Chapter 3 - Train, Shower, Bump & Go-Go
The office was again empty and dark when Callum arrived on Friday.
The ceiling illumination was a soft amber glow, but bright light spilled across the vast floor from the far doorway and gym area.
Callum walked across nervously. During the day, he’d been unable to focus, constantly thinking about this next session and Julian. Had he remembered him correctly, or had he built up his physical prowess with rose-coloured spectacles?
Callum stepped through the doorway to find Julian in the gym area, and he most definitely wasn’t wearing his suit this time. Flesh was fully on show.
He was wearing a white compression vest that hugged every muscle of his chest and torso, paired with some expensive-looking grey sweatpants.
His body looked incredible. Callum hadn’t overstated just how fit this guy was. However, his face didn’t look so great. He looked tired and stressed.
“You made it,” Julian said, his voice a bit raspy. He was standing by the window, a glass of water in hand.
“Double the rate is hard to turn down,” Callum said, dropping his holdall. He noticed Julian’s eyes immediately dart to the bag, which was bulging more than usual because it contained his other work clothes: a combination of leather, metal and boots.
“I appreciate the flexibility,” Julian said, stepping towards him. The corporate mask was back on, but there was a flicker of something, relief maybe at seeing Callum. “I’ve had a hell of a week.”
“So I heard.” Callum decided not to kick a guy when he was down, so he didn’t mention how annoyed he was about last night’s no-show.
“C’mon then let’s burn it off,” Callum said, his professional persona kicking in. “But we have to be efficient. I’ve got a hard stop at 11:30 p.m. I’m using the showers on forty-eight before I head to my next job.”
Julian paused, eyebrows lifting slightly. “A second job, this late on a Friday night?”
“Manhattan isn’t cheap, Julian. Not everyone has a deluxe corner office.”
“What do you do?” Julian asked, a genuine curiosity in his voice. A hint of the man behind the CEO, perhaps?
Callum zipped his lips shut with a finger, a playful, dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Tell you what. You give me a perfect set of Bulgarian split squats later, and maybe I’ll tell you.
” He wasn’t ready for Julian to know about The Vault just yet.
He didn’t want him to find out anything that could jeopardise the lucrative stream of income from their sessions.
The atmosphere in the office felt shifted now.
On Tuesday, it was at first awkward; tonight it was more playful. The low lighting caught the features of Julian’s face, and without the armour of the three-piece suit he looked predatory and intensely masculine.
“Split squats,” Julian repeated, his voice a low growl. “You’re a bloody sadist, Callum. You know I’m exhausted before we start, right?”
“Only when I’m paid to be,” Callum shot back playfully, his pulse jumping.
As Julian moved to the black rubber mats, Callum realised the ‘gear’ was almost more revealing than the suit had been.
The joggers were made of a thin cotton fabric that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
As Julian positioned his back foot on the edge of a white leather guest chair, the fabric pulled very taut.
Callum’s heart skipped a beat. There was a very obvious outline visible against Julian’s thigh. The CEO was definitely not wearing much, if anything underneath, and was clearly either well-hung or semi-aroused.
They exercised.
Callum showed Julian exactly what he wanted from him, but Julian knew his form and moves. They trained hard together, both working up a good sweat.
“Form, Julian,” Callum commanded, though his own voice sounded a little thin. “Chest up. Don’t let that knee wobble.”
Julian began another set of reps. He was strong, but the intensity of his gaze was what was pinning Callum in place. Every time Julian descended, his eyes stayed locked on Callum’s. He wasn’t looking at the wall or his reflection; he was looking only at Callum.
By the time they got to the Bulgarian split squats, Julian’s breath was coming in ragged gasps. This was a tough exercise, especially when trying to achieve perfect form. Julian didn’t compromise anything; he still gave it his all, even though he must have been exhausted.
He stopped at the bottom of the movement, his thigh quivering with the effort, the muscles of his chest straining against the white compression gear. He stayed there, hovering just inches from the floor, his face flushed.
“Is this… deep enough for you?” Julian asked, seeking either approval or feedback. He licked his lips, as he held the position.
Callum felt a wave of heat run over his body and land squarely in his groin. Now who was flirting? He stepped closer, ostensibly to check the alignment of Julian’s hips. He could smell salty sweat on Julian’s skin, while the expensive scent of his soap lingered.. What was it?
“Can you dip any lower?” Callum challenged, his voice rising with the question.
He placed a hand on Julian’s lower back to steady him.
Under the now see-through compression shirt, soaked with sweat, Julian’s muscles were hard as granite.
Julian let out a low, guttural sound, half-groan, half-sigh, and leaned back just a fraction, his weight pressing into Callum’s palm.
Julian stopped dead. Callum kept his hand in place, but again he felt that same electricity between them.
Callum’s face was now level with Julian’s and he could feel the warmth of his breath on his face.
At this point Julian slowly turned his head.
They were now so close together, the closest they’d ever been.
It would have been no effort at all to just lean in and kiss those tempting lips. Neither moved, no words were spoken.
The silence was deafening, the only background noise a faint hum from the city below them against their ragged breathing.
Callum retracted his hand, accidentally scraping the waistband of Julian’s sweatpants with his thumb. Julian froze but neither broke their gaze. Both men were drinking in the other. Could they possibly be thinking similar things?
“Relax, man,” Callum conceded, his eyes moving from Julian’s face, stopping at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants before snapping back up. “You’re a fast learner. Most guys with your bank account give up when it starts to burn. Credit to you today. That was tough, but you did it.”
Julian stood and stepped once again closer to Callum. Now inches from each other, Julian being taller, loomed slightly over him. “Oh, trust me Callum, I don’t give up on the things I want.”
He raised his arm and playfully punched Callum in the shoulder, almost smiling. “Well done, boss. Good session, thanks.”
The tension was so thick it felt like the glass windows were about to shatter.
Callum changed the subject, once again. “What’s all this for?” he gestured to the gym area and Julian. The details he’d been given about goals were sketchy at best.
“I’m the focus of a future Men’s Health cover, so I wanted to tighten up my core and work on my abs and pecs,” Julian explained, gesturing to Callum with both hands. “Hence, I have the pleasure of both your company and expertise.”
Julian stepped back, almost as if he checked himself. The CEO mask slid quickly back into place, though his eyes remained dark with hunger. “You have a shift to get to. I have work to do.”
He drops his guard at times but never seems to fully let it down, Callum thought to himself.
“Right, yes, the shower,” he said, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed sand.
He hoisted his bag over his shoulder, his fingers white-knuckled tight on the strap.
“I’ll see you next week. Let me know which days suit you best.”
Julian watched him walk towards the door, his gaze lingering on the swing of Callum’s hips. “Will do. Go get washed up, Callum. Floor forty-eight.”
Callum headed to the elevator, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird and his dick hammering uncomfortably rock hard in his shorts, straining for release.
***
The executive showers on the forty-eighth floor were as expected, a modern sanctuary of glass, slate and oversized rainfall showerheads. The air smelled of eucalyptus and freshly laundered towels.
Callum stripped quickly, his clothes hitting the floor in a heap.
He stepped into the first stall. The water was instantly scalding as it hit his back, but it did nothing to cool the fire Julian had started upstairs.
Every time he closed his eyes he saw those grey joggers and the bulge they contained.
He saw the green eyes, the way Julian had bitten his lip, the raw hunger in a man who spent his life behind a desk.
He wanted to know him. He wanted to help him find himself. He just wanted him, period.
He nervously checked to make sure no one else was around, then leaned his forehead against the cool stone wall, his hand naturally drifting down.
He had been hard when he got into the shower and had stayed that way the whole time.
The friction of the soap, the heat of the steam and the memory of Julian’s lower back and that friendly punch were too much.
He groaned into the spray. He was going to have to wank, but he didn’t really have time for this.
His movements were urgent and rapid as he imagined Julian’s hand, not his own, around his dick.
What he thought would take a while was actually over in a matter of minutes.
Finished, he slumped against the glass, exhausted, his breath ragged as the suds swirled the evidence down the drain.
After drying himself with one of the world’s fluffiest towels, minutes later he was standing in front of the mirror, transforming himself for go-go.