by Cody Ryder
His thoughts were turning quickly to fantasy. He wanted to see those eyes again. He wanted to see what they looked like when they were brimming with desire, when they were looking back at him and only him.
This is just a fantasy…nothing will come of this.
Joe wrapped his fingers around his quickly stiffening cock, savoring the warmth of the water that cascaded down his body and over his shaft. He held his eyes shut as he began to stroke himself, and a shiver of pleasure through his body sent his other hand out to stable himself against the shower wall. He was completely hard now, thick and full in his grip, and each pump of his cock was matched with a flash of his face, his eyes, his voice.
In his mind, Joe saw Bruce down on his knees, his mouth open and wanting, his ice-blue gaze begging give it to me.
You’re a fighter, Bruce, Joe thought. What would it be like to spar with you in another arena? God, I’d love to know.
He let out a low groan that was lost in the sound of the water pouring down over him. He stroked harder, faster, his toes curling in as he clenched his muscles and tried to deny the climax that was quickly hurtling towards him. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t control it. His hand just kept moving, kept drawing out the swell that was building down between his legs. It wouldn’t stop…
His legs trembled as it hit him, and he slammed his fist once against the shower wall as his cock tensed and swelled in his grip. I’m coming! His eyes snapped open and a strained moan shivered out from his lips as white flowers burst like fireworks across his vision. His cock throbbed in his hand as he came, the waves of his orgasm pulsing over him again and again.
“Oh, shit…” he murmured. The white shapes that were swirling across his vision slowly faded to spots. It was the hardest he’d ever made himself come before.
I’m really seeing flowers, he thought, trying to blink himself back to normal. He felt like he’d stood up too fast. Maybe he hit me harder than I thought he did.
After finishing with his shower, Joe weaved through the boxes stacked up in his bedroom and climbed into bed, naked. It’d be another week till he’d see him again.
How did this even happen? This was completely unexpected.
The last thing that crossed through Joe Jordan’s mind before he fell asleep was that he probably ought to unpack. Unpack, and get real furniture. His gut told him that it wouldn’t be too long until he’d host a guest—and his intuition usually wasn’t wrong.
Six
The lunch boom that LeFlorette’s had experienced two days prior hadn’t decided to repeat itself again, and so Bruce and Julia stood at the counter listening to Frank, their only dine-in customer of the hour, as they sipped on hot cups of rich, black coffee.
“You should’ve seen him, Julia,” Frank said. “I told him he needed to get his ass into the gym again. Bam bam! Those punches. Bruce—coffee and sandwiches are not the only thing you do well.”
“Once he feels competitive about something, there’s no stopping him,” Julia said matter-of-factly.
“The new guy was good too,” Frank said. “Surprised me. How’d you know him, Bruce?”
Bruce looked up from his coffee. “I didn’t. I’d just met him.”
“Oh, it seemed like you knew each other.”
Julia looked over at Bruce with an intrigued expression on her face. Bruce pretended not notice. Frank drank the rest of his coffee and inspected the empty cup.
“Another coffee, Frank?” Bruce asked.
“I would, but I got a class starting soon. Gotta get back. Well, pleasure chatting as always.” He pulled out a ten and placed it on the counter.
“You too, Frank,” Julia said with a cheery smile.
“Keep the change. See you two later.”
“See you, Frank,” said Bruce, picking up the bill from table and waving it in a little salute. Frank waved and headed out the door, leaving the shop empty except for two college girls reading books on the corner sofa.
“So, who’s this guy you met at boxing?” Julia asked, grinning. “You weren’t going to mention him to me earlier?”
Bruce shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”
She straightened up. “Not important? Bruce, you never meet anyone new who you get along with. Come on, was he cute? Was he your type? Maybe he was, since you didn’t hesitate to knock him out.” She laughed. “You’ve always been so weird with guys.”
Bruce tipped back the rest of his coffee and took their empty cups back into the kitchen to wash them. “He’s just a new friend. That’s it, that’s all.”
Julia’s grin settled into a little smirk that she hid behind the rim of her coffee cup as she finished the drink. “Yeah, okay,” she said, following him into the kitchen. She leaned against the edge of their stainless steel industrial sink next to Bruce, his gaze refusing to budge from what he was doing.
“Cup?” he asked, sticking his open hand out to her, eyes still down at the running faucet. She handed it to him. Bruce could just feel her inquisitive smile burning at him. She was curious. He understood that. After all, she was right; it had been a really long time since he’d befriended anyone—outside an owner-customer relationship, at least. And it’d been an especially long time since he’d let any new guys into his life. He knew what she was thinking, and it made him flush with embarrassment.
“But…do you like him?” she asked innocently.
“No,” he said firmly. “I mean, yes. As a friend. He’s an interesting guy. Surprisingly, I got along with him. But that’s it.”
“You’re going to see him again?”
“Damnit, Julia,” he laughed.
“As a friend,” she offered. “Come on, throw me a bone, Bruce. I’ve known you for how many years, and I think I’ve only seen you with a boyfriend, what? Once? And I don’t think you’ve ever made any friends outside the shop.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got Marcos. I’ve got our customers—what’s left of them at least. I’ve got friends.”
“Okay, but you know what I mean…”
Bruce put the cups into the drying rack and wiped his hands on the seat of his pants. He had to give her something otherwise he knew she’d never stop bugging him about it. “He said he was a business owner; an entrepreneur. He just recently moved to San Diego from the Bay Area, so he’s probably in tech.”
“He didn’t say?”
They walked back to the front counter, and Bruce poured them two glasses of water. “No. He didn’t seem comfortable sharing. He seemed successful. He had a Tesla.”
“Tesla? Isn’t that that science dude?”
“Yeah, but it’s also a type of new fancy electric car. Anyway, it’s not cheap.”
“Oh,” she said, nodding.
“But that’s fine, I wasn’t interested in telling him about the shop either. It was nice to talk with another business owner. I didn’t get specific about it, but I did tell him I was going through rough times.”
“Maybe he could give you some thoughts? If he is that successful.”
Bruce frowned. “You kidding me? I don’t want the first thing we talk about to be how my business is failing. Especially asking for advice! That’d be horrible.”
“Oh,” Julia said, with a knowing look. “So you are interested in him.”
“As a friend,” Bruce said quickly.
Julia smiled back at him, and he could see her analyzing him with her gaze. He hated when she did that. “Cut it out,” he laughed.
“Tell me the truth, is he cute? Just give me your opinion. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“He’s…pretty attractive,” Bruce said finally. “But I told you. I’m not looking for anything. I don’t have time…”
Julia grinned and nodded at him. The phone by the cash register rang, and she quickly scooped it up.
“Hello, LeFlorette’s Coffee. Oh, hi, Marcos.” Her smile disappeared. “Yeah, he’s right here.” She held the phone out to Bruce. “Marcos. He’s having some trouble at the supplier.”
Marcos had gone out on an errand to pick up a bulk order of chicken from their supplier, whom Bruce had negotiated a new, lower “longtime customer” price with. It’d taken him a great deal of finessing to get the deal to go through—but if they hadn’t agreed to it then they would’ve been in hot water. Their spicy chicken melt sandwiches were one of the main things keeping them afloat, but they couldn’t afford to buy the same quantities they used to, and not at the same prices.
“Damnit,” Bruce muttered, and took the phone. “Hey, Marcos. What’s the problem? You’re kidding me. We agreed…No. Yes. Yeah. Just…just wait there, okay? I’ll be over there. Yeah. Just call my cell phone next time. Okay, bye.”
He hung up the phone and handed it back to Julia, who placed it back into the cradle. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Somebody over there fucked up the order, and they’re claiming that the deal I made never happened. I’m sure I can clear it up, I just need to go over there and talk to them.”
“Jesus. Okay,” Julia said. “I can handle things here.”
“Thanks, Julia,” he said, checking his pocket for his car keys and cell phone. “I’ll be back.”
Bruce hurried out to his car and pulled out from his spot in front of the shop. Normally, his mind would’ve been buzzing with all the possibilities of what could go wrong and what course of action he should take to correct it. This was a big problem. If the supplier refused to acknowledge the deal he made, he might not be able to afford to buy the chicken—and if his customers came in and found out they weren’t serving the chicken melt sandwiches…well, he couldn’t afford to lose any more customers. But his thoughts were occupied by something else.
He wasn’t lying when he’d told Julia that Joe was just a friend. Sure, Joe was attractive. He was intriguing. But this definitely wasn’t the time to get involved in anything.
Was it?
Besides, he didn’t even know if Joe was gay or not. He probably wasn’t.
Normally, he would’ve had no problem putting him out of his mind. He would’ve occupied his thoughts with the urgent things, the things that mattered. He had a lot to think about right now, the least of them being some guy… But the memories of the night before continued to replay over and over in his mind. They only stopped when Bruce drove the car up the block and passed by The Standard. He found himself unable to stop from glancing out the passenger-side window at the bustling coffee shop, and unable to fight the hot anger that flared up inside of him.
Seven
Joe sat at the desk as construction workers and IT people routed cable and moved desks into the space above the café that was to become the Southern California main headquarters. The first hires would be coming in at the beginning of the following week. Joe was enjoying the feeling of working in a small, intimate environment again while it lasted. It was just him and Lyle here now—none of the bigwig type outsiders he’d inevitably had to bring into the company to help run it, who were always fretting about some potential lawsuit, or offering their sage advice on how to cut corners to save money.
He had his laptop open on his otherwise bare desk, and his feet up on an empty plastic shipping box with “CAT6 1000FT 20CT” labeled on the side. On the screen was a video chat with Paul Whedon, his CFO. Paul was one of those outsiders—he was in his late fifties and had worked for several big food and restaurant chain companies. He wasn’t used to the freewheeling and sometimes seemingly reckless style of business that had armed Joe with the fresh energy needed to make The Standard what it was.
“Look, Joe. The company is no longer a startup. It’s already unusual enough that you’ve separated yourself from the main headquarters and moved down to San Diego. It’s like we’re operating without a CEO here.”
“Once the SD office is up and running—which it will be soon—we’ll be communicating all the time like we are right now,” Joe said, stretching his hands behind his head. “Remote work is where it’s at, Paul. Eventually, I’m gonna have it so none of our corporate staff have to come in to an office. It’s just a waste of time and money.” He watched on the screen as Paul squirmed in his seat.
“We need to focus on the company’s future, Joe. Where it’s going to head—Jesus, it sounds like a warzone over there. What’s going on?”
“Sorry. They’re getting the office set up.” He leaned forward, closer to the computer. “We’re in an expansion phase, Paul. I’m not concerned about rushing to find the next big thing. We concentrate on doing what we do best, we keep listening to our customers, and eventually we’ll know what to jump onto next.”
He’d heard this fretting before—bigger, more, more, more. Paul wanted “innovation” to try and drive the company, but Joe knew his style of innovation. It was the same type that Apple was suffering from now—adding what wasn’t needed or what they weren’t particularly good at. Paul was fantastic with the numbers, which was why Joe had hired him, but his vision for how a coffee shop like The Standard should expand was decidedly on a different level. If Paul were CEO, they’d be well on their way to becoming a fast food joint. Hell, Joe had already given in to Paul’s suggestion of serving simple (low quality) breakfast and lunch foods. It was a compromise he’d been willing to make to keep him happy, but he wasn’t going to go any further.
Paul shifted in his chair. “Alright. But the Chinese investors want something new, Joe.”
Joe knew Paul wasn’t happy about taking advice from a CEO half his age, but he wasn’t going to budge on his principals. “They’re just scared that we’ll tank if we open in Shanghai. I get it. But let’s just let the coffee speak for itself, huh? And in the meantime, I’ll keep my eye out for the next big thing.” He winked at the screen. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Joe.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
Joe nodded. “Alright. Talk to later.” He closed the chat program, and then shut the laptop.
“Excuse me, sir,” a worker said, pointing to the box that Joe had his feet up on.
“Oh, sorry.” He dropped his feet to let him take the box, and then reclined back in his chair. The next big thing. Their current big thing was the next big thing as far as he was concerned—an affordable selection of the highest quality, fair trade coffees. An artisanal selection in a friendly, accessible environment. But he knew how the game worked. Consumers were fickle. And in this day and age, it was easy to drop off the map and be replaced by something else.
He was hungry. He got up and went downstairs to the café, which was bustling with customers. He made his rounds, greeting and checking up on the guests, and then went into the back office where Lyle was looking over some spreadsheets on his laptop.
“Lyle, I’m gonna go to lunch. That place you told me about? Fantastic sandwiches. I’ll bring some back for the staff.”
“Sure thing, Joe. How’d the meeting go?”
“You know Paul. Every day I ask myself—why didn’t Lyle take the CFO position?”
Lyle laughed. “You know why, bro. I couldn’t handle a position with that much pressure.”
“You’ve got the skills for it, though. And the mindset.”
“I know,” Lyle smiled. “Why, is Paul not working out?”
“He’s great. Knows his shit, of course. But like I said—you know Paul.”
“Right. Oh, hey.” Lyle went over to his bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a sheet of pink construction paper. “Angie drew this for you.”
Joe took the paper from Lyle. Drawn on it was a jumble of multi-colored crayon lines that just barely seemed to look like a person’s face. He laughed, surprised. “She drew this for me? That’s so sweet of her. What is it?”
“She said it’s a drawing of you and her. She said she misses her uncle Joe.”
Joe smiled, charmed. “Well, you tell her this is going right up on my fridge at home, at that I miss her too. I’ll be back with lunch.”
He went up to his office to put the drawing into his briefcas
e, and took a moment to admire it again. He smiled, thinking of Angie’s bubbly personality. He always loved to go visit Lyle and his wife, and to have his only chance to play the fun uncle. After all the years of spending time with Lyle and his family, he’d never longed for one of his own. His mind had always been on the job. As he looked at the drawing, a strange feeling began to circle around deep in his heart, one that he’d never felt before. He frowned, slid the drawing into the briefcase, and left the office.
Lyle had been with him from the beginning, and when The Standard had started its shoot to the top, he had been the first one that Joe had asked to become CFO. He already knew at the time that Lyle would turn him down—he was business minded and a whiz with numbers, but he was also lacking in self-confidence. Convincing him to stay on as an assistant manager was already a tough enough job.
