by Hunter Frost
“Mother! Why are you just telling me this now?” I wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her. This was information that I could’ve used days ago!
“I called two nights ago, but you never returned my call.”
Note to self. Be a good son and call your mom back. She might have a hottie waiting to go out with you!
“I have his number if you want it,” she said.
“His phone number?” Oh god. I hated phone calls. I bit my lip. “Maybe a text first?”
“Buck up and call the man, Ellison,” his father said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“This is Devin Chase.” Naomi swatted him with her napkin. “And for some strange reason, he’s interested in you. I will not stand by and let my gutless little brother screw this up. You grab that bull by the balls and go for it!”
I grimaced. “I did not need to hear that from my sister.”
Henry smiled. “She’s an animal.”
“Ew, please stop talking.” I groaned.
“Yes. Keep it PG, please,” my mother said, shaking her head. My dad plugged his ears.
Normally, I’d be against any sort of setup, but . . . Devin Chase might be worth the risk.
Besides, I was tired of daydreaming over my boss. Even if I had any hope that Alejandro might, in some small corner of his mind, think I could be a romantic possibility, our work situation prevented us from finding out. And today, he put that notion to rest. He didn’t have those feelings for me.
Maybe I should give my family a chance on this one.
I thought of Devin Chase, six four, with his shirt off after a volleyball game, sweat dripping from his washboard abs. He’d sit on the bench and remove his shoes from those big meaty feet.
“Give me Devin’s number, Mom. I’ll have to psych myself up to do it. But I’ll call him.”
They cheered, his dad pumping his fist in the air.
“I’m so jealous,” Naomi said.
“Hey!” Henry exclaimed again, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting.
Naomi gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m kidding, honey.”
But as she hugged him she mouthed, “Not kidding.”
I got home from dinner at ten and turned up the thermostat, peeled off my outerwear, and threw my bag down on the couch. I couldn’t wait to get into my pajamas.
Flannel pants are life.
I padded back into the living room and fell onto the sofa, still buzzed from dinner.
I flipped on the television and scrolled through Netflix. I’d already watched every anime they offered, but I checked again anyway.
My thoughts drifted to Devin Chase. I’d seen him in the locker room a few times, naked; that killer body ripe and ready for anything, and his cock as thick and meaty as his feet. I wondered if it had changed much since high school.
Umm . . . yeah. Netflix wouldn’t cut it tonight. I reached for my bag and dug inside to retrieve my iPad, my go-to porn device. But I couldn’t find it. I turned my bag upside down, but nothing fell out but random charging cords, a handful of change, and receipts from last week’s lunches.
Crap. I knew I had it in the executive meeting today. Did I leave it in the conference room or did I take it with me to Alejandro’s office? I must’ve left it there on my mad dash out. Damn. I’d have to look for it on Monday.
Porn on my phone it is then.
I ran through my saved websites on my phone, searching for something foot related I hadn’t seen. From the looks of it, I’d have to start paying if I wanted anything new.
I clicked on one of my favorites—two guys in the office getting dirty, where one guy worshipped the other’s feet until they were both stroking themselves to hot come shots.
I pulled down my lounge pants and started to rub my cock.
And a text notification popped up.
From Alejandro?
I could count on my hand the number of times he’d texted me before; and they were always during conferences or other business-related trips.
Not on Friday nights at ten thirty.
I stopped the video and removed my hand from my cock, because this wasn’t awkward enough as it was.
I opened his message.
Al: Arewe cool, El?
Could he be talking about earlier today?
Me: Yeah, why?
Al: You ran out of my ofice faster than a twink headed the docks on Fleet Week.
I chuckled.
Al: Did I say something stupid? I do that somtimes.
That was kind of sweet.
Me: No. It wasn’t you. I was feeling weird and had to run to the bathroom.
Why did I say that? What a sexy image to paint for him. Running to the bathroom because I had the shits.
Al: Oh no. R you okay? I hope you didn’t miss youre parents anniversary dinner?
I was surprised he remembered.
Me: I’m fine now. Probably just the after effects from lunch at Diego’s. I made it to the dinner.
Al: Good.How was the Thai?
Me: Delicious. I got the curry.
Al: Mi amigo, the curry its the best.
He had a number of grammar mistakes and spelling errors, but since he rarely texted, I couldn’t tell if that was normal. Then I recalled the date he had planned for tonight. I bet it was hard trying to text in a dark club.
Me: Aren’t you on a date?
There was a long pause. He must’ve gone back to that meathead guy.
Al: I was. But I’m home now. I wasn’t feeling it.
Me: I’m sorry.
Though I really wasn’t. Why would I care if that meathead guy didn’t live up to the hype?
Al: It happens. I got a couple numbers while atthe bar anyway.
Of course he did. Guys threw themselves at Alejandro.
I didn’t feel like talking about this anymore, especially since I was still semi-aroused from browsing porn.
Me: Did I leave my iPad in your office?
Al: You did I wanted to put it in your office, but your assistnat was gone. It’s on my deske.
Thank god he had it.
Me: Thanks for keeping it safe.
Al: De nada.
I had no idea what else to say. I’m just glad this wasn’t a phone call or else it’d be filled with awkward silence.
And then the phone rang.
What the— Alejandro was calling me?
Shit. I couldn’t talk to him. What if my voice was scratchy or I squeaked, or I said something ridiculous? Or worse, I said nothing and sounded like an idiot.
It had already rung twice. He knows I’m home, so I don’t have an excuse not to pick up. Why can’t people just text?! I jumped up and smoothed my pajamas as if he could see me. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.
Then I hit the button to accept.
“Hello,” I answered, my voice low and weird. There’s that idiot I expected.
“Is that you, El?” he replied. “Your voice sounds strange.”
“Yeah, it’s me. What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound cool and breezy. Two things I have never been in my life.
“I just . . . ,” he trailed off and mumbled. “El . . .”
“Are you drunk?” I asked.
“Maybe . . . a little.”
“I thought you ended your date early?”
“I did,” he said, then sighed dramatically. “Then came home and had some drinks to relax.”
I chuckled. That explains the texts.
“I really feel like I said something dumb earlier.”
Why was he so concerned about this?
“I told you, Al. I wasn’t feeling well.”
He groaned. “But I didn’t tell you everything.”
My body tensed. “What are you talking about?”
“I called you a geek.” He emphasized the k.
I laughed. “I am a geek. And I’m fine with that.”
I may not be comfortable with a lot of things, but I know that about myself, and I’ve come to accept and embrace
it.
“I know, and I really like that about you. And you’re cute and sweet, and . . . I don’t know.”
What was happening? Why was he telling me this? And why was I trembling?
“I’m sorry I called you this late.”
“It’s o-okay,” I replied, cursing myself for stuttering. I added quickly. “But you should probably get some sleep.”
“I will. I couldn’t go to sleep without letting you know.”
“That you felt bad for calling me a geek?”
“No. That I like you.”
My legs gave out, and I fell back onto the couch. My heart raced inside my chest and I lost track of how long I sat there listening to it pound.
I knew Alejandro was still there because I could hear him breathing.
“I—” I began.
“Anyway, I should get to bed. Goodnight, El.” And he was gone before I could fumble over more words.
Alejandro Rios just said he liked me. I wanted to do a little dance like a sixteen-year-old girl in those ridiculous teen movies. What the hell?
Still, chill out, El. He was obviously sloshed. He didn’t mean anything by it.
Maybe he did like me. As a friend. As a colleague. As an employee. Which would be completely understandable.
He didn’t like, like me.
God, what am I in grade school?
What was I getting so worked up about? Of course he liked me. I was a hard worker, and I did anything he asked, with a smile. Why wouldn’t he like me?
That’s all this was. A drunken call to an employee. To tell him you liked him.
That happens all the time, right?
You can’t take what drunk people say as truth.
But they do call alcohol the truth serum.
No, Alejandro might not even have meant to text me but got sidetracked once he hit my name and went off on a tangent. Like a drunk person would.
I stared at my phone for a while, wondering if he might call back. Or text. But after ten minutes, nothing happened. Nor fifteen. Nor twenty.
I took a deep breath and opened the video back up I’d been watching before. My dick was still interested.
Don’t get your hopes up, El.
But little El didn’t listen. And neither did my heart.
Chapter Four
Alejandro
On Monday, I strutted into work, hoping to disguise the fact that I was exhausted.
A weekend of drinking and porn would do that.
Yep. Rick. Or Reggie. Or Rich . . . bored me to death. He was pretty, all right. I could’ve drowned in that ass. But talking to him was like pulling out my nose hairs one by one. All he did was talk about his workouts and eating habits. I should’ve just taken him straight to the bathroom to fuck and be done with it. But even my ass didn’t think his cock would be worth it. Because if I had to hear one more word about his reps on the lat machine, or how kale could be blended seamlessly into any protein shake, I might’ve gone insane.
He said he had to go to the bathroom, and I said I had to leave.
I came home feeling disappointed. Disappointed at myself for not being satisfied with a body like Rich’s. Or Ray’s. Or whatever the fuck his name was.
I normally had no problem taking a fresh piece of meat handed to me. But not that night. Why did I suddenly want more than a hot fuck?
Deep down I had an inkling. I didn’t want to think about it, though. I had turned the dreaded three zero. Things felt different. I was changing. Everyone warned me about it.
And then . . . Ellison came along. At least, Ellison’s fetish came along. It made me sit up and take notice. But not just of his foot fetish. Of him. Of everything. Everything I was doing. Everything I wasn’t doing. Everything going on around me that I was missing out on. Things I wanted that had never occurred to me that I wanted before.
Sexually, I enjoyed experimenting, but it was because I liked the thrill of something new, something fresh. However, these days I found myself wishing that thrill would come with a connection to someone on a deeper level. Why now? Ugh.
Sex had always been the target—but for some reason the thought of sex for the sake of an orgasm didn’t hold the same excitement as it used to.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellison’s foot-fetish clip. And consequently, I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellison.
I’d worried about him to pure distraction after he left my office in such a rush. He haunted me throughout my date enough that I’d wished I were with Ellison instead of that muscled beefcake. When I got home, I thought a few more drinks might rid him from my mind. But the alcohol only made me worry more. It made me want to make it right.
And then I did something stupid. I drunk dialed.
I told Ellison I liked him. As if I was back in seventh grade. Hopefully, he’d forgive me for being an impulsive lush.
I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed talking to him.
But then, I’m his boss. He probably thinks he has no choice, which didn’t sit well with me.
On Saturday, I spent all day watching as much foot-fetish porn as I could get my hands on. From tickling to toe sucking, foot jobs to sock sniffing. I wanted to see everything. I wanted to know what turned Ellison on. It was hot, fun, and different. Just like El.
Shit, I would role-play any of those clips with Ellison.
I was bored out of my mind with everything else. Maybe Ellison and this fetish would breathe new life into mine. Maybe I just needed to get him and his fetish out of my system.
That’s all this was, right? Some sort of premature midlife crisis. New, hot sex was always the answer.
Steamy fun with El sounded like a dream. Just two consenting adults enjoying each other and their fetish. I wanted to tease him until he couldn’t stand it and play out those wickedly erotic fantasies.
On Sunday, I even got a pedicure to prep. I was devious.
I walked by Ellison’s office and waved to his assistant, Gary, out front. I pulled my phone from my pocket.
Me: Morning, mi rayito de sol.
Within seconds came a reply.
El: Morning . . . what did you call me?
Me: A ray of sunshine.
There was a short pause before his next text. I was sure he was overanalyzing my words.
El: What can I do for you?
Me: After your Monday team briefing, stop by my office. I have your iPad. And NetStar’s acting up again.
El: Again? I’ll head right over after I finish up.
Me: Gracias, mi amigo.
This would be fun.
Chapter Five
Ellison
As I walked into work first thing in the morning, I never expected a text from Alejandro.
Would this be a thing now?
Did I mind?
Not one bit.
Typically, Monday mornings were for briefing the team for the coming week. I didn’t usually have much to say since my team functioned so well on their own. My IT managers were spectacular, and we rarely had any problems internally with combative personalities or attitudes like some of the other departments. I was pretty lucky in that regard.
However today, I needed to go over the details for the website revamp and how we’d be working closely with Communications. The Director of Communications under Alejandro, Lisa, was down-to-earth and an excellent supervisor, and my team always worked well with them. Balancing aesthetics and functionality tripped up many companies, but NetSmash had been able to marry the two seamlessly. But with the changes in the market when it came to research, marketing and modern campaigns, websites, and branding, our language had to adapt more often.
The meeting only lasted about thirty minutes, and afterward we had a clear, concise plan of what we needed to do and where we needed to go from here to reach our goal—revealing the final product at the company Christmas party in three weeks.
I was glad Alejandro decided not to attend and meddle too much in our process. He had great ideas and knew how to delegate, but he made my t
eam nervous. For god’s sake, he made me nervous. And seeing him would probably throw me back into hopeless and pathetic mode. I didn’t need that.
Alejandro’s difficulties with technology were no secret, so I was able to walk straight into Alejandro’s office without having to explain to Wendy, his assistant, why I was there. She merely said hello and went back to her computer, where I noticed an Elf on the Shelf.
Alejandro was hunched over his keyboard, pecking at it with two fingers. And he looked effing amazing.
I like you, he had said to me on Friday night.
“Ah, mi heroe has arrived.” Alejandro sat back and clapped his hands once.
“I don’t understand why computers turn on you,” I quipped.
“I told you why.” He gestured down the length of his body with a grin.
“Artificial intelligence doesn’t recognize beauty.”
“Maybe the programmer is subconsciously training it.” He winked.
I shook my head, my cheeks burning, as I tried to laugh that off.
He got up from his chair and moved around me. I felt the heat from his body. It was like being in the tropics without setting foot on the beach.
He sat on the edge of the desk as I took his chair. “So what’s going on with NetStar?”
“It’s being a bitch, that’s what. I swear it’s worse today than it was on Friday.”
“More crashing?”
“It won’t even get through start-up now.”
I clicked on his NetStar icon, and it went to open, then errored after a few seconds. “You weren’t kidding.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he purred.
