Page 1 of No Sugar Coating It

1

BYRON

Istep into the packed elevator and adjust my tie one last time before the meeting, and notice it’s mostly filled with the guys from the accounting department. Great. Every time I run into one of these nerds, they want to discuss my travel allowances. Considering I’m two seconds from stepping into a quarterly meeting and anticipate tensions to be running high, I’m really not in the mood to talk about any of this right now.

I smooth my chestnut brown hair before wedging myself between two accountants clad in tweed vests and thick-rimmed glasses, hoping like hell that they don’t notice me. But of course they do. Because I’m Byron Waits, chief analytics officer for Fletcher & Sons, the most prestigious financial firm in North America. Everyone notices me. Especially the female employees, who I notice right back before taking them home with me every night.

The accountant standing beside me raises his fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

“Oh, Mr. Waits. I’m glad to run into you. I have some questions about your last trip down to Cabo?”

I let out a strangled groan and stare up at the ceiling. Come on, elevator, let’s hurry the fuck up, please. Then I look down atthe accountant, who barely comes up to my shoulder. I’m 6’4” and broad chested, making me a fairly large and intimidating-looking guy. No one makes eye contact with me on the street. I’m notoriously unapproachable, I guess. Just the way I like it. Except when it comes to the damned accounting department. They’re completely undeterred and have the best work ethic in the entire company, which is commendable when they aren’t up my ass.

“What about?” I sigh as I stare down the man whose name I don’t know and don’t care enough to learn.

The mousy accountant lets out a squeak as I loom over him. The elevator glides up past another floor to let some people off and on. Only thirteen more floors to go until I’m home free.

“You see…” He rubs the back of his neck as a tendril of sweat glistens at his brow. “There were some receipts I don’t think we can put through as business expenses. You spent fifteen thousand dollars at a local strip club, for example,” he says a little too loudly, and some of the other employees crammed up against my sides stare up at me, their eyes wide. But I’m not ashamed of my extracurricular activities. Never have been, and never will be. What else am I supposed to do with my free time? Golf?

I straighten and don my friendliest smile. “I see. Unfortunately, the CEO of Luminous Solutions needed extra grease in his wheels. The club was a part of our negotiations, which meant opening our wallets for him. It worked out in the end, but I understand it was a little more than we had intended. I do apologize for that.”

The accountant stares up at me, blinking with wide, brown eyes. “So… you’re saying that you had a meeting with the CEO at a… strip… club?”

Of course, this guy wouldn’t get it. He’s probably never even walked past a strip club in his entire life. Has he even touched a woman before? Doubtful.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I reply.

The accountant nods slowly. “I… I see. All right. I’ll, um, get to processing the request immediately, then. But, uh, in the future, it would be prudent if you could—”

The elevator dings, opening up to my floor. I flash the accountant a grin and lift two fingers up in a farewell. “This is my floor. Good talk, and keep up the excellent work.”

When I step off into the hallway, I turn and notice the accountant’s expression crumple, and I almost feel a pang of regret as he looks down at his feet, defeated. The other accountants huddle around their friend and pat him on the shoulders, and some even glare at me. I roll my eyes before turning back to launch down the hallway at a brisk pace. Whatever. He’ll get over it.

The meeting,at least, goes blissfully smooth over the next two hours. No one asks questions at the end, for once, which means I can actually leave at five on the dot. When was the last time that’s happened? I decide it’s a good time to run to the gym, since the place I visit is usually quiet at this time of day. But because of my long, obnoxious hours, I never get to step foot in the place until well after eight in the evening. And by that point, it’s filled to the brim with scrawny twenty-year-olds with terrible form stinking up the place and forgetting to rerack their weights when they’re done.

As I step into the gym, several women at the front counter immediately look up from their conversation and smile at me. Their cheeks flush when I give them a flirtatious smile back, flash my gym tag, and step through the turnstile. The ladies love it when I wear my suit and tie to the gym. When I was younger, when he was still alive, my father once told me that a well-tailored suit was like lingerie to a woman; you find yourself one of those, and it didn’t matter if you hadn’t shaved in a month or went out with bed head. Women would flock to you in droves. And he was right. I run my fingers across my obvious five o’clock shadow and one of the ladies, a gorgeous blonde, sighs at me.

Ever since first stepping foot on my university’s campus, I’ve never had to go to bed alone, and I’d like to keep it that way. Before heading up the stairs, I turn back towards the reception desk. The three women, all dangerous curves and gorgeous smiles, are still staring at me.

“Hey,” I say as I saunter over, then lean across the desk. “Would one of you mind showing me where the sauna is?”

I’m not new. I’ve been going to this gym for the past five years. But I don’t recognize any of these women, and I know for a fact there’s a high turnover rate with the front desk employees, seeing as how I never recognize them week to week. So they wouldn’t know if I’m a newbie or not.

The three women look at each other, sizing one another up. Then the one in the middle with soft, wavy hair that falls past her shoulders and bright, blue eyes as round as dinner plates rushes around the desk, leaving her co-workers in her dust. Their bright smiles fade into disappointed frowns.Don’t worry, ladies, I think to myself.I’ll be back for you two later.

My new conquest for the night touches my arm gently and says, “Oh, sure! Right this way, sir.”

“Please,” I say. “Call me Byron.” When I wink at her, she lets out a melodic little giggle that makes my pants feel two sizes too small in the front.

2

FAITH

Hell would be a whole lot more fun if I had a penthouse.

Every morning on my way to work on the other side of town, I stroll past the Second Layer Lake of Fire. And every morning I stop at the edge of the sidewalk, peer up at the ruby-red sky, and say a silent prayer to Lucifer he’ll finally notice my talents for torture and promote me to a proper succubus. Because as a succubus working in the office’s Lust and Punishment department, I’ll be blessed with… yeah, you guessed it: My very own penthouse on the Lake of Fire.

We lesser demons get to live in hovels of dirt and ash carved out in underground caves and volcanos. It’s corporate’s way of incentivizing us to do our very best at work. If we’re suffering, then our human marks aren’t suffering nearly enough and we need to step up our game. That’s what they tell us in the staff meetings, at any rate.

---