friend."
She got a wicked look on her face and I braced myself. Even sober she was good at embarrassing me. "Shelley." I used my best I'm-warning-you tone.
She leaned over the bar. "If you won't give me tequila, how about giving me your number?" She dug around in her massive purse and finally produced her phone. "What time is it anyway? Surely you need a break, honey. You wanna take a break with me?"
Dane smiled kindly, but I could see he was going to let her down. "That is a lovely offer, but actually—" He looked at me and winked. "—he's more my type."
I sucked in my breath and stared, mouth hanging open. I must have looked like an idiot, but his eyes sparkled with heat. My cock started to harden. What the fuck was going on with me?
Shelley punched my arm. "Why don't you go for it, then? Might loosen you up."
I stared at her like she'd grown another head.
She laughed loudly, attracting more attention. "I'd be happy to watch."
What the fuck? "Shelley, you really need to let me take you home."
She shook her head. "No way. If the shits in management are going to screw me, at least I can take them for all the free tequila I can get."
"Don't ruin your career over a couple of asinine comments."
Dane nodded. "He's right. Let him take you home or at least somewhere else. You don't want to do this at work."
Her eyes filled with tears. "It's so fucking unfair."
Dane patted her arm. "I'm sure it is, but screwing yourself won't make it any better."
"You're positive you don't want to screw me instead?" she asked.
I couldn't help being embarrassed for her, but the truth was, she was that blunt sober.
"Sorry, darling, and no, I won't do him in front of you either."
I choked on the swallow of soda I'd just taken. "Look, I—"
Dane shook his head. "Get her out of here. We can talk later."
I helped Shelley get to her feet and kept my arm around her so she wouldn't fall.
"Tom." It was Dane calling me. I hadn't realized he knew my name. I turned around, and he handed me a folded napkin. "Later," he mouthed.
When I had Shelley tucked into the passenger seat of my car, I pulled the napkin out of my pocket and looked at it as I walked toward the driver's side. His number was scrawled on it with the message "call me." Oh my God, he actually did want to go out with me. Okay, more realistically, he probably wanted to sleep with me. But I'm not…
Oh really? So why did your cock get hard when he looked at you?
* * * * *
Monday morning. I debated picking up coffee before I got to my building. I'd thrown away the napkin Dane had given me as soon as I got home Saturday night. Then I'd spent every waking moment, and some of my sleeping ones, thinking about the man, about his smile, about what it would be like to kiss him, about how no way in hell was I going to jerk off thinking about him. Absolutely not.
The chain coffee place I passed on my walk had a line out the door, and the cheerful chorus of "Deck the Halls" that floated out into the street had me snarling. I was beyond tired of everyone's holiday cheer. My Christmas memories centered around spending hours in church followed by more prayers and Bible readings at my grandmother's house, and of course having to hear all about what Santa had brought all my friends. My parents didn't do Santa. They said he was representative of the Satan-led secularization of Christmas.
Now that I've put all that behind me, I'm no more into secularized Christmas cheer than I was Christmas piety. Christmas is just a time when I feel more lonely than usual. Damn, I'm a bitter old man at twenty-four.
I decided to gamble on Dane having the morning off. He didn't usually work on Mondays, not that I'd intentionally memorized his schedule. I'm just good at remembering such things.
When I entered the lobby of my building, a boys' choir trilling out the notes of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" assaulted my ears. As I tried to shake off the overdose of Christmas cheer, I realized Dane was behind the
She got a wicked look on her face and I braced myself. Even sober she was good at embarrassing me. "Shelley." I used my best I'm-warning-you tone.
She leaned over the bar. "If you won't give me tequila, how about giving me your number?" She dug around in her massive purse and finally produced her phone. "What time is it anyway? Surely you need a break, honey. You wanna take a break with me?"
Dane smiled kindly, but I could see he was going to let her down. "That is a lovely offer, but actually—" He looked at me and winked. "—he's more my type."
I sucked in my breath and stared, mouth hanging open. I must have looked like an idiot, but his eyes sparkled with heat. My cock started to harden. What the fuck was going on with me?
Shelley punched my arm. "Why don't you go for it, then? Might loosen you up."
I stared at her like she'd grown another head.
She laughed loudly, attracting more attention. "I'd be happy to watch."
What the fuck? "Shelley, you really need to let me take you home."
She shook her head. "No way. If the shits in management are going to screw me, at least I can take them for all the free tequila I can get."
"Don't ruin your career over a couple of asinine comments."
Dane nodded. "He's right. Let him take you home or at least somewhere else. You don't want to do this at work."
Her eyes filled with tears. "It's so fucking unfair."
Dane patted her arm. "I'm sure it is, but screwing yourself won't make it any better."
"You're positive you don't want to screw me instead?" she asked.
I couldn't help being embarrassed for her, but the truth was, she was that blunt sober.
"Sorry, darling, and no, I won't do him in front of you either."
I choked on the swallow of soda I'd just taken. "Look, I—"
Dane shook his head. "Get her out of here. We can talk later."
I helped Shelley get to her feet and kept my arm around her so she wouldn't fall.
"Tom." It was Dane calling me. I hadn't realized he knew my name. I turned around, and he handed me a folded napkin. "Later," he mouthed.
When I had Shelley tucked into the passenger seat of my car, I pulled the napkin out of my pocket and looked at it as I walked toward the driver's side. His number was scrawled on it with the message "call me." Oh my God, he actually did want to go out with me. Okay, more realistically, he probably wanted to sleep with me. But I'm not…
Oh really? So why did your cock get hard when he looked at you?
* * * * *
Monday morning. I debated picking up coffee before I got to my building. I'd thrown away the napkin Dane had given me as soon as I got home Saturday night. Then I'd spent every waking moment, and some of my sleeping ones, thinking about the man, about his smile, about what it would be like to kiss him, about how no way in hell was I going to jerk off thinking about him. Absolutely not.
The chain coffee place I passed on my walk had a line out the door, and the cheerful chorus of "Deck the Halls" that floated out into the street had me snarling. I was beyond tired of everyone's holiday cheer. My Christmas memories centered around spending hours in church followed by more prayers and Bible readings at my grandmother's house, and of course having to hear all about what Santa had brought all my friends. My parents didn't do Santa. They said he was representative of the Satan-led secularization of Christmas.
Now that I've put all that behind me, I'm no more into secularized Christmas cheer than I was Christmas piety. Christmas is just a time when I feel more lonely than usual. Damn, I'm a bitter old man at twenty-four.
I decided to gamble on Dane having the morning off. He didn't usually work on Mondays, not that I'd intentionally memorized his schedule. I'm just good at remembering such things.
When I entered the lobby of my building, a boys' choir trilling out the notes of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" assaulted my ears. As I tried to shake off the overdose of Christmas cheer, I realized Dane was behind the
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