Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
The next morning, Scott left Thomas’s quarters to meet Janice outside.
She pointed at the vacuum cleaner first, and Scott obediently took it upstairs with a few stops en route to catch his breath.
Thomas had propped the front door open, and Scott struggled through with the vacuum cleaner in his arms before setting it down in the corridor.
He was already panting by the time he returned to Janice.
“That doesn’t bode well,” Janice muttered to herself before handing him a plastic bag of balloons.
Scott peeked inside. “Assorted colours?”
Janice narrowed her eyes. “Thomas didn’t specify, just told me to pick up balloons on the way here.”
“I thought maybe you’d get red balloons, you know…because of the song.”
Janice glared at him.
Scott scratched the back of his head. “99 red balloons?”
Her eye twitched. “I was not asked to get ninety-nine red balloons; I was asked to get two hundred.”
“Two hundred?”
“And do you know how many shops I had to try to find them?”
Scott spoke through a grimace. “By the pissed-off expression on your face, I’m guessing five or six.”
Janice held up two fingers to him. “Two shops.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad…”
“The bakery and the supermarket.”
Scott leaned away from her. “Why the hell would you think a bakery sold balloons?”
“Get going,” Janice said, giving Scott a push.
She followed him into the house, then took the stairs to the floor above while Scott pushed open the double doors to one of the auction rooms.
The chairs, stands, and lots were all gone, leaving a huge room with a shiny oak floor and sickly green walls. The ceilings were high, and the huge windows filled the space with light. Scott’s footsteps echoed as he walked to the middle of the room, then sat down cross-legged on the floor.
Before he got started, he sent Thomas a quick text.
Scott: I thought you said 100 balloons x
Thomas: I did, but we need 200. It’s a baker’s dozen for balloons.
Scott: With a failsafe of 50%? x
Thomas: Yes…
Scott: Okay x
Thomas: And stop putting x’s at the end of your messages. It’s giving me the ick.
Scott: Okay. xxx <3
Thomas: Scott…
Scott: Yes? x
Thomas: …
Scott: How about you stop putting… It’s giving me passive-aggressive vibes x
Thomas: There’s nothing passive about it…
Scott: I’ll make a deal; I’ll stop putting x’s if you stop with the…
Thomas: Okay. Deal. Now fuck off and blow up some balloons.
Scott: Will do, my lovable munchkin.
Thomas: Urgh.
Scott grinned as he put his phone down on the floor. He reached for the first bag of balloons.
Ten in a pack.
With a sigh, he ripped it open.
It was going to be a long day.
Ninety-nine balloons surrounded Scott, all an assortment of rainbow colours. He held balloon number one hundred in his hand. He’d been holding it for the last twenty minutes, getting a little air into it and, in desperation, sucking it out again.
He was pretty sure he’d lost his mind.
The airy, detached feeling in his head had gone well past the point of light-headedness. Around balloon seventy, the hallucinations had kicked in.
He kept seeing faces on the balloons. Disapproving ones.
His phone started to ring, but it was buried beneath the balloons and he didn’t want to wade his hand through them to find it because they were angry with him.
Angry that he hadn’t blown up balloon number one hundred.
But his lungs refused to work, and his cheeks were numb.
He rocked forward and back and kept sucking the air back into his mouth from the balloon.
His fingers were sore from tying them.
There were too many colours.
He couldn’t feel his face.
“Christ alive,” Thomas grumbled from the doorway.
Scott carefully twisted to face him, letting the balloon drop from his dry lip. “Help…me.”
Thomas strode into the room, brushing balloons aside with his feet despite Scott pleading with him to be careful. They were already angry; he didn’t want the situation to get worse. Thomas stopped in front of Scott, hooked his hands beneath Scott’s armpits and hauled him to his feet.
“On a scale of one to ten, how high do you feel right now?”
Scott thought about it. “Do you remember when we were inside, and we ate those brownies Bull had hidden in the kitchen, but we didn’t know they were packed full of magic mushrooms, and we thought the cell was melting?”
Someone laughed behind Thomas. A hysterical, mocking laugh.
“I remember.”
“That was a good day.”
Thomas frowned. “No, it wasn’t, Scott. We were tripping for hours and licking the walls.” He glanced away. “And we swore we’d never talk about it again for fear others would find out and take the piss. We were supposed to take it to our graves.”
“Oh…”
Janice pointed at the wall. “This one to your taste?”
Thomas sighed. “Let’s get you some fresh air.” He wrapped his arm around Scott’s back and walked him to the door.
“But I’ve still got a hundred and one balloons to do.”
“We have a pump.”
Scott nailed his feet to the floor. “What?”
“Janice bought a balloon pump.”
Scott slowly turned his head to her. “You have a pump?”
“Hey…” Janice held up her hands. “I was following orders from the boss. He said to let you blow up twenty or so, it would be funny, and it was.”
“Yes,” Thomas hissed. “And I said, after twenty, give him the pump.”
“I forgot about that part.”
Scott squinted, leaning in to see something on Janice’s blouse. “Is… Is that popcorn?”
Janice swept it away. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Scott sniffed the air. “I smell popcorn.” He glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. “Were you eating popcorn while watching me slowly lose my mind?”
“Hey,” Janice snapped. “At my age, I need a hobby.”
“Unfucking believable.”
“Come on,” Thomas said, encouraging Scott to walk. “You need air.”
Janice kicked the closest balloon. “What are you talking about, Thomas? There’s plenty of it in here.”
She cackled like a witch.
Thomas released Scott to close the double doors on her.
“Outside,” Thomas ordered.
Scott collapsed on the steps that led into the mansion. Thomas joined him, rubbing a hand up Scott’s spine while Scott low-key panted himself back to life.
“Are all of your staff insane?”
Thomas hummed. “I suspect so… Ninety-nine. I’m impressed.”
“The hundredth one was mocking me, though.”
“It’s a balloon.”
“I don’t care that it’s a balloon; it was judging me. I can’t wait to blow it up so I can sit on it tomorrow.”
Thomas patted his back. “That’s the spirit.”
“How’s it going upstairs?”
“Video’s looking good. I’ve done the tags, just need to pick a good thumbnail to draw the yet to subscribe.” He nodded. “If I was into that kind of thing, I’d click.”
“But you’re not.”
“It’s a bit too…vanilla for me.”
Scott side-eyed him. “There’s nothing wrong with vanilla.”
“I didn’t say there was; it’s not for me, that’s all. Too plain.”
“What would your flavour be?”
Thomas blew out a breath. “I don’t think there’s an ice cream flavour to sum it up. I’ll have to make one.”
“Okay. Go on then.”
“I think I’d call it something like sex toys and control.”
Scott laughed until he felt light-headed, and his vision darkened at the edges.
Thomas pushed his head down and told him to breathe.
“What about you?” Thomas asked after a minute. “If you had to come up with an ice cream flavour to describe your sexual preference?”
Scott shook his head. “I am the ice cream.”
“Jesus. Keep breathing between your knees,” Thomas said. “You’re still high –”
“I’m serious. I’m whatever flavour the customer buying the ice cream needs me to be.”
“But what ice cream would you buy?”
“I wouldn’t buy one.”
Thomas made an unimpressed sound. “Do you have sex outside of work?”
Scott frowned. “No. Sex is my literal job. Why would I?”
“Because it feels good, Scott, that’s why.” Thomas furrowed his brow. “Have you ever begged someone for it?”
“Of course I have –”
“Not because they told you to, or you sensed that they’d like it, but because you have to have it. You need to come. You’re that turned on that you just want to let go, escape your own body for a while.”
Scott frowned.
Thomas laughed, but it was slow, and sad. “By that look on your face, you don’t even know what I’m talking about…”
“I’ve never needed it. I need money.”
“Life isn’t always about money.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you live in a mansion.”
Thomas sighed. “I’d give it all up for mind-blowing sex.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“It’s material goods, but it doesn’t fulfil me like great sex does, like finding someone compatible with your tastes, someone you could settle down with.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “And what makes someone compatible?”
“I need my sexual partners to beg me. I need them to be so turned on they lose all their inhibitions and beg a six-foot-tall snake to let them come, so my tastes are on the niche side. I fucking love getting people into that state. I love them wanting me to finish them off.”
“They could be faking it.”
Thomas shook his head. His lips stretched into a smug smile. “They’re not.”
“Is that what Russell does?” Scott murmured. “Does he beg you?”
“He does.” Thomas whipped his forked tongue across his bottom lip. “He does so beautifully.” He swallowed. “Making him come apart used to make me feel so alive. It’s all sweaty skin, hoarse voice, and straining dick, and he looks at me like I’m a fucking god and a devil all at once…and I blew it.”
“He’s still texting, right?”
“But he’s living it up, putting pictures on his socials and tagging me in them –
“He’s tagging you?” Scott whistled. “He’s trying to make you jealous.”
“Well, it’s working.”
“Did you tell him you’d be at The Frog & Toad on Friday?”
“I did, he said he’s looking forward to it. That was the last message.”
“Good. He won’t be expecting me to turn up with you.”
Thomas frowned at him. “Haven’t you ever thought about settling down?”
“Not really.”
“Not really?” Thomas leaned closer. “That’s not an outright no.”
Scott stretched out his legs. “I had a guy once who hired me to make someone jealous.”