Chapter 7 - Day 1, Mentor

I grabbed my keys, wallet, and phone, then held the door open like a gentleman for Maria. She gave me a sweet smile and waited outside for me to lock up.

We hopped in my car, a red Toyota Prius. My mom bought it new 10 years ago so it's the 2010 model. She passed it down to me now that she bought herself a Tesla. It still runs smoothly and never gave us any problems all these years. Pretty impressive for a car with such an unreasonably poor reputation.

I backed out of the driveway and started the drive to the HHS building where we would start our job. Maria was texting someone in the passenger's seat, maybe her family or friends.

We lived in a semi-urban area pretty close to downtown Washington D.C. The traffic is a nightmare though, so even though there's only a 5 mile distance to the building, it always takes 20-40 minutes to get there.

I asked Maria, "What kind of music or radio do you listen to?"

She replied, "I always have NPR on in the car. Music.. hmm. I like a lot of stuff. I listen to everything from classical to reggae. What about you?"

I replied, "Haha, nice. I like Beethoven and Collie Buddz."

Damn, NPR. That's the socially conscious station. Seems like I have to brush up on my politics or I won't be able to follow her conversations. I know my mom hated Trump and now that he's finally out, the department she works for gets proper funding and staff again. I might even have Biden to thank for my job.

I'm pretty sure I'm a political centrist or moderate. I like compromise and I think both QAnons and SJWs are total idiots. I'd have to agree with my mom on being a Trump hater though.

Voting him in is like putting the middle school bully with 50 IQ in charge of Advanced Placement class. Basically, he shouts out shit and no one but the idiots listen to him. The entire reason he was elected in the first place is because people want to troll the establishment. What's the point of that? 'Just to troll them.' Got it, you want our country to bring idiots in as leaders just to troll some people.

I got nothing against Trump, I just believe smart people should be elevated to leaders. That's how meritocracy works. Biden is sufficiently smart. In the end, everyone's selfish, so you can't expect saints for presidents. No such thing as a saint, other than Sagar, maybe. I bet he too has some dirty baggage somewhere.

Hopefully, the Fixing of Clogs that we will do includes helping to reduce the kind of discontent with the establishment that led to the political nihilism that got Trump in. Apologies for getting too deep into politics, dear readers. Unfortunately, this is inevitable when it comes to working for the government. Especially in a 'deep state' sector like the HHS where our funding can be cut or increased at any time by changes in administration.

Back to the conversation at hand, my classical and reggae music exposure is pitiful. I only know the pop stuff in both genres. Thankfully, that was enough.

Maria said, "Oh! I love both of them! Have you heard Collie Buddz's 'Mamacita' or 'Come Around'?"

I nodded hesitantly. I heard them for sure, I just can't recall the lyrics or tunes at all. Maria started playing 'Mamacita' on her phone, so I helped her hook it up to our bluetooth adapter thingy. When he started spliffing, I remembered how hard it was to understand the accent. Maria was practically dancing in her seat.

Shit, I forgot this song is all about appreciating how a hot girl dances while a guy is grinding on her. My thoughts immediately swerved to whether this was the kind of thing that Maria would enjoy. Would I have to learn dancing?! I can't dance for the life of me! My body refuses to move to beats or rhythms! At most, I can head bop and sway my body like Roadman Shaq in 'Man Don't Dance'.

I tried to keep my eyes on the road while Maria sang, shook her booty, and waved her arms up to the beat. Fuck, I can't wait to make her my mamacita. I wasn't even hard, just dedicated to wholesome romance, as I should be. I then remembered that I also cannot sing for the life of me. I'm entirely tone-deaf when it comes to hitting notes with my voice. I can barely hold a conversation with a girl, how do you expect me to hit high notes?

Yeah, so we arrived soon after a few songs where Maria put on a solo show for me. She toned it down after 'Mamacita'. I guess she didn't want to get sweaty on her first day. I was thinking about complimenting her, but all I could think of was Mamacita lyrics 'You look muy bonita. The way you move remind me of Selina.' So I had to struggle to pull my thoughts together. I decided to keep it simple. While getting out of the car, I said, "I like your voice and the way you move."

It was basically the most generic, lowest thought compliment possible, but better than nothing. Maria smiled bashfully and said, "Thanks."

She was still packing up her stuff, so I came around and opened the car door for her. Damn, I might be mistaken as a valet by a passerby. I'd honestly be fine valeting Maria around the rest of my life as long as she didn't have any other guys.

She held her hand out and gave me an eyebrow raise. I took the que by holding her hand and helping her out. She giggled, but I don't know why. Was I supposed to be more dramatic by kissing the back of her hand? Whatever, nothing can stop me from feeling like a gentleman now. Plus, I got to touch her hand and hold it for a brief moment. I was on top of the moon.

We pulled up our face masks and entered the building. There was already someone waiting to give us our badges, which would bring us to the area where our Mentors were stationed.

This is where we would separate. Every Fixer was trained at different sectors of the building. I looked at Maria and said, "Good luck on your first day!"

She gave me a wide smile from under her mask and said, "You too, Tom. Don't let yourself get bullied, ok?"

"Got it." I replied. Since she told me not to, I would have to complain about any bullying I faced, even though I found it troublesome to do so.

The lady who came to pick me up was a plain-looking girl with glasses and a pixie cut carrying a clipboard. She was dressed like a secretary and she had a petite figure. She looked about as flat as a board. There were hundreds of post-it notes all over her clipboard. I have no idea how she keeps organized.

She walked up to me and asked in a stern voice, "Tom Allen?" I nodded and she turned around to leave, beckoning me to follow. On the way, she gave me a credit card looking thing that doubles as a security badge for this sector of the building. She continued to explain various routine administrative shit like benefits and penalties that I already read about on the way to the office where I'll be trained. I'm guessing she was forced to repeat them verbally in case I did not read them. That way they can't be sued for leaving things in the unnoticeable fine print.

Eventually, we even exited and re-entered the building, passing through a quadrangle, which is an open-air garden. We passed through a sleek-looking heavy door after she swiped her card and entered a waiting room. She pointed towards a chair and went deeper into the office. She hadn't even told me her name at this point, so I was feeling a bit unnerved and potentially unwelcomed. Regardless, I will try my best. I pumped myself up not to let this comparatively minor anxiety deter me.

Soon, a man slightly taller than me in entirely casual clothing showed up from inside the office. He had a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a facemask. Basically, he looked like the kind of shady person you'd find selling weed on the corner of the street. The secretary walked behind him at an angle with deference though, so you stood up to greet him.

I heard him ask her, "This guy? You sure?"

I smiled wryly. Looks like he was expecting someone more impressive. Still, I put my confident game face on and approached him with my hand out for a handshake.

The guy's sunglasses turned back to me and he said, "It's COVID season. We don't do handshakes, buddy."

I awkwardly moved my hand up to swish back my hair. Chuckling slightly, I said "Right, I knew that."

He commented, "Lol this guy." and beckoned me inside. The dude actually said the word "lol". The secretary sat down at the receptionist's computer desk in the waiting room. Guess she's a receptionist and a secretary? Don't know, there wasn't a name plate anywhere either.

I followed him inside and he led me down a short hallway with several doors to the end of the hall where there was a private office. So far, this whole place looked new. The waiting room, hallway, and office all smelled clean and new. Not freshly painted, but recently built or renovated.

He sat down at his desk on his swivel chair and spun around a few times with his arms behind his head. Looks comfortable. I sat on the less impressive visitor's chair, but I wasn't chill enough with the atmosphere to try swiveling it.

He picked up a file and read it while narrating, "Tom Allen, high grades in school and high scores on the SAT, but nothing special. Decently high IQ, but again, nothing special. Poor at sports. Poor at verbal communication. Poor at socializing. Never had a job. Never joined any clubs other than one stint at the Anime club, which you quit after a few months."

A sweat drop rolled off my armpit. Shit! I forgot to apply my antiperspirant. More importantly, this guy is absolutely fucking ruthless. I coughed and said, "I've been told to stand up for myself if I'm bullied."

"Oh yeah? I guess that makes you an been-told-to-be-tough guy? Lol. Well I can let up on you a bit. There's good news too. Never drinks. Never smokes. Never done drugs. You already seem like the most boring person I've ever had the chance to meet. Well, whatever. It's nice to know ya, kid. My name's Ryan Rinalds and I'll be your Mentor."

I attempted to smile with my otherwise twitching face and said, "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Rinalds. I'll do my best to overturn your expectations."

My Mentor took off his sunglasses and cap and stood up, leaving them on his desk. That's when I realized that he's actually the famous actor Ryan Rinalds! I idolize him for his role as Deadpool! He chuckled and said, "Just call me Ryan. You're an adult now so the rules of calling everyone Mister this, Missus that, like you're in school don't apply anymore. Wait, you only recognized me now, and not my voice? And here I thought you were uncultured."

I stammered, "Yes, Deadpool, sir. I mean Ryan."

Ryan walked around and opened the door to his office. "Heh, at least you corrected yourself. It's infuriating when people always think I have a sarcastic joke at hand for every occasion after I played a character a few times. Not that I don't have jokes."

I jumped up and followed him, "Ryan, sir, how did you end up as a Mentor? Aren't you supposed to be an actor? They can't possibly pay you more here than in Hollywood."

Ryan cringes slightly and says, "Kid, don't drink and drive. I was going to toilet paper a few of my ex's houses after I got totally wasted and forgot I had a wife and kids. The feds busted me on driving under the influence and they agreed that they'd sweep it under the rug if I did this little stint. It was still funny though. Anyway, I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future, but I'll get out of it sooner if you learn quickly. So don't let me down, kid. The future of cinematic Deadpool scenes depends on it!"

Well, fuck. That's one way to get me motivated. Then again, they aren't doing much filming during COVID, so I think he is bullshitting me.

Ryan brought me back to the first door after entering the hallway from the reception. He swiped his card to unlock it then we entered. I was struck with confusion by the sight of the room. It looked exactly like a hotel room. The question was why the hell is there a hotel room in our small office area?

There were two beds with neatly folded silver blankets, white sheets, and white pillows. There was a relatively large bathroom with a walk-in shower and a bunch of clean towels. Several rolls of paper towels were set out on the table. Ryan pressed a button on the wall and I heard a buzzer ring quietly behind the closed door from the reception room. This hotel room had good soundproofing.

The petite secretary walked into the room expressionlessly. Ryan said, "Hey Katy. Are you ready?"

Now I know her name, Katy. I would be working with her, I guess.

Katy nodded, walked over to the bed, and started stripping. Ryan looked at a painting of a vase on the wall and started scratching his head, as if this was totally normal.

I said, "Um, Ryan, sir. What is going on?"

"Eh, you mean why is a girl half my age stripping? Hmm, well. You see, I'm doing what my ridiculously hot boss told me to do. My job is to train you on how to pleasure women in every possible way. We'll start with the sexual part first. That might bring your confidence up for the seduction part later."

I was speechless. I had no doubt that Ryan's 'ridiculously hot boss' is my mom, Carol. This must be the method of Fixing my mom wants me to learn.

Dear readers, now that I think back to that moment. It kind of sounds like I got roped into a male prostitute scheme. Ryan and I were both standing in the entryway of a hotel room with our shoes still on looking at Katy stripping fully naked.

Her body was petite with A cup breasts. Her pussy was tightly shut and fully shaven. Her facial expression didn't change, her eyes didn't twitch, and her cheeks didn't blush this entire time. She was just expressionlessly naked, lying there on the bed, looking like a dead fish.

I was neither turned on, nor amused at this development. I even felt a flash of anger at my mom for a moment. How the fuck am I supposed to explain my Fixing methodology to Maria? What about my dreams of a wholesome life?!

(A/N: Rip Tom's wholesome dreams..)