The events depicted in this story are totally fictional and being written off the cuff. Any similarity to real life is pure coincidence. This wasn't intended to be a j/o story, but if you do find any of it turning you on, I'd love to know! I've also enjoyed feedback so far! I'm not a professional writer, so please be gentle! :-)
Chapter 3
I pulled out of the garage, still contemplating what had just taken place with Mark, and since I didn't get off, still slightly hot. As luck would have it, there's a ball game tonight, which clogs up downtown a bit because of stupid people who don't know what the hell the "don't walk" sign means. As I'm sitting at the red light, still worried about my pre-cum-stained shirt, I decide to shuck it. Maybe she won't notice if I'm not wearing it, and I can sneak it into the laundry. It's a hot evening, so it's not unusual for me to walk in the door half-naked.
Finally, I get through the crowd and onto the highway. Now I have a 30-minute drive to sort out the day. First, what the hell is wrong with Vic? On Friday, he was so excited about playing around, and now I'm the devil-incarnate. Well, screw him, I decide. I chuckle as I reply to myself with 'no thanks.' And now this guy Mark...what do I really know about him? How do I know he's not a cop or something? No, stupid, I think...he has a company badge. Still...it's a risk. I can't pass on anything to the Mrs.
I get home, and as expected, the wife doesn't even blink that I'm without a shirt. Since the basement door is right by the garage entry, I hear the washing machine filling up. I ask her what she's washing, and she says it's colored clothes. I tell her that I'm going to throw this shirt in because I got ketchup on it at lunch. SAVED! Luck IS with me today...in more ways than one!
I'm quiet during dinner, which again isn't unusual, but today was especially hot, and the kids apparently were not on their best behavior, which can tend to make a mom rather cranky. Sure enough, she bores in about my day, and is apparently angry with me that I was a little late getting home, and for once why can't I leave a little early and help out around here? Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my temper, but my control is rapidly fading. I finally burst out that she doesn't complain when she's spending my paycheck. World War III begins, and the accusations start to fly, including the typical complaint about how she isn't getting enough in the bedroom. Luckily, the kids are off in their own world of Gameboys to notice. Maybe they're used to our noise?
Fed up, I stomp into the bedroom, put on a clean navy-blue T-shirt and denim shorts, sandals, and tell her I'm going out for awhile. She replies with her usual "fine!" and I'm out the door, telling her I am going to pick up a few things. I pull out of the driveway and instead of heading to a store, I drive across the river to a favorite bar. This bar features nude dancers....all male. I come here to blow off steam, but it is more of a frustration since there's no touching certain desirable items. But, still it's a chance to see some cute guys dancing on the bar wearing nothing but socks.
I walk in, and as usual, there's no customers there at this time. "Hi, beautiful", the bartender says. "Scotch and Soda", I reply. Len, one of the dancers, notices me sitting at the bar, and begins his routine, starting out in leather briefs. He speaks not a word, and does some acrobatic dancing from the bar attached to the ceiling. He even strips upside down. Oh, to be that young again. Soon, he's dancing in only his socks, and I put a dollar in the sock, sipping my drink, and noticing the other bartender who's not on duty, but walking around without his shirt on. Oh I'd love to have that body.
After a few minutes of this, I hear someone come in behind me and feel a strong hand clap onto my shoulder. "Jess!" I turn and to my shock, there's Mark standing there! "Hey dude! What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, shaking his hand...the very hand that just a couple of hours ago was wrapped around my cock.
"Well, the wife has a meeting tonight, and we have no kids, so I come over here. What are YOU doing here?" Mark asks.
"Oh man, the wife and I got into again tonight. I swear that woman..." Mark cuts me off by putting a finger on my lips. "No, Jess, you clearly are in need of some fun and I'm here to have a good time myself, so let me stop you there, ok?" He smiles that gorgeous smile. Oh and those blue eyes...the most beautiful eyes I've seen in a long time...not since....I shake the thought from my head. Don't go there, I tell myself. That was six years ago, and you're over him.
Mark sits beside me (maybe too close) and orders a drink. "So," he says, "did she notice your shirt?"
"No. I took it off before I drove home and told her I got ketchup on it at lunch. I think she bought it."
"Good. I'd hate to think I caused you any problem." Mark says, genuinely concerned.
"Shit, that's the LEAST of my worries." I reply, grimly. I stare ahead, not noticing that there is a new guy dancing on the bar now. Mark reaches over and sticks a dollar in his sock. He motions over to me, indicating that we should go to a table to talk. Of course, the music is so loud, we'll have to talk over it, but, it's better than nothing, I guess.
"So, listen, man...you're not freaked out about what happened, are you?" Mark asks.
"No, not really. I mean, I guess I sorta am surprised, you know? I just met you, and already we're going at it in public." I grin, but he can tell I'm serious. "How is it that you know me again?"
Mark smiles. "Dude, I've seen you and that gal you go to lunch with many times. I looked you up in the Intranet database and saw which building and floor you work on. I've lusted after you for months."
Incredulous, I ask "WHY? I mean, I'm not as good looking as you, and I'm a little overweight, and.." Again, his finger goes to my lips, silencing me.
"Jesse, I'm going to tell you something, and I want you to take me VERY seriously. Do you understand?" he says sternly. Who IS this guy? I wonder.
I nod, eyes wide.
"Jesse, there is nothing wrong with you. You are an attractive guy, and I don't care about your weight! But it's not just looks that interests me. I overheard you talking at Friday's one day, and you were talking to that gal -- what's her name? (Kathy, I reply.) Yeah, Kathy....you were consoling her about her lover who has been giving her a hard time. I could tell you're a guy with a lot of heart, and you're caring, and ...well...just down to earth. THAT's what attracted me to you." He removes his finger from my lips. "Do you understand that?"
"Yes." I reply. "I'm sorry, but it's just hard for me to believe that you'd be attracted to me, that's all." Mark shakes his head in disgust. "Well, look," I say, getting defensive. "My history isn't exactly filled with hot guys approaching me, telling me that I'm attractive, and that looks aren't important! I've noticed how the good-looking people hang around with the good-looking people, and people like me get stuck off to the side, standing there with our thumbs up our asses." I inhale sharply, not realizing that I said that all in one breath.
Mark stares at me, tilting his head to one side as if studying me like I was a rare bird or something. "Yeah", he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, I guess maybe it's not so much that we "beautiful people" (spitting those words at me) are as shallow as you THINK we are. And for YOUR information, I don't think I'M all that great either (is he kidding??) and I thank you VERY much that you think I'm a liar! You think all I want is your cock? Then FUCK YOU!"
Mark storms out, leaving me sitting there, stunned yet again. The words stung. The pounding of the music was making it hard for me to think, but one thing was clear....I suck...and not in the good way. Too upset to even laugh at my own joke, I look up at the young stud, dancing on the bar for some old guy that came in sometime in my fuck-up with Mark, and suddenly have a sick feeling in my stomach.
Why is it so hard to believe that I might actually attract someone like Mark? Surely that experience six years ago wouldn't have messed up my mind THAT much. And things are not so great at home. Work gets to me, and I feel like I can never get enough sleep.
Deep in self-pity and self-loathing, I slowly make my way to the exit. Half-hoping Mark would be there, I exit into the heat of the evening. Sure enough, only a few cars are there, and his black Alero is no where to be seen. Sighing, I get in the car, pull off the wristband the bartender put on so they knew I paid my cover charge, and drive toward home. A tear falls down my cheek. Life just doesn't seem worth living.
I decide to drive around for awhile. It's too early to go home yet. I'm still pissed off about the argument, and of course, this is going to show HER! What a dope I am, I think to myself. The next thing I notice, I'm back downtown again. I didn't even remember crossing the bridge. I drive over to the company garage, since we can park in there after business hours, even if we ARE peons, and check in at the guard's desk. I head over to my building and up to my floor. The lights are off, except for the ones that stay on 24x7. I walk over to my cubicle and sit in my chair. I become acutely aware that I'm not alone. I'm hearing noises from the adjacent cubicle--VIC's cubicle. He's breathing heavily, apparently unaware that I've walked in. I listen closer and realize that he has headphones on. It's 9:00pm, so I guess he feels safe in being stupid! I think angrily.
I walk over to his cubicle quietly and look in just enough so he can't see me, but I can see which way his chair is turned. Sure enough, he's facing away from the cubicle doorway. He's slouched in his chair, and in the semi-darkness, I notice knees on the floor in front of him. My gosh! He's getting blown! I inch in closer, peering around the cube wall, and I realize that those are MALE knees! Further examination shows a hand between those knees stroking himself as he blows Vic. I step back, my face hot, heart pounding, wondering what to do. And....confused. What the fuck? He nearly threatened my life outside just 4 hours ago, and now he's here at WORK of all places, getting a blow job by someone...another GUY. Coming to my senses, I hear Vic making noises as if he's about to shoot and decide that for my own safety, I better get the FUCK away from here. I walk quietly off, picking up my pace into a run as I get 1/2 way to the elevator bank. After a few long moments, and several curse words by me because this building is mostly EMPTY why the fuck are the elevators so SLOW, the car arrives and I descend to the 4th floor. I walk quickly over to the other buildilng and across the bridge into the garage, practically in a sweat, and still flushed. I'm angry, hurt, and confused yet again, and I can't take this anymore!! I sign out with the guard, who's nice enough to say "Hey, buddy, are you ok?" "Fine," I say gruffly and storm out the door. I get into the car and drive out onto the street, hands and legs shaking in anger.
I decide that I've had enough and didn't care if the wife WAS still mad, I want to go home and just get into bed.
Half way home, and driving just a little faster than I should, I suddenly see a flash of light off to my left. Realizing at the last minute that someone just crossed the median, I slam on my brakes and try to swerve right, but it's too late. The Explorer plows into the left front corner of my car, slamming me into the door window. I hear the terrible squeal of tires as my car is flung across two lanes of highway, coming to a rest just off the shoulder and facing the side of the highway. I'm aware of something pressing against me --the airbag--and I hear other cars squealing to a stop to avoid getting hit as the Explorer comes to a stop going the wrong way. And sirens, but going the opposite direction? My cheek is wet, suddenly it's hot and cold, and darkness enshrouds me. My last thought is "this was the worst day of my life."
To be continued
Sorry! But nothing keeps interest like a good cliffhanger! I promise I'll bring chapter 4 on as soon as I can. I still have no idea where this might go...and I'd love to hear from you. Flames will still be ignored, but constructive criticism is welcome! :-) Play safe!