Trouble In A Bubble.

Almost Dead

O’Riley sat in the interview room before a panel.

“So, tell us a little about your previous position.”

“I was working for SalesPower in the JetFlights campaign in Carlton.”

“Oh really – my son works there at TransLink, on level three. Do you know Andlin?”

“Uhhhh…”

She had thought the interviewer looked familiar.

Seven months earlier she had taken Andlin home to her place, her parent’s place. Andlin, O’Riley and her coworker Tenille piled out of the cab. O’Riley’s mum was away in the UAE on business so they had the place to themselves.

O’Riley and Andlin got to the bedroom. They had sex for about five minutes.

“Ugh.”

“Ughh.”

“Ughhh.”

He pulled out.

“Hey, can I come on your chest?”

“…Okay.” She said. The subtitles read: Sure, whatever, this was obviously a bad decision, so just do whatever you have to do so I can go to sleep.

Andlin was perched over O’Riley, doing the five-knuckle shuffle. O’Riley tried to be encouraging.

“Come on baby, come for me all over my chest… et cetera.”

Ten minutes later the alarm went off for O’Riley to go to work. Snooze button. It went off three more times, and Andlin was still there using all his might, to try to relieve the tension.

“Hang on a minute,” she said. “I have to call in sick for work.”

He continued to stroke, but slowed down the pace a bit, waving his member in her face while she spoke to her boss.

“I don’t think I’ll make it in today.”

“Are you drunk? You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Yes… can we talk about this another time please?”

“HahhahAHAHAha… okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stroke-time: forty eight minutes and thirty-two seconds. He finally made it: pure white snow all over her chest piece.

“Finally.”

They both rolled over.

“You know… I don’t feel so hot,” he said.

“Yeah I’m hungover too.”

“No, it’s not that… I have a headache.”

“I have some Panadol around here somewhere.”

“No, it’s not that kind of headache. My left side is numb… I can taste metal.”

“Oh.”

“I think I’d better go to the hospital.”

“…oh.”

O’Riley showed Andlin to the door. She stood there in her onesie waiting for the taxi with him. Not a lot you can say in that situation, really. He got in the taxi and left. O’Riley walked back in and shut the front door.

“What the fuck was that?” shouted Tenille from the couch where she was trying to get to sleep.

“Urgh… can’t we talk about it in the morning?”

“It’s 8 am.”

“Whatever… just let me sleep.”

Three months later, O’Riley sat down in training.

“Hey!” said Andlin. “Can I sit with you?”

“Uhh…”

“Good to see you!” he said as he said down. “Don’t worry about the thing, I’m okay. It was just a brain-bleed. No lasting damage. Hey do you mind if I get lunch with you?”

“Uhh…”

“Okay awesome I’ll come with… anyway – ” Andlin continued to tell his life story for the last three months.

Another three or four months later, she sat down for an interview in front of three panelists, and that’s where we came in, folks.

“Do you know Andlin?” asked Andlin’s father. “He’s worked there for nearly a year now.”

How do you respond to that? Yeah, I know your son – I nearly fucked him to death one time, funny story.

“Uhh… oh. No. I don’t think I ever met him.” Oh fuck.

“I see. Well I think I’ve heard enough, unless the panel has any more questions.”

The panel responded negatively in murmurs.

A few days later, O’Riley got a call offering her a job.

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