The Cummoire

By DX

Copyright 7/2024, all rights reserved.

We met during my postgraduate.  Annette was sunlight, laughter, and milkshakes.  She was soft lips, a continual smile, and breasts that offered milk to the gods.  She was petite in stature, but grand in adventure, fearless and clever.

Very clever.

She had insatiable curiosity, and the skills to get her out of any fix.

She was my first lesbian experience.

She took my hand, my heart, and laid me down hidden in a cornfield and took me to places never imagined.

It made her betrayal all the more brutal when she stole my doctoral thesis and published it as her own.

I remember the blaze on my alabaster cheeks when I protested to the Board, but Annette, clever, clever Annette, double talked, charmed, and bamboozled the old, dotting members of the Board that it was I who had plagiarized her.

“Quiz her!”  I demanded.  “Ask her about z-235!”

Professor Greene stirred, as if roused from his sleep.  “This is not a good look for you.”  As a venerable master he could say volumes with just a tilt of his head; hinting if I wanted any sort of academic recovery, and to stay in the program, I should just let it go.  This was Annette’s chosen battleground and she had the high ground.  Retreat and fight another day.

I didn’t.  Later that day, still smarting from the Board’s reproof of my claim, I confronted her in an empty lecture room.  She cried and begged forgiveness, and for a micro-second I thought she would confess to the Board, but suddenly ran out of the room, right into the path of faculty walking down the hall.  She only ran off blubbering, but the faculty looked through the open door and saw me standing there.

Professor Greene, the frumpy couch, sadly and gently admonished me and reminded me of the program’s anti-bullying doctrine.  “Give her a wide berth.”  He cautioned me.

He knew what she was, and he also knew she was radioactive and I would loose everything if I tried to bring her to any form of justice.  He was trying to save me from an unwinnable battle.  

I restarted.  She moved on.

A year later with my shiny new PHD I got my dream job as an engineer at a propulsion lab.  During a staff meeting, the director announced a new program design, my program design.  I blushed and hemmed as he called out the creator of the design to the applause of everyone seated.

Annette.

I nearly broke my neck as my head swiveled to the far end of the table.  There she was like the cat who got the canary.  

I said nothing as she took credit and adulations for my work.  As she smiled her golden smile and giggled rainbows and butterflies, my mind tripped over itself thinking how she did it.  She had obviously hacked the main server and downloaded my design, then sold it to the director while sucking his dick.

Later, she found me in the hall.

“I know you’re mad.”  She started, stating the obvious.  “But believe me you will thank me.”  She said warmly, her voice like a caramel coated apple.  “I will take this program right to NASA and you with it.  You and me will make this big.  Big!  You wanna be a rocket scientist?  I will make you that.  Your brains and my breasts will get your design where it needs to be seen.  You will see the stars.”  She put out her hand.  “Partners!”

If I had I nail file, I would have stabbed her in the throat.

Instead, I just walked away.

“You’ll come around!”  She called after me.

I took the rest of the day off and went to my boyfriend’s apartment to hide and cool off.  To pretend I wasn’t miserable, I distracted myself and made him a beautiful dinner with fresh bread dipped in olive oil, brazed chicken and carrots, and diced strawberries and cream for dessert.  

As things cooked, I tidied up to make the perfect love nest.

That was when I found them, and my world plummeted into darkness.

He came home a while later and was thrilled to have a hot meal waiting for him.  As he stepped through the door, I handed him a chilled glass of chardonnay, gave him a smile, and presented the dining table complete with romantic candles.  

I served his meal with a smile that hinted of wonderful things to come.  As he prepared to tuck in, delighted by the rich aromas and beautiful colors, I dropped the woman’s panties I had found on his plate.

“I just need to know her name.”  I said.

He stammered and stuttered and said the standard things, trying to explain the inexplicable.  Buried in between his, baby it’s not like that, and it was a one time thing, and she was all over me, the name Annette fell out of his mouth.

I got up, and headed to the door.

“She said you were into it!”  He called after me.  “That you wanted a threesome!”

He may have added something about how it wasn’t his fault.  

At the door I handed him my key to his apartment, and picked up my bag.  “Don’t call me ever again.”

He followed me to the elevator begging for another chance.  When I stepped in and pushed the button for the ground floor, he saw my face and knew it was over.

I wrote a letter to my boss informing him of Annette’s thievery and my immediate termination of employment.  I then called Professor Greene.  He already knew, or guessed, what had happened and connected me with a colleague to start doing remote contracting work.

Six months later she broke into my apartment and stole my computer.  She had conned my super to use the master key to let her in.  She didn’t even hide.  She waved at my security camera.

I contacted the police, showed the officer the video, and an hour later he returned with my lap top.  “Here you go!”

Stunned, I only looked at him incredulously as he walked away.  “But… isn’t this evidence?”

He turned and smiled.  “Nope.  It’s all worked out.”

I followed him into the hall.  “What do you mean, worked out?  She broke in my apartment!”  I insisted.

He became defensive.  “Technically, she didn’t break in.  The law states…”

I flashed hot.  “The law states she broke in and stole my computer!”

He flashed hotter.  We argued.  A sergeant was called.  She restarted the investigation, went to speak to Annette, and an hour later tried to convince me it was not a police matter, the prosecution would nolle the case, it was a waste of time, and I should consider myself lucky I got my computer back.

They gave me a number for the court.  That led to a phone tree that ultimately disconnected.

Annette had smiled at the cops, blushed appropriately, claimed we were old partners from work, and mistakenly thought I had a laptop from the job and wanted to return it to work before I got into trouble.  She was trying to help me out like the good friend she was.  “Here’s the laptop.”  She handed it over, already hacked and information copied.

I moved.  I bought a house.  I set up a zone of security.

I knew I was on borrowed time.  She was going to break in again.  Since she was in line to be a new VP, her bosses at work expected continued genius from her.  While she could parasite off her fellow employees, if she wanted the good stuff.  She had to steal it from me.

It would never end.

I decided to do what I did best.  Brain.

I started designing.  I ordered parts and had them fabricated in different labs for quid-pro-quo.  I made friends in low places.  “I see why your coupling initiation isn’t working.  It’s a refining issue.  I get that done for you over the weekend.  Hey, while I have you on the line, can you cast this inverter for me in titanium?  Great!  You’re the man.  No, you are the man!”

Annette had taught me some things.

When Annette finally made her move, I was out on the Islands.  

With the roar of the ocean and the cry of sad seagulls as my background music, I was working on a rail system for a missile propulsion when the alert flashed up on my screen.  I accessed my home security, through my virtual private network, and there she was at my front door.  

I raged quietly at how easy she defeated my crypto-lock.  Damn thing cost a small fortune!  And I hissed audibly as she defeated my alarm system with a laser pointer and talcum powder.

She waved at my security camera.

Although I did expect it, it got my hackles up just the same.

She found my computer and plugged in.  In seconds she accessed it, set herself up as an admin, and helped herself to all the goodies.

I had thought about building something that would blow up when she built it, but she was too smart for that.  In fact, if she only did her own work she would be a brilliant engineer.  She just liked stealing, and I was her favorite.

What was on there, however; was old, but by time she worked that out, it would be too late.

As her files downloaded, she went into the kitchen and made a sandwich.  She then walked around and admired my stuff, leaving crumbs and fingerprints of mayonnaise all over the place.

I watched her pause in the hall, turn, then walk back into my work out room.

It stood in the corner, a lighthouse of perversion.

It was two point one meters tall and one point one meters wide and zero point six meters deep.  It’s twin doors were open, exposing a padded rectangle space of pink and lavender.  On the inside of the doors were flat screen monitors showing porn star Virginia Loving in a myriad of sexual dalliances, briefly interrupted by a close up of her big, pouty lips whispering, “Are you ready for the ultimate in sexual fulfillment?  Fantasize no longer.  Enter the Cummoire!”


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Copyright 7/2024, all rights reserved.