Summary: Making good on his promise to treat his new girlfriend to a spectacular gunging, a security guard for the TV studio hosting the hottest messy game show sneaks her onto the set after-hours. In their "Brits versus Americans"-themed game, nobody's going to make it out clean!

Author's Note: While the first chapter was more sensual, this one takes on a decidedly humorous tone. Hopefully that won't make the story seem inconsistent from chapter to chapter, as the next chapter will take on an entirely different tone altogether.

Also, in the source material, "The Rose of Deceit," it was implied Rufus would face consequences for his harassment of Yasmin, as the incident was recorded without his knowledge. As this story is a spin-off, it may not match the canon of future chapters of RoD, as we don't yet know what will happen to Rufus in that story. Consider it a fun AU (alternate universe.)

Thirdly, the game Rufus devises in this story is simply light-hearted fun between two people from different nationalities. They're having gentle fun poking at each other's ever-so-slight language differences and absolutely no offense was intended toward either nationality.

Note: Rufus, Yasmin and Wes are Kiwimayotte's characters, used with permission. This was originally posted on the now-defunct WAM Story Archive in 2016.

*****

"Hey, it's nice to see you in a better mood for once," Wes said, eyeing his colleague in their shared office at the chocolate factory where they both worked. His coworker's usual eternally-bored and resentful stare toward the security monitors had, in recent days, been replaced by something resembling true enthusiasm, and he had walked with a real spring in his step when they made their appointed rounds.

"This thing with your new girl must be working out pretty well," he said, tugging at his own shirt collar to draw attention to the slowly-fading love bites covering the younger guard's neck, but Rufus just grinned in return. It was a relief for Wes to find his friend in higher spirits, after he had been nearly been fired from his job for using spectacularly poor judgement one night. Following his failure to keep out a group of young trespassers from the factory, the managers had made an example of Rufus, sharply reducing his hours, and, it had been rumored, his pay and benefits to the point he had needed to take -- even grovel for -- a second security job at a television studio.

Wes knew little about the studio aside from the fact that it filmed a popular game show, Nemesis, that featured stunts and quizzes that always left the contestants covered in various foodstuffs or even downright slop. Constantly weary and exhausted from working a double-shift, when at the factory Rufus would complain about his misery from the other job almost endlessly, leaving nothing out: the girls there barely seemed to notice him, nobody seemed to hold proper respect for his position of authority, and the food in the company cafeteria was so lousy that the slop the show poured on its contestants was no doubt better.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah," Rufus said, snapping to attention from where he had been gazing at the monitor. He gestured down at the marks on his neck. "I tell ya, right after the sh*t hit the fan, things just got amazing." He had admittedly crossed the line one too many times, pressuring a show contestant to exchange a kiss and even boorishly attempting to grope at her, and had earned a humiliating gunging with cow manure, of all things, that still left him cringing to recall it. But his plight afterward had brought a coworker at the studio to his rescue, and their passionate encounter was still fresh in his memory.

"Good to hear. It's about time you had a little luck come your way after all the crap you've been through." Unaware of the manure incident, Wes wondered why the corner of Rufus's mouth twitched slightly. "We should all go out together sometime. Is she into the pub scene? I'm free tomorrow evening; we could all go out and get a little messed up." This time his coworker broke into a genuine grin, clearly amused.

"A little messed up, you say? She might be up for that, but our night out will have to wait until the weekend. There's some big filming of that game show going on tomorrow, and we both have to work late shifts."

Cheyenne would definitely be up for getting "a little messed up," but not the way you imagine, he thought, hiding his grin behind his hand as he leaned on his elbow on the desk, dreamily watching the monitors while his mind was on the plans he had made.

*****

"Mmm, sure you're ready for this?" Rufus asked the next evening, leaning over his love and bringing his lips to hers while his hands caressed her back. "It is still a little early in our relationship."

"I know, and this is a big step that'll change everything between us," Cheyenne when she finally broke their lingering kiss, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Right, neither of us has done this before," the security guard admitted with a slight scowl. "I mean, I guess I did, but the wrong way. Still, I've taken all the necessary precautions and now that everyone's left for the night, we're safely alone to explore this." He ran his hands up and down his girlfriend's torso, feeling the texture of her lime green eyelet-lace sundress. "And you look so nice tonight, did you dress up just for me?"

With that, both jokesters could no longer continue their charade, and they doubled over with laughter, Rufus clapping a hand to his forehead in a fit of chuckles.

"We can't take anything seriously, can we?" he cried. "I don't even want to know how that's going to work when we really attempt to make love someday." Less than a week before when they had discovered their feelings for each other, they had spontaneously been very intimate in one of the studio's shower stalls, only to mutually agree they had been moving a little too fast for either's comfort, as heavenly as the experience had been. Finding it surprisingly not so difficult to wait a while to go all the way, Rufus had instead directed his efforts to plotting a messy game-show stunt to secretly engage in, a prospect Cheyenne found equally thrilling. He had promised not to reveal ahead of time the exact day he'd put his plans in motion, but had warned her to be ready with a change of after-work clothes for their stunt.

"I'm sure we'll manage when the time comes," Cheyenne reminded him as she wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye, twisting around to sneak another glimpse at the table her boyfriend had set up in the vacant game show set, various containers crowding its surface and draped with a cloth. "So how does your devious little game work?"

"I'm glad you asked, my love," said Rufus, rubbing his hands together with overbrimming pride. "If I may say so myself, it's so clever I should sell the idea to the show: 'Name It or Wear It!' You get to taste various foods, and I might add they're all safe to eat, nothing nasty or rotten because we are going to kiss afterward." Suddenly realizing he had neglected to bring the blindfold necessary for his game, he undid his necktie and moved behind her, tieing it snugly.

"Of course, get it wrong and," he let his voice trail off as he stroked her thigh lovingly, "you can count on finding yourself covered in a large quantity of it. Get it right, and I'll be a good sport and wear it." Cheyenne immediately tugged down the blindfold in disbelief, eyeing him with a pretend stern look.

"Well, I can already tell you don't plan to lose this one even once," she protested. "You're still in uniform." Her lover grinned mischievously, motioning for her to replace the tie.

"We've already proven the things can be washed, and even if this one doesn't pull through, the studio can afford to lose it. Besides, I thought you told me you liked guys in uniform, so let's get started." Whisking the cover from the table of foodstuffs, he was thrilled to see a barely-discernible shudder of anticipation overtake his girlfriend.

A spoon of something lumpy was pushed toward her lips, and Cheyenne mouthed the familiar texture of the cold breakfast cereal, usually served hot, before seizing the spoon and pointing it triumphantly at her opponent, once again removing the blindfold and breaking into a wide grin.

"You are going down, Mister Security!" she taunted, jabbing the spoon in the direction of the large bucket Rufus was clutching, still tilted away so she couldn't see its contents. "You're not even trying. You really didn't think I'd recognize oatmeal?" To her bemusement, Rufus matched her smile with one of his own, leaning in close and uttering just a few carefully-prepared words.

"Wrong. It's porridge." Swinging the bucket in a wide overhead arc before she could react, he brought it down over her, hearing an indignant shriek from under the plastic bucket, still left atop her head as she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as the oats oozed toward her waist. "I forgot to mention, there's another rule: You have to name everything by its proper British term, none of the silly Americanized names you have for everything."

"You double-crossing scoundrel, you cheated!" Cheyenne scolded, but by the time she had thrown the bucket aside and wiped enough of the cold oats from her eyes and cleaned her hands on the small amount of her dress that wasn't already covered, her smile had already returned. "Fine, you win and we'll play by your rules, but only so I can eventually see you get nailed so bad with something. Speaking of which, that wasn't half-bad, though oatme--I mean, porridge, is good stuff, but not so great when it's ice-cold and all in your hair." She ran her hands through her long strands, trying not to imagine the difficulty of combing out all the oats in the shower afterward, before shrugging and replacing the blindfold.

*****

"Definitely syrup," she guessed on the next offered item, taking a second taste from the spoon. "You know, pancake syrup. Or do you call them flapjacks here?" When she cautiously pulled down the blindfold, Rufus was looking resigned to his fate, holding the bucket above his own head, and her face brightened, at least until he spoke.

"That was so close I almost feel bad doing this, but you were just a little off and I can't let you go on a technicality. It's golden syrup, a form of treacle. Used for tarts and the like." He snickered as Cheyenne looked upward, only to sharply tilt her head when the deluge of sweetness struck, its thick flow pushing many of the oats from her face.

"Have I mentioned what a despicable cheater you are?" his girlfriend sighed, looking down at her dress, now slick with the syrup.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't pay attention in the cafeteria," Rufus joked, though he was relieved her focus was on her messy clothing and not so much on his very noticeable physical reaction to her increasingly deplorable state.

*****

Cheyenne threw two slop-covered bare arms into the air in frustration. "I have no clue. What do you call molasses here? I'm a janitor, not a cook, and I've only been here three months. Aw, just let me have it."

"Black treacle," answered Rufus mischievously, sending a flood of the dark sauce over her to obscure most of its lighter predecessor.

"Unfair, that's two of practically the same thing, but go on." Watching the treacle find its way back out through the eyelet openings in the bodice of her dress, Cheyenne put her hands on her hips, knowing her chances of winning even one round were suddenly not looking so good. Still, she was secretly enjoying herself, for as Rufus had hinted when they'd first plotted their clandestine "gunge night," there was something deliciously inappropriate about the entire thing, especially being soaked to the skin in what had been attractive clothing.

*****

"Mash? You're really grasping at straws here--mmph!" Cheyenne groaned as Rufus gleefully shoved another clump of cold potatoes in her face, even whisking his hand up to massage them into her hair. "Mashed what? They're potatoes, for crying out loud! I cannot wait to get you when it's finally your turn!"

*****

"Okay, we're down to the last one," Rufus said, a little apologetically since he had received little more than a few stray splatters of food on his uniform. "I wouldn't dream of letting you have all the fun, so I'll make this easier on you. Try these by sight, not taste." He pulled off her blindfold entirely and held up a large steel cylinder, with the label still on it, and Cheyenne threw back her head and laughed.

"Duh, it's a giant can of baked beans. Kind of a weird choice to want dumped on yourself, but it's about time--" She reached eagerly for the beans with both hands, ready to slather them over her deserving boyfriend, only to find herself studded with thousands of the legumes and the runny orange sauce they were swimming in.

"How was that wrong?" she yelled, before breaking down in a fit of giggles. The game he had devised was so silly, yet he had thrown so much care into it, and he was certainly delivering on his eventual promise to give her the gunging of a lifetime. "Wait, I know this one," she sighed, slapping a hand to her forehead and sending beans down to the pool of food on her lap. "You call them 'tins,' not 'cans.' How very stupid of me."

*****

"I still want to see you win just once, my love, so let's go for a bonus round, but the pickings are getting rather slim at this point." Advising her to wait just a moment, Rufus had returned with a pie that looked good enough to eat, stolen from the same walk-in refrigerator where he had "borrowed" a few food choices for his after-hours stunt. "Of course it's a pie, but what flavor?" He was already smirking when Cheyenne confidently answered banana, but on a technicality he had to crush the Banoffee pie into her face, sending cream across the wall behind her.

*****

"Sorry, I couldn't resist when I found that in the refrigerator, so here's the real last round." Rufus immediately pulled a small round tub from behind his back and peeled back the plastic lid. "It's as simple as pie."

"That last one wasn't simple!" Cheyenne laughed. "But anyway, since I can tell that's all you have left and you're super-turned on right now, it's whipped topping." She was stunned when Rufus's face fell. Hadn't he just said he wanted to get gunged at least once?

"I feel awful about this, but it's actually whipped cream, not..."

"Turn the tub around, genius!"

When he rotated the container and read the label, Rufus simply handed it over to his girlfriend, smiling sheepishly. "Well, I'll be, I guess it can go by either name. Have at it."

"Oh, I will!" Scooping a large handful of the dessert topping out, Cheyenne flung herself at him, crushing it into his face with enthusiasm, and before he knew it, she was straddling his hips as he lay on the floor in the mess, pulling up double-handfuls of muck that only vaguely resembled food and depositing them anywhere she hadn't already got him while he chuckled so hard he could barely attempt to shield himself from the onslaught.

"You're right, I do like men in uniform -- messy uniforms," she announced after pausing to admire her handiwork. "And you're a good sport, too. I could tell you seemed a little down when you didn't think you were going to get in on this." Gasping when his hands grasped her around the waist and pulled her down to him, she remembered his promise to kiss after the stunt was over.

*****

Grinding against his partner lightly and feeling the gliding sensations of her hips straddling his, her dress stuck higher on her waist so only the fabric of her panties and his uniform slacks separated them, shortly into their make-out session Rufus found himself clutching his partner tightly, closing his eyes as he was overtaken by bliss.

*****

"That was amazing. Thank you again," he said once they had showered, thrown their clothes in the studio's laundromat and redressed, Cheyenne in her work clothes and he in a spare uniform. Rufus reached for the recording equipment in his office, eager to retrieve the tape that would serve as a fun way to replay their incredible time together.

"What's wrong?" his girlfriend asked when his face, which had been as flushed as hers, suddenly went pale and he bent slightly, peering into the empty recording unit in disbelief. "Did you forget to put in a tape beforehand?"

"Worse," he answered, his voice quavering. "Someone was in here and took the tape. We're both doomed!"