Dentist's Chair

The one o'clock interview was the fresh faced college graduate. Jill Bookhammer impressed him by having a firm handshake, and by admitting that she was extremely nervous and hoped she would not blow the interview.

He read through her rather skimpy resume and involuntarily bit down in a frown. The girl had plenty of education background but only one employment history, working in a concession stand just off University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

As he bit down, he could hear Jill's voice praying aloud.

He glanced up and saw Jill speaking with Paula, and even though she had said she was nervous, she was speaking in a clear voice, not giving the mumbled or hyper speed answers his fifteen year old daughter gave him.

But Jill Bookhammer was not praying out loud.

He bit down again and again could hear Jill's voice praying that she get the job; she had a domineering father and a bitterly unhappy mother. Both parents had sneered when she said she wanted to work, rather than just find a good professional man to marry.

"You're a pretty girl; pretty girls don't need to work," her mother snapped.

"One job?" Arthur asked when Jill finished answering Paula's question. "How do you think that this job has prepared you for working here, Ms. Bookhammer?"

"Yes sir, I did have only one job; to be honest, I really felt that school needed as much of my attention as possible, but hey, had to eat, right?" she answered. "But let me tell you, dealing with the public in such a fast paced environment, you have to take the order, ring up the sale, grab the order, make sure it gets to the right person, and get to the next one, all the while you got three or four people yelling out their orders, making sure you don't grab someone else's orders, how do I think that prepared me to work here? I learned how to focus on what is right in front of me while also paying attention to what is going on around me."

"I like her; a lot," Arthur said after Paula ushered the girl out. "Gave clear, concise answered, didn't try to blow smoke."

"I do too," Paula agreed. "I mean, I noticed her lack of experience too, but there's just something about her; she's not just looking for a job. I think she's looking for a career."

"Exactly!" Arthur concurred.

The second girl was also friendly, seemed a little more at ease than Jill had. But when Arthur took her resume, he heard her telling someone else that if Johnson, Johnson and Lambert called, she'd tell St. Elizabeth they could kiss her ass; she wasn't working for no rug munching dyke.

"So when do you find out about Johnson, Johnson and Lambert?" Arthur suddenly asked, interrupting Paula's question.

"I'm sorry?" the girl stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"I mean, I know if Johnson, Johnson and Lambert calls you, you're going to tell us to kiss your rear end because you don't want to work for a gay female," Arthur said calmly. "However, I can assure you, I am neither gay or female so I don't know where that comes from."

"Fine," the girl snapped, got to her feet and slammed out of the office.

"Where in the hell, what? What was that all about?" Paula stammered.

"Paula, obviously, that young lady has no qualms about leaving us high and dry, and certainly couldn't handle it when I confronted her," Arthur said, wondering how he could explain knowing what the applicant's intentions were.

"But how'd you know about Johnson, Johnson and Lambert?" Paula pressed him.

Friend of mine works there, Eric Greene," Arthur thought quickly. "Told me they'd interviewed a couple of promising assistants for him. When I saw her name, I put two and two together; seems she tried to kind of sort of influence their decision by letting them know that she had an interview with us too."

"But what was that stuff about a gay female?" Paula asked, blushing hotly.

"Eric said he overheard her telling another one of the applicants something about a, and I really hate using these words, but it's what she said. She didn't want to work for a rug munching..."

"Got it, thank you," Paula snapped.

"Again, I am very uncomfortable using those words," Arthur apologized.

"Thank you and well, you want to be the one to call Ms. Bookhammer?" Paula asked.

"Since she's to be my Girl Friday, yes, I think I would," Arthur smiled.

He rested his hand on her desk to push himself up out of the low slung visitor's chair and saw a naked female rear end sitting on the edge of the desk, blonde hair dark with moisture, and Paula's face between the blonde's thighs.

The vision disappeared when he took his hand off the lip of the desk and he shook his head slightly.

"Two three four; cell phone, yeah, I'll give her a call," he said as he left Paula Lambert's office.

He was glad he had his phone's volume dialed fairly low; Jill's excited squeal would have deafened him.

"Start tomorrow, if you're ready," Arthur said when she finally stopped squealing.

Chapter 3

Yvonne feigned interest in Arthur's day, but Arthur could tell she was not in the same room with him. AJ talked about a new guitar Kimble's Cash-To-Go Pawn Shop had available, a BC Rich Warlock. Yvette, as usual, stuffed her food in her mouth, and then left the table, while Steve rambled about some college football game that Channel twelve would be airing.

AJ, just like his dad, was into music. Arthur had been a fairly proficient keyboard player in his younger days, had even tried out for a few of the bands in New Orleans, bands that showed every sign of being on the cusp of fame and stardom. None of those bands had taken him, and none of those bands had gone any further than the New Orleans area.

If it had keys, strings, pedals, AJ could pick it up, and within minutes would be making sounds come out of it. He even figured out how to play glasses filled with varying amounts of water.

Yvette had been very much into dance and even dreamed of being a ballerina with the New York Ballet Troupe. Then puberty hit and she completely lost interest.

But Steven was his odd child. Arthur could watch football and could keep up with what was going on. But if they announced tomorrow that they were disbanding the NFL, he would shed no tears.

But Steven was into anything that involved hitting, kicking, catching, or throwing a ball. He even loved hockey, loved the Lafayette Ice Gators and could name every player and quote their statistics.

One time, Arthur had come into the living room and found Steve watching a NASCAR race.

"Bet you a million dollars number 88 makes a left turn up here," he commented.

"Ha ha, pay up," Steve crowed when Dale pulled into the pit area instead of making the expected left turn.

"So is this girl pretty?" AJ asked his dad.

Jill? "Actually, yes, she really is quite pretty," Arthur said, having no reason to lie.

"You have any idea what she does in her room all day long?" Arthur asked Yvonne when they heard Yvette's door slam shut.

"What'd you do in your room when you were her age?" Yvonne sneered.

"Picked my nose and wiped the boogers on my cat," Arthur said, which got a smile out of AJ and a giggle out of Steve and a frown out of Yvonne.

The next morning, Arthur looked over at the dismantled wooden table and the neatly stacked chairs that sat in front of his small workbench. Obviously, even though she only worked part time at Annie's Floral Designs, Yvonne still had not found the time to call Salvation Army about coming to get the table and chairs. He shook his head and drove to work.

Jill came into the office after lunch, having spent much of the morning filling out all the paperwork. She smiled happily, then sat down and frowned.

"Don't bother," Arthur said when she raised the height of the chair to halfway, then sat back down. "Ten minutes from now you'll be raising it again."

He rapidly sent Paula an email.

Paula replied that the backless ergonomic chair was still available.

"Fine," Arthur said to himself.

"Oh, I love those!" Jill enthused when someone wheeled in the chair.

The worker wheeled the old chair away and Jill spent a few minutes adjusting the height of the new chair.

"How can you sit in that? Makes my back hurt just looking at it," Arthur smiled.

"Oh, no, it's so comfortable," Jill said, then answered her telephone with a cheery 'Arthur Petitjean's office."

At five o'clock, Arthur left, Jill still poring over the employee handbook. Out in the hall, he frowned as he saw a young man listlessly sweeping the floor; Arthur reflected that it was a good thing that no patients were on this floor. Such a displayed lack of interest to work would not inspire confidence.

The young man didn't even look up when Arthur walked past.

"Yeah, Buddy, it's not a glamorous job, but at least you got a job," Arthur thought to himself as he waited for the elevator.

As he drove home, he wondered why he'd had so few visions of Molly Wee that day.

Dinner, watching a fairly boring movie with Yvonne, then another refusal of sex, and Arthur went to sleep.

The next day, Jill greeted him when he stepped into the office. Arthur wondered why her greeting, while still polite, friendly, was not as cheerful, upbeat as yesterday's greeting.

With someone else to stuff the envelopes, Arthur was able to not only finish the second week's batches of Receivables processing, he was able to start on the third week's receivables.

"Lunch time, Ergo chair girl," he said and Jill actually giggled at that, grabbed her purse and followed him.

They sat at a table with two other hospital employees; the very last thing Arthur wanted for himself or for Jill was any whispers of impropriety between them. The orderly at their table had been there from the first day they were open, and had many amusing anecdotes about patients and staff alike. The other employee spoke very little English but was a very friendly Filipino man.

After lunch, Arthur finished processing another batch while Jill was still stuffing the previous batch into the envelopes, so he brought them out to her office for her.

He intended to put them on the edge of her desk, but misjudged where it he was putting them and they fell to the floor in front of the desk.

He bit down and put his hand on the desk to get down to pick them up.

He saw the loutish young man he'd seen yesterday in front of the desk.

"Oh! I'll get it," Jill exclaimed.

"No, no, I got it," Arthur said, losing the vision of the young man.

He bit down again and saw the young man, then heard the young man say, "So, how long you think you'll be here, they find out you was fired from Big Bunz?"

He heard Jill's whining voice, "Please, they don't know about..."

"What was it?" the young man mocked, resting his broom handle against the desk. "Stealing, right?"

"You were stealing too," Jill's voice protested.

"Yeah, think they give a fuck Housekeeping guy was stealing from his past job?" the young man laughed, coming around the desk.

"What, Phil, what are you doing?" Jill's voice asked.

"You know, I asked you out a bunch of times; you were always too fucking busy, huh?" Phil asked and Arthur could see him unzip his pants.

"What? Phil, I'm going to scream 'Rape' you so much as..." he could see Jill back against the desk.

"Go ahead and when I tell them about you stealing, think they'll believe you?" Phil mocked.

"One time, just hits one time," Jill wheedled.

"Sure," Phil said, pulling a surprisingly small penis out through his open zipper.

"Mr. Petitjean?" Jill asked, clamping her thighs together, wondering if he could see up her skirt, which would explain why he was squatting, not picking up the papers he'd dropped.

"Tell me about stealing from Big Bunz," he said, standing and putting the papers on the desk.

"What?" Jill gasped.

"Come on, come into my office," Arthur said and motioned to one of the visitor's chairs.

"How'd you, Mr. Mel said he wouldn't, I mean, I paid him back," Jill said, fresh tears in her eyes.

"And tell me about hits Phil guy," Arthur said softly as he sat in the other visitor's chair.

"Is that where, that mother fucker!" Jill snarled.

"All right, warning number one; I do not approve of language like that," Arthur said.

As Jill relayed the story, it really wasn't so much stealing as it was just 'forgetting' to charge a boy she liked. She did. This a few times before Phil had threatened to tell unless she gave him sex. She had refused and Phil had made good on his promise.

"I mean, Mr. Mel said if I had just told him, he would have said 'yeah, sure, go ahead' but because I didn't tell him," Jill sobbed.

"Okay, now, I'm going to let Paula know, let her know that I'm willing to keep you on regardless of this little incident, and that's that," Arthur said, handing Jill his handkerchief. "This Phil guy? Don't worry about him. You know his last name?"

"Books," she smiled wryly. "Isn't that something? Phil Books and Jill Bookhammer."

"You know why he's not at Big BunZ anymore?" Arthur asked as he shot Paula an email, requesting a minute of her time.

"Got into a fight with a customer," Jill shrugged.

"A fight? Or a fist fight?" Arthur asked.

"Fist fight, guy said Phil got his order wrong; Phil argued, Mr. Mel said he'd make the guy another burger and it would come out of Phil's pay and that's when Phil hit the guy," Jill said.

"Bet Mr. Phil didn't put that on his application," Arthur said.

Paula responded a minute later and Arthur knew it was a huge no-no, but he put a reassuring hand on Jill's shoulder as he left his office. She smiled appreciatively as he closed the door.

"Phillip Books, please report to Paula Lambert's office, Phillip Books, please report to Paula Lambert's office, Jill smiled when she heard the page go out.

"Okay, she's a little disappointed in you not being as forthcoming about this, but she says I'm your boss, I'm the one that has to deal with you, so get back to work, okay?" Arthur said as he walked back into the office.

A few minutes later, Arthur looked up when the door to the outer office slammed open.

"Fucking bitch! he heard someone screech in a whining voice. "Fucking got me fired! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Give me a reason, punk ass bitch," Arthur said, towering over the would be bully. "Give me one good reason to mop this floor with your ass."

Cursing and muttering threats under his breath, Phil left the office.

"Thank you, Mr. Petitjean," Jill muttered under her breath.

"Uh huh," Arthur said, closed the outer office door and returned to his own office.

He leaned back in the chair, put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and bit down.

Molly was kneeling in the chair, hands gripping the back of the chair where Arthur's hands were now, green vine and leaves tattoo visible on the back of her thigh as it made its way up her leg and onto her small, almost non-existent backside.

Arthur remained perfectly still as he saw a greasy penis enter the Asian girl's splayed pussy.

"No, no, other hole," Molly moaned.

"Oh, you nasty little slut!" Arthur heard the man chuckle.

"Aaiieee!" Molly gave a short scream as the man none too gently shoved himself into her anus.

"Aw yeah, you're a whore, aren't you?" the man asked as he roughly pulled his cock out, then jammed it back in, as if he was fucking her pussy.

The man gave Molly no time to adjust to the intrusion, gave her no time to accommodate him, and just plunged in and out while she moaned.

"Here, aw shit, it, fuck, here it comes," the man groaned and Molly whimpered as he spurted into her bowels.

Arthur saw Molly gingerly crawl backward out of the chair then lost sight of her as she lowered her dress over her backside.

"You love me, Mr. Upjohn?" Arthur heard Molly ask and his mouth opened in shock.

"Mr. Upjohn!" he muttered to himself.

"Sir?" Jill asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Arthur said, logging onto the Internet and looking up Jamie Upjohn, DeGarde, Louisiana.

The trial was slated for three months from yesterday, James 'Jamie' M. Upjohn, charged with three counts of murder. He, according to the write-up, had murdered a nineteen year old Administrative Assistant, a twenty year old Bank teller, and a sixty two year old man, a private detective that his wife, Roey Upjohn had hired to catalog her husband's affairs.

The write-up did not say where he had worked and did not give much detail about his victims, other than to say that the assistant had been stabbed to death in her office, obviously trying to escape, the twenty year old had suffered a savage throat slashing in Jamie's little 'love nest' apartment, and the private detective had been shot to death in his office, all within sight of an office temp. The office temp had told police that she avoided being Jamie Upjohn's fourth victim by hiding in the employees' bathroom when she heard gunshots.

"Son of a bitch," Arthur muttered as he came out into the outer office, squinting at the floor.

"There a problem, Mr. Petitjean?" Jill asked.

"No, no," Arthur said, looking at the floor again, and then going back into his office.

Chapter 4

Jill walked toward her car and was suddenly startled when Phil popped up.

"Fucking bitch, boss ain't around now," he chortled at her terrified look.

That afternoon, Royal Jefferson had been a little surprised when Arthur Petitjean asked if he could look at their brooms, but shrugged and showed him the seven brooms that leaned against the wall.

"It was a wooden..." Arthur muttered to himself and found the thick handled broom.

He bit down bringing his gold tooth in contact with the carbon fiber filling.

He had figured out, there was an electric impulse created when he brought his tooth in contact with his gold sheath; gold being an excellent conductor of electricity.

Arthur also remembered Dr. LeMoine droning on and on about energy; once it is displaced it continues perpetuating itself.

"There are scientists that say that you can still hear Lincoln's Gettysburg address," the doctor had claimed. "The energy expelled continues to cycle, never destroyed; how about that?"

"Would love to actually hear a Led Zeppelin concert, rather than have to sit through that deplorable movie they made," Arthur had wondered aloud.

"Who? Led Zeppelin?" Dr. LeMoine said. "Ones did that song, oh, what was it? Stairway To Heaven?"

"That's them; had this horrible concert film called The Song Remains The Same; just really poorly put together," Arthur agreed.

"Never cared for them," Dr. LeMoine said.

Now, clutching the broom, Arthur saw a sullen bully with no ambition, filled with anger at the world in general, females in particular.

Phillip Books had no one to blame for his lot in life, other than himself. He was the one that made the decision to drop out of high school; he was the one that made the decision to bounce from menial job to menial job. He was the one that wasted his meager paychecks on marijuana, alcohol, and video games, rather than save any of it.

Females, in general, were not very receptive to imp; he was crude, unimaginative, lacked social graces. Not having money or a decent automobile also did not improve his standing with the opposite sex.

But Phillip Books was not about to accept any responsibility for his failures and would rather beat on smaller people, in particular females.

Now, out in the employees' parking lot, Arthur heard the sullen young man say to Jill, "Fucking bitch. Boss ain't around now."

"Sure about that?" Arthur asked, stepping up and slamming his fist into Phil's no longer smirking face.

"That's enough, Mr. Petitjean," Paula Lambert said calmly as two orderlies helped Phil to his feet. "Mr. Books, you are no longer an employee of St. Elizabeth Trauma Center, which means you have no business being on this property. If you are caught on this property again, I will have you arrested; is that clear?"