by D. J. Manly
People were coming out of the room now, smiling, some stopping to thank the new boss. Steven was grateful for the distraction.
Mac came over. “You okay?”
Steven nodded, taking the opportunity to move away.
“He probably doesn’t even recognize you,” Mac said discreetly.
Steven looked over at Taylor. He was talking to Nancy Hill, one of the junior partners. “I sure as hell hope not. Tell me exactly what I did.”
“Ah, maybe it’s better you don’t know.” Mac looked around uncomfortably.
Steven winced. “Was it that bad?” He started walking toward his office.
“I rather enjoyed it; that is, until you fell between his legs.”
“Then I really did that? I fell between his … oh God.”
“It’s okay. He caught you. You were the envy of every man in that bar. Our new boss is a looker.”
“Don’t say anything else. This is all your fault,” Steven accused as Mac followed him into his office.
“My fault?”
“You’re the one who told the owner I was going to dance on stage, you asshole.”
“You didn’t have to get up there,” Mac said, sniggering.
“All that nonsense about how we die without ever really living and … shit, you know I can’t drink. How many did I have?”
“I don’t know, six…” He shrugged.
“Six? Jesus Christ!”
“Don’t worry,” Mac said, laughing, “I’m sure he didn’t recognize us. It was dark in there.”
“Yeah, well…”
Both men whirled when they heard a deep male voice say, “Where did Mr. Hillary go?”
Steve swallowed. “I’m here, sir,” he said, throwing Mac a dirty look, and walked back out into the hallway to meet him.
“Ah, Steve,” Rob Taylor said, “could you come down to my office, in about fifteen minutes? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Ah, yes sir.” Steven swallowed.
As soon as he was gone, Steven looked helplessly at his friend. “This is it. He remembers. I’m fired.”
“You’re not fired. Maybe he just doesn’t want people to know that he was in a gay bar.”
Steven nodded sickly.
* * * *
Steven stood in front of the boss’s office. They were in the process of taking down the nameplate of the former boss, who’d taken his retirement.
The door was open but he knocked quietly anyway. Rob Taylor was sitting behind his desk. He looked up as Steven poked his head in the door. “Yes, Steve, come in,” he called, motioning with his hand. “Sit down.” He returned his attention to the file in his hands.
Steven noticed the exercise equipment which sat over in the corner of the room. The office was going to look somewhat different from when Turner was in charge. Steven sank down into the huge leather chair, twirling his fingers together. Maybe it would be better if he just came out with it. “I can explain.”
Taylor looked up. “There is nothing to explain. I happen to like it. In fact, I like it a lot.”
“Ah…” Steven’s heart hammered in his chest. “You do? I mean, you did?”
“Damn right.” He threw the file on the desk. “It was hot, fresh, sexy, just what I’m looking for.”
Steven was speechless.
“I was disappointed that you missed the meeting,” Taylor went on. “I was really looking forward to seeing you there.”
“You were?” Steven blinked. He leaned forward. “We don’t have to tell anyone about it. I won’t say a word.”
“On the contrary, I want everyone to know about it.”
“What?”
He stood. “This is a new age, Steven. We need to conquer our fear, push the limits, be on the cutting edge.” He was standing beside him now, looking down.
“I’m not sure what to say.” He felt as if he’d just stepped into the twilight zone.
“Steve”—Taylor put a hand on his shoulder—“you’re one of the key people working on the Costner bathing suit campaign.”
“The Costner … ah.” Steven narrowed his eyes. “Yes, the Costner campaign. I’m responsible for the graphics on the television spots now. We did the underwear thing for them last year. Is there a problem? If there’s something you don’t like, we could—”
“I like your ideas.” He walked back over to the front of his desk and flipped open a file folder. “I see here that you proposed a different direction.”
“Mr. Turner felt that it was a bit too…”
“Gay?” Taylor raised an eyebrow, a twitch of a smile on his face.
Steven felt himself blush. “No, I … I mean, just a little too much sex, I guess.”
“Well, Turner’s gone now.” He closed the file. “It’s exactly what we need. Sex sells. The idea is fresh, seductive. Costner is in the business of selling underwear and swimwear, not flannel pajamas. We need to appeal to the gay male market, where sex is front and center, and to straight women, cultured, sophisticated women who aren’t afraid to sexually objectify men. Lord knows, straight men have been doing it to women since time immortal. This is about sexual liberation, and freedom of expression, boldly proclaiming what one wants in bed and how they want it.”
Steven was speechless.
Rob Taylor walked over to the window. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, and damn, those tailored pants clung to all the right spots in all the right ways. “I want to see those ideas again in more detail,” he announced. “Starting now, you’re in charge of the Costner account.”
Steven’s eyes widened. “In charge?”
“Yes.” He turned around. “Put a team together for my approval. I want the names on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
Steven stood. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“I’ll expect a first draft presentation in two weeks’ time. Set the meeting up with my secretary.”
“I’ll do that.” Steven headed for the door, breathless.
“And Steven,” his boss said, just as he’d reached the threshold of the office door.
Steven sucked in some breath. He didn’t turn around. “Ah, ye … es, sir?” Please, please…
“We’re going to need to call a meeting with the new team, pronto, by week’s end. This campaign is priority. Right now, it is one of our biggest accounts, with the potential for growth. We have been entrusted with only ten percent of their market advertising. I want it all.”
Steven let out his breath. “Of course; I’ll get right to work on that.”
As he walked down the hallway, he was in a state of shock. Not only had Rob Taylor not even mentioned what had happened last night, he’d put him in charge of his own ad campaign. The only explanation Steven could come up with was that Rob Taylor didn’t recognize him as the guy who’d made an asshole out of himself the night before. He’d been panicking for nothing.
* * * *
Mac couldn’t stop laughing. “I can’t believe it. I guess it paid off for you to strip and fall between his legs. Now you’re running your own ad campaign.”
Steven shook his head, sipping his coffee in the shop across the street. “I told you, he didn’t recognize me. It was dark in that place, thank God.”
“Maybe he decided it was better not to mention it.” Mac grinned.
“Will you give me a break here?” Steven threw up his hands. “Don’t play with my head.”
“Believe what you need to, but Stevie, old boy, you really did make quite a splash last night. I can’t believe he doesn’t recognize you. He didn’t appear to be drunk.”
“Did I take off … all my clothes?” Steven winced.
“Ah, yep. Bare-ass naked. You have a great bod.”
Steven put his face in his hands. “Did I paw at him?”
“You tried to kiss him. That’s when you fell between his legs. He caught you, pulled you to your feet. Then I took you home.”
“Don’t tell me any more.” Steven put up his hand. “Please.”
“You asked. That’s why I can’t believe he doesn’t—”
“Drop it,” Steven snapped. “Even if he does remember, he’s got too much class to mention it.”
“Maybe he’s the one embarrassed. He might be in the closet.”
Steven shrugged.
“Aren’t you getting a sandwich?”
“Oh no. I can’t eat, too excited, not to mention, my stomach is rocking and rolling. More coffee, though.”
“I like him.” Mac nodded. “He’s going to be a good boss. Not to mention that he’s delicious to look at.”
“He’s dynamic, young, willing to take a risk. And yeah”—Steven grinned—“he’s hot. I can’t believe he put me in charge of that account. Willis is going to freak.”
“Willis thinks his shit doesn’t stink. He’s going to have to come down off that pedestal Turner had him on.” Mac stood. “Well, if you’re not getting a sandwich to take out, let’s get back in there. I gotta look keen on the first day.”
“You’re on the team for Costner bathing suits, by the way,” Steven informed him as they crossed the street to their office building.
“Oh, okay, great. Thanks.”
“Mac, you’re the best when it comes to computer graphics, and from the sound of it, Taylor is expecting results. He wants all of Costner’s accounts.”
“Well, sounds like a lot of late nights,” Mac muttered, raising his hand as he walked off in the direction of the computer department.
Steven retreated into his office and settled down to the task of picking his new ad team. He wouldn’t mind the late nights, if he got to spend them with Rob Taylor.
Although Steven didn’t see much of his new boss the first week, Taylor didn’t neglect to let him know that he was impressed with his work. Taylor’s secretary sent Steven a memo with the minutes of the first team meeting, and on the bottom, Taylor had personally written “Good job, Steve,” and signed his initials.
On Friday afternoon at the end of the second week, Taylor walked into Steven’s office and closed the door quietly behind him. “Got a minute?”
Steven tensed, feigning a confident smile. “Of course, sir.”
“Call me Rob, okay?” He leaned over the desk. Steven could smell his intoxicating aftershave. He had a rough shadow on his jaw today, and his hair looked a little shaggy on the edges. It was sexy as hell. Everything about him was sexy, and male, oh so male. Steven unconsciously licked his lips. Suddenly he could imagine Rob Taylor out of that expensive suit, wearing only a pair of skimpy briefs—a pair of Costner’s sexy underwear—umm, fully erect and…
“Steve?”
“Ah, Rob, sir. Yes?”
“You left me there for a minute.”
“Sorry. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to apologize to you. I’m sorry I haven’t had more time to spend with you this week. It’s been crazy.”
“Oh, sir, I fully understand. I’m flattered you’ve given me so much freedom on this account.”
“Rob.”
“Sorry, Rob.”
“I have confidence in you, Steven. I only back winners.”
“Thank you.”
“I just wanted to tell you that I’d like you to stay late for the next few weeks. I want to personally review the daily progress of the team because the president of Costner wants a presentation in two weeks. It has to be perfect. I want you to come to Boston with me when the time comes.”
“Me, sir? I mean, Rob.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No, I … of course, I’ll come.”
“Good.” He straightened and smiled. “Have a good weekend. Rest up. We’ve plenty of work to do next week.”
When Mac came into his office a few minutes later to see if he was ready to leave, Steve was sitting behind his desk in a daze. “I’m going to Boston.”
“What?” Mac asked. “I thought we were going to dinner.”
“Yeah, yeah, but Rob asked me to go with him to Boston.”
“Rob, eh?”
Steve grinned. “He wants me to do the presentation with him for Costner.”
“Congratulations.” Mac slapped him on the back. “Wow, a lot of people are going to be jealous.”
“Um.” Steve nodded. “Next week, I have to stay after work with him.” He grinned.
“Because you’ve been a bad boy,” Mac teased.
Steve laughed as they walked to the parking lot. He gave Mac a playful shove. “Shut up.”
“You’re not falling for him, are you?”
“Would you blame me?” Steve unlocked the door to his car.
Mac got into his own car, glancing at him out the window. “No. But you don’t know anything about him, and he is the boss. Be careful.”
“Meet you at the restaurant,” Steve said, getting into the car.
Mac honked and roared out onto the street.
* * * *
The office cleared out quickly on Monday at five o’clock. Steven found himself with butterflies in his gut when Rob walked by his office, poked his head in, and said, “Ready?”
Oh yeah, he was ready, he thought as he walked down the hall to the boss’s office. He’d been having hot dreams about Rob Taylor all weekend, and chastising himself for them in the morning. Mac was right; Rob was his boss, and he’d given him a fantastic opportunity to move ahead in his job, a job he loved. He wasn’t about to do anything to screw that up. But Rob Taylor was so gorgeous, he could have stopped traffic, and few people in the office were immune to his charms. The secretaries seemed to swoon when he walked by. They were all aglow when he took time to stop and ask them how they were.
Steven tried not to focus on how hot Rob looked, with one leg casually raised to rest on his desk. He’d discarded his tie, which was slung over the leather sofa; his jacket hung on the coat rack. His deep mauve shirt was opened at the collar, exposing the column of his throat and the top of his chest. All his clothes were tailored, closely fitting his luscious muscular form, the shirt now straining across his chest as he paused and stretched his shoulders back. “Steve,” he said suddenly, “didn’t see you there. I took the liberty of ordering us some supper. Hope you like Chinese.”
“Love it.” Steven nodded, tearing his gaze away from Rob Taylor and glancing out the window. “It’s going to rain.”
“We’re expecting a storm,” he replied, clicking open his laptop and tapping the keyboard. “I’m not sure about this slogan,” he said suddenly, all business again, his eyes on the screen.
Steven came over behind his desk to peer at the screen over his shoulder. As he did, Rob turned a little in his chair, his arm brushing Steven’s hip. Steven moved back a little. Rob Taylor didn’t seem to be aware of the contact. “Why is the guy turned to the left?”
“We tried a frontal and found it didn’t really show the product. The focus was more on the … well … our model is … ah…”
“Hung?” Rob offered with a smirk, his eyebrow raised.
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay to use that to sell the underwear. It’s a direct connection to sexuality, bold but effective, especially with the gay male consumer.”
“Ah, yeah, okay.” Steven nodded. “I thought it might distract the consumer from the product.”
Rob turned to glance at him. He smiled. “Did he distract you from the product, Steve?”
Steven smiled, a little embarrassed. “Kind of.”
Rob laughed. “You need to throw away your inhibitions, Steve, your old-fashioned ideas. Maybe I need to ply you with alcohol. What was it you were drinking that night in the bar, anyway?”
Steven stiffened. “I … oh God, I can explain. I…”
Suddenly, Rob reached out and grabbed Steven’s wrist, pulling him forward, directly in between his legs. “Steve. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” He entwined his fingers with his. “I was flattered. Only I wished you hadn’t have been so loaded. I might have given you a birthday to remember.”
Steven’s
heart hammered in his chest. He was searching for the right words to say when the phone buzzed on Rob’s desk. Rob released his hand and picked up the receiver. Steve stepped away from the desk. He walked over to the window and tried to catch his breath. He knew. He had known all along. And he seems to like me. Wow. No, this can’t be happening.
“Food’s on the way up,” Rob said suddenly.
Steven turned around and looked at him. “I thought you’d be angry.”
“Why?” He cocked his head to the side.
“I made quite an idiot out of myself that night,” Steven muttered.
“It was your birthday. It was no big deal. Besides”—he grinned—“it made my night.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“Ah, too bad,” Rob said. “I was hoping you would.”
Steven opened his mouth to speak but Rob put up a hand. “I’ll be back,” he said, getting up and strolling to the door. “The delivery guy is at the door of the outer office. I locked it.”
Steven sank down on the sofa as soon as he left. His head was in a whirl, not to mention what was going on with his cock. Rob was his boss. He wasn’t sure if Rob was intending for them to … was he? Should he? Could he stop himself even if he wanted to?
“Here it is,” Rob said, “nice and hot.”
Steven looked up. He was nice and hot, very hot. Suddenly the food didn’t hold very much appeal. His gaze slid down Rob’s chest to his pants, and settled there.
Rob set the food down.
When Steven’s gaze moved back to Rob’s face, he realized that Rob was looking right at him. “Hungry?” There was a seductive edge to his deep voice, which was as smooth as silk.
Rob was standing right in front of him suddenly.
Steven didn’t think. He instinctively reached for the zipper on Rob’s black suit pants. “You look so sexy in that black suit with that purple shirt,” Steven said, moving the zipper down oh so slowly. He wanted to savor every second of it. “Let’s not go too fast,” he whispered.
It was like a dream. He pushed the pants down over Rob’s hips, then pressed his face against his cock, which was definitely being restrained against its will in the white briefs. He grabbed the front of Rob’s briefs with his teeth and pulled the briefs out and off his cock, freeing it.
