“‘Ello in there!”, piped a smart British accent. It came through the heavy steel door that Jon Tees, owner and operator of Tees’ Sinister Skin Flicks And Escort Service Inc., used to distance  himself from the work that went on in the ramshackle warehouse he called a studio. The voice frightened him as he happened to be napping at his desk. He wasn’t expecting to hear that voice – particularly that cheery London droll – until sometime later that evening. It wasn’t the owner of the voice that caused Tees’ already high blood pressure to raise a few notches, but the man that came along with the owner of the voice that did.

Tees briskly bopped the young brunette between his knees on the top of the head. “Get up…get up you silly slut!” he hissed down at her even as her teeth scraped painfully along his johnson. A thick filament of drool ran from her cherry red lips to the bruised purple knob of his dick. Her muddy green eyes were shot through with snaps of red.

“Well alright! But you didn’t have to hit me.”, she burbled up at him. Her scant breasts clung to the bones of her rib cage; Jon was pretty sure he could see the knobs of her spine through her belly. Where the fuck did Jerry find these bitches anyways? The door thudded as a fist struck it.

“Ay! We ain’t used to waitin’ you dumb Yankee fuck!”

Tees shoved the girl away, “Put some fucking clothes on for Christ’s sake!” Tees mumbled at her as he wheeled about in his chair, thick brown aviator glasses sliding down the fine slope of his beak. Tees grabbed the pack of cigarettes off the front of his desk and popped one in his mouth while the brunette quickly assembled her clothing…which wasn’t much.

She was auditioning for a part in Tees’ sequel to his summer best seller, “Huge Black Dicks, Tiny Cracked Out Chicks.”

“Come in gentlemen, the doors open!”, Tees boomed in his vast, rolling orator’s voice. The door swung open just as Jon was lighting his cigarette. The girl had placed herself in a small chair next to his desk and was scratching at her arms in an incessant manner that drove the porn director and escort service owner nuts. As soon as he completed his business with the two British fucks that were strolling casually into his office he was going to set her little ass up with a guy named Diaz. Diaz was hung at prodigious proportions. He made most thoroughbred horses blush when he whipped out his phallus, and Jon had a sneaking suspicion that Diaz just might tear that little patch of flesh between the brunette’s beaten vag(Tees had given it the perfunctory swipe when she walked in) and her anus. It would be a great intro to the rest of the film.

“You with us, chap?”, spouted the skinny Brit in the worn Paperboy cap and knotty red sweater.  Tees brought himself back to earth, cigarette burning away in the center of his mouth.

“Yes, gentlemen, I’m with you.”, Tees replied; he ignored the skinny boy that had been speaking at him for last few minutes and turned his mottled brown eyes to the massive white fellow in the gray three-piece suit. He was HUGE to say the least. Looked like he had poured into his clothes instead of putting them on like a normal human being. “What can I do for you guys?”

“Derek here was just wonderin’ when you was gonna cough up our coin. Wasn’t you Derek?”

Derek’s monolithic head shifted in what Jon interpreted to be a nod.

“Well, you see gentlemen, sales this quarter have been down–”

“Down?!?”, capitulated the skinny fuck, arms flailing about whilly-nilly. “What the fuck do you mean down?!? You’re fuckin’ chapped ass told us that you’d have our money by now! Three months we let you tarry about with our money! THREE FUCKIN’ MONTHS Jon!” Spittle was starting to fly. Tees ran a huge hand over his eyes, before pushing his glasses up his face.

“I understand that you gentlemen want your money–”

“Good! Then where the fuck is it, guv?”, spat the skinny fuck. Jon was at a loss for words. How was he going to tell these two fine British citizens that he had blown a large portion of the money that they had so kindly lent him on a trip down to Mexico for heroine and tequila? He knew it wasn’t going to fly so he tried a different approach.

“Listen, guys…”, he sweated out, “I’m sure we could come to an agreement somehow. Maybe one of you could do a scene in one of my films?” Tees gestured at the brunette, who was sitting in the chair next to him curled up in terror, with his head. “I have it on very good terms that Donna hear can suck a pretty mean dick.”

The skinny fuck’s eyes lit up.

Derek deadpanned.

That was cause for worry.

“It’s Gretchen…”, she whispered from her corner post.

“Excuse me?”, said Tees turning to face her.

That’s when a little black hole appeared just above her left eye and most of the contents in her skull emptied out onto the grayish wall behind her. The smell of gunpowder chafed Jon’s nostrils and his ears smarted from the sharp explosion that could have only been a gun. He turned back and watched as Derek tucked a pistol into his suit jacket. In the corner of his eye he could see Gretchen’s skinny body tilt towards the floor. Gore flecked the wall, spattered about the heavy mass of blood that marked the poor girl’s exit from this life. He could even see the thin wisp of smoke coming from the hole in the front of her head. Seconds later there was a dull thud as she pitched forward onto the dated shag rug of the office.

“We’ll be in touch mate!”, skinny fuck called over his shoulder as both men exited the room. Jon leaned back into his chair and wished they had closed the door because the breeze hitting his sweet meats was none too pleasant.