletic.” He pulled out a pen, clicked it with a flourish, and signed. Then he kissed the page and skimmed it back to Oswald. Oswald caught it, held it by the edge, and sidled to the door, keeping an eye on Wick all the way. He backed out.

Wick smirked. “He’s so coy.”

“What was so important that you sent it to yourself through Global Parcels, sir?” Drew asked.

Wick was holding the package, and he ripped it open. “Oh good. My stapler. I was wondering where I’d put this. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have to go see if this box will hold my letter opener, or if I need to get a different size.” He bustled back into his office.

Drew sat, shaking his head. Mimi stared after Wick. “Say, he’s really got it bad, ain’t he?

“Godiva chocolates bad.”

“Holy crap!” She sniffed. “I wish someone loved ME enough to give me Godiva.”

“Yeah. The PEZ gift pack just isn’t quite the same, is it?”

Wick came back out of the office. “Carey, do you suppose the light of my life will be at that same quaint cesspool tonight?”

“The Warsaw? Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Gooooood.” He left.

“Uh oh. That had at least four extra ‘ohs’ in it. I wonder what Wick is planning?”

“Maybe he plans to stalk him, observing his every move for days on end. Then follow him home from work, and when he gets out of his Ferrari, clap a rag soaked in chloroform over his face before he can scream, and drag him back to a secret location and spend days forcing him to cater to every sexual fantasy, no matter what his skinny blonde bitch wife Melanie...uh. Um. Never mind.”

“Uh huh.” Drew started scribbling on a pad. “Note to self: do not buy stock in Antonio Banderas’ next picture. Bad investment risk.”

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