Saturday, September 29, 2007

More interruptions

Well, just before I was about to show you another room here at the plant, a cat fight broke out in the middle of the Penis Room. Quelle surprise: Marcy and Penelope were at it again.

This happens often enough for me to be getting tired of it. I don't care if they rip one another's hair out, but cat fights like this are seriously disruptive to the rest of the staff. Sometimes I think I'm the only one around here who gives a damn about productivity. Tenille is running a bit behind on her threesome in an elevator tale, while Jen and Gwen are in that stage where they're outlining and researching their next stories. M. Christian, of course, can write through anything, and didn't even seem to notice that Marcy and Penelope were rolling around on the floor leaving claw marks on each other.

Greg certainly wasn't going to step in and break things up because, as he once told me, "When girls fight, there's always a possibility that clothes will come off, and I'm sure not getting in the way of that." Why I don't fire his lecherous ass, I don't know. But that's another story.

And what are these ladies fighting about? I didn't have to ask -- it's always the same. They were fighting over Cate Shea, the femme fatale with a penchant for butchy babes.

Marcy and Penelope may not look like butches in the above photo (it was taken last year by Greg), but let me just say that if you met either of them, they'd leave you cowering. I employ them both and vouch for their writing skills, but I wouldn't want to run into either of them in a dark alley. Or a biker bar. But hey, that's just me. I'm more the smart-cocktails-at-a-swanky-bar-with-a-sophisticated-stud-on-my-arm type.

And will Cate give either of them the time of day? Therein lies the problem, not only will she, but she has on several occasions. She lets Marcy give her massages here at the office, and more than once she's allowed Penelope to test a sex toy out on her. I don't know if she's formally dated either of them outside of work, but I suspect she has. Today's fight, according to Lisabet, resulted when Marcy offered to give her a ride home, as well as a "pussy licking you'll never forget."

Cate is playing them both, if you ask me. She loves the attention, though she plays the victim beautifully. She never tries to break up these fights -- she just looks on with this smug yet helpless expression on her face.

I called out for Jonny's help to break up the scuffle, which is ironic considering I hired him primarily to keep the riff-raff out, not settle internal disputes. In the ensuing jostling, however, Marcy and Penelope knocked me off my sensible pumps and I landed on my backside.

"Marcy and Penelope, go home and cool off!" I yelled from the floor. "And don't come back until you can behave like grown-ups!"

Lisabet was writing something down in a notebook while Jonny escorted them both out the door. Greg was still salivating. I shot Cate a menacing look and told her to get back to work. As punishment, I'm going to stop giving her lesbian stories to write.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Earning the right to write erotica

In the coming months, you'll probably witness a fair number of blog posts where I mention Marilyn. She is both nemesis and helpmate.

I mean, look at her. Does she look like she's suffered a day in her life? No, of course she doesn't. Not that I like it when people suffer, but I have serious doubts that a person can be self-actualized or sympathetic to others if they have never experienced hardship. And Marilyn has had nary a ruffle in her perfect life.

And yet she is as nice as she can be. She is kind, courteous, loyal, thoughtful, and pleasant. And obviously, beautiful. Men love her. Women want to hate her but can't.

Marilyn wants to be a writer. So, her uncle Obediah, who just happens to be on my board of directors, got her a job here at Amalgamated.

Now let me tell you a little something about me. I don't like being told what to do. If somebody shoves a writer down my throat, I'm not inclined to appreciate that writer. In Marilyn's case, I don't believe for two seconds that she can write and I'm not going to waste my time indulging this pretty little rich girl's whim at the expense of denying real writers the opportunity to practice their craft.

She's so polite, though. Every few weeks, she'll ask me if she can write a Quickie, just so I can see what she's capable of. I put her off, without fail. But I must say she's a resilient little thing -- she never complains. She has even tried to get me to read poems and little vignettes she's written, but I tell her I hate poems -- which I do -- and tell her I have no time to read the work of aspiring writers. I deal only with professionals.

So what does she do around here? Everything. On the maid's day off, she cleans toilets. When Chris needs help with filing, she files. When Jason needs help selecting a lipstick shade for his latest drag outfit, she provides good advice. When Crystal bores everyone to tears with her talk of movie stars and fame, Marilyn listens as if she hasn't heard it a thousand times before.

Writing erotica is a privilege, not a right. And Marilyn will have to earn it. I'll show her fancy uncle who's boss.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

The rest of the tour

Please forgive me. I got distracted by personnel matters after I promised you a tour of the plant. Let's continue with that, shall we?

As it is at most businesses, documentation and filing is vital here at Amalgamated. Every story order that comes in is immediately copied in triplicate, stamped with the date received, and filed according to fetish and then by client last name.

Why triplicate? Because one gets filed in our archives, one goes to the customer, and one gets doctored completely in the event that the client needs to show a law enforcement official that pornography was neither requested nor received. We think it's important to go the extra mile for our customers. It's probably why we have so much repeat business. They appreciate those little touches.

Our files are vast, as this photo indicates. After ten years of writing for thousands of people, we have certainly kept our filing staff busy. Here you see Marilyn and Chris discussing the relative merits of arranging the filing towers by state, then fetish, then client name.

Chris is my office manager but he's also a fine writer, so I figure I'm really getting double duty out of him. When he isn't implementing a new system, writing up an employee for some infraction of the dress code he wrote and I never officially approved, or analyzing the relative merits of tape versus staples, he writes gothic romance non pareil. He can be difficult to manage, but I never have to worry about anything getting misplaced.

More on Marilyn when next we meet.

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Man of mystery

M. Christian was late again today.

But at least today I know why. On my way in to the office, I saw him at the newsstand. (I photographed him in case he denies being there. See him there in the raincoat?) Much of the time, he wasn't even reading, but poking around the various periodicals, sort of aimlessly looking for something that clearly wasn't even there. Maybe I've seen too many movies, but it looked to me like he was waiting for somebody. But not wanting to seem like he was waiting for somebody.

After 10 minutes or so, I drove on to the office. (I adore driving ever since I got my Nash Rambler!)

Well, it was another hour before M. Christian came into the office. Jonny nodded at him when he arrived but ol' M. had nothing but a distracted grumble to toss his way. (And no, I don't know his first name. He will not divulge it. All his employment references say "M" and even the social security administration knows him only by that mysterious initial.) I called him into my office right away.

ME: M., I'm concerned. You've been late several times in the past month. Are you feeling well?

M. CHRISTIAN: I'm fine.

ME: I hope you know you can tell me anything. You are more than just a writer to me.

M. CHRISTIAN: I can't tell you anything. How do I know you're not one of them?

ME: One of who?

M. CHRISTIAN: (blinks a few times as if a bright light is pointed at his face) It doesn't matter. (looks off at something behind me)

ME: But it does matter. I'm concerned about you. Do you need to get laid?

M. CHRISTIAN: (shakes head, leans toward me and whispers) No, no. Not that. That's how they'll get me, don't you see? That's how they get in. Whenever I surrender, they get access. I can't risk it. The only sex I can afford to have is on paper. Please don't ask me about this again.

ME: All right. I got an order today for a robot orgy. Would you like to write it?

M. CHRISTIAN: Yes, please. Flesh ..... blood.... dangerous.....

I gave him the order and he went off to his typewriter. I'll leave him alone, of course, but I still haven't addressed the whole lateness issue. If he writes a great orgy scene, maybe I'll let the matter slide. I wonder who he thinks is after him. As long as it isn't the Decency Police or the Citizens Against Pornography, I don't really give a damn. If any little green men show up for M. Christian, I figure Jonny will take care of them. I'd still like to know what he was doing at that magazine stand this morning. Poor hunted bastard.

Laney had her eye on us while we were in the conference room. I know she's going to want to know what happened. She's not going to rest until she gets M. Christian's cock down her throat.

And Greg isn't going to let M. Christian get there before he does.

A growing personnel problem

Getting a receptionist has taken a real load off my mind. With so many urgent, throbbing matters to take care of in any given day, I can't afford to dedicate so much time to one issue.

Stories aren't the only thing I'm thinking about. Any business with employees has employee problems. For the fourth time this month, for instance, M. Christian reported late to work.

Now, I'm not big on time clocks. I find them demeaning, in fact. But the rest of the staff manages to arrive on time, so why can't he? (Amalgamated is staffed 24 hours a day, by the way. Better than 50 percent of our requests are of an emergency nature, making it imperative to have writers available to you, the horny client, at all hours.)

He's a big name in the industry and I was lucky to get him. I know that. I also know that he has many demands on his time outside of his life at Amalgamated. Does that explain why he skulks around here like the cops are after him? Or why he always looks like he invented something that would annihilate mankind and sold it for less than it was worth?

I don't know what to do with him. I'd say he just needs to get laid, but I don't think he'd be able to discard his paranoia long enough to enjoy a decent orgasm. Laney once offered to give him a blowjob while he wrote, but he just grunted at her. I myself suggested that some time between the breasts of his choice might be a therapeutic pastime. He sneered at me as if to say that he'd known breasts in his past but they had betrayed him such that he never wanted any more of them.

He's a tortured soul, but he won't talk about it. But I simply must address this tardiness issue. Wish me luck. I just hope I don't set off some trigger in his angst-ridden head that will cause him to tell me to take this job and shove it.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Receptionist hired

Thanks to a friendly but discreet tip from one of you (thanks, Rocco!), I'm happy to report that I've found the ideal receptionist for Amalgamated.

Jonny Topaz comes highly recommended by all the drinking and dining establishments he's worked for. Our interview was short but enlightening.

ME: Do you have a resume, Mr. Topaz?

JONNY: In my business, a man's word is his bond, Miss Vivant.

ME: It's good to know I can trust you, but what about your work experience? Where have you been employed? What kind of work have you done?

JONNY: I been around. Here and there, doing what was necessary. I work for as long as any particular job takes. I see things through, you know? I don't think a classy lady like yourself would be familiar with the joints where I worked.

ME: What did you do at these ... joints?

JONNY: I eliminate the dangerous element, if you know what I mean. I keep the undesirables away.

Well, that did it for me. I hired him on the spot. Now when curiosity seekers get off the elevator and think they can wander into our offices, our receptionist will make sure they have a bona fide right to be here.

Did I mention that Mr. Topaz has a charming accent? I think he might be from the Bronx. New Yorkers are so cosmopolitan, don't you think?

Monday, September 17, 2007

Location, location, location

Amalgamated takes up an entire floor of the building we rent space in. At first, I leased only one room, but that didn't work out so well because at least once a day, some rube would get off the elevator and casually wander into our offices, either with a camera dangling from his neck or a his tongue hanging out of his mouth. So, I eventually just rented the whole floor so that only people with real business to conduct with me or my staff can ... get off ... on our floor. I don't know what those guys were expecting to find but they always left disappointed to discover that I run a reputable, respectable business.

I mean, I have to. Or George Putnam will be making my life a living hell:

This guy is serious, and he's paid more than one visit to the offices of Amalgamated. I even considered moving our office at one point to throw him off our scent. He's been sniffing around on three different occasions, and all three times, I observed him talking with Lisabet in an overly officious capacity. Now, in my experience, a man of his ilk gets chummy with a woman in the sex business for one of two reasons:

He wants to partake of whatever sexual service she might be providing
The woman is a mole and he's getting the latest updates from her

Now, I'm not accusing Lisabet of anything, you understand, but I've got my eye on her. Her work is good and it's always on time, but if ever find out that the FBI or CIA or even that the Citizens Against Pornography have a file on me or my employees, you can bet I'll be looking to Lisabet for some explanations.

But we were discussing locations, weren't we? Yes. Well. The building we occupy is discreet enough, I think, but we must nevertheless always take pains never to draw attention to ourselves. That's another reason I thought it best to take over an entire floor. The fewer people who walk down the hall and stumble upon our office, the better.

And that's why I am currently looking for an intimidating receptionist. If you know of anybody who might fit the bit, please drop me a line. I need to keep the riff-raff, the looky-loos, and the anti-pornography crowd out.

Friday, September 14, 2007

A day at the plant

Welcome! This is the blog that takes you behind the scenes at the Amalgamated Erotic Corp. plant, where erotica is produced by pleasant people to provide you, the customer, with a pleasant experience. We simply do not stop until you are satisfied.

I'm the owner of Amalgamated Erotica Corporation (henceforth known as AEC -- I type prodigiously throughout the day so I hope you'll indulge me the occasional acronym to save time and effort) and my name is Sage Vivant. I am often asked whether that is my real name, and although the question perplexes me, I am always gracious. I smile and disclose that it is indeed a real name. Because surely somewhere a person was born whose birth certificate reads "Sage Vivant."

I employ a fine group of scribes at AEC. Here they are, toiling away on their latest assignments. Talk about dedication. Sometimes they get so involved in their work that they forget to masturbate.

Some of them are shy about telling people where they work. For some, it would be a fate worse than syphyllis or pregnancy if their family or friends found out how they put themselves through college or unleash their muse. I'll introduce them to you gradually, as they give me permission to do so. (I'm not in the photo because I'm the one taking the picture with my new Brownie camera!)

What you're looking at here is the Penis Room. This is where stories containing erections come to life for you, the customer. If there's a hard-on in a story, you can bet it will spring to life first in this very room.

Stay tuned. I'll be taking you on a tour of the rest of the plant in a couple of days.