Hi, remember me? I know it's been a while but real life often times gets in the way of our fun. I am back at it, albeit at a slower pace than before. You can find me on Mark Zuckerberg's little venture if you care to know what I am up to. A big thank you goes to blackstallion21 for editing this story. Thank you for reading and it's nice to see you again.
Oh yeah, just a word of warning. For a more effective story, I do switch to third person POV just before the epilogue. SH
My name is Carey McDowell and I fucking hate traveling. Hate might not even be a strong enough term. I think I'd rather have my nut sac scrubbed with jalapeno juice and sandpaper than travel. Airports piss me off, stewardesses piss me off, yes I know they prefer to be called "air hostesses" these days but I figure stewardesses is a nicer term than my own preference; sky whores, and most of all having some moron at the TSA checkpoint grope me really pisses me off. Humorless cocksuckers.
Mainly I hate being away from my dogs. Don't get me wrong, I miss my wife too, but we can talk on the phone, we can Skype, and we can have phone sex. I can't talk to my dogs on the phone; I can't have phone walks and petting. Dogs give less than a fuck about Skype. I still don't know why I allow my boss to send me on these fucking trips. Of course, I am the stupid ass that allowed him to talk me into taking a more managerial position with the company.
I am a floor manager for the EXJ valve company in Houston, Texas. I started out there as a floor grunt. I ran whatever machine they needed me to run. Sometimes I welded; sometimes I only turned a wrench. I was, and still am one of those guys who will do whatever needs to be done to get a job done.
I started at EXJ twenty years ago after being laid off from a lumber mill in South Dakota. I only lived in South Dakota for two years and was miserable most of the time; the human body definitely wasn't intended to be outdoors in freezing weather.
I had moved up there because a friend had told me how much money we could make as lumberjacks. He'd already been up there for a year and was making good money. "Better than what we can make in the refineries here," he had told me. He never told me that the guy we were going to work for was a crook and had no licenses.
I didn't find out until my crew was being arrested for trespassing and for cutting on National Forest land without a permit. After three days in jail, I was released because my public defender proved that I had only been with the company for three days and I had only been in South Dakota for a week.
While we were in jail, my buddy, our boss, and half of the crew fled to Oregon. I'd had enough moving and got a job at a lumber mill, I was doing pretty well, but when the timber industry took a hit, so did the lumber mill's business.
I was looking for another job when I got a call from my best friend Jay Kramer. Jay and I had grown up together since we lived less than a block apart as kids. All through school you rarely found one of us without the other. Jay had warned me about the lumberjack deal. But to his credit I never got an "I told you so" out of him.
Jay, as it turned out was looking for a job at the same time as I was and he told me about the place that he'd just applied to. He told me they were just getting off of the ground and it was a great opportunity to get in on the ground floor. "Think about it Skippy," he'd always called me Skippy because he said it was manlier than Carey.
"What better opportunity is there for a pair of 25 year olds? The plants? Shit those guys are always in danger of being blown up, and are usually out in the weather, and unless you're a chemist, you don't make great money. We could work inside and never have a chance of being blown up."
I mulled over what he'd said to me and decided to apply. Three weeks later I was back in Houston and going to work for EXJ. I was a little surprised to find out that Jay had taken a managerial position. Growing up he had pretty much been a fuck-head.
We had both gone to community college. I had found it tedious and boring, so I quit school and went to work. He finished and got some sort of worthless degree in underwater basket weaving or some inane shit. I had at least tried going for business management, but the studying and sitting through class after class just wasn't for me.
So I found great irony in the fact that he'd be sitting behind a desk while I slaved away on the shop floor. I was fine with it though. I was always better with my hands than Jay was. He'd always been more of an idea guy and I was the one who made the idea a reality. So it was fitting that he'd be barking orders he didn't comprehend for me to make work.
Even funnier to me was Loren Grahme; the plant manager and Jay's boss. Loren was a walking contradiction. He was about 100 pounds overweight, but preached how the employees needed to live healthy lifestyles. He claimed to have an open door policy to an office he was never in. He was also so grossly overpaid it wasn't funny, but would scream if any department wanted to spend an extra dollar to get a better quality tool. It was even said that the guys who had to travel were made to stay at Motel 6.
He was also a "devout Christian." yet he was married to a woman named Pam who looked like a porn starlet. Now neither his faith nor his fake looking wife bothered me. What bothered me was the fact that this "great judge of people" would allow Jay around his wife for any amount of time unattended. Jay was a notorious pussy hound.
Every year at the company Christmas party I would see the same scene. Jay would spend a big chunk of the evening dancing with Pam. Loren sooner or later would end up at a corner table with his venders and a few of the more obnoxious sycophants. As soon as the booze started flowing to Loren's table, Pam and Jay would disappear.
After my third year with the company I quit going to the party. It was cheaper to sit at home and drink and I didn't have to get dressed up. I always heard about what I had missed from coworkers the following Monday, and the stories never changed.
I had to laugh my ass off though the year that they decided to move the party from the company conference rooms to the Jenkins Hotel banquet room. Loren was such a tightwad, but I had heard that Pam had pushed him for the more lavish setting. Several of us thought she was tired of fucking Jay in the offices and wanted a proper bed.
Jay and I had always had a running joke between us that by time we turned forty, we would have fucked every single female in Houston. So you can imagine my surprise when Jay approached me at my 30th birthday party and introduced me to his fiancée Brandi.
Now allow me to paint a picture for you. I am 6 foot 2 and have weighed 220 pounds for the best part of the last fifteen years. I didn't work out until I took my current position. Jay is 5 foot 7, and might weigh 140 pounds. He is small and wiry but he moves like a guy twice his size. I had always had the expectation that if Jay ever did tie the knot it would have been to a 36-24-36 playmate bombshell with the IQ of a turnip.
Brandi is at least 5 foot 10. She's nowhere near willow thin, but neither can she be considered fat. She is curvy in all of the right places and soft where a woman should be. Not the empty headed pair of tits that Jay typically chases let alone dates. I couldn't wait to get him out on the golf course to find out the story.
As it turned out I didn't need to go golfing to get the story, Brandi told me all about it. She and Jay had met at a managerial conference in Baton Rouge. The way she told it was she had been stepping off of an elevator when this "fake plastic Barbi whore" went running into the elevator and quickly closed the door.
She'd been poised to yell an insult at the closing door when she was knocked off of her feet by this clumsy dork that had been chasing Barbi and all of her notes went flying. I laughed as I pictured Jay, who is as athletic as a cat on polished linoleum, chasing pam around the hotel while Loren no doubt was bragging to others how great a guy he was.
She told me the dork, as she pointed at Jay who got a "who me?" look on his face, helped her pick up all of her notes and helped her put them back in order over coffee. They'd had dinner that night and the night after. She ran an architect firm in Conroe so they were able to continue seeing one another after the conference. I wondered how Pam had handled being passed over for a bigger girl.
As I spent more and more time with them I grew to love Brandi. Not in a "Hey I want to fuck the ever loving dogshit out of you" way, but as one loves a sister. In a way she became the sister I always wanted. My real sister has always been a complete cunt so I relished the idea of having a sister that I could stand to be around for more than ten minutes a year.
At their wedding I was third to dance with the bride. After he'd danced with Pam once, I pulled Jay aside and told him that if he ever hurt Brandi I'd kick the shit out of him in a heartbeat. He told me I had nothing to worry about; his man-whore days were over.
Mine however were kicking into high gear. For a few years I was pretty much fucking anything with a pulse. There were weekends that I would bed six different women. Unfortunately I was also drinking too much. Drinking, fucking and work was all I had in my life. Five years and three bouts with the clap later it all came to a head.
.... There is more of this story ...