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       You would like it on record that you were vehemently opposed to the idea from the start.

       Slick thought it would be hilarious. Sexy, even. He led you into Droog’s room, snickering all the while, and you froze as you stood just past the threshold. This room was pristine. It was the cleanest, neatest room in the Crew’s hideout. There was no way he wouldn’t know you’d been in there. He’s too meticulous, he’ll figure it out.

       He’ll know that you, Problem Sleuth, were in his room, and he will kill you.

       Slick grabs your wrist and pulls you further into the room. He throws you onto the bed--oh god, you’re messing up his sheets--and kisses you. You push his face away, but not before he rips up your lips.

       “Slick, stop,” you say, trying to sound forceful.

       “Don’t be a fuckin’ baby,” he says, moving in for another razor-sharp smooch.

       You put a hand on his forehead and hold him at bay. “Droog’s gonna be pissed ‘s hell.”

       “Quit cryin’,” Slick works at your belt. “Y’ fuckin’ pussy, how’s he even gonna know?”

       You give him a look. Droog’s his second in command, Slick knows better than anyone how perceptive he can be. Slick rolls his eye and snorts.

       “We can fuck in your office with th’ door unlocked,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. “Not a peep. Y’ blow me in a crowded restaurant, no fuckin’ complaint--”

       “I do recall complainin’ about that quite a great deal.”

       He tears off his shirt and starts pulling down his pants. “But fuckin’ in Droog’s room, that’s a step too far?”

       “Precisely,” you say.

       Slick slaps you upside the head, then unzips your pants and pulls out your dick. You know he’s trying to stroke you into submission, and it’s working. You try to keep protesting, but all that slips out is a weak moan. He laughs, and by god, you want to kill him.

       He stops once he’s convinced that you’re done arguing, and resumes undressing. He pulls his boxers down and is about to shove his dick in your mouth when you both freeze, realizing you hear noise outside the door.

       “Shit,” Slick breathes.

       The door opens, and on the other side is Diamonds Droog, with Pickle Inspector hanging all over him. They look drunk. Droog seems to be in the middle of saying something to Pickle, but they both stop when they realize that the room is already occupied. They stand there and stare at you, sprawled out on the bed with your cock out, and Slick, kneeling over you, naked. Slick grins up at Droog, his dick still in his hand, and says like nothing’s wrong, “Hey, Droog. Scram, will ya’? I‘m a little busy here.”

       Droog’s frown widens, and you just know that this is it. This is how you die. Any second now Droog is going to pull a rifle out of his jacket and blow you to pieces.

       Then Pickle laughs.

       You have no idea what he’s laughing about, and evidently neither does Droog. Pickle reaches for his pockets, fumbling a little to get his drunk, uncoordinated hand in, then pulls out his keyring and looks through his keys. He shows Droog a key. Droog looks at Pickle, uncomprehending. Pickle giggles and whispers something in Droog’s ear. Droog blinks, looks at you, and then smiles.

       You don’t like that smile.

       He and Pickle turn and leave, closing the door behind them. You stare after them, confused and bewildered. Slick snaps his fingers in your eyes, bringing you back to attention, and shoves his dick at you until you take him into your mouth. For a moment you almost forget what just happened, losing yourself in the motions of sucking Slick off, until it finally clicks. You pull away, shoving Slick off of you.

       “What the fuck?!” he screeches. “Finish what y’ started, bitch!”

       “That was my key!” you cry, zipping up your pants.

       He tries to climb back onto you, and you shove him away again and stand up.

       “That was my apartment key!” you say again, hoping he’ll actually understand the severity of the situation.

       “Who gives a shit?” he hisses.

       “I give a shit!” you yell, throwing his pants at him in frustration. “They’re gonna get up t’ all their kinky shit ‘n they’re gonna do it on my bed!”

       You scramble out of the room and climb the ladder leading to the exit. You hear Slick yelling at you to come back, and you yell back at him that he can suck his own damn dick, thank you. This was all his stupid idea in the first place.