Page 12 of Implode

I take a deep breath and decide to give it a go. It does not disappoint. The entire plush toy vibrates and sings a jingle about dicks. Who the hell comes up with these items?

When I get to the gift box, I pretty much expect the theme to be carried through, and when I rip through the paper and pull off the lid, I am not let down. I pull back the layers of tissue paper to reveal custom-made socks, a tie, and boxer briefs, all made from fabric that has my dick printed repeatedly in tiny images over the entire surface area. It is the same image from the cake and has to be an accumulated two hundred dicks between the three accessories.

I stare at the gifts in awe and don’t know whether Claire’s message was received as she intended it to be. What may appear as a revenge gift to any outsider, to me shows that she is thinking of me—or a few specific inches of me—and caring enough to go through the trouble of a thought-out custom gift.

I find the card that just serves as confirmation that she is the sender. I break the seal, pull off the envelope, and open the folded cardboard to see that—

POOF!

Glitter shoots out from the inside in a cloud of sparkly dust ejaculation. I cough as the air in front of me slowly clears. When my eyes adjust to the chaos that now surrounds me, I am able to see that the shiny confetti is really made of glitter and tiny two-dimensional plastic penises. I shake my head as more pieces cascade to the floor. The cleaning crew is going to have a field day with this one.

I’m going to be the topic of discussion in break rooms for weeks to come. I just know it.

Not surprisingly, Claire’s name is stamped onto the bottom of the inside of the card. Above it, a message reads—Feel special…you’re the biggest dick of all.

I stare at the words and then make a call to Dan.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Get Miss Nettles in my office.”

“What time, sir?”

“Now.”

4

CLAIRE

I am in the middle of doing a trial run on the survey that helps to create the custom boxes when there is a shadow passing over my screen. I turn and see a man in a suit hovering behind me, startling me from my work. He looks sort of familiar, and I am sure our paths have crossed between my coming and going from HH.

“Excuse me, Miss Nettles?” he asks.

“Yes?”

“My name is Dan King. I work for Mr. Hoffman.”

I smile. “You’re going to need to specify.”

“Mr. Nic Hoffman.”

I eye up Dan. “Is that so?” What is he doing here?

“Mr. Hoffman would like to see you in his office now.”

I narrow my eyes at the man and then focus my attention back on my screen. Too bad I don’t take orders from that Mr. Hoffman. What does he want anyway? “Tell him”—to fuck off—“no, thank you.”

“Ma’am, I’m not at liberty to do that.”

I turn back to look at Dan. “That’s cool. I’ll just shoot him an email telling him that I will be there”—a smirk plays on my lips as I think of Nic’s reaction—“in a few hours.” The dude can wait. Nothing he has to say to me is urgent.

Dan glances around the room, taking inventory of the other workers. Dipping his head down, he whispers, “Please do not make a scene. I value my job.”

I frown over his sincerity. He probably is worried about getting fired. Ever since Nic became the head of security, I’ve noticed a huge shift in the staff. I log out of my computer and push back my chair. I let out a sigh and mentally prepare to see the one and only Nic Hoffman. “Fine.”

“Right this way,” Dan says, motioning with his hand for guidance—as if I don’t know the way out of my office. “Remember, I’m just the middleman.”

“This better be quick,” I grumble. “Some of us actually work around here.”

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