(No "action" in this one, FYI)
Jorge didn't like the arrogant jerk from the start.
He didn't understand the whole push for a roommate anyway - except that the unlucky slob would have to be hyper-ticklish. Too.
Handlord wanted two guys at its disposal. It had his passport hidden away, but most of the time Jorge didn't even waste much time thinking about how sweet it would be to run...
Bob was full of himself. He wasn't the kind of guy Jorge would ever share a cab with, much less a house...
But Handlord had other plans. Bob never would've been allowed to set foot in the place otherwise. A sturdy, lonely house, seventy or eighty meters away from the nearest neighbor. Apparently no one had ever heard Jorge howl...
When the asshole lit a cigarette without the least bit of hesitation, Jorge started to say something - but a hand slipped over his mouth. Not too firm, but the meaning was clear. Oh, well, the tickler would probably make Bob quit smoking too.
"Beer," Handlord whispered in his ear.
"Wanna beer?" Jorge sighed.
"Whatcha got?"
"Perro Grande," the tickler said carefully. Jorge repeated it.
"Alright," the other guy said. "You got taste."
In the kitchen, seething, Jorge opened the fridge -
Two bottles were floating just above the shelf.
"Yours," Handlord said carefully. Jorge took one and waited. The other floated to the counter. Automatically Jorge stole a look to make sure Bob wasn't suddenly in the doorway, seeing this.
"Aaaaand...." A bottle opener magically did its job - and a small paper tube floated to the beer. White powder...
"His."
"I'm not sure about this," Jorge whispered.
"Well, I am. You're the top dog here. Always gonna be. Humor me."
"Alright..."
Twenty minutes later, Bob was snoring with his head thrown back.
"Hey!" Handlord yelled at him. No response. "Bob. I'm Handlord. Your other roommate."
"C'mon," Jorge said. But he was fighting not to grin.
"Sssssh. That's right, Bob. Good news. You're in. I'm gonna make you feel right at home. Shoot, I've even got a way for you to earn your keep."
"Hand. For pete's sake."
"He doesn't actually have a job, Jorge. Not at the moment."
"Huh?"
"Bob's a big ol' liar. Got fired about three weeks ago. But we're gonna be nice... and take him in anyway. Give him lots of time to reflect on the error of his ways. When he can think at all."
Jorge tried to act annoyed by all this, but actually it sounded like he might actually get a frickin' night off once in a while. He didn't even know how long it had been. Wow, maybe even a whole twenty-four period without laughing his guts out.
"Let's welcome Bob," it said to the obviously sleeping man, "and you can even move in right away. In fact - no time like the present. Am I right, or am I right?"
He lifted off the couch.
Jorge followed...
"Wow!" he hooted.
The other bedroom had been tricked out almost as much his own. Plywood hiding the window, four shiny locks, chains dangling everywhere -
"Think he'll like it? I suspect it'll grow on him. In fact, Bob ol' buddy, you don't have a frickin' choice."
The man's boots were being pulled off.
"Now's the time to, y'know, back out. Change your mind. Last chance."
Jorge felt like saying something sarcastic, but it was mesmerizing to watch somebody else get stripped. Prepped... and Bob was totally unaware of it. His socks were removed, one after the other, and then his jeans. Bob's underwear, dark blue briefs, had a few holes around the waistband. Even that was oddly exciting.
"I'm serious, you know." Handlord chuckled a time or two. "Your window of opportunity is closing, and I know your secret. Who's real fuckin' ticklish, here?"
An invisible hand pulled Jorge's right hand way up over his head. Bob shifted as both of his hands rose too.
"Asshole," Jorge grumbled. His hand was released.
"Oh, yeah? You too, Bob? Alright. Well, unless you high-tail it out of here right now, you're gonna have the time of your life. Three, two, one... OK, then. Hot damn. Laugh for your supper, asshole."
The clothing fell to the floor.
"He is a prick, isn't he?" Jorge said.
"Yup. That's that. Bob's gonna get it now... and he's damn near as reactive as you. Listen, I think we should run the ol' prison-house deal on him. You act like you're just as much of a captive. Oh, gee, if only we could get the hardcore tickler to let us go... And when I'm not tickling you silly, you can run amok out there."
"Deal," Jorge said happily.
"But you're always gonna come back." Its voice was stern. "Somewhere around the time I tell you to. Or else you know I'll hunt you down, buckaroo. Put in some extra locks."
Jorge snickered nervously.
Handlord definitely wasn't kidding - but he'd only made it drag him back inside once. That had been a couple months ago.
Whether he wanted to be or not, he was still stuck... unless maybe it took a real shine to Bob. Maybe this was how Handlord eased the focus from one dude to another.
Shoot, if Jorge could go out drinking on Friday or Saturday night, he could deal with the tickling. That made more sense than trying to figure out a way to shake Handlord for good. Hell, he could even bring a chica home and have some fun with her in the living room - without anything tipping her off about what went on when he was strapped to his bed... or while the new guy was roaring his guts out, for that matter. Handlord knew all about soundproofing.
"Now, Bob," it said, "you don't have to worry about a thing. I'll do all the work." Bob's shirt was sliding over his head. Wide wrist-cuffs were approaching. "The main order of business, day and night, is tickling. Yes, that's right. Not just goofy little tickling either. I'm into giving my tenants the most mind-blowing pleasure they've ever felt, attacking again and again. I'll throw in some other kinky shit from time to time, but basically it's all about insane, red-hot, skillful tickling. Right, Jorge?"
Ankle-cuffs were already being buckled down. Jorge finally nodded once. He found the other guy's feet to be unexpectedly interesting - so calm now, but as soon as he woke up...
"You betcha. And I hope you're not one of those goofballs who'll keep begging me to stop. Or let you go. Nuestra casa es su casa - Bob, now really, there's no need to thank me. I have all kinds of ways you can show your appreciation -"
"You're so sick," Jorge chuckled.
"His search for a place to live is over. We gotta celebrate - besides, it only seems fair to let him know what he's in for," Handlord said, setting its new captive down on a thickly padded half-rack.
15jun07