Just the anticipation of getting another blow-job was putting a smile on my face and a spring in my step. Even Martha noticed,"My, oh my, Mark. You're...awfully chipper this morning," she commented at breakfast, "What's going on?"I looked at her, for a moment wondering if she knew or had guessed that I was taking her admonition to heart and getting my animal urges taken care of somewhere else. But nothing that would indicate such knowledge showed on her face. And to be honest, I didn't think that. "Why do you want to see Mr. Valmaat?" Simple, I want a real job." This is a real job," she said."Every piece of paper I picked up had already been passed by someone higher up ... that's not a real job." I said, "Even the mailroom clerk has a real job."So ... she made a call and Dalmar came down."Finally," he said. "Run into something you can't figure out?" Nope." I said, "I want a real job ... like mailroom. If I'm going to run this place when you die ... yeah ... you won't live forever ... I. More

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