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    Katya Dee
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Specter's Gamble - 15. Chapter 15

Specter's Gamble (chapter 15)

 

Today was a good day for Werner LeVoughn. It started with him waking up at seven in the morning, which usually wouldn’t be such a great thing – Werner liked his sleep. This time, however, was different. He woke up from an amazing dream that he was having. The dream involved Werner himself, Sam (the spoiled brat told him plain and clear that if Werner were to ever touch him again, he’d chop his balls off; talk about ungrateful little bastards!), and none other than Julian Salamander himself. The events in his dream unraveled rather quickly, and everything was so vivid that when Werner woke up, he realized that he had a hell of a hard-on – something that didn’t happen too often. Hell, the last time he got a hard-on without Sam around, was five years go.

Werner immediately started taking care of the task at hand (literally), and when he remembered his dream (Julian was fucking Sam’s mouth like there was no tomorrow), he came so hard that it took him almost twenty minutes to catch his breath after he was done. His mood skyrocketed after that (naturally), and by the time Werner got to his office, he felt that the entire day was going to be simply fantastic.

Everything was fine until two in the afternoon. That was when Werner’s day got even better. He was reading his newspapers -- the glasses kept sliding to the tip of his meaty nose, and he kept pushing them back up – when the phone rang. Werner ignored it at first, figuring that Adele (his secretary) was going to take care of that as she was supposed to. After the phone rang for the eighth time, Werner started to feel annoyed. Then he remembered that Adele usually took her lunch around one-thirty every day. He glanced at the clock and realized that she wouldn’t be back for another half an hour.

Werner sighed and picked up the phone that kept ringing. Some people never know when to stop, he thought.

“Hello!” he barked into the phone, the receiver looking ridiculously small in his large brown-spotted hand. Werner didn’t like those brown spots on his skin – he was pale, therefore, the spots really stood out – but there was nothing he could do about it.

“LeVoughn?” the voice on the other end of the line said, and Werner’s heart skipped a couple of beats when he recognized that voice immediately.

“Gabriel,” he said slowly, his mouth twitching with a newborn smile. The piece-of-shit-all-mighty-and-proud-Rayhe had finally caved in, he thought with dark triumph. He remembered when the damn annoying brat (all brats were annoying, including his own) told him on the phone to shove his threats up his ass, and go lick the Salamanders’ boots. “...They can always use a bitch like you!” Werner remembered him saying. “Who is the bitch now?” he thought when he heard hesitant notes in Rayhe’s voice.

“LeVoughn...” Rayhe said again and cleared his throat. “Werner...” he said almost forcefully, and Werner smiled. He is using his first name, he thought. That means that he finally got his tail between his legs, crawling to Werner, begging for mercy.

“What can I do for you, Gabriel?” Werner purred into the receiver, his groin twitching sweetly at the humiliation in Rayhe’s voice.

“I need...” Rayhe cleared his throat again. “I would appreciate it...” he corrected himself, and Werner smiled again. That’s right, he thought. I don’t give a flying shit about what you need. You are going to ask me for a favor, and you are going to do so nicely.

“I would appreciate it,” Rayhe continued in the same strained voice. “If you could meet with me... Privately,” he added.

“Privately, eh?” Werner thought. “Privacy could be used for lots of things...”

Suddenly, he had an impossibly bright image flash in his head; an image of Rayhe standing on his knees between Werner’s legs, sucking him off eagerly, and Werner’s groin twitched again, more powerfully this time.

“I don’t know...” he said slowly, as if trying to figure out if he had time for something like this. “Gabriel, I am quite busy lately... Do you mind telling me what is this about?”

“I...” Rayhe coughed again. “I have a proposition for you... An offer...”

The image started to get more obscene, and Werner had to slightly shift in his chair, since his rapidly growing hard-on (the second in one day!) was starting to make it uncomfortable for him to sit.

“What offer would that be?” he purred again, his hand mindlessly rubbing against the bulge in his pants.

“I am ready to...” Rayhe took a deep breath, as if he was about to plunge into a waterfall headfirst. “I am ready and willing to give you Specter,” he finished, and Werner blinked. Specter? This was not what he expected, but it was equally good nevertheless. If Werner gets his hands on Specter, and if he is the one who delivers him to Julian... The bulge grew bigger.

“Really...” he said slowly. “Why the change of heart?”

“I can’t...” Rayhe’s breath hitched in his throat. “I can’t hide anymore...” he finished in a smaller voice. “I am not going to kill him, just like I told you before, but I will deliver him to you. He’ll be unconscious, so you can do whatever you please with him.”

Oh, sweet mother... Werner squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his hand pressing harder against his bulge.

“All I want is a clean slate,” Rayhe was saying meanwhile. “If you could arrange something with the Salamanders, I would be...” He hesitated again. “Grateful,” he said slowly, and Werner squirmed in his chair.

“Tell you what...” now it was Werner’s turn to clear his throat -- his voice was beyond hoarse. “Tell you what...” he said again. “I could meet you tonight if you wish... How about eight o’clock?”

“I’d rather it be later,” Rayhe said almost apologetically. “I don’t want to be spotted... Would eleven work for you?”

Werner smiled.

“Yes, Gabriel,” he said calmly. “Eleven would be fine. Where would you like to meet?”

“There is a house...” Rayhe sounded like someone who had abandoned all hope. “A house behind the old Plaza... It was my father’s house...”

Werner immediately knew what house he was talking about. It wasn’t too big; Rayhe-Senior used it as a guesthouse mostly. Werner almost snorted when he thought of Rayhe-Senior. A condescending old bastard... Always giving Werner those little presents for Solstice, his birthday (as if he gave a damn!), other holidays... Werner always felt like the bastard was laughing at him; showering him with mock pity and fake smiles; pretending that he cared about his 'faithful accountant' as he called Werner quite often. Faithful accountant my ass, Werner thought darkly. Rich bastards are always the same. Rich bastards with ‘blue’ blood are even worse. Rayhe-Junior was the same as his father – a proud, stubborn, condescending son of a bitch. Well, things are going to change tonight, Werner thought. That mouth of his that used to drive Werner nuts every time that brat opened it (something selfish and sharp would always come out of that mouth), would be finally put to good use tonight.

The house Rayhe was talking about was located behind the old Plaza, which used to be the only Plaza until there was a new one. The new one turned out to be a hell of lot more popular, and soon enough, the old Plaza simply ceased to exist. Nobody would come there anymore, so eventually, the entire place was closed down. Werner smiled even wider when he realized that the house Rayhe was talking about was pretty much in the middle of nowhere. “Nobody would hear him scream,” he thought and closed his eyes when the pressure in his groin became too much to handle.

“Yes, Gabriel,” he said rather quickly, eager to finish this conversation already, so he could take care of his bulging business. “I know the place. I will see you there at eleven tonight.”

“Werner,” Rayhe said, and a shadow of old steel in his voice was back. “If you are not alone, the deal is off.”

“I will be alone,” Werner said sincerely and he meant it. He didn’t want to share Rayhe’s mouth – or ass for that matter – with anyone else. Maybe later, but not tonight, not for the first time.

“I’ll know if there is someone else,” Rayhe said quietly.

“I will be alone,” Werner said again. “Gabriel, I have to go. I have business I need to attend to...”

Urgent business, come to think of it... He noticed a small wet spot forming on his pants, right next to the zipper. If it gets any bigger, he would have to change his pants.

“Eleven it is,” Rayhe said and the line clicked dead.

Werner quickly walked into his private bathroom (he would run, but unfortunately, his weight prevented him from doing so), and locked the door just in case. He was done taking care of business five minutes later; it was somewhat quick, he had to admit, but the minute he imagined Rayhe on his knees, he simply couldn’t help but erupt into his hand violently.

He washed his hands after he was done panting, made sure that everything looked normal – his clothes, his hair, his face – and went back into his office. Just in time too, because the minute he sat down, there was a knock on his door.

“Yeah!” he said loudly and the door slightly opened.

“I am back,” Adele announced. “Is there anything you need, master LeVoughn?”

“Not at the moment, Adele,” he smiled at her. “Everything is under control.”

The secretary nodded and shut the door. Everything was under control indeed, Werner smiled. He managed to come hard twice, and it’s not even five in the evening yet. This was definitely a very good day for Werner LeVoughn. Very good day indeed.

©Katya Dee; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Werner's day might have been very good, but it is about to end very badly. No tears for Werner.

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