Steven. Crazy on You. Colin Palmer
him give her an orgasm, her first apparently, angry that they seemed to be getting on so well, and angry that she was standing there looking incredibly desirable, wet and willing, he with the biggest hard on he could ever remember having, and she was refusing to do anything except walk away. Glenda was in fact, now walking slowly back toward him. She stopped about a meter away.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that” she said softly.
Her puzzled look making Steven boil a bit more.
“Fine, so it’s okay for me to get into your knickers and get you off but all I get in return is you running away telling me to wait”. Steven was not amused and in no mood to discuss anything. He felt he deserved something in return for giving her a moment she would probably remember all of her life. He yelled straight into her face, “You’re a fucking prick teaser Glenda, ya know that?”
Involuntary tears sprang into her eyes as the words lashed her. She couldn’t understand how this cute looking boy who she had just gone further with than anybody else could all of a sudden be turning on her. All she had wanted to do was go off and find Cass, to share what had been a momentous event in her life and then come back and cuddle up with him under the stars and dream of how she was going to tell her other friends that she was going steady with an older boy. And now here was that same boy standing there yelling at her so loud that everybody for two blocks could hear. She did all she could do, all that her young mind would allow through the fear numbing her brain, she turned and ran. She could hear him as she ran toward the road out of the park.
“Come back and finish what you’ve started you fucking bitch.”
All she could remember was his face, a monstrous mask of hatred, screaming at her.
Chapter Four
“New Job”
“You cannot begin to understand the where’s and why for’s of it all young man, so just do what everybody else does and start atthe beginning”.
He was elderly, stately, gray hair still thick on top, and if not for a pronounced stoop, was probably once very tall. He had a kindly voice that made you think of grandfathers as portrayed in movies. You know the ones, whenever you visited them they had everything planned for you so that you didn’t get bored having to listen to the grown ups talk. And at night, that would sit you on their knee and tell you stories in a soft mellow voice, that eventually swayed you off to sleep.
“I do understand Mr Wellesley, but as you can see by my Resume, I am more qualified than most to start at least at assistant level. I done all the courses, I have accumulated that much work experience over six months and you…”.
“Slow down boy, I’ve heard it all before, and as I have previously explained to you (his shoulders stooped some more as if somebody had just added another twenty pound weight onto his back), I promote from within my own ranks, I develop my own talent, and reward those that not only have the ability, but also the perseverance, and you do not have the time up to demonstrate that to me yet. Show a bit of loyalty lad, and I can guarantee you that your talent will get you to where you believe you should be. ‘Do you remember that ad campaign for Mallow Mints?’ the old man continued, ‘well that ad came from this agency (he was oblivious to Steven now, just droning on without waiting for a reply or any indication of assent at all) from a young fellow, not unlike yourself, who gave us the inspiration for that campaign in if I recall correctly, the first month he began working for us. He didn’t have the experience to produce the final result as we all know it now, but he had the original concept and we followed it through religiously and outrageously successfully as well, I might add. But he got too big for his boots, he thought he was the bees knees of advertising geniuses, but that was the only success that he had in over two years here. An’ when he finally quit because I wouldn’t give him his own team of assistants, he was still living off the memory of that one campaign. Now just imagine the losses this Agency would have incurred if I had promoted him to what he wanted to be, and a lot of others around here thought he could be at the time too, but he didn’t achieve anything else except waste time with insignificant, and in some cases idiotic ideas. It was if his whole imagination and life had been exhausted in that one and only original concept. And that is not what I need from you Steven, or anybody else that works for me either. So now, come along and we’ll introduce you to the crowd”.
Before Steven could say another word, the diatribe had rendered him speechless anyway, Wellesley was standing at the office door, beckoning for him to follow. Steven had already seen the young secretary (he assumed) that had ushered him into the office earlier, but she, apart from Wellesley, had been the only other one there. It was a hive of activity now, 25 people in small groups clustered around computers mainly, but some individuals making coffee or doodling on white boards. The secretary was there, she was very young actually, Steven guessed probably no more than 18, plain but nice, below average looks and dressed very conservatively for her age. She was blushing, and Steven realized it was because he was standing there looking her up and down.
“I’m, I’m… sorry.” He stammered deliberately, trying to look equally embarrassed. “Please, I’m sorry, call me Stag.” And then he walked away from her, having seen the puzzlement written all over her face about his name, knowing it would lead to more curiosity and desire to talk to him later. “One down, several to go” he thought, “and I’ve only been here an hour.”
He smiled to himself as he wiped the boyish grin and replaced it with his lost doleful look, knowing it would appeal to far more of the others and expected by them as well, seeing he was the new kid on the block. He caught up to Wellesley as he’d turned back toward him on arriving at the first group sitting around a monitor. There were three of them, two guys and a girl, the girl was obviously interrupted scanning something into the computer as she sat there holding the scanner up in her left hand looking at the monitor but glancing at Steven as he approached. Wellesley had already mentioned Stevens’ name to them, and the guy to the left of the girl stood up as Steven arrived.
“Harry,” the man standing, “Monica and Marc” he gestured at the others.
“Stag” Steven replied taking the hand firmly. Marc also stood and they shook hands, the expected quizzical look only on Wellesleys’ face. “Steven is my real name but everybody, mostly everybody calls me Stag” Steven explained to them all.
“Well, then, this is your work group for now Steven, you don’t mind if I keep calling you that do you” said Wellesley, “they will introduce you to everybody else but for now I want you to sit in and listen and learn”, and with that his shoulders slumped, and he turned and simply walked off.
Steven watched him go, then turned back to the trio. Marc looked at him.
“Grab a chair Stag, we is having ourselves a problem”.
Harry turned out to be quite brilliant, mid 30's, a lot of experience and background, always dressed like an absolute dag, cord jeans, no belt, sand shoes, a t-shirt in summer covered by assorted flannelette shirts in winter, and an old army green jacket and a moth eaten Rabbitohs beanie on really cold days.
“You play?” Harry had asked Steven one day.
“Used to, and a closet South Sydney supporter as well, from the good old days in the late sixties early seventies”.
Harry seemed to believe that made Steven alright, not that many people would admit to being a Rabbitohs’ supporter anymore, closet or otherwise. On that first morning, Harry ran Steven through the