Better Than Stories Collection, Books #1-4

Chapter 1

1

F ive Years Previously

Washington, DC

I arrived at my office at what felt like the crack of dawn. Actually I think it was. It was still dark outside when I pushed open the grand glass doors in the lobby of the modern low-rise where Jackson and Burnell commandeered the top two floors. I hadn’t had my first cup of coffee yet, so I was half asleep. I remember vaguely hoping I’d checked the color of my socks before I put them on that morning. Six thirty was too early for me. I didn’t usually get to the office until eight, and I liked it that way. I liked the cheerful buzz of people on the streets and sidewalks making their way to their workplaces. Even when conditions were less than accommodating, I enjoyed the hustle and bustle. So you had to deal with a little weather… no big deal. It was better than deserted streets and darkened lobbies.

I shivered in my long navy wool coat, closing my eyes for a moment while I waited for the elevator. I was so damned tired. I probably shouldn’t have gone dancing with Aaron last night. It was a blast, but four hours of sleep wasn’t going to cut it for the day I had ahead of me. I was starting a new project today. A big one. I was thrilled to have been asked, which was how I ended up staying out all night celebrating with my best friend. Coffee , I thought again. That’s what I needed.

I made my way through the darkened corridor to my own small office before making a beeline for the coffeemaker. I checked messages on my cell phone while I waited patiently for the high-tech machine to brew my lifeline for the day. It may sound dramatic, but I could feel a wave of exhaustion settle over my body as I leaned against the granite countertop in the office kitchen. I felt like I might fall asleep standing up. I turned at a sound behind me.

“I brought you this. I had a feeling you’d be a little slow this morning.”

Rebecca handed me a large takeout coffee from our favorite shop on the corner.

“They were closed when I got here. How did you get this?” My voice was reverent as though she’d pulled off the most amazing feat ever.

“Jay baby, I know it wouldn’t have even occurred to you to see if they were open. You’re too used to me spoiling you. I should never have started bringing you coffee. You probably barely know how to use the machine in your own home! And you sure don’t know how to use this one. Honey, you have to turn it on!”

I gave a puzzled look at said machine and realized she was right. I hadn’t turned the fucker on. Oh well. I gave her a big smile and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, darlin’. I wouldn’t survive without you.” I batted my eyelashes before turning back toward my office.

Rebecca followed me, taking a seat in one of the two modern black leather chairs facing my desk. Rebecca was one of our secretaries. She’d been at Jackson and Burnell for ten years. She was happily married to a contractor and lived the family life with her chubby hubby and their three kids and two dogs out in the suburbs of Maryland. I think cats and birds were mentioned, but I had tuned her out by then. When I was first hired three years ago, fresh out of graduate school, Rebecca was one of the first people I’d met. Ironically, it was in the kitchen where I’d been trying to make a cup of coffee. I rolled my eyes at the memory. She was right: I was hopeless.

“So, I take it you did a little celebrating last night? Tell Mama all about it.”

I laughed. She was one of those funny, straight married women who loved gay men. She loved hearing about my grand gay adventures, even though she knew most of what I told her was pure bullshit. I entertained her. Whatever the case may be, she had become an ally and a friend. In the cutthroat work environment of a lobbyist in the nation’s capital, you learn quickly whom you can trust and whom you cannot. I was lucky to have her on my side.

I spent a few minutes embellishing my tale of debauchery from the evening before. The truth was that Aaron, my best friend, had insisted we go out to celebrate. After a drink or three, he talked me into going dancing at a nearby club. I hadn’t required much persuasion in all honesty, but that’s just how things were for me sometimes. It was hard to stop having fun when I was on a roll. Aaron understood. Not everyone else did, though. Rebecca just laughed and shook her head at me.

“You ought to know better. How old are you now anyway? Twenty-eight?”

“Well, we used to be friends. I’m twenty-seven! Alright already… as interesting as the subject may be, enough about me. Do we know who the project leader is yet? How big the team is? What do you know, All-Seeing-One?”

Rebecca giggled like a schoolgirl and shifted her larger frame in her chair. She pulled out a pair of reading glasses and her notepad and pen. Suddenly she was the epitome of a diligent secretary working for a high-profile DC firm. I adjusted effortlessly into work mode myself and began to take notes. Our new client was a new environmentally progressive solar energy firm who required our assistance with the Department of Energy. What exactly that entailed and who would be assigned to tackle what issues would all be discussed in our morning meeting with the project lead.

“I don’t know who the lead is for certain, but I have a suspicion you’ll be happy.” Rebecca peered at me over the rim of her reading glasses, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh? Do tell. The caffeine is finally taking hold, but my body is still wondering why the hell I’m here at seven fucking a.m.”

“Language!” She reprimanded. Rebecca didn’t mind swearing per se, but she really hated the word “fuck.” Too bad. It was one of my personal favorites.

“Sorry, ma’am.” I turned on my southern charm and was begrudgingly forgiven.

“I have a feeling it’s Peter Morgan. You know, the really handsome….”

“Oh my! How will I concentrate? Do you know we’ve never worked together before? This is rather exciting! More to celebrate! I have had a major crush for two years.”

“Honey, this whole office has. But, don’t get too excited. I think he bats for the other team.”

“Oh that is too bad…. Shouldn’t you be admonishing me about infatuation at the work place? It is, after all, highly unprofessional.”

“Well, yes. But who could blame you? That man is fi-ine!”

We giggled, but quickly got back to work. I needed as much information as possible to prepare for the seven-thirty meeting.

Rebecca’s source was solid. I entered the glass-enclosed meeting room five minutes early to find the head chair taken by his truly, Peter Morgan. He was on his cell phone, but lifted his head in greeting when I walked into the room. I sat three seats away in deference to his phone call and took the opportunity to study my new project supervisor.

God-like beautiful. It really was no exaggeration to say Peter Morgan was a blessed man in the looks department. He was taller than me, which made him instantly interesting, because at six foot three, I was always one of the taller men in any given room. His dark hair and classically gorgeous features reminded me of an Italian movie star or a GQ model. His hair was cut short and had an effortlessly styled look. His cheekbones were high and complemented his square jaw beautifully. In short, he was dreamy. I sighed and silently reprimanded myself. This delicious man was my boss, not a potential conquest. He was completely off-limits. An office romance wasn’t in the cards. Being a member of this project team was important for my career. I needed to show my professional and hardworking side, not get caught drooling over my straight project leader.

A few more people took seats around the table. Light chatter filled the conference room until Peter set his phone aside and immediately had the attention of everyone at the table. There were just eight of us gathered at the large glass table, which was a little odd since most of the firms we dealt with were large and required substantial resources and manpower on our part. Peter addressed the smaller than normal group and explained that this was a small but extremely important project. Each of us had been specifically chosen because of our superior skill sets and he was confident that we would be more than capable of completing our objective within the specified time frame. The gist was that they were asking eight people to do what sixteen people usually were assigned to do in two months. Two months was literally half the time normally allocated for any project.

No one groaned aloud but surely everyone’s internal reaction must have been similar to my own “ You’ve got to be fucking kidding, right ?” I didn’t say a word, though. I took copious notes and thanked my lucky stars when I saw that I had been paired with Melanie Martin for my portion. Mel was very bright and a hard worker, but she was blessed with a wicked sense of humor, which was more than I could say about a few of those assembled around the table. Everyone was very serious and determined to make a good impression. I was ready and willing to work hard also, but I could never understand why people tended to lose their ability to laugh at work. In my opinion, that’s when you needed it the most.

I soon realized that this supposed elite project I’d been assigned to would eat up practically every waking minute of every day, including my weekends for the next two months. I had to find some glimmer of humor to get through the grueling schedule in the weeks ahead. At that very moment, I came up blank. One bright spot was that at least I’d be treated to the regular dose of eye candy that was our handsome leader. Damn, Rebecca was right… he was fine.

I watched him carefully as he stood and drew our attention to the PowerPoint presentation behind him. His expensive charcoal suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders in all the right places. I wondered if he played sports when he was in high school or college. Maybe football. He had the build of a football player for sure. I could just see him in those tight pants and….

“Mr. Reynolds?”

Oh shit. I looked up to see Peter giving me a curious but somewhat dangerous look. He had obviously caught me gawking at him and wondered what the hell my problem was. I quickly refocused and gave what I hoped was a professional nod before asking him to repeat the question. I saw Mel hide a small grin, but otherwise I kept my eyes on the whiteboard and not on Mr. Morgan’s ass. This was going to be harder than I thought.

My cell phone vibrated on my desk later that afternoon. I had been in meetings all day, either with the entire team or with Mel. Tomorrow, each team would meet with Mr. Morgan to brief him on our initial plans for the project. Mel and I had divided our duties and would meet in the morning to collaborate before presenting our ideas to the boss. I had a long night ahead of me and all I wanted was to go home and curl up on my sofa watching reruns of Will and Grace . I checked the caller ID and smiled. Aaron always cheered me up.

“Jaybird, tell me all about your day. Is your new project worth the hangover you must have? I am suffering! Tell me I’m not alone.”

“You are most assuredly not alone.” I lowered my voice, although I was in my office with the door closed. “I’m not sure it’s going to be worth it, though.”

“Oh, honey. Want me to make you dinner? You can tell me all about it.”

“I wish. I’m going to be here for a while yet.” I filled Aaron in, and not for the first time, I found myself wishing we were attracted to each other.

Aaron was beautiful, smart, funny, and sexy as hell, but there was no spark between us. We were just too similar. Physically we looked nothing alike. Aaron was a little height-challenged at five foot eight. He was Puerto Rican American and blessed with gorgeous olive skin, dark hair, and pretty hazel eyes.

In contrast, my ancestors came over on the Mayflower. No joke. My dad loved to talk genealogy and would happily bore anyone who even pretended to be interested about the harsh conditions our forefathers braved back in 1620. Like everyone else in my family, my three older brothers, younger sister, and parents, I was taller than average with dark-blond hair and blue eyes. I knew I was considered good-looking, but I always thought my looks were more “boy next door” than pretty like Aaron’s.

Although we were night and day in the looks department, we loved all the same things. Techno-pop music, romantic comedies, shopping, dancing… we were perfect together. Except, he was my best friend only. As lovely as he was, I didn’t want to have sex with him. We kissed when we first met and ended up laughing our asses off. That’s when I knew I’d met someone special. If you can’t laugh, you cry. It’s easy enough to find someone to spend a night with, but someone you trust, admire, and want to shop with… not so easy.

Aaron listened and made all the right comments about “poor little Jay.” I felt a little better when I hung up, but I could have cried when I looked at my computer. I had so much to do and I didn’t know where to begin. I rubbed my hands over my face, stared unseeingly out my window for a minute, and then shook my head. So I wouldn’t see my friends or family for the rest of February, March, and half of April. My days and nights would be filled with spreadsheets and boring meetings. No partying. No fun. Oh well. I would survive. I hoped.

Two weeks later, I was beginning to lose my mind. I was a people person. I enjoyed meeting new people, and I’d always been good at small talk. A lobbyist was in a sense a salesperson. You had to possess good people skills as well as intelligence if you hoped to influence decisions on behalf of an important multi-billion dollar empire. But it occurred to me that Peter Morgan was the only face of this project, and while my role was important, I wasn’t going to spend much time meeting and greeting. I might get the odd assignment that would send me over to the Department of Energy, but that was hardly exciting.

At least Mel was a good partner. She wasn’t easygoing, but she wasn’t overly full of herself either. I was beginning to feel like everyone was on a major quest to impress. We all wanted to do well, of course, but there was no denying there was something about Peter Morgan that made you want to try a little harder. He had an almost dangerous air about him that clearly told anyone who paid attention that he did not suffer fools. So we put our heads down, determined to put forth our best effort. I arrived every day before the sun and went home to my empty townhouse well after darkness had fallen.

“He should be here any second. You ready?”

Mel ran her long, slender fingers through her short, dark hair. She wore it in a stylish bob that suited her small, pointed features. I noted she’d dressed with care this morning in a tight-fitted, long black wool skirt and a white button-down shirt. The scalloped collar and oversized white-beaded necklace kept her from looking like a waitress. I saw the red soles of her black high heels and made a quick comment about her breaking out her Louboutins to meet with the resident hottie. Mel actually blushed.

“You have a crush!” I accused giving her a mock appraising glare.

“Oh, be quiet! You do too! Are those Prada?” She pointed to my Italian loafers.

“Of course. But I wear these every day.”

“Yeah right. You have more shoes than me, Jay Reynolds. Don’t for one second try to deny it!”

I was about to tell her that was probably true, when a muffled sound near the door to the small conference room alerted us that we had company. And it looked like we’d been overheard. Great. The smallest facial twitch that I really couldn’t decipher was the only indication I had that Peter had been privy to the great shoe debate. But it was enough to make me uneasy. I was out at work, but I wasn’t overt, if that makes any sense. If I’m with friends or family members, my voice tends to embrace my southern self and yes, my gay self.

Talking about shoes with a female coworker was surely not something my straight male coworkers were prone to do, but every once in a while, I couldn’t help myself. Mel and I had been spending a lot of time together. She knew I was gay, and she certainly didn’t care, but Peter Morgan… he was another story. I couldn’t read him. It frustrated me to no end. He was all business all the time from what little I could tell. He gave us each a brief nod as he settled into his chair at the head of the table and immediately got down to business.

We made our presentation, each of us separately reporting our analyses as we had agreed upon before Peter had entered the room. While Mel spoke, I stole surreptitious glances at our team leader. He was so damn good-looking I found myself going moony-eyed before I was able to refocus and try to gauge whether or not he approved our report content so far. His face was like granite. Gorgeous, but no eye movement, no twitch of the lips… no body language for me to read whatsoever.

When Mel wrapped up her segment, I began mine. I tend to be an animated speaker. I used to let my hands fly as I spoke, but after I knocked a presentation board over and sent a cup of coffee careening across the conference table when I first started at Jackson and Burnell, I trained myself to be less physical in a work setting. However, my voice took over where my hands wanted to go. I always thought appropriate vocal modulation made for a more entertaining than average boardroom meeting, and I was often able to capture my audience’s attention with a dose of levity.

Not this time. Peter sat with his arms folded across his broad chest and stared at the screen behind me, never once looking at me. When I retook my seat and the meeting finally wrapped up, Mel and I quickly made eye contact. I’m sure she was just as mystified as I was. Where was the feedback?

We were used to having a dialogue of some type with the project leader, but it didn’t look like we’d be getting one. He simply gave us a brief nod, thanked us, and stood to leave. His cell phone rang and he took the call, moving over to the floor-to-ceiling window in the small conference room. I rolled my eyes at his back, and Mel giggled quietly. We were about to walk out of the room when Peter’s deep baritone voice called out.

“Thank you. I like the direction you’re taking. Melanie, good job. Jay, can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Of course.” My heart was suddenly beating out of my chest.

Why did he want to talk to me alone? It made no sense. I turned toward Mel and made my eyes comically wide, clearly asking without speaking, What the fuck? She closed the door softly as I turned to face Peter, calming my facial features and hoping they were as expressionless as his.

“Good report, Jay. I’d like to offer one critique regarding the language in paragraph five, page two, however. Rather than saying that we are going to….”

There was a part of me that wondered if I looked half as incredulous as I felt. Was he really giving me shit about my placement of a fucking adverb? I gave myself points for being a good team member, nodding and murmuring words of agreement at his suggestions when what I really wanted to do was smack him with my notebook. What a pompous prick!

“Thank you, Jay. I’ll be meeting with you and Melanie again in the next week or so.”

Peter sat back at the conference table and turned his full attention to his laptop. I had been dismissed. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything I’d regret and exited the room, closing the door behind me.

“What did he want?” Mel was waiting for me outside of my office. She looked worried, which made me just a little more angry. Didn’t that jerk realize that pulling me aside like that could cause tension between Mel and me? No one wanted to be paired with someone who might potentially drown them, and I resented that I was going to have to assure my partner that it was just a minor grammar infraction he wanted to chat about.

I sat heavily in my chair and filled her in.

“Seriously? That’s weird.”

“I agree.”

“Hmm. Have you done something to piss him off?” Mel chewed on the side of her thumbnail.

“Mel, I’ve seen him as often as you. I don’t know the guy at all and have been with him a handful of times total in relation only to this project. I don’t get it either. But I have to tell you… he may be sinfully handsome, but he’s looking a lot less attractive to me right now than he did when we first walked into that room today!”

Mel gave me a lopsided grin in response. Maybe she was feeling the same way.

The next meeting took place nearly two weeks later. Peter had been called out of town on business, which delayed the next scheduled presentation Mel and I were set to deliver. I was equal parts annoyed and glad about the delay. However, when we finally did sit back down with him, it went almost exactly the way our previous meeting had. He listened without input, told us both we did a good job, thanked Mel, and asked to speak to me again alone.

When Mel slipped out of the room with worry written all over her face, Peter drew my attention to paragraph three of page six. This time my expression must have given me away. He couldn’t be serious. This man was a highly respected lobbying guru. He had a great reputation in the field as a young up-and-comer. Was it really because he was a grammar fanatic? Hard to believe.

His Gucci suit fitting impeccably on his tall, muscular, and well-proportioned form could not save him from a loss of regard in my eyes. I went into that room instantly taken by his broad shoulders, dark hair, and classically handsome profile, only to leave the room an hour and a half later thinking the guy had to be high. Why was he singling me out like that? None of it made sense.

Unless, of course it was because of something that had nothing to do with work in the first place…. Maybe I was doomed from the moment he overheard my shoe commentary when the project first began. Maybe Mr. Morgan had decided he didn’t care for me because I was gay. The sentiment sounded a bit paranoid, but I couldn’t help thinking I just might be correct.

As we neared the project’s completion at the end of March, the meetings included all eight of the original group Peter had first assembled, and they lasted all day. A light breakfast of croissants and coffee was served in the morning. We took a forty-five minute lunch break that most of us used to catch up on e-mails and phone calls, before returning for a marathon afternoon session. A light evening snack was brought in as presentation after presentation was given.

Reports were made and charts and graphs were displayed until our eyes began to cross and it was obvious that no one was retaining a damn thing. That was when our great leader would finally set us free for the evening. Of course, since it was eight o’clock, most of us went home, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and passed out from exhaustion only to wake up at four thirty the next morning and start all over again.

It was positively miserable.

I now hated this esteemed, exalted project. I no longer cared about solar energy or any other form of energy at all. How could I when I had none myself? Most of all, I hated Peter Morgan. Hated him. In a very short time, I had gone from infatuated and admiring to cringing at the sight of him. Don’t get me wrong, he was still as breathtakingly gorgeous as ever, but he only had to open his mouth and I found myself waiting for the criticism to start.

It was a strange type of critique too. It was never malicious per se, it was just nitpicky, and it made me feel self-conscious as I wondered how my teammates viewed my professionalism. Mel seemed undeterred, but again, the seed was sown. I felt unworthy and paranoid that perhaps the negativity stemmed from prejudice on his part. I wanted this project over and done as soon as possible.

Monday, April 10, my wish finally came true. It had to be the longest day in creation, but as the eleventh-plus hour drew to a close on an endless parade of presentations, there was no doubt that our team had knocked it out of the park.

We hosted a dinner that evening for our highly regarded energy client at an elegant and exclusive DC steakhouse. It was a very respectable affair, although thankfully alcohol was served and I made sure to place my order early, though not too often. I just needed to get through this one dinner, and I’d be free of Peter Morgan for good.

I had to admit the man was a genius at his job. Peter was a smooth operator. He was well versed on our client’s position in a growing industry (thanks to my hard work), and he had a confident air about him that told the client, and everyone involved in the project, that not only did he care about their success, he was passionate about it too. Who knew, maybe he was. I, for one, was over it. I wanted nothing more than to light candles and go without energy for a solid week. No phone, no computer, no one bugging me, period.

What I really needed, however, was to get home at a reasonable hour, put on my tightest jeans and a hot, sexy low-cut shirt, and go dancing. And get laid. God, it had been way too long! I was horny as hell and now that this was over, I was going to do something about it. I was itching to take my cell phone out and text a message to Aaron. However, my chair at the table was directly in Peter’s line of vision, so I didn’t dare.

One of the servers assigned to pour water and keep clean napkins and a fresh supply of bread on the table, brushed against my arm. I ignored the gentle nudge until he passed by and brushed by me for the second time. Casually, I looked up in time to catch his wink. I did a quick double take.

He was young but pretty in a cute college-boy sort of way with wavy dark curls that covered his right eye enticingly. I felt myself grow hard in response to his mild flirtation. Damn! I was really hard up if a little ole wink was all it took to get my motor running. In fact, he may have just had something in his eye, and I was horny enough to think it was my hot bod he was after.

The third time he jostled my arm, I knew he was trying to tell me something. I smiled up at him, letting him know I was interested in as discreet a manner as possible. I’m not sure exactly what I was thinking would be gained by ogling the waitstaff but hell, I had a client on either side of me, and both had talked ad nauseam about their families over dinner. If nothing else, it was a harmless flirtation.

When I was sure waiter boy understood my meaningful smile, I turned my attention to the table, suddenly aware of the weight of a heavy stare. Peter Morgan was looking at me with another one of his inscrutable glances. Only this time, I saw something more. Curiosity? Warning? I couldn’t tell. Had he seen the interplay between the server and me? It seemed highly unlikely, unless he was paying very close attention to me. I felt a warm flush creep over my skin. Maybe I wasn’t so paranoid after all.

After dessert and coffee was finally served, we began the lengthy departing process. We shook hands and backslapped our clients, fervently thanking them for the opportunity while we waited for the valet service to bring our cars around. I said my good-byes and excused myself to use the restroom, hoping to make contact with the curly-haired cutie.

The young man in question entered the small corridor in between the kitchen and the restrooms and slipped a piece of paper in my hand. I didn’t stop to say a word, just put it in my pocket, washed my hands in the bathroom, and left the restaurant to retrieve my car from the valet.

Once I was in my car, I took the folded sheet from my coat pocket. He’d written his name and phone number next to the number ten. Shit, I hoped I could stay awake until ten. I was horny, yes, but I was also tired as hell. I called Aaron on my drive back to my Dupont-area condo.

“You have to be kidding me! You’re really asking if you should call him?” Aaron’s disbelief was honest and funny. I laughed out loud.

“I guess you’re right. I am pathetic. I don’t know if I remember how to do it… what if I fall asleep? Times like this, I wish I was still with Ricky. Having a boyfriend right now who I could rely on for steady sex when I need it would be nirvana.”

“No, Ricky was not nirvana. You’re just horny, not hard up. And you’ve been working too hard, which is the only reason you haven’t been out doing your thing. You, my friend, need to get laid. Call that boy now!”

“You’re right. I’m going to. I’m almost home. I’ll call him from there.”

“No. Call him now. I know you. You’ll get inside, get into something more comfortable, lie down on your big, yummy down comforter, and fall the fuck asleep. Call him now, so you aren’t tempted to blow it off. Let him blow you instead.”

“Good one.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, well, let me go so I can get one step closer to conquest.”

Aaron’s laughter was like music to my ears.

“You are so corny sometimes. Don’t talk to him if you’re going to say things like that! By the way, do you think he’s a top?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Bye, honey!”

Aaron was right, I thought as I pulled into my parking spot in front of my condo. If I didn’t call—I looked at the paper again—Justin now, I probably wouldn’t. I dialed the number he gave me, left my address and the message that I’d expect him no later than ten thirty. Feeling a sudden burst of energy, I practically skipped to my front door and ran to my master bath to shower the stress of my long day away while I waited for my gentleman caller.

As the steamy hot water sluiced over my skin, I closed my eyes and tried to clear my mind of all thoughts of work. It’s all I had done for almost three months. I barely saw my friends, and I hadn’t been to visit my family in Virginia at all.

My sister lived in the city, so I did see her a couple of times, but I missed everyone back home. I decided I’d visit this weekend. I’d call my mom in the morning. I picked up the soap and laughed at myself. I had a booty call coming my way within the hour, and I was thinking about going home. That wouldn’t do. I closed my eyes and tried to conjure an image that was more appropriate.

The thought of touching another man’s skin was enough to make me hard. To run my hands over his hard, smooth chest, stopping to take each nipple in hand and pull hard enough just to excite before my hands resumed a downward journey. I swallowed and wrapped my hand around my own hard flesh.

I thought of resting my hands on his hips for a moment before I reached down to cup his beautiful hot ass. My fingers itched at the thought of tracing his crack. I could almost hear him moan, although I knew it was my own voice. I could feel the frenzied fire build inside of me, and I knew my hands would be everywhere in an attempt to touch and taste every bit of my lover at once.

I would lick and suck at his beautiful broad chest until my knees weakened and I had no choice but to fall at his feet and finally touch and taste the rock hard perfection between his legs. I would look up, hoping to receive his permission and approval. And I would see…Peter Morgan’s intense gaze meeting my own before he took firm grasp of my hair and moved me forcibly toward his weeping cock.

My eyes sprang open. Peter? What the fuck?

I heard a bell ringing somewhere, and all at once I came back to reality.

Shit! I turned off the water, jumped out of the shower, and dried my body haphazardly before giving up. I tied the towel around my waist and made my way, half-naked, to answer my front door. I was moving on instinct alone. A bell rings, you answer it, or at least check the peephole or caller ID and decide whether or not to bother. I was shaken in a way that was hard to put into words. I was completely aroused and more than just a little horny, but the fact that Peter Morgan, the man I detested more than any other on the planet, should figure at all in any fantasy of mine, somehow rattled me.

My hand was shaking as I approached the front door. At the last second, I remembered I was a city boy now and needed to check to see who was on the other side. It was the server from the restaurant. Justin. I swallowed and wondered if I should open the door.

This wasn’t like me. Not by a long shot. I have plenty of friends who wouldn’t think twice about picking up a guy and doing the dirty without knowing much more than their name, if they even bothered to ask that question. I wasn’t that guy. Tonight was an anomaly. It was out of character that I even went back into the restaurant, giving Justin the opportunity to give me his number, let alone actually calling the number. It was a testimony to how out of sorts I was since this project began.

Peter Morgan’s impossibly handsome face immediately sprang to mind, and I realized how damn hard I still was from my shower fantasy time. The towel around my waist was no match for my straining member. So I did something I hadn’t done in a very long time, I opened the door to a perfect stranger.

Justin stood on my front porch with his hands stuffed in his pockets. It made him look even more like a college student. His curly, dark hair was windblown. He lifted his hand to push it back from his eyes and flashed me a bright smile. I smiled in return. He was cute, and I had him by at least three inches and twenty pounds. I could take him on if I had to. I stood back and held the door for him to enter.

“Hey. I…. It’s cool if you changed your mind. I don’t live far from here and….” Justin stopped in his tracks as he turned to face me and realized for the first time that I was wearing a towel that barely hid my hard-on and nothing else. I heard his audible gulp and silently congratulated myself for keeping up a diligent workout routine.

I might not be as effortlessly hunky as my erstwhile boss, but the truth was that I knew I was considered better than average-looking, and I made an effort to stay in shape. I swam in high school and had kept my swimmer’s physique: broad shoulders with a leaner build and slim waist. Generally, I was attracted to men who were physically bigger than me, and I definitely had a type… tall, dark, and handsome.

Justin wasn’t my type. He was shorter than me at probably six feet even and although he had dark hair and dark eyes, he was cute… not handsome. He flashed me an even bigger grin than he had when I first opened the door and all coherent thought left. He was pretty in his own way and had a killer smile. He unzipped his leather jacket and carefully removed it, laying it on the bench in my foyer. I heard his breath hitch as he inched toward me. He was nervous. That seemed to even out the playing field somehow. I stood still and let him make the first move.

I watched his Adam’s apple move in his throat as he unbuttoned the top buttons of his white shirt. He moved closer, completely invading my personal space. Then he looked up and set a tentative hand on my bare chest. His touch was gentle, but his fingers felt like hot coals. It had been so long since I’d been with a man like this.

Suddenly tall, dark, and handsome didn’t matter. I was instantly energized and hungry for more. I had to touch him. I reached out and with a surprisingly steady hand, unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, letting it fall open to reveal his toned chest. The boy worked out, I noted with approval. He had a light pelt of hair on his chest and a sweet treasure trail that pointed south, dipping just below his low-slung black trousers.

Our eyes met, and the desire in his was easily read. I was sure mine was equally plain. It was a relief to find that my hands and mouth were now back in full control. I pulled him closer to me, wrapping my right hand around his neck as I gently kissed his parted lips. Justin groaned out loud and flung his arms around my waist as he opened his mouth under mine.

We groped, squeezed, and clung to one another in our quest to get closer. I wanted that fantasy I’d conjured in the shower. I wanted anything and everything I could get. The need for oxygen stilled our frantic movement for a moment.

I could still change my mind, I thought. We were still at the front door. Sure, I’d look like a total ass, but it’s a boy’s prerogative to have a change of heart. Except my dick was literally poking through the towel, I was so hard. There was no way in hell I was changing my mind. I’d deal with regrets in the morning if they came.

My alarm rang at seven a.m. the next morning. The sun was peeking through the roman blinds in my darkened bedroom. I covered my eyes with my arm and allowed myself to bask in the luxury of waking after sunrise on a weekday for the first time in months. The shrill ring of the phone on my bedside table sent me lunging over to answer it. I needed to turn the sound down. It was obnoxious.

“’Lo?” My voice was groggy, and I stifled a yawn.

“So… tell me all about it! Is he still there? Who did who? Was he hot? I want to know exactly what he looked like… don’t leave out a thing!”

“Aaron. I haven’t had a cup of coffee yet, honey. I’m in no condition to speak, let alone divulge deep secrets.” I looked at my watch. Seven oh five. I loved my friend, but seriously… maybe he needed to get laid too.

“Ugh! Make a cup of your crappy coffee if you must and call me back ASAP. I have to leave for work in one hour, and I’m not going to wait all day to hear about your night. Did you hear me? Call me back! Chop-chop!”

I laughed but assured him I would do as he asked. I sat up in bed slowly and surveyed the mess in my room. My bed was a disaster. Pillows were strewn everywhere, and the sheets were crumpled in a heap where the mattress met the footboard. I stood and noted that my body was sore in all the right places.

God, it felt so good. And the best part of all was that he was already gone.

I didn’t have to wake up to the awkwardness of a strange bedmate, wondering whether or not I should offer him coffee, breakfast, or another round of sex. I smiled as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Fuck, that was hot. Justin was exactly what I needed. Except for one minor detail… I couldn’t get Peter fucking Morgan’s face out of my head. I frowned as I turned on the shower. Why did he seem to ruin everything?

I called Aaron after I’d showered, shaved, and had poured my first cup of coffee, grimacing at the wicked taste. I said a quick prayer that Rebecca would have a superior cup of java waiting for me when I got to the office. Aaron picked up immediately. I knew he’d be waiting for me to call, and I couldn’t resist teasing him just a bit.

“Hi, honey, how did you sleep last night? Do you have a busy day on tap at work?”

“Ha-ha. Dish! Tell me all about him, Jaybird. I’m all about the details. Go!”

I laughed and checked the time. I had less than ten minutes before I needed to leave for the office. I gave Aaron a brief rundown. At the end of the day, there really wasn’t much to tell. It was sex. Good sex, yes… but not earth-shattering. I did share the one thing that I couldn’t seem to shake.

“One thing is kind of bugging me, though.”

“You used a condom, right?”

“Of course! Don’t be an idiot!”

“Okay, well what, then? You had safe sex with a consenting cute guy. End of story. You didn’t fall for him, did you? Will you see him again? You know, repeats get messy if you aren’t up-front about your expectations or lack thereof.”

I stared at the phone for a second. Geez, when did Aaron get to be so clued-in and wise about the world of one-night stands? Or maybe he was used to having low expectations.

“No, I didn’t fall for him. He’s not my type. Period. We just had sex.”

“Don’t tell me… he was strictly a bottom.” Aaron’s guess wasn’t too far off, but it wasn’t what I was thinking.

“No. Actually, it was his preference to bottom, but we both got what we needed. That isn’t it, though.”

“Spill it! I have to get moving!”

“Well… okay. He was on top of me, you know and… well….”

“Jay? I’m your best friend and I adore you, but spit it out, honey. We’re working on a time limit here. This isn’t a good time to decide you’re a little shy.”

“Fuck off. Okay, fine. He was on top and just about to come, and I was almost there too, so I looked up to say something to him, like….”

“Like? ‘That’s it, baby, do me harder’?” Aaron supplied with a slight chuckle.

“Who knows? But what freaked me out was… get this… I saw my boss’s face. Kid you not. It was like I was fantasizing about having hot, steamy sex with the one man I truly hate more than any other at the moment. What the hell? What do you think it means?”

“Whoa. That is an odd one.”

“I know. Whatever. We have one last meeting this morning and I will hopefully be free of him for a while. Forever would be great, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“Good luck. Dinner later? I’ll make you something delish.”

I smiled into the phone and agreed. The thought of being home at a reasonable hour was enough to make going to work and dealing with Peter Morgan one more time palatable. Plus, Aaron really was a great cook.

The meeting was sweet and short. Thank God. Unfortunately, that was because after congratulating our team on a job well-done, Peter announced that there would be a celebratory cocktail party that Friday evening held in our honor. We were encouraged to bring a significant other if we wished to do so.

The party was being held in the banquet room of a very posh hotel, which meant it was a suit-and-tie affair. Ugh. Would the torture never end? Usually, I love a party, any party. A quiet affair with a few friends or a tuxedo ballroom soiree. It didn’t matter to me. But I didn’t want to prolong this assignment. And that’s what this felt like. Prolonged torture.

Later that evening, I opened my front door and immediately felt Aaron’s presence. Techno music was playing at dance-club volume, and delicious smells were wafting from the general vicinity of the kitchen. I smiled as I set my briefcase on the bench in the foyer and tugged at the sleeves of my suit jacket. There was no point calling out a greeting because he certainly wouldn’t hear me over the speakers.

I found him swinging his hips in time with the beat as he chopped vegetables at my kitchen island. The room was alight with soft, late-afternoon sunshine beaming through the bank of windows above the breakfast nook. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been home before sunset. I’m sure I had a stupid grin on my face as I drank in the warm atmosphere.

Aaron pivoted to the music and started when he spotted me standing near the doorway.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” I shouted above the din. Aaron adjusted the sound, dramatically placing his right hand over his heart.

“Oh my! Warn a guy, would you? You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry.” I let out a heavy sigh as I made my way toward the wine refrigerator. “I wish I were in love with you, Aar. This would be the perfect scenario to come home to… a handsome boy shakin’ his ass while he makes me dinner.”

“Well you love me at least, don’t you?”

“Yep.” I handed him a glass of pinot and kissed his cheek.

“I love you too, but we’d be terrible together. And besides, what you really want is to be the guy dancing in his kitchen to his favorite tunes while he whips up a little something for his man. Am I right? You, my friend, don’t love the grind you’re currently in. The long hours, no social life, no sex—well, I guess we can’t say that anymore!”

“Ha-ha. Whatever. I admit last night was probably what I needed. But I don’t know, I feel a little cheap right now. I almost wish I hadn’t called him.”

Aaron’s eyes fixed me with a hard stare. He set the knife aside and picked up his wineglass, holding my gaze while he took a sip.

“What’s the matter, Jaybird? Why do you sound so unhappy?”

I hadn’t realized I sounded so forlorn, but he was right. I felt out of sorts. I didn’t know how to answer, so I shrugged my shoulders and took a seat at the island to watch my friend work. He paused before picking up the knife, but he returned to his chore of chopping vegetables, his longish dark hair covering his right eye as he bent his head in concentration.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.” I told Aaron about the dreaded office cocktail party I would have to endure before I could finally put this project behind me. Aaron listened patiently. It was another thing I loved about him. I may have been four years older than him, but he was blessed with a wisdom beyond his years and was a terrific listener.

“Why do you have such a problem with him? I mean, I get that he was a little prickish, asking you to make silly changes to your reports, but have you considered that maybe he’s trying to talk to you on another level?”

I gave Aaron an openmouthed, questioning stare. And for good measure asked him what the fuck he was talking about.

“I’m just saying that maybe he has a little crush on you.” Aaron batted his eyes like a femme fatale, making us both giggle.

“You, my friend, are hysterical. No. I can assure you there is no crush involved. In fact, Mr. Morgan is straight….”

“That’s what they all say…,” Aaron mumbled out loud.

“Maybe, but he’s pretty damn masculine.”

“You know that means absolutely nothing, right? But do tell me more!”

“There is nothing to tell. He doesn’t like me and frankly, I don’t know what I’ve done. I spent the first month or so thinking it was me, but lately I’m thinking it’s something else… something personal.”

“Unless you’re keeping something from me, how would he know you personally?”

“He doesn’t. Aar, I think he’s one of those….” I let the statement hang in the air, knowing Aaron would know exactly what I meant. His sharp hazel eyes met mine in understanding and sympathy.

“That sucks. I hate those… assholes. Why must they always insist on muting the rainbow? I mean, isn’t it bad enough that you have to go to work dressed like that?”

“What’s wrong with the way I’m…? Oh hush. Look, I have no proof that he’s homophobic, but he’s definitely singled me out for the stupidest of causes over a two-and-a-half month period of hell. The guy has been a perfectionist tyrant to work for and the very idea of spending even one more night glad-handing and pretending this has been such a rewarding experience does not appeal!”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I was tired, and the buzz from yesterday’s successful project finish followed by my late evening rendezvous with Justin was wearing off fast. Aaron was right about one thing in particular. I didn’t love my job anymore. I yearned for a slower pace than my workload allowed.

I loved being part of a process that created positive changes, especially when my client had an environmental interest. But I was a people person, and frankly, I hated the never-ending research and analysis I’d had to do for Peter Morgan. I wanted to have a more active role in front of the client. Maybe the problem was that Morgan had sensed my dissatisfaction somehow. I doubted it. In fact, I’d bet anything he was just a homophobic prick.

“Come with me Friday night,” I blurted out, my glass suspended in midair. What a perfect way to give Morgan the proverbial finger! Aaron loved a party as much as I did, and he had no reason not to glam it up either. He could wear all the eyeliner and lip gloss he wanted, squeeze into his tightest black leather pants and a beautifully tailored sexy shirt and really wow the lobbyists at my firm.

Aaron’s eyes lit up with amusement. He put a hand over his mouth and made a comical face.

“I’m in!”

We giggled like a couple of loons and planned our evening wear for Friday night. I hadn’t laughed that hard in far too long. It was good to be among the living again.

The week drifted by quickly and noticeably easier. I found myself looking forward to Friday night now that Aaron was coming with me. I couldn’t wait to see Peter Morgan’s face when he caught sight of Aaron in full-gay mode. I personally loved it, but I knew men like Peter generally had an issue with men who wore makeup, as though it were a challenge to their own masculinity.

I wished I could be as free with the eye-shadow wand as my friend. This was a work function, so while Aaron could push the envelope with his attire and accoutrement, I trusted him to do so tastefully. I, on the other hand, would be expected to dress accordingly. I didn’t care so long as I was the first to see Morgan’s expression when I introduced my date.

However, fate had other plans.

Jay. You’re going to kill me. Call me, honey .

I stared at my cell phone, willing myself not to throw it. Aaron was famous for overbooking his social calendar. Ugh!

“What is it? Are you really bailin’ on me?” I turned on my southern drawl and let my voice convey that I hoped he was feeling mighty guilty for hanging me out to dry.

“I’m so sorry. I’m in a bind. I totally forgot I promised Maria I’d watch Tommy for her tonight. She and Brian have tickets to the ballet, and they’re going to dinner in the city. She just called to tell me what time she was dropping him off. I’m sorry, Jaybird! If it was anyone other than family, I’d make an excuse. But I can’t do that to Maria. She’s been totally looking forward to a night out.”

“Ugh! What about Tess or your mom?” I was whining and not proud of it, but I was disappointed. So much for my big plans.

“My parents are in Puerto Rico, and Tess is busy. I’m really sorry, sweetie. Forgive?”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about it.”

I set the phone down carefully and took a deep breath. Oh well. There was always alcohol.

Unfortunately, I was a notoriously bad drunk. I knew this about myself. I knew I needed to eat before drinking a drop, and that I needed to drink copious amounts of water in between drinks. It was usually best if I stayed away from hard alcohol, but that was no fun, so I tried to be careful instead and aim for moderation.

That night I couldn’t be bothered.

I was bummed to be going alone. I’d be the only guy there without a date. I called my good friend Katie to see if she’d stand in for Aaron, but she claimed her fairy godmother was looking out for her that night and she had a previous engagement with a straight man. A night of possibility with a hot hetero man won out, although she claimed she would have dumped him if it weren’t so last minute. A true fag hag… that’s our Katie.

I stepped into the swanky hotel where the party was in full swing on Friday evening and had two drinks on an empty stomach within the first half hour. Not attending wasn’t an option so I went for liquid comfort instead. I chatted with my coworkers and made sure to make the rounds, being the friendly guy they all knew me to be.

I was busy flirting with one of the bartenders when I spotted Peter Morgan across the room. I swallowed hard, as I took in the perfection of that glorious body in a beautifully fitted suit. I was guessing Armani this time.

Damn, he was good-looking! Too bad he was such a jerk.

I wondered if his date was a gorgeous model. I was absurdly curious about who he’d bring to a work affair. Even though I didn’t want to see this guy’s mug after tonight if it could be helped, beautiful things always were a weakness of mine. I suddenly had to see him up close and see if I could report what designer gown his girlfriend was wearing.

Mel caught me staring and bumped my arm hard. I gave her a dirty look when some of my cosmo spilled over the rim of my martini glass.

“Don’t look at him. He’ll come over and make small talk or something equally mortifying,” she mused.

“No, he’ll bring a report outlined in red ink and issue strict instructions for me to rewrite line three of paragraph two by first thing in the mornin’.”

Mel looked at me with big eyes and busted up laughing. I joined in, realizing that my laughter was the product of too many cosmos and too little food. My voice sounded loud to my own ears. I needed to watch it or I wouldn’t have a job to worry about at all. I gathered whatever self-control I could muster and turned back toward my nemesis to get another good look, only to find him standing two short feet in front of my perch at the bar. Oh fuck.

“Mr. Reynolds. Ms. Martin. Good to see you both.” Peter’s eyes drifted slowly over both of us. I was pretty damn sure he’d overheard me now, and I could feel a furious blush creep up the collar of my shirt.

His gaze seemed a bit more pointed when he looked at me. My flush of embarrassment in my inebriated state made me feel very sure at that moment that I was being judged. Embarrassment turned quickly to anger.

How dare he? He had no fucking right to make any assumptions about me or decide he didn’t like me without knowing shit about me. I couldn’t trust myself not to say anything I’d regret. I peeled off a few bills to tip the bartender before I made my excuses and left Mel with our dickhead of a boss.

I headed toward the restroom. I needed to slow down my alcohol consumption and have something to eat. The evening was far from over. Unfortunately. I stood at the sink rinsing soap off my hands when I noticed a familiar form in the mirror. Justin?

“Hey there. What are you doing here?” I know my greeting was warmer than I would have aimed for if I hadn’t had a couple of drinks, but I couldn’t help it. He was kind of cute.

Justin’s face registered total surprise when he recognized me. His sweet, youthful face broke into a wide grin.

“Hi. I didn’t expect to see you here. How’ve you been?” He shoved his hands in his front pockets. Must be a nervous habit of his , I mused.

“Good. Well… what are you doin’ here? You here for business or pleasure?” Note to self, I thought… stop drinking. I was in high-flirt mode and seemingly powerless to stop myself. I didn’t want anything more with Justin. Not another night of hot sweaty…. I shook my head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs.

“I’m not sure actually.” He shrugged his shoulders in a boyish manner, still wearing that silly grin. “I’m supposed to meet someone, but….”

I smiled at his reflection in the mirror, reading him clearly.

“I’m at a work function. Sorry, hon. Have fun, though.” I turned to face him and gave him a platonic kiss on the cheek before I opened the door of the men’s room. Justin followed me out.

“Wait!”

I turned back and felt my equilibrium shift. I needed to sit. And eat. I held up a hand intending to say one more good-bye to Justin when I spotted Peter Morgan heading toward us. I was stuck. I remember thinking I should give a quick nod to each man and move back to the party, but that wasn’t what I did. Instead, I made eye contact with Peter before stepping back toward Justin, pulling him into my arms. He made a small surprised sound but didn’t push me away. I rewarded him with a light kiss on his lips.

Peter stopped short, and I realized later that probably had more to do with the fact we were blocking the path to the restroom rather than that he wanted to watch me grope another man. He cleared his throat and offered what might pass as a pleasant smile.

“Reynolds.” He nodded and then looked over at Justin, giving him a somewhat pointed look, as though he were saying something with his eyes. In my condition and because I was sure everything Morgan did was out of spite, I jumped to a negative conclusion and reacted in kind.

“Mr. Morgan.” I tucked Justin close to me hoping his face had lost that shocked look he wore when I kissed him. “I want you to meet my boyfriend, Justin. Honey, this is my boss, Mr. Peter Morgan.”

For a brief moment, Peter’s face was a picture of surprise before he caught himself and schooled his features to a barely interested glance. He held a hand out to Justin in greeting and again, I could have sworn something passed between them.

Unreasonably, it made me angry all over again. I hated this man. I don’t know why I assumed the look they shared was meaningful, but my muddled brain was sure it also passed judgment, and that I wouldn’t stand for. I squeezed Justin and released my hold, taking his hand in mine for a moment.

“Honey, go on without me. Okay?”

“Um… sure.” Justin was a terrible actor, I decided. But thankfully he took the hint and shoved his hands back in his pockets, giving both Morgan and me a strange parting look.

I heard a small chuckle and looked up to see Peter Morgan’s eyes alight with laughter. At me? Fuck him! I could almost hear myself growl I was so pissed.

“Do not judge me! You don’t know me at all. I’m gay. Who I sleep with and how I spend my time in my private life is of no concern whatsoever to you! So spare me the disgusted, fucked-up, judgmental bullshit. I’m over it and frankly Mr. Morgan… I’m over you.”

I turned on my heels, wishing I was wearing something amazing, like a long billowing great coat and cool boots instead of a monkey suit. Moreover, I wished I could have had a few minutes to prepare a speech plainly stating my distaste for him. While I made my way out toward the valet, I reran my words in my head and decided I sounded like a paranoid idiot. That made me angry all over again. I hated that asshole!

Halfway to the valet, I knew I couldn’t drive. I’d only had a couple of drinks but had ignored all of my usual tricks so I could drink without succumbing to total inebriation. I wasn’t too far gone, but getting behind the wheel wasn’t an option. It was Peter Morgan’s fault. Shit.

I had to go back in there, down a gallon of water, and sober up. Or I could just take a taxi home. I stopped to consider my options, sparing a glance toward where I’d left my boss standing, probably planning my termination letter. He was still there just where I’d left him, staring at me and looking more like a GQ cover model than he had any right to.

I couldn’t do it. I had to go home. Retreat. Lick my wounds and figure out how I could avoid him from this point forward. I hailed a taxi and pulled at my tie. What a fucking mess of a night!