"There's a printing press on the 5th floor. He worksdown there with the rest of the guys. And he bartends, sometimes." And did he explain to you what all this is?" Dennis asked, pointing atthe puller fragments on his desk.Tyler shook his head. "No. Not really. I told him I was on my way toEarth, he asked me if I wanted to make some extra money, I said sure. Ididn't ask any other questions." Smart girl," Dennis said, as a readout appeared on the tablet. Tylerpaid it no attention. The data analysis part of the job always fell tohis partner - Tyler wouldn't have been able to interpret it if his lifedepended on it. Dennis leaned forward to study the decompressing digitallife of Ben Rosenthal as it formed itself into a slightly more readablespreadsheet."Okay," he said, scanning the rows and columns. "Pretty good haul, here.Right on. Right on."Tyler swelled with pride at a job well done. He crossed his legs andtried not to smile.Dennis scrolled through the sorted data and tapped on a. I had an idea what was on the tape, because I had been watching my father's porn since middle school. In the corner of the room, on top of the dresser was a 19" TV and VCR. Marc inserted the film and pressed the play button; instantly, the screen came alive with a closeup of a blonde chick bobbing up and down on some guy's knob. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched the scene unfold; it was standard 80's fare—boom-chukka-boom-boom beat in the background, a bimbo with big hair squealing in the foreground, while getting plugged by a young Joey Silvera. By the time the money shot rolled around, Marc and I had painful lumps in our pants. Horny as hell, I started rubbing my groin while gauging my friend's reaction out of the corner of my eye. He didn't even notice. He was too busy watching the action and pressing on his own boner. It wouldn't be long before I was totally frustrated, so I figured, "what the hell..." I challenge you to a dick duel," I said "What? What's that?" We jerk.
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