On My Face, Please
by Lee Braunsteiner/David Rizzo
© 2015 David Rizzo
ISBN  978-0-9777791-9-2; 0-9777791-9-X
Library of Congress Control Number:  2012939763
Published by Lorikeet Express Publications.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Imagine, just for a moment, that your sperm could cure acne on contact. Would women secretly plot to have you apply your remedy to their face? This is the story of Hal, and the joys and challenges that he encountered when blessed/cursed with this initially unknown gift.


Tuesday, 12:30 p.m.

The break room at Richardson Pro-Tech Publicity


“Food’s here!” announced Doreen as she walked up to Marsha standing in front of the soda machine.”


“What do you want to drink?” asked Marsha. “I’m having apple juice.”


“Do you have to be so healthy all the time? You’re already getting the Chinese chicken salad for lunch, so why not wash it down with a Coke?”


“You know, I’d drink the Coke except that I’m mainly watching my sugar intake.”


“It’s certainly not because of your weight. It hardly exists as it is,” said Doreen half sarcastically, as at least 40 pounds separated the two.


“No. It’s because of my acne.”


“That’s right. I’m sorry, Marsh.”


“Doreen, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Now can you tell me what happened?”


“Sit down, girl, and I’ll tell you a little secret,” said Doreen while unwrapping a Reuben sandwich.


Marsha grabbed the chair opposite Doreen at one of the two tables in the small break room. While pulling the plastic cover off her salad she eyed the Swiss cheese dripping off the sides of the sour dough bun on Doreen’s sandwich.


“Looks good, doesn’t it?” bragged Doreen. “But you just go ahead and eat your salad. You see, my body is not a temple. Instead, it’s an amusement park. So pardon me while I indulge.”


Marsha just smiled. Everyone liked Doreen’s honest demeanor.


While the break room was small, the two women currently had it to themselves as most of the callers eat lunch much earlier and most of the account managers and writers leave the building for lunch.


“Now that we have some privacy, I can tell you a story that you probably won’t believe, but it’s true,” began Doreen after taking her first bite.


“I’m listening,” said Marsha as she sparingly applied the vinaigrette dressing to the top of her salad.


“In one word, the solution is Hal.”


“You mean our Hal, the caller?” asked Marsha, drawing in closely.


“Yep. I can’t explain it myself, but for some odd reason, his semen seems to instantaneously clear up acne.”


Startled, Marsha stopped bringing her fork to her mouth and just stared at Doreen incredulously. “You’re kidding,” she said. “This is a joke.”


“No joke. I’m serious. It worked for Karen, it worked for me, and it worked for a friend of my sister-in-law.”


Marsha studied Doreen’s face intently, while still holding her fork in midair. Not a single blemish marred her face. “Whoa. I’m going to have to let this soak in a minute,” she said.


“That’s exactly how it works,” continued Doreen. “You have to let it soak in for best results.”


“Ok, now I’m going to ask a dumb question,” said Marsha. “How does it get there?”


“Oh, that’s the fun part. He squirts it there,” laughed Doreen.


Poor prudish Marsha. The thought almost made her lose her appetite on the spot. But then the reality of her plight made her reconsider. She had some, but not much, sexual experience, precisely because of her acne. While her petite shape attracted initial glances from the boys, closer scrutiny of her face sent all but the real losers running. She was desperate for change. “Oh, I would never do that,” she said.


Doreen took no offense and just smiled, feeling more pity than anything else for Marsha.

“Suit yourself, Sweetie, but I’m telling you it works,” she said.


“This is no fluke is it?” said Marsha, now revealing a hint of willingness.


Again, Doreen smiled. “It works. I’m living proof.”


Marsha studied Doreen’s face all the harder, and had to admire her slate-clean skin.


“Well I do appreciate your sharing this with me. While I may not partake myself, I’ll certainly keep this news to myself. At the very least, I have to give you credit. You look like a million dollars. There’s no arguing with the results.”


“Thanks, Marsha. I hope you have the same luck with whatever treatments you decide to try next. Have you decided to go with that light therapy yet?”


“No. I’ve done some more reading up on it. They say the blue light works best. They have some home models that you can get over the Internet. I’ll purchase one of those this week. They aren’t cheap, but hey, I’m willing to try just about anything at this point.”


I am truly willing to try just about anything, repeated Marsha to herself. Maybe even Hal’s remedy, God forbid.


After that, the conversation turned to office politics. The topic of how bitchy Elizabeth could be was always an evergreen subject. Of course, all the women liked to remind themselves that she had the worst case of acne of all. Even Doreen would secretly concede that nothing could help Elizabeth.


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Who is America's Most Famous Porn Writer, who writes under the name of Lee Braunsteiner.?

Warning: Adult Content