It started Monday morning.

I had flown in on the red-eye from New York City earlier that morning after my weekend round of nonstop fucking at the Trump Hotel with Justin; I had even managed to catch a few hours of shut eye before arriving for my 9:30 meeting with Wade Dalton of Dalton's Water Sports. Dalton had been impressed (of course) with my sales pitch and had signed up on the spot for several print and television ads to be worked up by Kinnetik. I was feeling energized by my success and by a certain blond's attention over the weekend, attention that had fucking worn me out. But it had been worth every second and every sore muscle in my body.

There was a temporary lull until my next appointment at 11:00, so I had decided it would be a good time to call Justin. The little fucker had been so tired when I had left – I probably had worn him out with all that pitching and catching over the weekend – that all I had received was a mumbled "love you" and a half-hearted kiss before I had to leave for my flight. I was a little disappointed not to get a more spirited parting, but I knew we would be back together this coming weekend, since Justin had made plans to come home to Pittsburgh for a few days to be reunited with his mother, sister, and our friends. Maybe a little phone sex would help tide me over, though. I was glad that Justin had not been annoyed with the evil game of cat and mouse I had played with him for a couple of weeks until our eventual reunion this past Friday.

With my door shut, I had waited eagerly to hear my partner's voice as the phone started to ring. I was always amazed what just hearing his voice would do to me. I kept replaying his low, sexy voice calling my name in ecstasy over and over all weekend. Just the memory of the lust and wonder in his voice as we fucked bareback, especially the first time Friday night, made me hard and wanting. Come on, Sunshine, answer the damn phone!

I was not prepared for the voice that abruptly broke into my daydreaming; it was definitely NOT the voice I was hoping for. Instead of my lover's low, seductive voice greeting me, I was subjected instead to one of those monotonous, robot-like female voices advising me that "I'm sorry, this number has been blocked by the subscriber." What the fuck?! This has to be a mistake!

But I received the same "mistake" over and over again as I dialed the speed number two more times. My initial confusion was slowly changing into anger and resentment as I tried to figure out why in the hell Justin would have my number blocked. The taped voice hadn't said his number was out of service or being checked for trouble – it had fucking said my number had been BLOCKED. And, of course, I had no way to call the little twat to find out what he thought he was doing.

"What!" I yelled as just then I saw Cynthia poke her head in the door.

"Didn't you hear me knock?" she asked, "I knocked on your door three times," she explained, somewhat annoyed. I know sometimes I get almost into a trance when I'm concentrating on an account, but at least I normally hear my assistant when she's knocking on my door. But at that moment I was royally pissed at a certain blond brat.

"No, I DIDN'T hear you, obviously," I had answered, not bothering to keep the irritation out of my voice. I knew Cynthia hadn't done anything wrong, but right then I didn't care – I was fucking teed off.

Once I finally took the time to actually acknowledge her presence in the room, it was then that I noticed the fairly small-sized box she was holding in her hand. "This came for you a few minutes ago by courier," she advised, placing it down on my desk. "If we're lucky, it'll be rat poison, or at the very least some type of psychotropic, feel-good drug." Scowling, she left me alone as she turned and left the office, closing my door to leave me in my sudden, sullen funk.

Looking over at the nondescript package, at first glance I couldn't really tell too much about what it contained. The box was just plain, brown cardboard with no return address, only my name and Kinnetik's address written in handwriting that was somehow familiar. I had a sudden flash of epiphany as I realized it was Justin's handwriting. What the hell?

Reaching into my desk drawer to find the scissors, I cut through the sealing tape surrounding the fairly lightweight box and curiously opened the lid. Pushing aside the strips of packing paper, I pulled out something that felt….fluffy. As most of the strips fell away from the object, I was able to study it more closely. It was a stuffed animal….a sheep? No, this animal had horns and was black. And not only that, it had a small chain around its neck with a metal dog-tag-like emblem that simply said "Brian" on it. I decided it was actually a ram – not only that, but a ram named Brian. Shit. But why this? And why from Justin? And why did the fucker block my phone number?!

I soon discovered the answer to all those questions when I looked again in the box and noticed a small envelope with a card inside. On the outside of the envelope, I recognized my name written in Justin's familiar, flowing handwriting. Feeling extremely curious now, along with feeling an inexplicable sense of impending dread, I opened up the card to read what it said. Does Big Bad Horny Brian want to ram his bare cock up my tight little ass? Uh, uh, uh, Brian…..Not so fast. Paybacks are a Bitch. Later – J

So much for hoping a non-stop, weekend marathon of bareback fucking and a marriage proposal would put me back into a certain blond's good graces. I was fucked – or rather, NOT fucked.

"Brian, your 11:00 app……" Once again, I had apparently managed to zone out Cynthia's knocking as she suddenly appeared in my office to announce my next appointment. Her voice, however, stopped in mid-sentence as she took in my namesake standing upright on all fours in the center of my desk.

I distinctly heard Cynthia trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh as she asked, "Who's your new friend? He's cute. Can I get an introduction?"

"Don't ask, Cynthia," was all I could manage. "Give me five minutes," I instructed her. "Just fucking go," I grunted. Thankfully, Cynthia knew me well enough NOT to push me for an explanation, and knew her job was on the line if she continued her current line of questioning, so she simply nodded, although still smiling, and closed the door, leaving me and "little Brian" alone. It was then that one thought kept repeating itself in my mind. It was going to be a LONG week.