On Company Time

Chapter 2

Since that first day, I always look for him whenever I walk around the office. Every time I go to the bathroom, I hope he’s there, at the urinal perhaps, back to me, legs spread. I imagine stepping up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist, covering his hands with my own. Kissing the back of his neck as his c**k hardens beneath my fingers. Fondling him as he grabs at my hips, thrusting against my closed palms. My name on his lips when he comes.

More than once, I’ve hidden in the stall at the end of the restroom and m*********d into the toilet, that daydream of him bright in my mind. Then I hope he’s overheard me, that he’s snuck into the restroom without my noticing and somehow knows I thought of him as I got off. I can almost see the slow smile that would spread across his face before lighting up his eyes, and he’d take my hand in his, raise it to his lips, lick my c*m from my fingers without ever dropping his gaze from mine. Thinking of me? he’d ask.

By the time I reach my desk, I’m usually hard again, my pants chafing another erection. He has me hornier than I’ve been in a long time, and I stalk the halls whenever I can, praying I run into him. In the downstairs lobby maybe, or the break room, or the elevator again. Please, I think, every time I exit my cubicle. This time, please.

I’ve managed to talk to him a few times, and each moment stands out in my mind like a diamond, sparkling and clear. For hours afterward, I sift through each word, pick over every meaning, every nuance. What he said, what he might have meant by it, what I should’ve said or done in response. I always smile when I see him, but he’s always the first to speak. “Hey, Jimmy,” he’ll say, his voice rich like thick cream. It makes me want to lay down and roll over for his approval, that sound. I want to hear it first thing in the morning, and last thing before I go to sleep. “How’s it hanging?”

Does he really want to know?

We’ve talked a bit about our lives outside the office, but nothing much. Everything he tells me gets filed away, and I try to impress him by remembering the littlest details. He has a sister named Janice who lives in Maryland, a mid-sized dog he rescued from a shelter and calls Maggie, and an apartment downtown which he shares with an older woman named Sharon. She’s just a friend—he made a point of telling me this two days ago, in the break room. I leaned against the counter by the microwave as my lunch warmed up, and Scott stood at the sink, rinsing out a coffee cup. I stared at his arm, mere inches from mine, and tried to talk myself into reaching out, touching it, but I’m not that bold.

When he mentioned his roommate, he ducked his head and looked up at me, his eyes impossibly light and wide, a shade of blue that should be outlawed it’s so beautiful. Even now his words echo in my ears. “We’re not dating or anything. I don’t want you to think that. We’re just friends.” With a shy grin, he added, “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

The words hung over us like a meniscus, pregnant with possibilities.

I should’ve said, “Me neither.” I should’ve asked him out—it was on the tip of my tongue—just see if he wanted to do something after work, and maybe finally move past the infuriating two-step that keeps us dancing around each other instead of coming together for something slower, more intimate.

But I only managed to clear my throat before Debbie came in for a snack out of the machine, and the moment was lost. She saw me and misinterpreted my easy stance. “If you’re not busy, Jimmy,” she told me, ignoring Scott completely, “I could use some help on the phones.”

“I’m at lunch,” I said. Jeez, talk about a work-a-holic. If I ever get that bad, I hope someone takes me out back and puts me out of my misery. One bullet to the brain should do it, I think.

Beside me Scott snickered, a sound he covered with the rush of water in the sink. But my boss waited in the break room until the microwave dinged, a stern look on her face. The damn b***h. When Scott realized she was going to hang around and wouldn’t leave us alone, his smile paled. “I guess I’ll see you,” he said, shaking the excess water from his mug.

“Yeah.” I watched him leave, heading back to his office, before I followed Debbie to my own cubicle.