Watson.Watson. What can you do?" Joe was crying like a little girl now. "I could learn. I promise I'd work very hard. Please?" "I bet you will," thought Dr. van Damme. "I just don't know Mr. Watson. Our employment policy here is a bit unorthodox, as I'm sure you might have guessed." After a short pause she continued. "Well, against my better judgement, see Clarice, my secretary,and she'll draw up the necessary paperwork. Joe read through the contract. He wasn't sure he liked it but what choice did he have? It was a lifetime contract, cancelable at will on the Institute's part but he'd have to buy his way out of it for fifty-thousand dollars. In it he agreed to perform any and all tasks as might be assigned, accept such punishments as might be specified for infractions of Institute regulations, including such offenses as disrespect, and the contract was transferable on the part of the Institute. In return, he was guaranteed food, shelter, uniforms, medical care, and a cash stipend, the amount to be determined by a profit sharing plan, for the rest of his life, and when he was no longer able to work, the Institute would care for him until he died. Joe signed it, breathing a sigh of relief at avoiding the likelihood of returning home with no prospects except as a prostitute, or mistress to a wealthy man, knowing from his own experience what those vocations entailed. That night, in bed, Joe relaxed, watching soap operas on television. He'd become quite a fan of them by now and couldn't understand why he hadn't discovered them before now. Joe watched as a glamorous actress deep kissed the leading man. "Man she's built," he thought. Joe felt his nipples harden, unaware that his subconscious was being turned on by the actor in the scene. Remembering the pleasure he used to get from masturbating, Joe brought his hands up and started fondling his breasts through the thin satin nightgown. It was as stimulating as ever before, maybe even more so. Joe felt the sensation of heat between his legs. |