You wave at the custodian, making him frown. He's not slowing down. You step into his path.
"Hello."
"Hey kid. Listen, I'm done for the day. If you need something cleaned up, given the office a call. I've got some quality television at home that ain't gonna watch itself."
"Actually, you want to listen to me. Also, tell me your name."
"My name's Jim. I want to listen to you."
"Do you know Professor Porter?"
"Sure I do. Tight body, mean as an angry bee hive. Ain't got not respect. Her office I have to clean proper, or she notices."
You nod. "She's a right bitch. Someone ought to teach her a lesson."
"I wish," he sighs. "Bitches like her are going to ride my ass until I die."
"Things have changed, Jim," you lean in. "You are going to teach that bitch her place. You don't have to listen to her. You can march right into her office and do whatever you want. She's going to beg you for it. You are in control now. Next time you clean the bitch's office, have her clean your cock afterward."
"That's right!" the custodian's getting excited. "I will. In fact, she can clean her own damn office, in her underthings, while I drink a beer."
"I think you are getting the idea. Dunk professor Porter's head in the dirty mop water next time you wash the floors. Take her with you when you clean the men's restrooms, fuck her in a stall, and leave her there nude. Have a football party at your place and have her serve your buddies."
"Yeah! I think I'll..."
"Work some overtime right now in Porter's office?"
"Yeah!" the custodian pumped his fist in the air storming forward.
Another job well done. You end up strolling for a bit when you hit the Financial Aid office. You peek inside, and there's a blonde with a fancy haircut and a grey skirt manning the front desk. A couple pretty art students walk out. |