Part Five Cordially Invited
Joe stepped into the old fashioned elevator, turned to the highly embellished panel of controls and pressed the button for the third floor.
The security guard on duty that night had let him in through the staff entrance at the back of the building, just as Scott had promised he would.
Now, the guard was keeping a discreet eye on him from the middle of the department store’s deserted foyer.
Their eyes met as the elevator doors began to slide together.
The guard nodded politely to Joe and touched his uniform cap; but, just before the gap between the doors disappeared completely, Joe saw the guard’s face split into a wide grin.
Oh, yes. The last of Joe’s doubts disappeared.
The guy definitely knew that he and Scott were there to hook up.
Whistling tunelessly under his breath as the elderly elevator carried him slowly up to the third floor, Joe once again tried to guess what Scott had planned for them that night.
And that was it.
It wasn’t really much to go on—just enough to have Joe spending damn near every minute of the three days since he’d received Scott’s note, playing guessing games with himself.
A brass plaque listing the various departments and which floor they were housed on hung on the elevator wall, but Joe made a point of not looking at it. Whatever surprise Scott was planning, Joe didn’t feel inclined to spoil it at the last moment.
He smiled to himself. Apparently, being a nice guy and playing by the rules could actually be quite fun. Who could have known? And who could have guessed that screwing the same man over and over again could actually be so interesting?
Finally, a genteel ding indicated that the elevator had brought Joe to his destination.
The doors slid open. Joe stepped out into what looked like some sort of kitchenware department.
Raising one eye brow at the vanilla-looking fare on offer, Joe glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of Scott between the displays of pots, pans, and useless gadgets.
Joe smiled when he eventually spotted him in the adjoining department. Scott was waiting for him within sight of the elevators, but his back was toward Joe. He couldn’t have heard the elevator arrive, because he obviously had no idea he had company.
Joe took care to keep his footfalls as silent as possible as he approached.
His attempts to remain undetected worked perfectly.
Scott kept on staring out of a window overlooking the car park, oblivious to Joe’s presence.
Apparently, it had never occurred to him that Joe might park his bike in the alleyway on the other side of the building.
The thick carpeting helped to muffle Joe’s footsteps as he crept closer still. He stopped a few yards away from Scott, unwilling to waste the opportunity of looking Scott over while he was unaware that he was being watched.
Scott’s clothes were as conservative as ever—grey trousers, a pale blue polo shirt and sensible black shoes. Joe smiled as he ran his eyes down Scott’s back and his gaze settled happily on his arse.
He wondered if anyone else knew how beautiful a body was hidden away behind that boring wardrobe? Or how kinky Scott could be, once he started obeying the orders of a dom who knew what he was doing?
No one knew. Or, to be more precise, no one else knew.
Joe’s smile widened into a grin. He was the only man who knew about that side of Scott’s personality—and that suited Joe just fine.
He slowly pulled his gaze up to Scott’s face.
Moving one step to his left, Joe was able to see more of his expression past the blond strands that fell into Scott’s eyes.
Scott nibbled nervously at his bottom lip as he scanned the car park below the window. His lip thinned out—just like when he was going down on Joe’s cock.
Joe rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. A moment passed. Scott freed his bottom lip from between his teeth. He hadn’t bitten down that hard. There was no sign of blood. Scott took a deep breath and glanced at his watch.
“I’m right on time.”
Scott spun around, his big blue eyes opening wide with surprise.
Every instinct Joe possessed demanded that he step forward and close the gap between them, that he grab hold of Scott and remind him exactly who he belonged to. It took every bit of self-control Joe could scrape together to remain where he was.
Scott had to be given time and space, Joe told himself, not for the first time. Scott was a novice sub. He had to have orders, but he also had to be permitted to be himself and not just become someone who did whatever his dom told him to do, regardless of his own wishes.
Joe folded his arms across his chest. He could do this. He could screw a novice sub without screwing him over.
“I d-didn’t hear you come in,” Scott said.
“I guessed that much.”
Silence filled the room as Joe waited for Scott to tell him what was going to happen next, or to come closer, or to…well, to do pretty much anything, really.
Moments turned into minutes. They might as well have been playing musical statues.
Scott evidently had no idea how to make the next move.
As their eyes met, it was equally clear just how much panic was spiralling through his veins.
Joe didn’t need to press his fingertips against Scott’s throat to know how fast his pulse was racing.
Joe did a quick but thorough inspection of Scott, looking for any clues that would help him take the scene forward in the direction Scott was hoping for. There was a logo on Scott’s shirt. Harrington’s Department Store. Next to it, was pinned a name tag. Scott.
They were playing dress up. Even if Scott’s costume hadn’t been bought from the back room of a sex shop, the fact Scott had taken such a leap of faith in his direction rushed straight to Joe’s cock.
He cast a quick glance over the department they stood in, trying to guess how their surroundings fitted in with any kinks Scott might have.
Cushions, and curtains, and fabrics, oh my…
“I’ve known a few gay guys who really liked their interior decorating,” Joe said. “But I’d never have pegged you as having a secret fetish for soft furnishings.”
Scott blushed. He ducked his head, but he also smiled. Gradually, his shoulders relaxed into a more natural position. Joe could damn near see the tension pouring out of him.
“No cushion fetish?” he checked.
Scott shook his head. “I p-p-picked up some summer work here in my first year at university.”
“Doing what?” Joe asked, leaning back against a stand full of throws and cushions as he pictured a version of Scott who was a few years younger and even less sure of himself than he was now.
“Mostly I just n-nodded, smiled, and pretended I was s-straight,” Scott stuttered, with a chuckle.
Joe nodded his understanding, only just resisting the temptation to walk across the room and wrap his arms around Scott in a clumsy attempt to comfort him.
It had never been more obvious just how different Scott was to Joe’s usual hook ups, or how differently Joe felt about him, compared to his previous lovers.
Far more at home with offering kinkiness than comfort, Joe felt like he was stumbling forward in the dark with no way of knowing if he was about to step on a landmine. “How old were you when you came out?” he hazarded.
Scott tilted his head to one side, confusion filled his eyes for a moment, before it quickly cleared. “No, I didn’t m-mean… I came out before I went to uni. I just r-r-retreated into the closet for a while when I w-worked here…”
As he trailed off, Scott looked around them, at the big bolts of curtain fabric and shelves full of sample books. Joe was willing to bet Scott didn’t really see any of it—not as it was now, at least.
Joe tensed. “Bigoted boss?” he asked, dragging Scott’s attention back to him before Scott could mentally wander off into a past that Joe had no way of protecting him from.
Scott blinked, as if he had no idea what Joe was talking about. Then he shook his head. His embarrassed half-smile came back.
“If you’re a straight m-man working in the textile department, people w-want you to fetch the heavier bolts of fabric or move b-boxes around in the store room.
But, the moment you let on that you’re gay in a p-place like this, everyone suddenly assumes you know what colours go with what, and what a t-t-triple-headed pinch is. ”
Joe relaxed back against the display stand and raised one eyebrow at Scott. “Okay—I’ll bite. What is a triple-headed pinch?”
Scott shrugged. “I’m d-damned if I know,” he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I was studying history, not f-f-fashion. It’s probably something to do with curtains, but it always sounded a bit k-kinky to me.”
“No, it can’t be,” Joe said, with complete confidence. “You might not know what it would mean if it was kinky, but I sure as hell would.”
Scott met Joe’s gaze properly for the first time that day, laughter shining brightly in his eyes.
Joe grinned back at him until Scott’s expression gradually turned more serious.
Pushing his hands even deeper into his pockets, Scott shuffled his feet against the ugly brown carpet. “Whenever I wasn’t w-working really hard at pretending to be straight,” he said. “I’d creep over to one of the windows and look d-down into the car park.”
“Oh, I see—this is all about a displaced car fetish,” Joe said. He kept pace with Scott as Scott moved, seemingly without thinking about it, toward the window.
This time, Scott didn’t chuckle in response to his teasing. Joe narrowed his eyes and studied Scott more closely.
“All the deliveries used to be m-made down there.” Scott whispered the words very softly, as if the store’s owner might race in and sack him for giving away company secrets unless he was careful.