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Conclusion to the Alternative Ending.

'Why would he do that?' said Gladys.

'He could be getting back at a girl who hurt his ego.'

'So he starts this rumour as revenge?'

'It's possible. Men are bastards.'

'But then he forgets the name of the girl he's taking revenge on?'

'He's a stupid bastard.'

Gladys stared at Dolores in a way that made her uncomfortable. Phyllis felt it too and spoke up.

'What are we going to do?' she said.

'I want you two to go through the medical records,' said Gladys. 'See if there's a file missing and see if anyone has tested positive for HIV. Meanwhile, I'm going to see if I can get to the bottom of this story.'

After the meeting, Gladys went to her office and Phyllis went downstairs, heading for the records archive. Dolores went to the ladies room and locked herself in a cubicle.

'Think, Dolores, think,' she muttered to herself, sitting on the toilet with her drawers round her ankles. 'What are you going to do?'

Her intestines responded with a loud gurgle and Dolores surrendered to a heavy bowel movement. There was a short thunderstorm in the white porcelain pot.

'Okay ... NOW what are you going to do?' she said when it was over.

Her first thought was to go to Gladys and fess up. Phyllis would know by that afternoon that none of this month's medical reports showed an HIV positive result and the big question would be: Who left the file on the chair in the caf__? Gladys used to be a lawyer and Dolores couldn't see her not figuring it out. Humiliating as it might be, it was probably better to come clean as soon as possible. On the other hand, it was worth talking to Roger first to see who else he might have told. She might even get him to remember the name on the file.

Dolores washed up and went to her office. She checked where Roger Ramrod was due to be filming-some epic called 'Doggy-Style Della, the Fuck-Fest Fornicator'-and she was off to the studio, hoping that God had some miracle up his sleeve.

Roger Ramrod was at work.

That is to say, he was stark naked and lying on his back, his hands on the hips of the woman who squatted over his body. She faced away from him, but Roger could tell by the mane of raven-black hair that it was Lola. His head was propped up on a pillow and he had a premium view of the round, olive-skinned buttocks that went up and down as she fucked him. What he did not have was a view of the camera lens.

'Hey, Cyrus?' he called out.

'What?' came a voice from the other side of the groaning woman.

'Are you sure about this camera angle?'

Cyrus was sat on a fold-up chair just to the side of the camera. In front of them, the vagina of Lola Lickett slid up and down Roger's impressive cock as her leg muscles worked to keep her upright. She gave a groaning sigh every time she went down and Cyrus crossed one leg over the other.

'The camera angle is just fine,' he said.

'Are you sure?'

'Oh yes.'

'But you can't see my face.'

Cyrus took a deep breath and said, 'Let's talk about it after this scene. Meanwhile, we have a great view of your cock.'

'But if this woman moved her leg, you could get my face and my cock.'

'Hey! This woman has a name!' said Lola. Her hips continued up and down, but her expression of rapture was replaced with annoyance.

'Sorry, umm...' Roger noted the black hair '...Lola.'

Hips still fucking, Lola looked at Cyrus in bewilderment. He gestured for her to 'keep going' and she shook her head and focused on getting back into character.

'So are you going to move your leg then?' said Roger.

'How do I move my leg without falling over?' barked Lola. 'Use your fucking brains, you imbecile!'

There was quiet from behind and Lola continued fucking.

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