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“Vincent Whittman?”
Vincent stopped himself from twisting his fingers in his pant legs; forced himself to appear calm.
“Vincent—”
“Yes, I’m here,” Vincent said, standing slowly and with total control. He straightened his tie as he was ushered into the producers’ office. Two men were in the room. One, sitting behind a large, mahogany desk. The other, smoking a cigarette and leaning against the front of the desk.
“Mr. Whittman. Please, have a seat,” the first man said.
Vincent sat on the couch the man gestured to. It was old, and low to the ground. There was no way to sit onto it gracefully. He did his best.
“Care for a drink?” the one behind the desk asked.
“Ah, sure,” Vincent said.
The man immediately stood and walked to the mini bar, pouring two whiskies. He handed one glass to Vincent, and took the other back behind the desk.
“So, Mr. Whittman. Why should you be our next weatherman?” the first man asked.
“Well, I…sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vincent wasn’t going to be demeaned.
The men looked at each other and smiled.
“Well, Vincent,” the first man said, “I’m Percy, and this is Jack,” the man waved his cigarette in greeting.
“Well, Percy, I think—”
“He’s got a cute face,” Jack said, his eyes fixed on Vincent. He tried not to squirm.
“I—”
“He does. Say, Vincent. Exactly how badly do you want this position?” Percy asked.
Vincent subconsciously pressed his knees together.
“Well, if you would let me talk—”
“His voice is nice too,” Jack commented.
Vincent sealed his lips and felt his chipper mask slipping into something emptier. He wasn’t stupid; he knew what was happening. He opened his mouth to talk, to demand respect, to do something to get this whole thing back on track.
But his head was suddenly floating. His stomach was full of butterflies and the foggy feeling was uncomfortable.
“Yeah, basically all you need to be a weatherman is a nice face with a voice to back it up. It’s just too bad that he’s not the only probable candidate. Tell me, Vincent. Now, again, what are you willing to do to get this job?” Percy said.
Vincent clenched his teeth.
“What do you want from me?” he finally bit out.
The men shared a glance.
“I think you know, Vincent,” Percy said, walking toward Vincent.
Vincent tried to stand, but felt so dizzy and nauseous that he plopped gracelessly onto the floor, his back against the couch.
Percy lifted Vincent’s head with two fingers under his chin. Vincent’s eyes grew wet and thick tears rolled down his cheek. He didn’t care what they thought of him. He was scared. He certainly didn’t think this was worth the job.
“What did you do?” he slurred slightly.
“Just a little something to calm you down. You seemed very nervous,” Jack said.
“Sto…” Vincent’s head lolled to the side as Percy released him.
“Shh,” Percy pulled his head back by his hair. Vincent’s mouth opened automatically and something hard was bullied passed this slack lips. He gagged on it, eliciting a moan from above.
Vincent’s mind finally caught up and he felt a wave of nausea. Why were they doing this? His head was so fuzzy. It took him a long moment to realize that Percy had moved to the couch and he was on his hands and knees in front of him, swallowing around his cock.
He chocked as it cut off his airway. His vision turned black at the edges, until he was released and gasped for air. He coughed uncontrollably, cum coating his throat.
Vincent realized the men had switched when he was pulled back onto another cock. He thought, this is it. If he could get through this, maybe he’d come out with a new job. That is, until he heard a belt unbuckling behind him.
His own pants were pulled down over his knees. Cold dread shook his spine as he felt something cold, wet and hard press against his entrance. The man behind him groaned in unison with Vincent as he bottomed out.
Vincent cried; it hurt so much.
The man began moving, in and out with no break, no mercy. Vincent felt more wetness easing the way and absently noted that it must be his own blood.
The hand released his hair and Vincent pulled away, trying to figure out what to do. He wanted to stand, to buck off the other man. But his body was sluggish, and he couldn’t commit to a thought.
“Come on, baby. Do it yourself,” the man in front of him said. Vincent paused. He didn’t want to, but at this point, what did he have to lose? He’d already been pushed so far. He might as well go along with it; maybe get the job.
So, Vincent moved sluggishly, steadying himself on the man’s knees as the one behind him shook his body. He used one hand to hold the dick, frowning at the thickness there. He didn’t want to do this. He wouldn’t prolong it.
So, Vincent just took as much of the cock as he could into his mouth and used his hand to pump the rest of it.
Each thrust pushed him harder against the man before him. He let the dick slip out of his mouth. He was shocked as the man slapped him across the face, hard. His mind hiccupped as his head was pulled roughly back by his hair.
He felt warmth hit his face and realized, with disgust, that it was cum. The dick thrusting inside him lost its rhythm, becoming something desperate until he froze, coming deep inside Vincent.
Between the bitter taste in his mouth and the softening cock slipping out of him, cum dripping down his thighs, Vincent felt frozen.
He sunk down so that he was sitting on his knees. He didn’t move; just breathed and cried.
Suddenly, his hair was pulled up and he was looking at Percy. He placed a lit cigarette into Vincent’s loose lips.
Vincent took a big, thankful inhale, releasing the trauma in his exhale. Now he only needed three more packs to feel better.
Jack leaned over and pat Vincent on the back. Vincent looked blearily up at him. He pulled Vincent up by his arm and let him fall onto the couch. Vincent realized his pants were still down and he struggled to cover himself.
“Why don’t you take a little nap. We can continue this conversation when you have a clearer head,” Jack said.
As if it were simply waiting for the command, Vincent fell into darkness.
***
Vincent woke slowly, feeling sticky and sore. He groaned at the pain in his head. When the fog lifted and he remembered where he was, he shot up. The quick movement made his head spin and his stomach turn.
“Jack, look who’s up,” Percy said. Vincent looked up at him with weak hatred.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that kid,” Percy blew smoke in Vincent’s face. Vincent waved it away with his hand.
“So, what? After that, do I at least get the job?” Vincent asked.
“Well, we still need to negotiate this,” Jack said from where he sat behind the desk, “You’re not special.”
Vincent frowned, feeling anger and shame twisting uncomfortably in his belly.
“We could be interested though…with some stipulations,” Percy said.
Vincent scowled and said nothing.
“Maybe, you let us have you for a few hours every month? We could have fun together,” Jack said.
Vincent rolled that around in his head. Fuck no.
“Fine,” he spat.
The pair laughed, proud of themselves. How clever they were. But, there was something they didn’t know about Vincent. All he needed was the start. Give it a month or two after and he could bury them with the four other candidates that would have been cast from within the channel.
Vincent pulled a cigarette from Percy’s chest pocket. He gestured until Percy offered a lighter. He handed the lighter back and took a deep inhale. His smile was hazy behind the smoke he exhaled.