Date: Sat, 26 May 2007 23:05:02 +0800
From: J.D. Carson <dear.carson@gmail.com>
Subject: The One With Submission and Need: Chapter Seven

         I started the engine and put in a call to my agent's office.
I cleared my throat.

             "Can I get the personal number for Brandon Flowers?" Just
saying his name out loud rolled a knot in my throat. "Yes, the lead
singer of... Yeah that's right."

             One of the perks of being in the 'biz' is that everyone's
connected in some way or another... Another perk is having assistants
who are paid not to ask questions, I realized, momentarily thinking of
Illyas and what he paid me. Raw strength and his manhood urged into my
holes--it seemed far more than a decent paycheck should have to cover.

             I wondered what answers he was afraid to give.

             "Oh, by tonight? That's great. Thank you... Yeah, I'm out
of town... No, I'm not sure when I'll be back... No, I'll make my own
reservations; it's fine... Yes... Oh, and could you send someone to
pick up my beamer? It's with the valet at um... Yeah, that's the
place... Alright, thanks again... Yeah, just... yeah, the garage is
fine, thanks."

             The silence was frozen in the car once the call ended;
the sunny afternoon outside seemed like a lie told from afar. The cd
had stopped playing awhile ago, but the call--having to speak to
another human person--rested heavily on my already-sore nerves, and I
couldn't force myself to start the stereo again. My limbs didn't feel
like they belonged to me; my mouth was dry and I noticed the smell of
the officer still clinging to my nostrils.