Heller's Revenge (13 page)

“Clarrie, that’s so rude!” I
yelped in shock, slapping him on the arm, my eyes glued to the
screen.

His little character shut his
eyes in virtual pleasure, until his eyes and mouth opened wide in
synchronisation with his virtual climax. His penis drooped and he
did up his pants. The female character wiped her mouth, stood up
and gladly took the promised gold bracelet for the transaction,
before walking away and approaching another of the tiny characters,
obviously with the same proposition.

“I can’t believe I just saw
that!” I exclaimed. “What on earth do people get out of that?”

Clarrie flushed and crossed his
legs self-consciously, his hands on his lap.

Oh God, please no!
I
thought, not daring to look down. I kept my eyes fastened on his
face.

“That was pretty mild really,”
he commented, once the danger for him had evidently passed. “A lot
of people prefer their characters to have full-on sex. The
characters come with all the male and female parts, as you just
saw. Do you want to see more? I can go into voyeur mode, which is
one of my god-powers, being the creator of the game. That means I
can watch what anyone is doing, without them knowing.”

I was torn. “I do and I don’t,”
I confessed.

He tapped on the keyboard again
and was able to toggle the walls of the buildings on and off, so
that we could see into every room. It was like Sodom and Gomorrah
in miniature. There were copulating characters everywhere, doing
everything you could possibly imagine real humans doing, and maybe
even some extra things that weren’t physically possible for us to
do. The graphics were extraordinary. When Clarrie zoomed in on the
action, the first thing I noticed was that whoever had developed
the characters had certainly done their research. Especially on the
female anatomy, which was accurate in disturbingly gynaecological
detail.

After a while, I held my hand up
in defeat. “Enough! Really! Wow, I’m stunned, frankly.”

He shut the
Synful
Synonymy
world down, his character exiting back into the main
world of the game. “Some people just play in
Synful Synonymy
for fun and a bit of a thrill, but a lot offer services in return
for virtual goods, like that lady and the gold bracelet. It’s like
real life, I guess.”

I stood up and put the dining
chair back in its place. All that depravity made me feel unclean.
“I need a shower after that. Will you be all right for a
while?”

He stared at me and suddenly
smiled. “Sure. I’ll just keep working for a bit longer.”

I left him and went to my
ensuite, stripped off and hopped under a steaming jet of hot water.
It was wonderful and my anger towards Heller finally started
melting away as I washed my hair. Maybe I should give him a ring
when I finished in the shower?
Nah, screw him!
I decided,
lathering up. I still felt partially angry and that was reason
enough for me not to contact him just yet. I hummed as I rinsed off
the shampoo.

I dried myself, gently combed my
hair, applied moisturiser liberally and wrapped myself in a
wonderfully soft and fluffy bathrobe, relishing the luxury of the
hotel. I kicked my dirty clothes to one corner of the bathroom, a
bad habit I hadn’t succeeded in conquering. I’d worry about them
later. I opened the adjoining door to my bedroom, and the first
thing I noticed was Clarrie lying on my bed, completely naked.

“Clarrie, what the hell are you
doing?” I screeched in alarm. “Get off of my bed and put some
clothes on right now!”

“Oh, come on, Tilly. I read
between the lines when you said you needed a shower. It got you all
turned on, all hot and bothered, didn’t it, looking at all that
cybersex? Come on, don’t be shy. I’m a man and you’re a woman. We
both know what we want.”

I marched over and grabbed him
by his arm, dragging him violently off my bed. He scrabbled to
maintain his balance.

“Ooh, like it a bit rough, eh?
That really turns me on too, baby. Let’s not hold back tonight. I’m
ready for it. I’m up for anything.”

And to my incredible disgust, I
could see that he meant that literally as well, his wanger waving
in the air like a tiny light sabre. While I grappled with him to
eject him from my room, my arms firmly around one of his, he
twisted and slid his other hand inside my bathrobe. He clutched my
breast, squeezing it like he was testing an avocado for
ripeness.

“God, you’ve got great tits!” he
groaned happily.

I twisted his arm brutally
behind his back and kicked at the back of his knees, buckling them,
then pushed him down to the ground, on top of his erection,
pressing his face into the carpet and kneeling on his back.

“
Fuck!
” he screamed in
pain. “My dick! You’ve broken my dick!”

I twisted his arm further,
bringing another scream to his lips.

“Listen to me, Clarence
Cockburn, and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once,
and I know you’re a smart man,” I whispered fiercely into his ear.
“If you dare touch me again
anywhere
for the next two weeks,
I
will
break your dick! And then I will ask Heller to come
over and teach you some manners. Understood?” Another twist to his
arm.

“Yes, I understand,” he
whimpered. I climbed off his back and stood there watching, glaring
angrily, as he scrambled hastily out of my bedroom, covering his
injured manhood with his hands and throwing me a look of sheer
hatred as he did. I locked the door, dressed quickly and went out
to the living area to wait for him. After about an hour he came
out, walking with discomfit and with a very sullen expression on
his face.

“You’re a bitch. I don’t want
you here anymore. You’re fired.”

“Tough shit, sugar. You hired me
for two weeks, you’ve paid for me for two weeks and you’re stuck
with me for two weeks. Do you really want to go to Heller and tell
him why you are terminating his favourite employee’s services? How
do you think he will take that news? Heller personally recommended
me for the job, remember? Do you want me to tell him what you
did?”

He thought about that for a
moment before giving in. “Well, just stay away from me then,” he
demanded, his voice drenched with loathing.

“As long as you return the
favour, buddy,” I said with my sweetest smile.

He sat down on the lounge, a
pained expression on his face. I softened, seeing that he was
obviously hurting from my actions.

“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean
to hurt you, but you frightened me. A woman doesn’t expect to find
a naked man in her bed, and she’s bound to be a bit uptight about
it,” I said, only slightly remorseful, remembering the boob
grab.

“I thought you were giving me a
message when you said seeing
Synful Synonymy
made you want
to take a shower.”

“Well, I wasn’t. Seeing it made
me feel dirty, not horny. Clarrie, I’m a professional security
officer, okay. I don’t sleep with clients. Ever. I’m not a sex
worker either. My services don’t include sex. It’s insulting to me
for you to think that.”

He looked somewhat
shamefaced.

“I’m here solely to provide you
with some personal security. That’s the basis on which you hired
me. Now, if you can respect that, then we’ll be able to continue
our professional relationship for the next two weeks, and I will
respect you as a much-valued client. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re not very good with
women, are you?”

“No,” he admitted,
grudgingly.

“Well, if you’re still horny,
may I recommend that you go down to the bar and pick up someone?
You’re famous and rich. There’re probably loads of women who get
off on that kind of thing. You shouldn’t have any trouble picking
up, once women know who you are. Or alternatively, if that doesn’t
appeal to you, I can arrange for another kind of professional to
come and service your needs.”

“A prostitute? I don’t know. It
sounds a bit desperate.”

“Sure, why not? Just think of it
as paying for another service. You order what you want and it’s
delivered. It’s up to you.”

“I guess, but I’m not sure I’m
capable of any activity at the moment after what you did.”

“Hey, I said I was sorry. You
shouldn’t have touched my boob.”

“God! And you reckon Heller is a
hard-arse.”

Chapter 9

The continual ringing of my
phone dragged me out of my sleep the next morning. I checked the
bedside clock with bleary eyes. It was only 5:30 AM and I hadn’t
gone to bed until well after midnight, carefully locking my bedroom
door behind me. Without thinking I picked up the phone and answered
drowsily.

“Yes?”

“Good morning, Matilda.”

“Shit,” I groaned. I still
didn’t want to talk to him.

“That’s not a very nice way to
say hello to me, is it?”

“What do you want? You’ve woken
me up,” I said ungraciously.

“It was the only way I could
think of to get you to talk to me.”

“What do you want, Heller?” I
was in no mood for pleasantries.

“You’re still angry at me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“It’s one night down already.
You’ll be home before you know it.”

Silence from me.

A huge resigned sigh from him.
“How is it going with Mr Cockburn?”

“Hmm, let me recap. Last night I
watched him getting a virtual blowjob from a tiny hooker and then I
almost broke his dick trying to persuade him to get his hands of my
boobs. I’m having a great time. Thanks for asking.” I hung up,
turned my phone off and went back to sleep.

When I woke up again, the sun
was streaming in my window. It was almost 9 AM and I jumped out of
bed, dressed quickly, and went out to the living area. Clarrie
wasn’t awake yet. I wasn’t surprised. He had outlasted me last
night and told me that he often stayed up until the early hours of
the morning working, preferring to sleep in late.

I was feeling very restless and
needed to do some exercise, but didn’t want to leave Clarrie
unattended. So I switched on the TV and found an old aerobics show
from the mid-eighties on one of the pay TV channels. I grape-vined,
box-stepped and toe-tapped my heart out with them for forty-five
minutes. By the end of the session, I had even grown fond of their
fluorescent leotards, leg warmers and mullets.

I jumped in the shower, careful
again to lock both the bedroom door and bathroom door behind me and
afterwards changed into jeans and a t-shirt. I ordered some
breakfast for us both from room service. Gathering that Clarrie was
a junk food fiend, I ordered him the full greasy fry-up, but went
for the muesli and fruit compote for myself. By the time room
service arrived, Clarrie had shown himself, hair sticking up in all
directions and wearing shorty Snoopy pyjamas. And I have to admit,
he looked quite cute in them.

He was appreciative of the
breakfast and we would have almost had an enjoyable meal together,
if not for his disgusting table manners. I had to scrub the dining
table after the meal to clean up all the bits of food that had
sprayed around as he talked. Gross.

“What do you want to do today?”
I asked when I finished.

“Nothing,” he said, surprised at
my question. “I was planning to work today.”

I wasn’t used to such
inactivity, usually experiencing exhausting days escorting people
around the city’s sights.

“Wouldn’t you rather do
something? Go somewhere? Harbour cruise? Zoo? Shopping? Movies?
Anything?”

“Tilly, I’m not a tourist. I
grew up here remember. I’ve seen it all before. I’d rather
work.”

“Okay, you’re the boss. But why
did you come over for so long if you just want to work?”

“It’s my annual holiday.” I
stared at him in disbelief. “What? I love my work,” he said
defensively.

“You do this every year? Go to a
city and sit in the hotel room working for two weeks?”

He nodded and then went off to
bathe and change. I remembered that I had turned off my mobile and
went to get it.
Oops!
I’d missed four phone calls from
Heller. What a shame! I deleted them all without listening to the
messages. Clarrie returned, wearing almost identical clothes to the
day before, the Kermit t-shirt being replaced today with a
Transformers t-shirt.

The day passed agonisingly
slowly. Clarrie worked for most of the day, and I was careful not
to catch any glimpse of what he was actually up to in his virtual
world. I heard him sniggering to himself a few times, but didn’t
care enough to investigate. I turned on my laptop and played twenty
straight games of solitaire, losing every single one. I read every
spam email my family sent me. Clarrie didn’t want to go out to eat,
so I ordered lunch from room service. I watched cooking shows on
pay TV and spoke to Dixie for an hour, making up from our
disagreement. I even considered ringing Mum, but decided I wasn’t
that desperate yet. I rang Niq. I rang Daniel. I rang Will. I
ignored every one of Heller’s phone calls. I started researching a
holiday to the Great Barrier Reef on the internet. I jogged on the
spot for forty-five minutes. I ordered dinner from room service. By
seven in the evening I was going insane with boredom.

After dinner, Clarrie worked for
another hour while I watched a new reality TV show called
Blind
Chef
. It pitted visually challenged contestants against each
other in a commercial kitchen. It was a train wreck in the making,
and I sat for an hour with bated breath, waiting for the first
finger amputation. Eventually Clarrie shut down his laptop and
joined me on the lounge, where I was sprawled with the indolence
that only brain-frying boredom can produce.

He took a deep breath. “I’m
ready,” he announced nervously. “I want to do it, I’ve
decided.”