Mr. Lawson was even more irritated than usual as he prepared to leave McMahon's after his shift. Three days had passed since he'd caught a shoplifter and been able to mete out his favorite form of punishment. If he didn't catch someone trying to stuff a salami in their shorts soon, then he was going to have a meltdown.

He stepped outside and soon realized that his night was definitely going to get better. Standing at the entrance to the alley than separated the grocery store from the liquor store next door were four young men, all wearing green tracksuits. He recognized them as Kenny, Johnny, Mitch, and Mikey... members of an Irish street gang called the SS. Exactly what SS stood for, Mr. Lawson didn't know or care. All that mattered was their presence. He had wanted to get his hands on them ever since his youngest boy had come home crying because they had taken his ice cream.

In less time than it takes to properly spell 'shillelagh', Mr. Lawson had his massive arm draped around the throat of one of them. Kenny, obviously, by the green lettering that ran down the right sleeve of his jacket. The other three took off immediately, leaving Kenny to vainly attempt his own escape.

"Keep struggling and I'll snap your neck like a chicken." Mr. Lawson growled in Kenny's ear. "Shut the fuck up and you may get out of here alive."

He dragged Kenny back into the grocery store, past aisles of food and more than one shopper. No one seemed too concerned about what was going, nor did anyone offer to help Kenny. No surprise there. Mr. Lawson's reputation preceded him.

He kicked open the door to his office and threw Kenny inside. Following the young man, he locked them both in.

"Look, man, I dunno who the fuck you think you are, but I ain't got no problem with you."

Irish, my ass. This guy is about as Irish as my shit. Mr. Lawson laughed loudly. The young man's accent was as far removed from Ireland as possible.

"I can see why they don't let you talk much." Mr. Lawson pushed him into a chair and sat down on his desk, facing Kenny. "But now's your chance to explain to me where you got the stones to think you could get off on picking on my boy."

"Your boy... I don't..."

Mr. Lawson grabbed Kenny by the front of his jacket, lifting him out of his seat with such force that the jacket ripped and Kenny fell back into the chair. He stared at the torn garment with as much interest as he would have for a discarded snakeskin before throwing it toward the garbage can in the corner of the room.

"Don't fuckin' lie to me or I will feed parts of you to my son's dog and leave the rest for Mr. Calaway to put in tomorrow's rump roast. You attacked my son outside Erik's maison de creme glace, (Mr. Lawson's french was terrible, so it came out sounding like 'My Sunday cream glaze.') and stole his ice cream."

"Sir, I swear to you I had nothing to do with it." Kenny shrieked, which was, surprisingly, the truth. He'd met the other three shortly after and hadn't bothered to ask where the cookies 'n creme had come from. He'd assumed they'd stolen it, but from inside the store and most certainly not from the kid of this monster.

"You'd better not be lying to me."

"I'm not. Promise." Kenny replied

"Don't move a fucking inch." With his eyes still focused on the terrified man in front of him, Mr. Lawson reached into his pocket for his phone.

Kenny was too scared to do anything other than focus on not going wee-wee in his pants at that moment.

"Connor... it's Dad... I need to ask you a question... oh, he is? Well, tell your brother to stop being a meanie... no, not right now... this is important... dammit, boy, do you want ice cream or not?" Mr. Lawson suddenly moved his phone away from his ear. Even Kenny could hear a scream on the other end.

"Thank-you very much, I am now totally deaf... again!"

Listening to the conversation, Kenny started thinking about a possible escape, but apparently so did Mr. Lawson.

"Don't even think about it." He mouthed "Connor, when those bad men took your ice cream..." He rolled his eyes when the person on the other end interrupted. "...yes, and scared Snoopy, how many were there... three or four?"

A pause that seemed forever followed. Kenny's heart was thumping louder than a bass drum.

"Three. Are you sure?" A brief look of disappointment flashed across Mr. Lawson's face. Kenny sighed. He wasn't out of trouble yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel had brightened considerably.

"I'll be home soon... yes, cookies 'n creme, I know." Mr. Lawson hung up the phone and stared at Kenny.

"Now do you believe me?" Kenny was still shaking.

"Not really. My boy isn't the brightest bulb on the marquee, so maybe his numbers got a little jumbled." Mr. Lawson jumped off his desk to tower over Kenny. "So, I'm feeling generous today so I'm going to let you live for now. But before you go, two things are going to happen."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Mr. Lawson's cold steel gaze was back. "The first thing is you are going to agree to bring one of your buddies to a place of my choosing tomorrow night, and the two nights to follow so I may deal with them personally. I don't necessarily believe that you are completely innocent, so this is your chance to prove me wrong."

"What's the second thing?" If it meant selling out Mitch, Johnny, and Mikey to save his own skin, Kenny had no problem.

"You're gonna take those pants off, bend over my desk, and let me have a go at that tight ass of yours." With a dirty grin on his face, Mr. Lawson cracked his knuckles.

"You're fuckin' crazy, man!" Kenny quickly stood up.

"I may be." To Mr. Lawson, crazy was a compliment. "But right now, I don't see how you have any choice."

"Oh yeah..." Kenny ran for the door, forgetting that it was locked. Mr. Lawson watched him struggle to open it, laughing to himself as he stalked Kenny. Just as Kenny finally had the lock worked, Mr. Lawson reached him. He yanked the door open at the same time Mr. Lawson snagged the back of his tearaway pants. He ran back into the store but stopped when he realized that everyone was staring at him.

"Nothing to see here folks." Mr. Lawson had managed to rip the pants from him just before he got out of the office. "Well, maybe there is, but..." Kenny's face was now dark red, a contrast from the white wifebeater and bikini briefs that was all that he was wearing. He tossed Kenny back into the office and closed the door behind him, once more securing it.

"Up against the desk... now!" Any joking around was gone. "And spread 'em!"

...

"I am perfection!" Mr. Ziggles hummed to himself, marinating the meat he'd bought earlier. To the side, the potatoes were already peeled, waiting for the pot of water to boil and a plate of freshly-cut mixed vegetables also awaited their turn. This was not the first time Mr. Ziggles' had a man over for a meal, but he still wanted everything to be perfect. It had nothing to do with the debate between melons and cucumbers that seemed to be going on endlessly inside his mind. Mr. Ziggles liked to be a good host.

He left the food soaking in the sauce and turned his attention to the fridge. Inside it were several bottles of beer, a couple of wine, and a selection of non-alcoholic drinks. Mr. Ziggles was old enough to raise his wrist whenever he liked, but Mr. Bourne looked young enough not to. Hence the Pepsi.

As he sliced the last of the vegetables, his mind went back to Mr. Bourne's encounter with Mr. Lawson. Apparently Mr. Bourne liked that kind of attention, and with Mr. Ziggles' feelings toward Mr. Bourne trying to head in that direction, things could definitely get interesting.

Now, whistling "I am perfection", he carried the rib steaks out to his barbecue. Mr. Bourne would be arriving shortly, he hoped, and then the fun could begin.

I just hope Mr. Lawson doesn't want Mr. Bourne... nah, he was just doing his job.

...

Kenny gritted his teeth as he felt the rough hands of Mr. Lawson trace across the back of his legs and up his thighs. He'd tried to resist, but his attempts were useless. He was now completely bent over the desk, his face buried in the blotter as his captor became better acquainted with his body below the waist. The longer this went on, the less loyalty Kenny felt to his fellow-gang members. After all, it was their deed that got him into this mess and if they had to die so he didn't, well that was just fine with him.

He inhaled sharply when the fingers danced across his smooth butt cheeks, playing with the material that covered his crack for a moment before sliding up to his waist.

"This won't hurt... much." Mr. Lawson breathed into Kenny's ear, sliding his fingers into the waistband and slowly pushing it down, his big hands curling around his hips to tease the flesh hanging in front.

Kenny bit his lower lip to stop from whimpering at the not unpleasant touches. The last thing he wanted was to make this monster think that he was actually enjoying the ordeal.

Making a circle out of his thumb and index finger, Mr. Lawson drew the excess skin back, revealing a plum-shaped head already glistening like a freshly-licked lollipop. When his middle finger rubbed deliciously over the tip, smearing the liquid across the sensitive skin even more, Kenny let out a moan... and immediately knew that he was enjoying this, and worse of all, Mr. Lawson knew that he was enjoying it as well.

"In my job, it's results that matter, not how I get them." Mr. Lawson whispered into Kenny's ear. "As you're about to find out."

Kenny arched back as the fingers continued to play with him while the briefs were pulled the rest of the way down to his ankles. Through the current of pleasure that was going through him, his mind didn't register the sound of a zipper opening, nor the feeling of something long and hard pressing against his crack until it was too late.

"Never fuck with a Lawson or you may end up getting fucked by a Lawson." With a grunt, he pushed inside.

Oh fuck... The sudden pain was too much and he passed out.

...

The ribs were cooking nicely, the vegetables and potatoes were both boiling away, and all that was missing was Mr. Bourne. For not the first time, Mr. Ziggles looked at the clock. This seemed to be the longest two hours of his life. He'd hoped that Mr. Bourne would arrive early so they could get to know each other before the food was ready.

His heart thumped when he heard the doorbell rang. It was Mr. Bourne, and he was carrying a white cardboard box.

"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Ziggles. I bought dessert."

"That is okay, Mr. Bourne. Dinner won't be ready for a while." Mr. Ziggles took the box and placed it on the kitchen counter, ignoring the temptation to see what sweet treat had been brought. "Make yourself at home."

"Thank-you, Mr. Ziggles." The sound of a body dropping onto the couch sent Mr. Ziggles thoughts running rampant.

Remember what Mr. Michaels said... don't try to force it. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen... just make tonight perfection.

"Perfection." Mr. Ziggles whispered "That's what I am."