Customer’s Service



Thomas arrived at the small office just in time to start his shift. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found that his boss Ms. Klein’s had left a note saying she would not arrive til 7:00 pm. He sat down and logged into his computer than his phone which rang almost immediately.

“Hello, Sergeant Pepper’s Hot Sauces, this is Thomas, how may I help you?”

“You can take this sauce and stick it squarely up your butt is what you can do for me,” said the gruff female voice on the other end of the phone.

“Um, I’m sorry if you were dissatisfied with your order ma’am, perhaps we can work together to get this problem resolved, “he said, thinking that this would be a long night.

“Perhaps, I can explain to you exactly what happened and then we can go from there, okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

“I opened the package and one of the bottles was broken,” she said beginning to cry. The other bottle was okay, but it wasn’t hot, the ad said it would be the hottest thing my mouth could handle.”

Thomas felt a small wave of excitement pass over him. “The hottest thing her mouth could handle; he wondered what she looked like.

“I’m sorry ma’am we do have a money back guarantee. What’s your last name?”

“What do need that for,” She asked suspiciously.

“To give you your money back ma’am.”

“It’s Bonnetta.”

Thomas typed in her information. ‘Bonnetta, sounds like bonita which meant pretty in Spanish.’ He thought. He began to wonder what she looked like. She sounded older, but not too much he guessed she was about thirty five. As she gave him her address he began to feel himself getting hard.

“Now how about your peppers and your sprinkle spice, are they actually hot?”

“Yes ma’am, they’re very hot, Thomas said unzipping his pants.

“Well, I don’t know if I trust you.”

“Oh, you can trust me,” He said beginning to stroke himself.

“Alright send me one bottle,”

“You get free shipping with two,” he said trying not to breath heavy.

“Oh, all right, give it to me, I’ll give it a try.”

He stroked harder and typed with one hand as she gave him her credit card number. He needed something to look at. His work computer did not get the internet and his phone was out of batteries. He looked around the desk. He found part of an old newspaper. There was a picture of Chelsea Clinton, he always liked her hair. He wondered what this woman’s hair was like.

He stroked harder as the woman told him everything that had happened to her that day, but he could conclude; he needed friction. He saw his boss’s sweater hanging innocently over a chair. She was prattling on about something her son said to her.

“One moment while your order processes ma’am, “ he gasped.

 He dropped his pants and grabbed the sweater inserting his manhood into a sleeve. He put the customer on mute as he began to feel himself go, unable to see or hear. He slumped up against the desk for a moment. He heard a rustling and turned around to see Ms. Klein standing in the doorway staring in horror.

He did not speak he tore off his head set then got out of the sweater. He zipped up and ran out the door handing Ms. Klein the sweater on the way out.

As he left he could hear the customer screaming “hello” into the phone.

He ran down the street in an enormous sweat. He realized he left his car keys in the office. He took the subway home feeling a sad sense of triumph.

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