Health Inspection

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Artwork (c) 2006 by Barton

I stood at the back door of the restaurant and peered into the kitchen in a state of complete shock. THIS place had gotten an "A" on every inspection over the last two years? No fucking way!

The paint was a dull red color, and my trained eye spotted it as a lead-based paint intended for outdoor use only...fifty years ago! There were dirty dishes all over the place, including on the floor, and the faucet was cold-water only, no hot water tap. The dishes and the opened cans there were fodder for the rats. That's right, I said rats! Cockroaches were everywhere, and I mean there was a cockroach everywhere I looked. The stench of spoiled food was pervasive, seeping into everything, everywhere.

The kitchen was empty of people. I had come in through the door which had been left ajar.

Well, I had seen enough. The rats were the clencher, of course, but if I had tallied up the loss of points, this place was definitely ripe for closing.

Time to call the owner on the carpet. At least, I assume this was one of those "owner whose name is above the door is also the cook" places. This place was called "Melchor's."

"Hello? Hello?" I called out.

"Who's back there!" came the shout back from the front. "Who the fuck is in my kitchen, you bastards know that you don't deliver to me before I'm open, you pack of...who are you?" For the owner had appeared.

More penalty points, as if this place wasn't already into the minus percentiles. The guy hadn't washed the apron he was wearing in who knows how long. It contained any number of stains, old and new and not-so-new. His arms were filthy as well, with what looked to be motor oil. He was only wearing a t-shirt, one of the armless models, looked to be army surplus. You have to wear a proper shirt with sleeves to cook, the thought of an armpit hair falling into a person's food...yuck! Not to mention sweat from said armpit can run down the arm and onto the food.

He would have looked at home on a construction site, or an oilrig. Big, beefy guy, with a squarish, pugnacious jaw darkened by a case of five o'clock shadow plus twelve hours, above that was a smaller than average nose, not looking broken as much as if it had been squashed down, in a baby, this "button nose" would have been adorable as hell, on a man, it looked vaguely peculiar, about that, his eyes were inset into his face, overhung by a shelf of forehead that was a wide rectangle furrowed in three pale lines that creased when he was angry, like he was now.

"I said who the fuck are you?" he demanded again.

"I'm the health inspector." I said, producing my ID with fumbling fingers. He took it in his greasy fingers, peered at it suspiciously.

"Where's Floyd?" he asked.

"Floyd's been transferred to another district." I said. "I'm the new health inspector."

"Floyd always called me before coming in for an inspection."

"I'm not Floyd." I pointed out.

"Yeah, Floyd knew how to conduct an inspection." the man went on like I hadn't said anything. "He'd come by and I'd have everything ready and he and I would have a drink and talk and laugh and then he'd write me out my certificate."

"I'm not Floyd." I said again.

"You're sure not." At least this time he'd heard me. "Floyd was a terrific guy."

"Well, I'm here to inspect these premises. I can tell you right now that your premises are not up to standard."

"I'm not open for business yet." the man countered. "I open at noon, this is only eight o'clock." He was right about that according to the hours posted on his door, it was one reason I'd come in the back.

"There is no way this kitchen would pass inspection in four hours." I said. "You have both roaches and rats. You have lead-based paint on the walls. You have open and spoiled food on the floors, and it's been there a while."

"Hey, look, I'll close this place down for a week." the man said, and now I had him against a wall. "Come back then, this place will be up to code, then. I'll scrape the walls and repaint, and I'll bring in an exterminator and scrub the place down."

"Re-inspections occur at ninety days." I pointed out. The city ordinance was fairly new, it was designed to put down-at-the-heels restaurants completely out of their misery if it could be done, a place having money problems couldn't sit idle for three months, it would go on under, at least, that was the theory of the City Fathers.

It certainly looked like it was going to work on Melchor's. Melchor (if that was his name) was beginning to get scared. "Now, look, man." he said. "You got to give me a chance to make this right. This place is everything I got."

"This place." I waved my hand around, "is past condemned. You need three months just to work this place over."

"I can do it in a week." he said. Pleaded. "I never serve anything but hot food, and it's in clean containers. You're looking at yesterday's mess here. I scrub down everything before I start cooking, with bleach and cleanser. I boil water for the dishes, it's why I come in at eight o'clock."

I wasn't sure if I believed him or not. Those rats and cockroaches told a story all right, but was it that the owner kept things messy all the time, or only left his scraps out all night?

But that left the paint and the underlying old-food smell. Overnight scraps wouldn't leave that odor, it takes days for a meat scrap to leave that particular stench behind. A piece of chicken fat that landed on a strut out of reach of roachs and rats, it would do it. It's why restauranteurs are supposed to clean EVERYTHING and why we inspectors reach down and poke around with a pen-light to let us see into crannies. He couldn't be operating a healthy eating establishment. And you have to hold them to a firm standard, if only to keep them mostly on the side of health, you cut the restauranteurs slack and everyone in town comes down with cholera or something.

I decided that Melchor had to be lying. "I'm afraid I can't agree to come back in a week." I said. "I have no reason to believe you could bring this restaurant into compliance in such a short time. Ninety days, however, that would be possible..."

"You have no reason?" Melchor went from pleading to angry again. "You need a reason to give a guy a chance to fix things up before you shut him down?"

"I didn't mean...."

"I need to give you a reason, do I?" Melchor stormed.

I wasn't going to let him go so far as to offer me a bribe. "I'm just saying that you need to comply with the law." I said.

"I'll give you a reason!" Melchor proclaimed harshly.

"I don't want your money...."

"Money, hell! I had money, would I work in a shithole like this?"

This confused me. "Then what were you going to do, then?"

"Give you a reason to come back in a week." Melchor said and he stepped toward me. I backed up (I figured he was going to attack me) and my butt hit the counter behind me and I stopped and Melchor stepped close, too close to strike me and I hesitated and that was when he grabbed me.

Just reached down and grabbed my crotch! I looked into his face, he was looking right at me, and his breath was heavy with stale alcohol sour in my nostrils and the nicotine smell of too many cigarettes.

His eyes held me nailed in place as his hand mauled my privates, I was too astonished to do anything but stand here and take it, my clipboard dangling unheeded inside my fingers, holding its list of demerits to be checked off, and Melchor's eyes held locked with mine, and then the lips curled up into a sneer/smile, and he said, "Sure, that's all it'll take, won't it? You'll come back in a week and do your inspection then, won't you?"

"I don't know what you mean." I said, but hell, I knew full well! Would I trade sex for a chance for him to screw the system.

Well, all I had to do was give him a chance to bring it up to code. I wasn't promising him a passing inspection grade, just to return in a week.

And so my cock wheedled me as it sneaked up from its wrinkled torpor into rigid firmness, swearing that it wasn't so much to ask for the chance to have this man right now. All I would have to do, it urged me, was nod my head up and down. Just once. Come on, you can do it, just raise your head up and then back down. That's the way.

"Yeah, that's all it'll take." Melchor said and his deathlock with my eyes ended as he dropped down to his knees. "Every government employee I run into is gay, it's worse than the florist trade for that, that or the antiques. You get shriveled old hags in the antiques, but every man in the government service is just a dick in search of another dick, is that about the size of it."

"I don't know." I said. "I've only been on the city's payroll for a few weeks."

Melchor was working my pants open, the zipper was giving him some trouble, but it was because the pants were a bit askew, not because I was resisting any more. "Aha!" he said as he got them open, belt and clasp, and then the zipper ran down my crotch like a scared rabbit. "Now we're getting somewhere."

"Yeah, I guess so." I said. My boxers were doing a piss-poor job of cloaking my erection from view, the flap was completely open along one side, only a bare inch of material kept the glans inside the fly. Melchor had no problem with wrapping one oil-stained hand around it and tugging it free in a single, smooth, unimpeded motion.

He got it out and his mouth opened and a bright pink tongue reached out and touched the cockhead and I damn near fainted from the pleasure of that single, moist touch. Melchor followed the touch with his lips and soon my glans was buried inside his mouth and the warmth ignited the passion flower of my manhood and the bud of my glans blossomed into colorful life within the benevolent climate of his mouth.

Melchor didn't hesitate even then, with my glans captured, he followed it up with a push down the length of my shaft, I felt inch after inch being swallowed down into him, and every inch was suddenly aflame with my need. "Ooohh, ahhhh!" I gasped as Melchor reached the very base of my prick and held me, totally swallowed, as I threw my head back and groaned.

When my moan subsided, Melchor began a rather workman-like set of strokes up and down my dong, I was being subjected to a very businesslike and practical manipulation of my pud, and his competence showed all the way up and all the way down.

"Ooh, ah, gah!" I grunted as his strokes began to speed up, my shaft totally coated with his saliva now, and I reached down to touch my hand to his rather oily hair. Hair oil, not motor oil, but it fit him. This man didn't belong in a restaurant, he belonged out on the site, using these big muscles to move big girders onto even bigger buildings, and let the sky be cut down by the height of his efforts. I couldn't see why he had ended up in a restaurant, perhaps that explained the poor sanitation efforts and the dark oil on his hands, he had somehow inherited this place and couldn't bring himself to sell it, so he palmed off greasy burgers and limp French fries onto the patrons and stuck between his nature and his circumstances, he could only endure and hope somehow someone would offer him a way to have both.

Those greasy hands now placed themselves on my legs, one on each side, and Melchor used the leverage those hands gave him to move even faster upon my rod. I was beyond caring about my job or my position here (offering to overlook the law in exchange for a hummer), I could only moan and my own hands clutched ineffectively at his head, I captured it but even then, my fingers were only along for the ride, and Melchor's strokes on my prod were undiminished.

My groans had gone from near-inaudible up to full volume, I couldn't bear to keep quiet as this studly cook rammed my prick into his mouth and released it again, delight sparkling along it all the way in both directions, I was draining my very soul into my cock, a hollow shell of a man, barely conscious, as my manhood consumed all my attention and all my sensation and all my reaction, I felt like I was one, huge cock and that cock was about to blow!

I was about to blow! "Oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming!" I warned him. I expected him to release me, to let me spurt my load out onto his body, or onto the much-stained floor, but Melchor simply held me tighter with his fingers, and his movements became more vehement and more urgent on my prod.

I had warned him, now he must pay the penalty if he wished to ignore me, I gave myself to my climax and my body tensed, I formed a human crossbow with my cock as the arrow, along the length of my cock-stock, my jism shot out like the quiver release from the crossbow, propelled with extreme force deep into Melchor's throat.

After that first load, Melchor did release me, I groaned as the passion flame's source was denied me, but my orgasm could not be denied, even without further help, I squirted again and again and Melchor's face was covered with the squibs of my love-seed, and he moved and his face bathed in that spunk-shower, and his tongue reached out to taste the hot jizz on the fly, and with his face now fully coated with my sperm, I could only slump down and groan with the exhaustion of my release.

"How's that for a reason to come back in a week?" Melchor asked. "You want it again, don't you?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah, a week. Okay, you got a week." I panted. Heaved a heavy breath. "Whooh! Sure, you bring someone in to remove this paint safely, then fumigate, repaint, scrub it all down afterwards, I think you could do better."

"Yeah, sure, a week." Melchor said, as he grabbed a filthy towel from atop the dishes in the sink and wiped his face dry of my jism. "You come back then and take another look around and see if you don't decide to give me that A' card after all."

Well, if he could bring the place up that much, he'd probably get a "C" or maybe even a "B." "We'll see how it turns out." I settled for saying.

"All right. Now, why don't you go pester someone else while I finish up and get ready for business." the man said.

"Fine, fine." I said as I got my trousers together and got out of there. It was halfway to my next stop when I realized what he'd said. I swung back past his place at near the noon hour.

Melchor's was open for business and going full blast. He hadn't shut the place down. He'd just bought my silence for one week while he kept on doing business!

I'd have to report him and condemn his place. Of course, I hadn't finished my inspection and even a condemned place needs a full report. And I had a full schedule of places to get to today as it was, there were only four inspectors for this entire huge city.

Okay, go back in a week, see how he's doing. I'd be stronger next time, shut him down.

Maybe.