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.
FoR ThE MaN WHo HaS EVeRyTHiNG 02 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Looking at the clock on the upper right corner of his laptop, Michael quickly signs off, picks up the phone to order a ride from the car pool and then closed his laptop and heads for the door.
"Coffee's ready!"
Clashing, Michael realizes something, "Owch! Owch! Owch! Owch! Owch! Shit that's hot!"
"Ice!" Jason calls out.
Having more amenities than most of the offices in the building, Jason runs to the refrigerator, opens the tiny door on top and withdraws a tray of tiny cubes.
"Take your shirt off!"
"What?" Michael asks, was stunned by the ordering, but found the demand highly erotic. He had removed his jacket, the tie, but hadn't time to address the coffee-stained shirt.
"Your shirt. Besides, you can't wear it to a meeting like that!"
"You're right," Michael admits, going to it, unbuttoning his white, brown-stained dress shirt from top to bottom, pulling it out and undoing the last button. Peeling it off over his shoulders, he wads it up, saying, "That's the end of that shirt!" Somebody else, he might have been livid, but balling it up until it was baseball-size and dunking it in the trash can, he found himself laughing. However he died down quick, not finding the same aura about Jason. "Whatsamatter?"
"I thought you would be mad at me," Jason reaches in the bin for the soiled dress shirt.
"Leave it there."
"I can have it washed. The stains might come out."
"Nah," Michael brushes the idea off, "I've got plenty home in the closet."
"Then maybe I could have it for myself?"
The shirt hung on the tip of Jason's finger, Michael studying it with crooked lips. Seeing Jason being sincere and possibly him falling for the angelic pose, Michael replies, "Oh alright. You can have it."
"Thanks!" Jason folds it up as nice as he could and finding a small, white garbage bag, from the same closet as the dustbuster, places it inside. When finished stripping it, he's confronted by two staring eyes.
Realizing the ice tray is melting, Jason picks it up, Michael asking, "That for me?"
"Yes," Jason replies, still holding it.
A little bit o'the devil in him, Michael asks, "Where should I put it?"
"Where does it sting?" Jason replies.
"Here," Michael tags his right pec with his left hand, then his left pec with his right hand, "here," touches the palm of his hand to his stomach, "and here." It's then he realizes the time, taking the ice tray from Jason's hand and with both hands applies it to his pecs.
"I'll check out the laptop."
Oh how Michael wished it weren't so. The laptop could wait, but getting such feelings over holding the ice tray to his chest and having Jason stand there, at least looking, would have been so hot! Him and his big mouth, as Jason goes for the laptop, he's presented with the ice tray.
"Laptop is dry," Jason reports.
"That's good." Because he's feeling more than coldness to his skin, Michael says as he takes the tray away from his chest, "I think my nips are frozen!"
Seriously, Jason replies, "They look hard."
`Oh man!' Michael thought. At the mention of it, there were zings of lust going through his balls at this very moment!
"You should put the ice on your stomach."
Playing stoopid, Michael replies, "Where abouts on my stomach?"
It worked! In seconds time, Jason's hands were on the ice tray, him stretching it across Michael's abs, as he instructs, "Up here first, then down, about the top of your belt buckle."
"Sounds good," Michael says, looking down on his own bod, at the two hands holding the ice tray to his upper cut abs, as he rests both free hands on his hips. Though, he wished it could be, one of his hands on his cock!
"We got a problem here," Jason whips the ice tray away.
"Out of ice?" Michael jokes.
"We will be, but it's melting." Grabbing one, then a second tissue from the box on the secretary's desk, Jason wipes up, saying, "I got it though!"
It didn't even occur to Michael, he could be getting an erection, as Jason mopped up the drips of water, going against the grain of the stripe which ran through the hair on his abs. "Oooh," he let slip out, at Jason's touch.
"Stings?"
Their minds were on opposite planes, but Michael caught himself and gave in to Jason's thinking, "A little."
Stopping, which almost gave Michael reason to whimper, Jason races to the closet, "I think I saw another shirt in here."
"Yes," Michael admits, "I keep an extra in here just in case of emergencies such as this one." It was a half fib, thinking of the one time he and Ferdi found out they were not at all compatible, though them both in the heights of jerking off each other, their spunk had soiled up Michael's shirt.
"You're smart," Jason says. Unknown to Michael, as Jason held the shirt for him, Jason was getting close to becoming hard, first memorizing every line of Michael's beautiful back, then when he turned, yearned to memorize every inch of Michael's hairy front, before it got covered up. He couldn't go without saying, "You look good."
"Thanks," Michael replies. Knowing it wasn't only the rippled abs which hid under the light covering of hair, or the stripe which shot down to his belt buckle, he throws Jason off, "You go to the gym?"
"Oh no," Jason wards it off, "too expensive."
Michael, now that his bod is covered, makes haste in doing up the rest, "You'll have to come with my boyfriend and I sometime. Meet my personal trainer."
"Oh," Jason says in a low tone, "you have a boyfriend."
Popping the necktie into place, sliding his hand down to firm it against his shirt, Michael figures he's hit a `nerve', saying to Jason, "Tim and I have been together for roughly six months. We're waiting to see where it goes."
Thinking he could have had a stake in Michael's life, Jason asks, "And before Tim?"
"There's been a long string of boyfriends before Tim."
"How come?" Jason inquires. Being he didn't want to give his secret away, "You look like a good man."
The stares, among other things, Michael already figured Jason a `dead giveaway.' He already had reworded Jason's statement to read what Jason was probably already thinking, yet kept it cool, thanking him and, "I think if we wait a minute more, we'll be late for the meeting."
"We? Am I going with you?"
"Of course!" Michael comes back with a smile. "You know to use a laptop, don't you?" He hoped, biting a lip, because Michael really hated the dual identity at meetings, CEO and secretary.
"Oh sure. I know all about them!"
In the long run, before they got back from the meeting, Jason would know plenty about Michael from the laptop standpoint, one fact being Michael didn't know how to or neglected to erase his `history.' Jason was delighted to find out Michael enjoyed watching gay porn. On the way back to home base, while Michael dozed, Jason's imagination ran wild, thinking of him and Michael in the same roles of some porno stars!
Arriving back at the office, Michael says, before reporting to his own office, "You can have the report typed up and on my desk by tomorrow morning, Jason. Will that be a problem?"
Probably, with the coffee grinds mishap, then running into Michael with a hot cup of java, it didn't register with Jason, "Are you saying I got the job?"
"Job?" Michael wonders.
"Secretary. Am I hired?"
Seeing the excitement on the cute, angelic face, how could Michael think otherwise, "That's right. How much were you making before?"
"In which job?"
Confused, not about how many different positions Jason worked in the company, but the salary base, "Whichever job you made the most at."
"Terrence said he had to start me out at low wage, but by the time I got to maintenance he had me on level two."
"Level two?" Michael thought, about enough to buy one week's worth of McDonald's. He knew people like Tom and Jay were way up there, around level nine.
"It was enough for me to get by," Jason said of it proudly.
"Oh really. I'm curious," he asks, arms folded across his middle. "Where is it you live?"
"I'm not supposed to tell, because it's against company policy and if I do it could get Terrence into trouble. Maybe even fired!"
Scare tactic, Michael in a friendly way says, "If you don't tell me, I might have to give you both the axe!"
Jason whines, "You can fire me, but don't fire Terrence. Please?" genuinely pleading. "He's the only one who helps me." Breaking down, because in his heart he feels Michael can be sympathetic, "Terrance lets me stay in the spare bedroom at his house."
Michael smiles. "Do I look angry? Mad? Like I'm going to fire somebody?" And how could Michael do that to `sweet Jason'?
"No. You're not going to tell Terrence I told you? You're not going to fire Terrence, are you?"
Smiling, Michael says, "None of the above."
"Can I tell you something?"
"Sure. Um, you don't happen to have family in Puerto Rico, do you?"
"What?" Jason gets confused.
"Never mind. What is it you're going to tell me?"
"It's more of a confession and something else."
This has got Michael's curiosity piqued, "Go on."
Rattling it all out at once, Jason replies, "Mr. Songrad, I'm gay and I was looking on your computer where I shouldn't have and found out you're gay, because you watch gay porn."
With fake reaction, a slightly fem inflection, Michael cups his right elbow in the palm of his right hand, puts his other hand to his mouth and with eyes bugging out, exclaims, "Oh my word!"
Jason waited, but in doing so didn't get a chance to voice an opinion of whether he was going to `get the axe.'
Barging in, a dude Jason has never seen before, shouts, "Michael! Your office! We've got to talk!"
Michael tried to do the appropriate thing, introducing, "Zach, this is Jason..."
"Forget that shit!" Tim states, not even acknowledging Jason.
When they got out of the company limo, it was already three-thirty, Michael giving Jason the option of finishing off the report in the office, or knocking it off and doing it at home.
Right now, Jason had his own sense of curiousness, wanting to wait for the outcome of, now that he knew, Michael's boyfriend needing immediate attention. Slowly, his mind began drifting, from what Michael had mentioned as a room mate', to boyfriend' status.
Wondering how long they would be in there, Jason opened the laptop and passed the time by finalizing the notes he took.
For the next ten minutes, voices rose and fell. Sometimes there were outbursts, like a lover's quarrel, other times dead silence.
Finally, the door swings open, `Zach' marching out, from Michael's office, to the entrance, opening the door, leaving and closing it.
Jason says of it, "Hi Zach. Bye Zach." He waited, wondering if he should disturb the peaceful office. He typed a little more and not hearing anything, figured the right thing to do would be to check up on Michael and see if anything is wrong. For all he knew, perhaps Zach could have strangled Michael and left him for dead! "Yikes!" Jason voices opinion out loud!
It wasn't the case, Michael answering Jason's knock and like earlier this day, seeing his face in the crack, "C'mon in."
"I was concerned about you, but if you're okay I'll go back out and finish the report."
"Forget the fuckin' report. What I need now," he gets up abruptly, "is a good, stiff drink. C'mon."
Michael was too quick for him to back away and welcomed the pat on the back, a guy hanging his arm over his shoulder like they were buddies from way back, a kind of friend Jason has always hoped to have, but felt too insecure about finding such a friendship. On the way out the door, foremost on Jason's mind, he asks, "I'm confused... I thought you and Zach were boyfriends?"
Before closing the door behind them, Michael replies, "`Were', that's the key, Jason!"
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`FoR ThE MaN WHo HaS EVeRyTHiNG' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.