Sex is a Job Description? Ch. 01

Tom wasn't a very special student in the Shelby County Schools system. Average grades, average height and weight, no sports besides two years of track sophomore and junior years. He wasn't the president of any clubs, or even in one. Hell, he barely even talked to anyone outside of the teachers when they asked him questions.

Tom sat boredly in his US Government class and listened quietly to what Mr. Brommor had to say about the Supreme Court case Miranda vs Arizona and about Miranda Rights and his personal run-in with their workings. Truthfully, what he was saying would have been interesting if Tom hadn't been thinking about his Criminal Justice II homework.

During a particularly long-winded part of the story about how long he had to wait in interrogation, Mr. Brommor was interrupted by a phone going off rather loudly. It took Tom a few moments to realize that it was his phone, the important one. His personal cellphone was in his backpack somewhere, but his work phone in his jacket was going off like a siren.

He took it out and Mr. Brommor motioned for him to bring it up to the front.

"You know the policy," the teacher said. "Give it here."

"Sorry, I've gotta take this. It's a call from work." Tom pushed the answer button and had a short conversation with a guy from work before hanging up and starting to pack up his stuff. It looked like he could get away with just leaving until Mr. Brommor stood up.

"Bring me the phone, Tom," he said, in a demanding tone now.

Tom sighed. "Look, Mr. Brommor, I need my work phone on me at all times. I'm on call twenty-four seven and I can't just not go in to work. I'm really sorry, but I have to go. I'll come by early tomorrow and get whatever I missed today. I gotta go."

Tom started for the door, and Mr. Brommor warned him, "I'm writing you up for insubordination. That's one day of OSS right off the bat, Tom."

"Okay, if I don't get myself downstairs in about three minutes, my boss is gonna write me up for insubordination, and I won't just get fired, alright? I'm sorry, but I'll get my boss to call you and explain things, alright? Alright, bye."

Tom left the room and hurried down the hallways to the stairwell, where one of his co-workers was coming up to find him. They met half way and Tom groaned at the look on Harvey's face. Something bad had happened, Tom was sure of it.

"Greg isn't happy with you. He called you twice today before you picked up."

"What do you want me to do? I already said that all my stuff is in a gym locker during fourth period. That's twelve to one guys, you know not to call me then," Tom said in his defense, as if Greg would care at all.

"Greg has the file on this one," Harvey said, adjusting his tie a bit.

"What a surprise. Is it just you and Greg, or did he bring the whole posse down here to get me?"

"It's just us this time. Everyone else is handling the situation," replied the stoic man.

Tom's brow raised. "It's that bad? What, did three oh one thirty get sent back?" Tom hoped to God that his joke wasn't the truth. He truly did not like it when three oh one thirty came around, even if it was just a fleeting meeting.

"Impressive. We might just have to switch you to the thirteenth division if you keep that up," Harvey joked, his voice as serious and monotone as ever.

Tom groaned with almost exaggerated contempt. Almost exaggerated. Three oh one thirty was his second case subject, and she wasn't one that anyone would take freely. It had been a joke to give him the assignment, well, not really a joke. It was more akin to hazing for a fraternity than a joke.

The pair walked into the main office where Greg was busy trying to work something out with the office attendant to let Tom get checked out of school early. There were a couple problems with his method though.

"I'm sorry," repeated the office worker. "But if you're not on his emergency contacts list, and if you're not blood related to him or a spouse of someone who is, I can't let you check him out. That's how it works. And I really couldn't do that anyway because work isn't a reason for absence."

Greg shook his head and pulled out his badge. "Ma'am, I'm with the United States Department of Internal Affairs. Thomas Lanzig is coming with me. We'll have someone come up here later to explain the situation, because the last time we did it, you didn't seem to realize that we were serious."

Greg turned around and didn't say another word as he handed Tom a hastily written excuse note and a manila folder with several papers in it and clipped at the top with two paperclips. He, Tom, and Harvey left the school and got into a black sedan without any confrontation from the school staff or anyone else around.

"Fuck Greg, you don't have anyone else who can get this one? I've already taken care of this one twice," Tom whined in utter futility to his boss as they pulled out of the school drive.

"It would make you an expect on the subject. Three oh one thirty hasn't been calmed down since we got her back in two days ago. She's-"

"Yeah, yeah," Tom interrupted. "She's been with us for two days and hasn't shut up or calmed down any since she got here. I get it, I can read the file. But why the hell did you pull me out of school for this? Isn't there anyone else that can do this. I mean, Harvey could do it, right?" He turned to his friend for affirmation, but the man just shook his head.

"No," he said. "I wouldn't go near that case if I got Greg's job to do it. I'm not touching that one; that's all your business."

"Fuck me," Tom said to nobody in particular as the sedan blew through a stoplight that suddenly turned green after turning yellow.

"Just deal with it, Thomas," Greg said, annoyed. "That's why we hired you; you're not good at it, but you're one of the few that can do this job. And that's enough complaining out of you, or I'll give you thirteen twenty-two on top of this one."

"She's back too? Fuck, did everyone lose their minds this month?"

"Something's got them unhappy and dangerous. You know the drill, so just do your job." Greg went silent, and that was all he needed to do to assure that the conversation was over. Tom looked over the case file, pretty much the same one as last time except this time she hadn't killed anyone. Yet. Based on the information, she was giving the narcotics and medical workers a difficult time.

The drive wasn't long, and the three Internal Affairs agents entered their stationed regional headquarters without so much as a sideward glance from the security guards. As simple as the place seemed, it was really a mess of parking garages, conference rooms, cells, and a maze of hallways underground.

They went down a lift and then passed through a few hallways to a conference room for assignments that were taking place inside the facility. Tom sat down next to two other agents who were being debriefed and about to leave. He only caught the end of their debriefing before the director dismissed them and took Tom's case file.

He rifled through it for a few seconds before sliding it down the table to Greg. He took off his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. "Her again?" he asked. "This is the third time in three years. What's wrong with this one?"

"It's not just her, sir," Greg replied. "There's something wrong with several of our repeats recently, namely their timing. Something has them stirred up."

The director took a sip from his glass of scotch and shook his head. "It's always something with these damned demons. The equinox is coming up, the eclipse, sunspots, planetary alignments, seasons changing. I've even heard 'it's just that time again' from three oh one thirty. Find out what it is and make sure we know how to fix it."

"Yes sir," Greg said as he stood to leave.

"And you," the older man said, direction his attention and the tip of his glass toward Tom. "Don't screw up. Dismissed."

"Yes sir," Tom said as he left with Greg and Harvey. They made their way down a few hallways to a corridor that was empty except for the cell at the very end. Not a bad cell, pretty comfortable actually. A bed for two, and bathroom, sofa, table, chairs. It was more like a little apartment than a detention cell for non-human lawbreakers.

However, she had torn herself a new playpen again, as the director had put it the first time. Most of the furniture was scattered all down the hallways in pieces, and a number of narcotics and medical agents were retreating back toward the exit, with just a few leaving unscathed. It looked like half a division had been down here just for one demon.

"Get the fuck out! Everyone! No more of those damned shots! I'm not calming down until I get someone willing to-" The demon stopped mid-sentence as she tossed an agent in a lab coat out of her cell. She sniffed the air with an acute sense of smell before turning her attention directly at the trio heading her way.

"Aw hell," Tom groaned.

"Take it one step at a time, rookie," Greg said.

They got about three quarters of the way to the cell before the last of the agents were behind them and safe. At that point, the demon started walking toward them.

"Alright, that's far enough," declared Greg, pulling out his gun. Harvey already had his leveled with the demon's head. She stopped short of the trio and narrowed her eyes.

"Alright, but don't send in any more of those freaks with needles and drugs. I'm tired of that. I want a real man to come in here and satisfy me like I deserve."

"Well, we've brought the one you like, so just go back to your cozy little cell and he'll be right there. Otherwise, we're gonna have to shoot." Greg nodded for Tom to walk forward, and he did so reluctantly.

At the sight of him, the demon's gaze lightened and she and retreated back into her cell. Tom, thought reluctantly, went in a short while after her and Greg closed the door, locking it quickly thereafter.

That left Tom alone with Ceria, better known as three oh one thirty.

Greg suddenly passed a few papers between the bars on the door and Tom took them with a despondent look on his face. Greg told him to buck up, but Tom just shook his head and turned back toward the demon locked away in the cell with him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread and smirking at him. Tom tried to ignore the growing arousal at just a glance at her. It was her power to seduce him, nothing more. Well, that's what he hoped anyway.

"Alright...shit, you threw all your chairs out, didn't you? You know those cost money, and all the guys and girls you threw around, it costs money to fix them up? And it takes money to keep you in line and give you everything you need to be a functioning part of society at large. It's not cool to trash this place and expect us to take care of you." Tom stopped himself and for going any further and set the papers down on the table.

"Don't you want to get over here and give me what I want?" She snaked her hand down between her legs and rubbed her core with a moan.

"Well, first we have to go through some of the formalities. I've got some papers here you need to sign, so come over here and get this done," Tom said, setting a pen down on the papers.

Ceria stood up and sashayed her way over to the table, leaning over to show off her ample curves as she filled out the form. It was everything Tom had hoped against, but it wasn't surprising. She identified as a Type A, which meant she was violent, Category 2, which meant she had sexual desires to be satisfied, Class 3, which meant that she was dominant, and a frustration level of 8, which meant that she wanted a sexual partner immediately.

"You're gonna get it this time," she said, biting her bottom lip teasingly as she wrote down a few more things and took the survey on the second sheet of paper. After she was done, she walked around the table and came face-to-face with Tom, grinning widely. "Strip," she commanded.

"You could at least be a little less demeaning about it," Tom complained, removing his jacket and shirt and tossing them onto the table. Ceria tapped her foot against the floor impatiently as he started with his belt and dragged out the motion intentionally, causing the demon to give him a little push in the right direction.

Well, a push to the floor.

"Damn it, when I said I wanted to fuck, I meant I wanted to fuck!" she growled, yanking Tom's pants down his legs and tossing them against the opposite wall. She did the same with his boxers and slid herself up his body so her hips were riding his.

"Ceria, take it easy, alright? I know you're unhappy, but if you wear me down, then I won't be able to help you at all," Tom warned, seemingly to little effect. They both knew that it was a lie. Ceria decided to forgo any semblance of foreplay and dive straight into sex, grinding their sexes together until he was completely seated within her. He groaned and she hissed with delight.

"You've got something special about you, or else they wouldn't have gotten you into this business. You're like those old demon-lovers who used to imbue themselves...you don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

"No," replied Tom as he bucked his hips up and caused Ceria to bite her bottom lip again. "But it doesn't matter to you, does it?"

She replied, "Not in the slightest."

"I didn't think so," Tom grunted, managing to get his sandals off. He propped his hands against the wall behind him and lifted the two of the off the ground and into a standing position. Ceria didn't seem to care, as she wrapped her legs around his waist and drove herself against him like she was in heat. He wouldn't doubt that demons went into heat, as strange as they were already.

Tom managed to get her to the table without much trouble and she relinquished her grasp on him with her arms, favoring the table with her hands clamped on its edges instead. She smiled up at him cunningly, biting her bottom lip in a sexy, teasing manner, as if still trying to seduce him.

"Come on, not going to give me some of that good, hard fucking you did last time? I'm awfully lonely down here. Why don't we cuddle and get-"

"You have a really big mouth, Ceria, you know that? God, you talk so much, and nothing you say is even arousing in the slightest," spat the government worker, shaking tempting thoughts from his head. Ceria folded her arms over her chest, much to Tom's disappointment, and pouted.

"That's not what you said last time, when we were already in the throes of passion, hips grinding, breath hitching with every movement, wanton lust filling the air..."

Tom growled, "Do you even shut up for more than a minute at a time? You act like I like you or something. Jesus, why don't you just leave me to my own thoughts. I'm in the hot seat because of your little hissy fit earlier."

"Just keep pumping. You don't get to cum until I do, remember that funny little bind?"

"Yeah, and it sucks dick to have it," Tom muttered under his breath. Unfortunately, Ceria's impish grin grew wider and she unlocked her legs from his waist. Confused, Tom stepped away for a moment and Ceria slithered off the table like a belly dancer and dropped to her knees.

"Speaking of sucking dick..." she teased, giving his swollen arousal one long lick from base to head. "I could really go for a nice bit of boy screaming in frustration about now, wouldn't you?"

She flashed him a devious look.

Tom sighed, and made the motion for her to go away. "Shoo demon, it's not going to do what you think. I don't feel anything, go ahead and see." The demon tested his words, and engulfed his cock with her lips, going all the way down to the base and looking up at him for any sign of pleasure or discomfort.

Tom just folded his arms across his chest.

"Hmm-hmm?" the demon asked, arching a brow.

"Nope, nothing."

The demon pulled back until she could speak and furrowed her brow deeply. "Mofing? Sheeriushy? Mofing?"

"I can't feel anything unless you do. So if you'd be so kind..." He gestured toward the table. Ceria removed herself from him with a clear look of dissatisfaction written across her features. She remounted the table and brought her legs around the small of his back, tugging slightly to get him to move faster.

They reconnected and began to find a rhythm once more, Ceria trying to quicken it and get Tom in the mood, his efforts opposite of hers. He didn't like being in here alone with her, especially when she wasn't talking much. Compared to last time, she was quite tame, and far more in control of herself than the first time. Something here was off, but he couldn't place it.

"Harder," she demanded, forcing him to buck against her with her legs. He put one hand on the table and another on her knee, running up her smooth thigh. He clamped down and gave her a hard push with his hips, earning a surprised gasp. "Oh, getting into the motion finally?"

"In your dreams," Tom replied with another hard thrust against her. She let out a pleased sigh and rolled her hips against him, testing the control he held over his body. He would have given in to her desires if he hadn't been waiting for this. The look in her eyes told him that she was just screwing with him, even as they continued to let their pace rise.

Tom didn't notice that he was standing on the balls of his feet, or that he was squeezing Ceria's thigh for that matter. He just felt the legs locked around him, jerking him toward her as he reached the apex of his arc away from her. The demon fondled one of her breasts with one hand and let the other squeeze his tightly.

Her gaze never left his face, her ivy green eyes never once straying from his eyes. He avoided her gaze for as long as he humanly could, but curiosity got the better of him and he gave her a glance, as if he could peer into her thoughts by looking at her.

And then he was caught.

He felt it. Somehow, somewhere deep inside of him her gaze had pulled taut a string of desire and held it there. She gave him a slow, knowing nod and then plucked that string. The thrum of sheer voracious need for a woman was nearly too much for him to bear. He caught himself just inches from her face, propped up on both elbows as they continued to ram their sexes together in a timeless, familiar cycle.

"Almost there," she sneered, pursing her lips for a kiss.

"I hate you so much," Tom whispered, letting his head rest on the table as his hands balled into fists, a deep pang of regret striking him to the core.

The fourth rule here was to never kiss a cell occupant, no matter what the reason. Tom had broken this rule twice, and he'd seen two days in the hospital for each because of it. She was trying to give him two more now.

Her lips pressed against his ear and she nibbled on his earlobe, letting a long, hot breath slip between her teeth. It set his body on fire with lust and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the urgent need to let her wrap every ounce of him up in her essence and devour it. The agent ground his teeth together and drove himself against her with renewed effort.

"Atta boy, give me everything within you," she moaned into his ear, every word dripping with lust. She stopped bothering to touch herself, and instead used her arms to hold him firmly against her body, digging her nails into his back to keep from slipping away. Not that they were going to part for even a moment though.

The only thing keeping Tom from locking their lips together and tasting the bliss of complete and total loss of control was the fact that he knew he was being watched. It was standard practice to have at least some form of surveillance on every cell while a situation was being dealt with. And if they saw him give in freely, it would mean just a lot more than a stern lecture and extra training.

"I'm so close," Tom begged, knowing deep down that the demon wouldn't near her climax any time soon even if she could make it happen faster. Tom's breath hitched as the demon beneath him made an odd motion and snickered a bit.