WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
* * * * * * * * * *
Always In Supplies: A Harvey Marcus Retrospective
In a sudden delusion caused by two simultaneous synapses crossing each other, I thought, "Gee, wouldn't it be keen to tell the story of how I, Harvey Marcus, got started with all of this screwing around. I mean, it didn't just happen out of nothing. Everything has a cause, a spark, an ignition. So, here's another Official Retrospective, detailing how I involuntarily got sucked into a campaign of accidental sex with all of the world's eighteen-year and older females.
Episodes One and Two found me seduced by two different babysitters. Episode Three involved a stranger, while Episode Five partnered me with a relative.
This jumps back to my Fourth Episode, bringing Mr. Marcus to a new boundary condition: sex with a co-worker. It wouldn't be the last time, but it was the first. The rest were merely copies.
* * * * * * * * * *
I'd been working for the company for a few years and feeling pretty secure in my position. The work was exciting and fresh, and from my healthy annual raises, I knew I was valued as an employee. One day when I got home, I noticed that I'd left a pen - which I'd gotten from our supply room - in my pocket. No big deal. When I threw it into the kitchen drawer, I noticed that it joined almost a dozen other pens from work. Was I subconsciously stealing supplies? I viewed myself as an honest man. Well, kind of honest, given a series of extramarital couplings. But the babysitters who seduced me and that bossy stranger in the gynecologist's office were almost beyond my control. At least, that was my story and I was sticking to it.
Over the next couple of months, I made sure that I left pens from work at work. Then around the house, I found myself scrounging for pens. Whenever I needed one, I couldn't find any. They weren't magically disappearing.
Annie was too young. There was only one reasonable explanation. "Harriett, have you seen my pens?"
"Are they yours? I didn't know I was prohibited from using them."
Everything had become justification for an argument. "I meant, pens I brought home from work."
"From the kitchen drawer? I take one when I need one."
She must have left them behind or lost them because she had taken all of them. So I decided that the next time I went to the supply closet at work, I'd take a box of pens, bring it home and put it in my desk drawer, not the kitchen. That would be a whole lot more efficient than taking them home, one at a time.
The next day, I waltzed into the supply room, took a box of pens and walked back to my desk. No big deal.
As I left my cubicle to go home, a man in a double-breasted suit blocked my path. "I need to check your briefcase."
I'd splurged on an expensive brown leather briefcase with brass locks when I got my job. "Uh, sure." I popped the clasps and opened it for inspection. My nose detected the new leather briefcase smell, or perhaps it was just my active imagination.
"Hmmm." The man lifted the box of pens up in front of my face. "You should know better. So what did you do with the other office supplies?"
Millions of butterflies flitted around in my stomach. Would taking a box of pens lose me my job? How stupid! "What other? I just needed a few pens-"
"A box full?
"Okay, I'm sorry." I could have taken them home one at a time over a two-week period not have been detected. So much for efficiency.
He folded his arms over a developed chest. "So how did you get the calculators out? One at a time or the carton of a dozen all at once?"
"I didn't take any calculators. I don't do arithmetic at home." Except for counting up the women who want sex with me. That was a growing number, and my only opportunities. Harriett had taken down her shingle.
"Well, if not you, someone else, but you're a prime suspect." He pointed at me with the box of pens, not his finger. "We'll be keeping an eye on you."
I pulled my suit jacket tight to fight the chill of his words. I'd be under scrutiny? For a lousy box of pens? I wasn't going to take the wrap for large-scale theft. Someone else was doing it, and I was determined to find out who.
I decided to keep my own supply room vigil. If I was being watched and hanging around the supply room too much, I'd be incriminating myself by my behavior, so I was stealthy about it. And whenever I visited the room, I updated a personal inventory of the expensive items in a small notepad in my suit jacket pocket: calculators, desk clocks, leather binders, the desirable stuff for a thief. Yes, I got the notepad from supplies.
Over a two-week period, I detected a pattern in my inventory history. The thefts happened late in the day or overnight. That meant either an employee or the cleaning crew. I decided to set up a sting operation, staying a bit late each night and making a legitimate visit to the supply room, in case Mr. Double Breasted was watching.
Two nights later at 5:30 PM, I went down to the supply room for replacement batteries. My wireless keyboard and mouse required three each. The batteries had legitimately registered 'low' so if confronted, I had the bad batteries in my pocket as proof of good intentions.
