Chapter 10
Three weeks had passed and still no word from the Census Bureau. In typical government fashion they were late in notifying the lower echelon. The thought that I had failed the fool test had even gone through my head more than once. Glumly I gave the idea up and sought some other temporary work through the various employment agencies I had signed up with. A few days later my own census form arrived in the mail for "Occupant, Apartment 4" and I dutifully filled out the multiple-choice questionnaire, and mailed it back.
Halleluiah day finally came a month after I had gone down to the Federal Building to take the exam. A phone call came from some secretary to ask if I was available. I told her I was and she told me to report to a group leader in two days at a government facility near my neighborhood. A series of orientation meetings were scheduled and it was explained that we enumerators were to ferret out all those people who never returned their questionnaires by mail, or who had sent back incomplete forms or had somehow messed something up in the government's big count.
We were given Census kits all decked out in red, white and blue and lists of names and locations that had been occupied ten years before. We would be paid on a piecemeal basis, actual visits to the delinquent homes netting more than a simple phone call. At first sixty names didn't seem like too much, but I didn't consider the insane legwork involved. I began phoning to make appointments.
My first day on the job wasn't too bad, except that I began to realize that the mean intelligence of this country's population is about seven years old for the average adult. People were confused by the government's attempt to spell everything out. It was a case of intellectual overkill. My first five visits were all to nice people who simply had gotten confused. My sixth visit was to someone who just wanted to speak to someone and who hadn't sent her form in because that would mean no enumerator would come around. Here, in the most populous city in the universe, she just wanted someone to talk to. I was touched and shared a cup of tea with the lovely old lonely heart.
On Day Two of this temporary occupation life began to get more interesting.
"Samantha Bonno ... from the Census Bureau," I called in reply to his "Who's there?"
"Oh, yeah," the gruff voice mumbled. "In a minute."
I waited outside the apartment for fully five minutes before the door opened. Mr. Jack Orff stood in a dirty tee shirt, a pot belly hanging over his dirty chinos. "C'mon in, sweetie."
"This will only take a few minutes, Mr. Orff ...."
"Sure, sure. C'mon in."
I was uneasy immediately. There was a distinct dirty feeling Mr. Orff radiated. His eyes were tiny beads behind puffy eyelids and the odor of stale cigar seemed to cling to his body.
"Have a seat," he said pointing a stubby finger to the one armchair in the room.
I sat and watched him watch me as I crossed my legs. I wished I hadn't worn such a short skirt.
He pulled a chair over and sat a few feet away. "What can I do for yeh," he said hoarsely.
"Just clear up a few questions on your form," I said, shifting in the now uncomfortable chair.
His hand had drifted to his lap and his tongue crept through his lips. He seem not to be in complete control of his faculties. I was suddenly staring at his idiot grin and then down to his lap. He had unbuttoned his fly and he held a massive salami of a rod between his thick fingers.
"Maybe, we'd better let the interview go for a while," I said, rising. I walked briskly to the door and tried to open it. It wouldn't budge. If was locked and I couldn't find the right combination of latches and knobs.
"C'mere, missy," he said, walking toward me. "I'll be your friend if you be my friend."
My flesh was crawling. "Listen, I want the door opened," I tried sternly. He continued to smile his idiot smile and advance on me. His huge prick dangled like a bull's pizzle from his fly.
"Be my friend. Hold my hand," he said in a small voice.
My back was to the door and I was in a panic as to what to do. I bolted for the other room and he giggled maniacally. I tripped over a small cot and his childish laugh grew louder, as he lumbered in. My attempt to escape had become a game for him and he gleefully grabbed his rod like it was some kind of child's ray gun.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah," he shot his fleshy weapon at me.
"You don't want to play this game, Mr. Orff," I said with a catch in my throat. "The authorities don't like this sort of thing very much."
I was wasting my breath, for he was in another world. We continued to play cat and mouse, with him never leaving much room to the doorway. He just made weird guttural sounds and held onto his hairy cock.
He seemed to become suddenly interested in his own penis and I thought I had my chance to get back into the larger room. I lunged across the cot and suddenly had the wind knocked out of me as he tackled me with amazing agility. Down I went on the floor and the hulking brute was on top of me.
"Now you'll play with me," he said, some drool sliding down his chin.
"O.K. I'll play with you," I said, hoping he would become pacified.
"I like to play a special game," he grinned, grasping my bare thighs. "But we got to do it before Johnson comes."
Who the hell was Johnson, I wondered. His keeper? Or another weird little man like Jack. But I couldn't dwell too long for Jack's powerful hands were ripping my skirt.
"You've got to play gently," I urged.
"It's my game," he shouted and slapped me across the thigh. I shut up and took it.
For good measure he pinched between my thighs until I gasped with the pain.
"I'm gonna stick this in your mouth and you better be nice to it. Then I'm gonna put it in your mouse. There," he jabbed between my legs.
He held his long flaccid rod and stroked it on my knee.
"Nice soft skin," he smiled crookedly. He was enjoying himself immensely. His thick-headed piece was hot and throbbing against my leg.
"You gonna be nice to it?"
"Y-yes," I stammered.
"You better," he warned in little boy tones. "Or I'm gonna hurt you."
I didn't doubt the validity of his threat.
"Suck on it nice," he ordered, scooting up so he sat on my chest, rolling his butt on my breasts and obviously enjoying the pliancy of my boobs.
He proffered his rubbery rod to my chin and I opened my mouth with disgust.
"I said you gotta be nice," he whined. I changed my expression to one of feigned delight.
The head of his piece was between my lips and I controlled my desire to spit out the foul tasting thing. His hand pushed more of the vile rod in and my mouth was crammed with his glans.
"Lick it," he ordered.
I did so, running my tongue around the knobby stump and I saw his eyes light up in pleasure. While I licked, concealing my distaste, I felt his hands sneak around his back to my loins. His fingers crept under my panties and tugged on my short hairs. I winced and stopped tonguing.
"What're you stoppin' for?"
He shoved his rod deeper into my mouth and I commenced With renewed vigor afraid of what he might do. Slowly his prick began to swell while I ran my licking tongue along the underside of his sex. His fingers were back at my pussy exploring me through my undergarment. His rod had lengthened at least three inches and grew stiffer and stiffer between my jaws. He jammed his thumb with a spastic jerk against my cunt and I bit down in pain. Whack came his hand across my face and I was shaking with fear.
"Don't bite!" Jack hissed.
I closed my eyes to blot out his menacing leer and resumed sucking on his distended flesh. I wiggled my tongue between his thick penis folds and heard him mutter, "That's better."
His rod became more fully erect and harder against my working lips. He was leaning into me more now and his length jammed against the back of my throat. He rocked on my breast and pushed his manhood back and forth. Suddenly he pitched forward landing on his hands and now his knees pinned my shoulders while his rod continued to bob upright in my mouth. He started to pump and giggle and I thought he would drive right down my throat. After a few hits however, he began twisting his body in a corkscrew action, then followed through by turning his body on his hands and knees while his rod pivoted in my mouth. My head grew dizzy with the crazy idiot spinning on his shaft with me as the base.
Suddenly he stopped, his tongue hanging out crazily. He pulled his rod out of my aching mouth and smeared it dripping with my saliva across my face. I lay petrified, not knowing what to expect next.
He grasped his taut hard-on and began massaging it, pushing it against my nose. I tried to turn away, but he was insistent on pressing his glans against my nostrils. His bulbous prick expanded and grew hot against my upper lip. I screamed inwardly anticipating the choking tide that would run up my nose. It came in the next moment spewing out of his fish-mouthed penis into my left nostril. His insane high pitched giggle accompanied Jack's version of fun while I tried to breathe through my mouth. Like all children, he needed to feel his own secretions and this he did, running his stubby fingers through the ooze on my face and rubbing it into my eyes. His clammy hands were at the buttons to my blouse and with ridiculous ease he had pulled away my clothing and was lifting me onto the cot. I was crying and helpless to defend myself.
"Now we have some fun," he said pawing my breasts. My nipples were fascinating to him and for an eternity he fondled my brown aureoles until they beaded into leather medals. He pushed and squeezed them until I was shaking with a mixture of pain and stimulated sexual sensation.
His hefty hard-on slapped my tummy and now he was spreading my legs to investigate my pussy with clumsy fingers. I winced with his carelessness as he rubbed my flesh separating my anus from my vulva. I tried to squiggle down so his fingers would enter my cunny, but the dummy couldn't figure it out. Finally I put my own hand on my tautly closed pussy to work an opening for him. He was driving me crazy with his stupid tinkering. I grabbed my clit hiding above my aperture and squeezed it between my fingers. Jack discovered the tiny organ erecting and he pushed my hands away to play with the new toy himself. He had the bedside manners of an ape and twisted my poor node mercilessly. I felt myself open up and he stroked his rod so the head of it butted against my moistening vulva. Light bulbs went off in his screwed up head and he made the connection.
He grunted idiotically and pushed his penis against my pussy. He penetrated slightly.
"Push," I urged. He chuckled gutturally and did as I bid.
He leaned forward and about a third of his massive spear slid into my crevice. His tongue hung out of his mouth and he began to pump. He grasped me by the shoulders and pulled himself onto me. I thought I would be split apart by his hugeness. His mountainous balls slammed against my fanny with every grunting thrust. He thrust erratically and my clinging pussy was at a loss to keep to his time. Then he stopped abruptly and just lay atop me. His tongue was all over my face, poking at my eyes and nose. His sharp-tipped probe was fucking my nostrils. I gasped for breath, shrieking and sputtering. Then he was coordinated some more and he began frictioning my pussy again. His orgasm was all over his body. For his hands were tangled in my hair and pulling and thrusting like his tongue and his rod. I felt his feet kicking my ankles and I prayed he would bring himself off quickly or I might die underneath this child-man maniac.
I'm not sure what happened next. In the midst of his frenzy I suddenly heard a loud noise, like a door slamming.
"Jackie!" A booming voice bellowed. My mad lover leapt off me and cowered in the corner. Staring straight ahead, I saw the biggest, blackest giant of a man standing in the doorway. Then everything went black as I passed out.
I opened my eyes sometime later while a cotton-baffled voice called, "Miss, miss, it's alright now." There was the face again, bulging from a muscular neck and tee shirt.
"It's alright, now. Jackie is sorry he did it," the bass voice repeated. My hand was in his and he was rubbing it gently.
"I'm Johnson, Jackie's ... friend," the owner of the soothing hand said in quiet tones.
Johnson pulled a sheet over me to hide my nakedness. "Jackie's sorry he did this to you, aren't you?"
Jack's face was screwed into a little boy pout in the corner where he huddled.
"Aren't you?" Johnson asked again.
"Yes. I played too rough," Jack whined.
"He played too rough," Johnson repeated. "Are you O.K., miss?"
"I-I think so," I said.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here. I went shopping. He knows not to answer the door when I'm gone. You see his family retains me to look after him. I guess he'll have to go back to the home now."
"Noooo," Jackie whined.
"Let's go in the other room so the lady can dress," Johnson said. He rose to nearly seven feet and I gasped at the huge physical specimen he was.
The big man took Jackie by the hand and led him into the other room. I got out of the cot and into my clothes as quickly as I could. I was sore as blazes between my legs, but otherwise alright. I walked shakily into the other room where Jackie sat and Johnson smoked a pipe.
"He's not responsible for his actions," Johnson said. "I know you'll have to call the police, and it will mean he'll have to go back to the home or maybe worse-a prison for the criminally insane."
Cowering in his chair, Jackie was a pitiful sight and I just wanted to leave.
"No," I said. "I won't call the police. I just need to leave."
Johnson's face brightened. "You mean it? He's really harmless, but sometimes he gets out of hand."
"Thank you for coming when you did," I said, starting for the door.
"Wait," he called. "The family has authorized me to pay for anything he ... well ... damages."
He opened a drawer and withdrew a checkbook. It was too bizarre.
"No, that's alright."
"A hundred dollars? Will that help?"
"No," I insisted.
But Johnson had already filled in the check and ripped it out. He opened the latches to the door and thrust the check in my hand. "It's the least his family can do," he said.
My head was swimming as I stepped outside, dumbly holding the check. I glanced at my watch and realized this had all taken place in less than twenty minutes. Not two blocks from my own apartment I had walked into a madman's den. I walked home in a near daze, five other appointments left unfilled, and lay down in my own bed.
Later that afternoon I felt less shaky and called my unit leader to begin to explain what had happened. It suddenly made no sense in the relating and so I stopped short of telling about the assault.
"Just file a report of mental incompetency and let someone else worry about the case," he suggested.
I hung up and did precisely that. Then I went outside and deposited the check in my much deflated bank account and went about my rounds as census enumerator.
Two days later I wished I had quit just after my experience with Jack Orff.