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FUCK THE YEAR 2000
by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)

Debbie was having a sudden bout of anger. Her friends were either
at exotic locations around the globe or exclusive spots there in
Manhattan. She was spending New Year's Eve at work. It was bad
enough being a cobol programmer in New York, watching as people
ten years her junior get high paying jobs with internet firms.
But to add a sloppy wet kiss of an insult to an exhausting year
of Y2K compliance tests, lawyer's forms, and last minute bug
fixes, she had to be on duty when the nines flipped over to
zeros. Her boss sure as hell hadn't bothered to hang around the
IT department for their big night.

At least the firm threw a party for them. No champagne, of
course; sparkling cider would have to do the trick. There was a
small show earlier, complete with a stand-up comic, jugglers, and
a "Baby New Year" skit that Debbie had to admit was funny. A
midget played the Baby 2000, and he maliciously played with his
toys, crashing model airplanes, using little green army men to
quell riots, parodying all the expected y2k chaos.

However, one funny sketch didn't make up for taking away Debbie's
evening. Neither did the buffet in front of her. It was supposed
to be from Dean and DeLuca's, but Debbie supposed she simply lost
her appetite. She stood staring at the food.

"Hey, Red," said a voice behind her, "You gonna try that salmon
tartare or cook it with your heat vision?"

Debbie hated being called "Red", but the joke was funny enough
for her to let that slide. She turned to see who was behind her,
but saw no one.

"Down, here, Red! Admiring your legs."

It was the midget from the show. He was still dressed in costume,
and apparently, still obnoxious as well. But cantankerous company
is what her midnight misery needed. She decided to introduce
herself.

"The name isn't Red," she said extending her hand. "It's Debbie.
I see you've already met my legs."

"Yeah, we see eye-to-knee on a lot of issues. And as long as
we're on the topic of names, it's Frank. Not half-pint, little
man, shorty-"

"Point taken," Debbie interrupted. "So what are you doing still
in costume?"

"I just like diapers," Frank responded. "Makes me feel at ease."

Debbie laughed.

"Actually," Frank said, "It's a long story. I had a bunch of gigs
tonight and it was easier just to stay in costume. I was supposed
to be out of here by now, but my date canceled."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, all dressed up and no place to go, right?"

Debbie looked at Frank, in black tennis shoes, a diaper, a banner
that stretched over one shoulder and tied at the waist that read
"2000" and a black top hat. "I'd say you were more undressed with
no place to go."

"Tell me about it," Frank said. "I'm getting a little cold in
this get up."

Debbie thought for a moment and then spoke. "I know a warmer room
if you don't mind a little noise and cramped space."

"Hot, loud, crowded?" Frank asked. "That sounds like a New Year's
Eve party to me!"

Debbie led the walk from the buffet along the halls, down one
flight of stairs, and through a string of doors. She used her
magnetic pass key at least three times. The last door led to a
dark room filled with tiny green lights. A blast of warm air
greeted them before Debbie turned on the overhead lights.

"The computer room?" Frank uttered in disbelief. "I thought these
places were supposed to be cool."

"They are," Debbie said. "My reward for being ready months ahead
of time with y2k bug fixing was an air conditioning failure this
week. I've literally sweated this one out the last two days. We
couldn't get it repaired, but the temperature is stable at around
81 degrees, and so far we haven't had any problems."

"So far," Frank echoed.

"Don't remind me," Debbie said. "So, is this more comfortable?"

"It's nice and warm. Not what I had in mind for tonight, though."

"You think I planned it this way?" Debbie asked.

"No, but you're being paid, right?"

"So are you," she pointed out.

"Whatever," Frank said . "Are we supposed to be here?"

"Not really, but no one's going to notice. The workstations are
all upstairs."

"Then how about we break another rule?" Frank suggested. He took
off his hat, reached up into it and pulled out a pint of whiskey.

"You do magic, too, huh?" Debbie asked.

"Hardy har," Frank replied. "It isn't even mine. Old man 1999
handed it to me when my date stood me up."

"A little going away present."

"You got it," Frank said as he twisted off the lid. "I don't even
like hard alcohol normally. I guess this has just been on my mind
tonight."

He took a swig.

"You are a funny man, Frank."

"Thank you, Debbie. You're not bad yourself." Frank passed her
the bottle.

They found the static free swivel chairs ordered especially for
the room and sat down. They joked and passed the flask back and
forth. Laughter helped soothe their throats after the whisky left
its warm sting.

Although Frank grew quite comfortable in the toasty confines,
Debbie was getting a little warm. She took off her jacket and
unbuttoned the top of her blouse. Arguably, that was the point of
no return. A case could also be made that their choice was made
when they left the buffet area together. But there was no doubt
where the evening was going when a slightly inebriated red-headed
programmer broached a certain subject.

"You know, Frank," Debbie began. "I've always wondered about the
anatomy of men like yourself."

"You mean you know about my third nipple?" Frank asked in mock
shame.

"Forget it," Debbie said, chuckling.

"No, that's ok. I mean, it's a natural thing to wonder. But what
does it matter what I say? I could be lying. Hell, I'm probably
the only guy you'll ever meet who could say it reaches to his
knees that you would actually believe."

Debbie laughed and sipped from the flask.

"To tell you the truth," Frank continued, "I've always wondered
about the anatomy of women like you."

Debbie looked down her shirt and then back at Frank. "Just two as
far as I can tell," she said.

"I had already guessed that."

"So what are you wondering about, then?"

"It's just your hair," Frank said obliquely. "I mean, it's so
red."

Debbie only needed a split second to infer what Frank meant. He
wasn't the only one who wondered. Debbie was convinced men went
down on her just for the close view of her bright orange curls.
All she had to do was leave the lights on to guarantee a thorough
licking.

"Why are men so obsessed with that?" she asked Frank.

"I could ask you the same thing about your question," he replied.

Tongue firmly in cheek, Debbie concentrated her eyes on Frank.
She licked her lips and said, "I'll show you mine if you show me
yours."

Frank smiled and raised the whisky flask to toast her suggestion.
Their chairs weren't far apart to begin with, but Debbie kicked
off her heels and used her feet to pull them together anyway. She
continued to grapple with her foot to hold the chairs together
while hitching up her skirt.

"Garter belt!" Frank exclaimed in surprise as Debbie pulled back
the skirt over the tops of her stockings and revealed bare
thighs.

"If a girl can't wear her best stuff on New Year's Eve when can
she wear it?" Debbie asked.

"Maybe it was just wishful thinking," Frank replied.

"No, I don't think so. If it were wishful thinking I would have
worn the panties over the garters instead of under them. Easier
to get them off that way."

"I see," said Frank.

"Can you," Debbie teased. "Right through the material."

"No I can't see that yet," Frank clarified.

"How about now?" Debbie asked as she pulled her underwear to one
side.

"Much better." Indeed, Frank could clearly see the shiny furry
patch of hair next to her knuckles. The hair was light colored,
but not golden. It was clearly orange, and closer to her slit, it
was thicker and redder.

"What do you think?" Debbie asked.

"It looks very much as advertised," Frank said.

Debbie relaxed her hand and let the black curtain fall back over
the wonder it protected. Frank took that as his cue, and he stood
up in his chair. He threw off the "2000" banner and unfastened
the safety pin on his trunks, allowing them to fall to the chair
below.

Debbie cooed appreciatively. His member hung flaccid between his
legs and was not large by absolute standards. But in comparison
to his stature the organ loomed large and commanded her
attention.

"Not at all as advertised," she said.

"It gets bigger, you know."

"Does it really?" Debbie asked.

"Yeah, all you have to do is--"

Debbie already had her hand around his balls and the tip of his
cock in her mouth. Soon she sucked on practically its full
length. Frank took hold of the seat back to steady himself after
the sudden motion of the chairs. He moved one arm back to brush
some of Debbie's lush red hair away from her face. With a clear
view he could watch her painted lips suck him to a full erection.

Debbie took Frank's little ass in her hands as she slid her mouth
along his cock. His cheeks were smooth and firm. The muscles that
led from his buttocks were as hard as the cock in her mouth.

"See," said Frank. "It got bigger."

Debbie pulled away from Frank's dick, leaving it to bounce
slightly in the air between them. "Looks that way," she said. "I
hate to disappoint you, but I don't get any redder."

"Are you sure? Maybe I should take a closer look."

"Be my guest," Debbie responded. She sat back in her chair and
unfastened the garters fro her stocking tops. As Frank slid down
and pushed the chairs apart to make room for himself, Debbie slid
the panties out from under them and kicked them away. She
reattached the garters, though.

Frank kissed at her thighs, relishing the smooth milky skin
that stood out brightly from the dark hosiery. He slid his hands
under the garters like they were ribbons around a gift. But there
was no wrapping paper to keep him from the prize.

He buried his nose in her soft orange curls. The colorful patch
filled his field of view, and he could make out dark red flecks of
stubble on the far sides of her panty line.

"I think you're right about the red. It would seem--"

"Oh, Frank, shut up and eat me," Debbie said, pushing his head
down and forcing his open mouth onto her sex. His wet lips met
her labia and formed a delicious little kiss. Humor was a great
quality in a lover, Debbie thought, but sometimes strokes are
better than jokes.

Stroke he did, with his tongue at first, along the seam of her
cunt, and then with his fingers inside her hot tunnel. He circled
her clitoris with his tongue as he teased the first inch of her
pussy with his tiny digits.

Frank certainly was dedicated. He licked and fingered for what
seemed to Debbie like the rest of 1999. The efforts paid
handsomely, and Debbie shook in her seat, with one leg draped
over an arm of the chair and another over Frank's back. He liked
the smooth feeling of her stocking against his skin and the way
it contrasted the sharp pain her nails left when she came and
raked along his arms.

Debbie fought for breath but wanted to feel his manhood inside
her She wanted to feel his hips slap against her ass. She lifted
herself with her hands on the chair arms, and turned around so
her ass faced Frank at eye level.

Frank found this position a challenge, but he enjoyed the view.
He gave Debbie's pussy one long lick that ended when he kissed
and nibbled on the cheek of her ass. The skin was pink where she
had rubbed against the seat. He gave her a slap and saw the red
marks his fingers left quickly fade back to white. "Hey, this
part gets redder!" he exclaimed.

"How about getting me to come again?" Debbie suggested.

Frank climbed onto the char and into Debbie. His cock shot inside
her sopping wet pussy. He took his time and made short gentle
strokes inside her. He gave her ass another playful slap. He
picked up his pace a bit, lost in the amazing sight of her back
tapering to her waist before blossoming again into the full round
curves of her ass.

Debbie looked back at him and flashed a deliciously wicked grin.
He watched her eyelids shut, her teeth bite into her lower lip.
Around the base of his cock, he felt the walls of her cunt
tighten on his shaft and almost yank on him. It was more than he
could take.

His spirit exited in a a sharp jolt of pleasure. Impossibly,
Debbie tightened more around his prick and milked him for every
last second of orgasm. He collapsed against her back.

"Debbie, that was amazing," he mumbled.

"Yeah," she said, smirking, wishing desperately for a smoke. "I
finally got to do what I've been muttering all year long."

END