Chapter 3
Clay
I hadn’t been nervous at first during my interview because I wasn’t talking to a gay man, by all accounts if you believed what you’d read in the society papers by way of the Times, Mr. Mason was straight, who had a wife and loving relationship and had been married a long time, and who owned mansions in New York, California, and Florida, not to mention all over the world, because in the background whenever he had his pictures in Lifestyle magazines, there were guard dogs in the background.
A German Shepherd and a Doberman to guard what security failed to do.
With my lack of information by not being from New York and not having a circle of gay friends who had been out in the real world, I thought gay men as handsome as Mason would have the usual small dogs that they could cuddle and love when no one else would, and keep them company on long lonely nights and in their beds when their beds were empty the way mine had been lately.
Yet, I didn’t have a small dog or any dog because I couldn’t afford one and I’d been couch surfing.
Therefore, my information about gay or straight men was flimsy at best and non-existent at worst.
Had this man been gay, or I’d thought he was, my tongue would have been tied and I would have been fumbling for words. It was a good thing I didn’t know if he were gay or straight.
I never could react to a dude I perceived as gay, and handsome, and in need of a companion.
Therefore, since I assumed Mason was straight because he had a desk full of pictures of his wife and dogs, in the magazines when I was doing my research before the interview, I made the assumption—this dude is indeed straight.
After his secretary showed me to his door, I knocked and marched in like a doctor seeing a patient. When I entered his expansive office, he had been perusing my folder and signing paperwork as he glanced up from his computer and we locked eyes, and it was then I felt something.
Yes, I felt hot not from a fever, but from anticipation of a kiss and the colliding of bodies.
I felt my cock tingle and precum trickle, and my heart raced out of my chest. I’m too young to have a heart attack, I thought.
Because seeing a man that gorgeous stand before me in his late thirties was earth shaking and mind blowing, and who wouldn’t get nervous and pass out from looking into his eyes.
I wanted to blow him right then and there. Go to my knees and let him drop his wonderful hard cock into my mouth.
I stared at him wishing he could read my mind.
I wondered if he’d let me. Oh, this was stupid for me to think this, especially since it was hard to get a job, and I was willing to lose my chance all for one moment to get on my knees and suck him off.
But I could die a happy man if I had a chance to do just that.
My eyes blinked because I was caught up in my own priceless thoughts and almost didn’t hear him.
“Sit, please.” He was too polite, but then bosses started out polite and if you fucked things up you would soon discover they were not as nice as they pretended. He had me sitting for fifteen minutes before he opened and closed my folder which had my name in bold letters embossed on the front.
Mason glanced up and those glasses he wore which fitted his perfectly sculpted face, strong square jaw and thin nose along with the blue green eyes, drove my cock to jerk violently in my pants.
Thank god he didn’t see that. It was the first time this occurred, but it wouldn’t be the last I had anticipated.
Usually, my length responded for gay men, but this was something unusual, and he was the exception.
A straight dude, I mused. Be still my heart.
Mr. Mason reached for his glasses and placed them on his desk and then stood and stretched.
Then he turned and faced the skyline, and I caught sight of his hard taut sculptured ass covered by his expensive blue slacks in a fine cloth of wool and silk.
I had to do everything to control myself and not scream “Fuck Me.” Fuck me on a chair, in the air.
Why was I rhyming like Dr. Seuss’s Green Eggs and Ham.
Perhaps he’d taken me back to my youth when I discovered the book that spoke to me.
Well, I’d now discovered the one man who spoke to me and I thought, Come and get me.
As quickly as he’d turned he was now facing me, and looking down at me because he was 6’2, and I’m 5’9 and maybe shorter sitting, but our eyes locked nonetheless and my brain began rhyming some nonsense once more.
How do I love thee, let me count the ways.
That was better because I wasn’t an infant and if I answered his questions, it would be in gibberish, but now I was in full control of my adult brain responding and thinking like a man.
I wasn’t aware of how he measured men by that one look. Did he see me? Did he see past this ridiculous haircut, did he see inside me with my heart literally leaping out of my chest?
As my dream man began talking and explaining what my position required, I fell into a dream state in my mind, and I heard nothing.
I created this scenario in my mind of how kind and considerate he’d been to me.
How gentle he was when he’d claimed me, and asked me if he was hurting me.
No, he wasn’t because I was no virgin, but I didn’t reveal this to him.
Why should I? He wanted to open himself up to me and tell me about his life and why he and his wife had long since ceased to be a couple. And how I was his first.
I liked knowing I was his first. There are so many advantages to being someone’s first love. I didn’t know if I was his first love, but I was his first gay relationship and I knew if we were never together the way I wanted, he’d never forget me.
Mason shared some of his life about being married. I didn’t know if he made that a practice in order to convince me I was his first gay relationship. He could have been using that story to hide not wanting to leave his wife, although he confessed they had fallen out of love.
I shook my head, closed my eyes for a second to get rid of my day dreams and my wish for love.
I couldn’t take my mind off this incredible looking man standing with the sun in the background flowing in from his floor to ceiling windows, or what appeared to be a hard thick cock I’d imagined, because now it was at eye level when he straightened up and became erect in his posture.
He didn’t palm it or maybe he was waiting for me to do the honors. I didn’t know because it was the way he stared at me. The tension was there between us. I felt it and I suspected he had too. If he wanted to take me now in his office, I had prepared myself to bend over.
However, he was too professional and cautious, and I felt when his chest stop heaving he had controlled himself.
It was the way he stared at me that signaled something he wanted.
I didn’t know at the time, and I didn’t care.
I wanted the job first, and I wanted him, and if it took bending over to get what I wanted, I would.
It had been a year of being out of law school and working as a teacher and extra jobs waiting tables to take care of myself in a city that had little if no pity on the educated, but poor running around Manhattan seeking employment.
I had roomed with two other guys and a cat in a tiny apartment, sleeping on their couch because they were a couple with one bedroom and they felt sorry for me.
These were my friends since college, and they were in the same horrible place I had been trying to get a job with everyone and their daddy running around interviewing, and finding out that the job had been taken or there were lines and lines of young men and women and some older men competing for the same employment in a hellish economy.
Therefore, when I strode into Mason and Halifax, I had nothing to lose, and it was a funny thing when your back was against the wall, you would do anything, even call your parents and ask for a loan you know you will never pay back, and they can add that to a long list of money you owed and add that to your inheritance along with all the worthless junk, like old CD’s of movies you could get now on streaming services, and out of date stuff they’d planned on leaving you when they died.
My mother had given my sister all her gold jewelry so I could forget that nest egg with the price of gold rising every day.
My sister became angry once she discovered my mother and father had given me loans because she knew I couldn’t afford to pay that back.
She thought I’d made off like a bandit, but in truth it was her who had.
“Mr. Winthrop. Mr. Winthrop, Clayton, you’re hired.” I had gotten lost in my thoughts, and I hadn’t heard that beautiful man say, Mr. Winthrop, but I heard “Clayton.” I sat up and locked eyes with him. “Go to Human Resources and sign the appropriate papers, and we can talk later.”
I jumped up not believing my good fortune. Is it true I’m working for Mason and Halifax? Mason extended his long arm and handed me some papers, and I rushed for the door before he changed his mind.
Then when he called my name, I thought he’d read my intentions on my face. The part where I wanted him to fuck me and I wanted to suck him.
“Clay.” I turned around surprised he would call me Clay and not Clayton. “Don’t forget we have a Christmas party tomorrow night, and I expect to see you there. You need a nice suit and you can go to my barber on the first floor and he’ll take care of you.”
Oh shit, he noticed the DIY haircut.
“There’s a signing bonus also. The cashier will give you a check or cash. It’s up to you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, Mr. Mason.”
“Call me Mason. Or Mr.” Not Christopher, not Mr. Mason, but Mason, I thought, This can’t be happening to me. But it had and I had to tell someone, that was after I purchased a suit.