Page 19 of Man Vs. Woman

Is this really fucking happening?

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Seymour finally bellows, struggling against the handcuffs. His face is as red as a tomato, and I can see a thick vein throbbing on his forehead. The moment he’s out of those handcuffs, I bet he’s gonna choke this fucker. “RELEASE ME!”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Jeff whispers, pressing another button. Instead of stopping the dildo, the fucking thing just goes into high-gear, thrusting down toward Seymour’s mouth. He thrashes around on the bed, trying to avoid each stab of the fucking vibrator as he screams like a fucking pussy.

“STOP THIS FUCKING MADN—”

Seymour doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Instead, the vibrator starts rotating like a fucking helicopter helix, slapping him across the face repeatedly. Nobody says a word as the President of the Board receives a beating from a fucking 12-inch vibrating cock, the only sound in the room the constant battering of the fucking thing on his forehead.

Fuck me.

I’m glad I came to this meeting.

“Shut the fucking thing down, man,” I tell Jeff. By now, beads of sweat are trickling down his forehead as he pushes button after button on the control panel, every time he does it unleashing more of that dildo-slapping fury on Seymour.

Jesus fuck.

Shaking my head, I walk straight to Jeff and push him to the side. I take one look at the panel—a fucking thousand buttons in there—and decide to do the most sensible thing.

Cocking my arm back, I just punch the fucking thing, smashing the panel to pieces.

“SECURITY!” Seymour screams the moment the dildo stops, hanging limply over his forehead. “GET THIS MAN OUT OF HERE!”

“No, but—” Jeff tries to protest, but the 200-pound gorillas that just stepped inside the room couldn’t give any less of a fuck. Grabbing him by the arms, they drag his ass out of the conference room.

“And get that fucking thing out of here,” Seymour spits out toward the movers that hauled the bed inside. As they get busy doing it, he takes back his seat at the table, adjusting his tie while gritting his teeth. There’s no doubt in my mind that this fucking Jeff idiot will be barred for life from stepping inside the Clarendon.

“Alright, can we finally move on?” Seymour continues, his words harsh and furious. “Or is there someone else?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then I hear a man’s voice coming from the back.

“Me, Mr. President. I’d like to make a bid.”