The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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CoMPany payLoaD 02 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I must say, my first impression was," more frankness, "a man in your position, coupled with your intelligence... what I've noted within your resume and personnel file," Nolan began his introductory wording, getting comfy, folding his arms about the borderline where pecs meet abs, creasing the fabric of his still unbuttoned, parted shirt, untied gay pride tie hanging in the balance and parked his ass on the corner of Yalin's desk. It brought the Turk whom sat behind it, closer to his level of communication.
Yalin interrupts, backing away from the desk, all the time staring at where the desk meets the seat of Nolan's pants.
Smiling, Nolan's thoughts are on admiration, Yalin, taking in the sight of his clothed behind, wanting to see it in the flesh.
"Um, excuse me, Mr. Harrellssohn, sir?"
Too late. At the sound of a cracking noise, the wooden desk takes a tilting to Yalin's right, the same side Nolan freely parked himself.
"Oh-shit!" Nolan shouts in quick response, falling backwards.
With quicker reaction, Yalin jumps out of his spin-chair, leaving it in a carousel of movement, jumps to the rescue, "I-gotcha!" Too, he catches more than Nolan, everything else on the desk making a beeline for Yalin's bod. "Yee-owwwwwwwww!" he shouts out, the corner of his laptop lodged in between his balls!
When all came to a deadening silence, Nolan, lying with his back against Yalin's chest, simply turns his head and asks, "Are you okay?"
Straight-faced, Yalin replies, "Oh, fine." Then sarcastically, "I probably now have five broken ribs and a lower anatomy which may not be in good working order from now on, if you don't mind?"
"Oh! Of course!" Nolan replies, doing a sit-up, his butt landing on the floor, his back up against the side of Yalin's bod. Turning to the region Yalin has announced, Nolan replies, "Oh my god, are you alright?" He lifts the laptop from its point of destination.
At first, when Nolan Harrellsson walked in the door of his father's office, Yalin's impression was not a good one. From hearsay, he painted a picture in his mind of Harrellsson Sr., same dictatorship qualities. He gave in a few inches, after Jr.' called to have morning refreshments sent up to the board room. After the call and before he reacted to Nolan's rather pleasant manner of approach, he thought to himself, maybe this guy isn't so bad as they say.' With phoning Geoff Sahin at the bakery cafe, he hung up with further proof younger Harrellsson didn't have an ounce of cruelty, not like the old man. Too, Geoff Sahin had only good thoughts of Nolan to bestow upon his ears.
In further testing of his thoughts, Yalin answers, "They are sore," he winces when the laptop corner ceases torturing his balls. Off the cuff he tests more, "very, very sore," returning with a cocky smile, half crooked.
However, Nolan, as the rule extends, would never leave himself wide open, especially in this age of sexual lawsuits. Pressing his hands to the floor he rises to his feet, saying, "Maybe you should see a doctor?" He also offers his hand.
Taking a hand in his, Yalin stands, noticing right off the bat Nolan being aligned with him, forehead to forehead, chest to chest - he doesn't search much farther - he imagines the rest of their flesh would line up the same. Being unashamed to do so, in a nonthreatening way, the hand he still clasps, Yalin brings Nolan's hand down, between his legs and replies, "No doctor. Maybe you could help me?"
Withdrawing his hand, Nolan, who judges Yalin not to be a threat, more soft, sweet and... "I could. For a fee?"
It created exactly the look Nolan desired, `mistrust', Yalin saying, "Wha-a-a?"
Repairing himself, Nolan chuckles, replying with a smile, "Not in the way you think!"
"Oh?" Yalin shows a puzzled, untrusting look.
"I was thinking," he dares to touch the sides of Yalin's business jacket with both hands, "perhaps after cocktails, dinner, take in a few hours at the club, I could work on soothing your wounds?"
The atmosphere froze!
All locked up in a mutual stare, the two stood there, Nolan's head first initiating movement, gravitating towards Yalin.
Totally immersed in Nolan's magic stare, Yalin didn't hesitate, traveling west.
An inch apart, Harrellsson senior walks in. "What the fuck is this?"
Having all the moves down pat, Nolan reaches up to Yalin's face and replies, "Yalin, he complained of something in his eye and I thought I'd take a look! Nope! Don't see anything there, Yalin."
Smirking, Erik Harrellsson knew the line well, one he had used a few times in front of his teenaged son. Forgetting about it, he deflected to, "Yalin, you didn't `happen' to have time to type up that report for me?"
Breaking his composure as well, Yalin replies, "Matter of fact I did?"
It's then Erik notices Yalin's desk, one side lower than the other, "What happened here?" Of course, the two being engaged when he walked in, Erik show suspicion the tilted desk had something to do with the infatuating moment.
In reserve, with a touch of reluctance, Yalin says, "You do not remember me telling you about the cracked leg?"
Apparently Erik had, but rather than admit Yalin had told him the desk was about to let go, he changes subjects, "The report?"
Already the laptop in his hands, Yalin was sure the soft landing did not impair its use, quickly attaching the USB cable and hitting print. Nothing happened. He hit print again. "Nothing is happening," he taps-taps-taps-taps-taps.
All the while Nolan is standing in the wings, relaxed.
"Well that's just dandy Yalin," Erik says roughly. "I have to be downtown in," he looks at his iPhone, "forty minutes to present the findings and..."
Butting in, Nolan walks over to where Yalin is standing, cheerfully saying, "Impatient are we? Here, let me give it a try. I'm good with these things." He also excuses himself, the back of his hand pressed against Yalin's stomach.
Nervous, from Harrellsson Sr.'s outburst of dictation, Yalin felt a bit calmer now. Also, the touch of hand to shirt gave him a sense of relaxation, with notion Nolan was going to make everything fine and `dandy.' He could not contest the fact it did cause a little disturbance in his injured spot!
"There!" Nolan replies when paper begins spitting out of the printer. Explaining the `why', "USB cord just needed a little more coaxing inwards!" He smiled at Yalin.
Did Yalin think maybe this was a continuance of Nolan's little speech about this evening's activity?
His thought, Erik had a lark to ask, "Oh, anybody know who that basketball player is sitting outside my door?"
This made Nolan very happy, his father taking the visual hint, adding verbally, "I decided to make a few changes around here?"
Yalin gathered papers.
Nolan walks over to the door, opens it wide and announces, "Demont, you can come in now."
Erik immediately unwound his casual stance, remarking, "Oh my!"
Yalin and Demont hastily made eye contact, smiling, Demont rendering as he made his paced walk hasten towards the elder Harrellsson, "I have heard so much about you Mr. Harrellsson and I know I will take great pleasure in serving you as your secretary."
Overwhelmed by Demont's height, positioning him six feet, four inches from the floor, not counting the soles of his shoes and melding the African-Egyptian a cross between a basketball and a football player, Erik was astounded, putting it lightly.
Having to look up to greet Demont, Erik was so dumbfounded he stood there in a momentary state of shock.
Being the more assertive of the two, Demont reached out with both hands, took Erik's right hand in both his, which, surface area wise, covered up all of Erik's white flesh and poured on more of the charm, in his slight foreign dialect, "I am sure you and I will get along perfectly well!" He flashes his brighty-whities, all rendering Erik's lips useless, except for a small jaw-drop.
Elsewhere in the room, Nolan is smiling at Yalin, Yalin returning the same, both communicating wordlessly. The announcement of the change in secretarial positions was not one of surprise.
True, Nolan hadn't met Yalin, but over the phone call, earlier to order up the goodies for the board meeting, the two got off subject and conversation divert to more personal rendering. At the time, Nolan had been perusing through Yalin's personnel files on the master computer and had noted some interesting facts. He presented his findings to Yalin, the part about one of interests being `clubbing' and this, worked into the conversation, found something in common, dancing and stuff gay guys do after having a few drinks at a gay club.
One thing had led to another, Yalin spilling out one evening in particular, meeting up with this hot, dominant, slightly sadistic guy at the club, following him home and enjoying a night of pain and pleasure, all at the hands of Demont Abdelaziz!
Nolan interrupts, "You're going to be late for your meeting father?"
Yalin puts the papers in Erik's hands, which are now freed up.
"Meeting? Cool!" Demont replies. Taking matters into his own hands, "You order up a limo for us and... I've got to freshen up."
"Us?" Erik is left standing there, Demont making his exit, a beeline to the boys room.
Under his breath, Yalin says to Nolan, "He never took me anyplace!" He giggled, because he didn't care. Earlier on in their relationship, this would be fine, but as things soured, so did their rapport.
Nolan, not having filled Yalin in on his new position, replies, "That's about to change."
Erik pretended to look over the papers.
With glee, Nolan asks, "How do you like your new secretary?"
Even though he probably leaked a half gallon of fluid, like old times Erik says to his son, "I wish you had `told' me, Nolan. You know how I hate surprises?"
Rubbing it in, Nolan says with a sly twist, "Oh, like switching your seat on the throne at the board meeting with David Schlesinger?"
Wishing to have it out, Erik cocks his head so he is looking beyond Nolan and dismisses, "Yalin, would you mind stepping outside?"
Hand on the doorknob, Nolan deters, "No, stay!"
Knowing who rules the corporate roost, Erik hadn't thought the transition would be quite this harsh, but knew the reality of the situation, so to make it easy on himself, took the easy way out, bent, rather than broken, "Very well. Besides, I have to get to my meeting, so what I have to say wouldn't take very long."
Apparently, because asking Nolan about this game he was playing, Nolan took the floor and explained, "I would venture to guess," he stopped a moment when Yalin advanced to his backside and placed a hand on his shoulder and stood like `hanging out.' Smiling, Nolan continues, "In approximately six months time, the senior officer of the board will be thinking about an early retirement?" Meaning, you-know-who!
Right away Nolan gets smacked in the face, figuratively, "What tha fuck?"
Bold, because its the way Yalin felt, able to get away with anything now his day of liberation has arrived, "Translated, it means out? Gone? A has-been?"
Yalin got a dirty look, Erik replying with a wagging finger, "Just remember young man, you still work for the company and..." he mellowed out, even smiled, "not to mention the binding agreement `we' have?"
Previously, via their phone conversation, Yalin had treated their chat more like a shrink's session, patient and doctor, Nolan learning the lean his father had on the twenty-eight year old.
No sweat, Nolan announces, "Oh yes! I almost forgot about the little tryst you and Yalin have!"
"You know?" Erik quizzed his son in a perplexed manner.
Giggling, Nolan found it humorous his father hadn't caught on yet, "I'm surprised you haven't picked up on the fact there's not much I don't about happening around here? Also father," he approaches, Nolan's hands straightening out the flaps of his father's gleaned suit jacket, straightening the tie.
At the cost of having his hands flecked away, Erik barks, "Will you just get to it?"
Still cool, calm and collective, Nolan `gets to it', "I'm dissolving all ties between you and Yalin, whether it be his position here at the company or any promissory matters and as it stands, Yalin considered, all past commitments fulfilled."
It sounded like corporate bunk to Yalin, but Erik fully got the message. Noticeable was the look of disappointment on his face, the long face.
Feeling his father was ready for the punch line, Nolan tells him, "However, I'm fair man, at least it's one of the superlatives, among a few, you taught me growing up," he meant one of the single moments of his life when his father wasn't fondling him, didn't have him tied to the bed while he orally worked his son over, the later years when, in order for Nolan to cope with having clothes, cars, even necessities of a meal to eat, Erik hung these things in the balance for voluntary servitude. Most pertinent in Nolan's mind, his father going from sitting on his cock, enjoying the joyride, to Nolan pleasuring his father without the shackles, driving his cock deep within. A note on the side, Nolan could think less of the old man, digging, drilling his shaft deep and shoving hard, an image of a hot car he saw on the `net in his mind. However, he had to hand it to the old man, it was good practice!
After Nolan's speech, Erik turned, walked from the outer, to inner office, closing the door.
"You were tough on him," Yalin says, feeling no regret.
Even though everything was said without raising his voice or blood pressure, Nolan replies, "I know, but I had to be."
Their quiet talk ended with Demont's boisterous voice, "Are we all set?" He rubs his big, tanned hands together.
Nolan says without regret, "He's in his office," and more whimsically, "and I don't think he's ordered up the limo yet, Demont?"
An evil, but jolly grin on his face, Demont replies, "He'll learn." Pacing rather quickly towards Erik's office door, "He'll learn!"
Vocally expressing his delight, Nolan says, "A match made in hell!"
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
"The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... spread happiness!" TCMcP