by Ally Vance
I got out of my car just ahead of him and strolled around the back of my car as he was getting out of his car. I decided to go for it and bid him a good morning because I thought if I didn’t, he might just go on his way inside and not see me at all.
“Morning, Mr. Evans,” I hollered and waved from behind my car. I wanted to make sure he saw my car.
Griffin looked in my direction, shielded his eyes from the sun, and then glanced at my car. With a large cup of coffee in his hand, he checked the aisle to make sure there weren’t any cars coming, and then he made his way over to me.
“Good morning, Riley,” he returned the greeting and looked at my Mercedes. “You have exceptional taste in cars.” You do! I’m following your exceptional taste. “We have the same model,” Griffin said with a smile.
He took a step toward the building, and I fell into step alongside him. Being June, the humidity was heavy and made it feel like not only was my dress shirt suctioning to my body but like my tie was strangling me too.
“Yours is much newer,” I pointed out the obvious.
“Doesn’t matter. They’re damn fine cars.”
“True,” I agreed with him as we stepped onto the sidewalk from the parking lot.
Come on, fucking remember me!
“How long have you had yours?” Griffin inquired.
“Just a little over a month. I got it when I moved back here after I graduated from college.” After I saw that you had one.
“Are you originally from Grand Rapids?” Griffin asked and sounded genuinely interested.
Why can’t you fucking remember me?
“Yes. I grew up here but moved to Ann Arbor to go to school.”
“I knew there was something special about you.” Griffin laughed and sipped his coffee. “You’re a Grand Rapids boy and a University of Michigan grad. We have a lot in common.”
Of course, we do.
“Well, once you own an S-Class Mercedes, you’ll never want anything else.”
I tried hard to concentrate on the conversation, but the fact that he said that he knew there was something special about me made it hard to keep up with much.
“Yeah, it’s very comfortable and has a lot of power,” I said as Griffin pulled the door open and gestured with his coffee cup for me to go in ahead of him.
“They’re also built like tanks and incredibly spacious,” Griffin added.
I was desperate to keep the conversation going and hoped we could ride the elevator up alone. I pressed the button to call the elevator and saw three women walking toward the building. Please, fucking stay away, bitches.
“The trunk is huge,” I commented.
Griffin laughed and then took a sip from his cup.
“That they are.”
Thankfully the elevator arrived, and we entered the car just as I heard the bottom of the front door drag over the doormat. I hit the button to close the door and then hit the buttons for the second and third floors.
“So I know you’ve only been here about a month, but be sure to the check your mailbox today for a party invitation,” Griffin casually said as his eyes bore into mine.
“A party?”
“Yes.” Griffin took another sip but quickly swallowed and pulled the cup away from his mouth as the elevator came to a stop on the second floor. “I have a company party each quarter, and all employees are invited. The invite will be in your mailbox this week.”
“Great,” I replied, trying to sound excited, but not nearly as excited as I really was inside. I stepped out of the elevator and turned to look at Griffin. I was surprised to see that he had held his hand out to prevent the doors from closing. “I will await the invitation and look forward to attending.”
“Good, Riley. It’ll be nice to have another Michigan grad there.”
Griffin moved his hand out of the way of the elevator door so that they would close. Was that flirting? No. Griffin Evans didn’t flirt. He had whomever he wanted without effort. But it was something special that I didn’t think any of the other interns had with him.
Instead of going to my desk, I went to the men’s room and jacked off to the fantasy of him telling me that he remembered me and that he wanted me to be with him. I shot a huge load on the back wall of the stall.
“Look at what you made me do, Mr. Evans,” I whispered.
Later that day when I returned from lunch, I stopped in the mailroom on the first floor and checked my mailbox. The usual Monday flyer was sitting in each box along with a black envelope. I glanced around at all of the other mailbox slots, and most of them also contained the black envelope. This must have been the invitation. On my way to the lobby to catch the elevator, I flipped over the envelope that read “You’re Invited…” in gold lettering. Feeling a surge of excitement, I opened the envelope and pulled out a glossy black card that cordially was inviting me to Griffin’s home for a party one week from this upcoming Saturday.
For the rest of the day, all I could think about was the party. Granted, everyone else would be there, but it was just an extra way for me to be close to him. I felt myself growing hard as the ideas ran rampant in my mind. I could see how he lived at home. Maybe there were other things I could do to be like him or catch his attention. There might be a chance that I could see his room.
The back of the invitation had directions to Griffin’s place, and each night after work leading up to the party, I drove by his estate. It was just outside of town and sat on a huge piece of property surrounded by a patch of woods and a lake. The mansion that kept him tucked away had a gated private entrance, of course. But I was able to drive by and look. I wondered if he walked along the lake in the evenings. I knew I would if I lived here … or when I would live here.
Since Yvette had worked for Evans Financial for almost thirty years, longer than when Griffin took over at the helm, I decided to ask her about the party attire. People mostly wore party or formal attire to what she termed as the Evans’ parties. She commented about how Griffin had carried on the same party traditions that his grandfather, father, and uncle-in-law had. Yvette’s eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual, and then she offered to make an appointment for me at a tux rental shop. I accepted because I didn’t know of any off the top of my head, and if she was willing to make me an appointment, then I’d gladly accept the help.
The day of the party finally arrived, and I turned off the main road into the long line of cars waiting for valet attendants to take their vehicles. While I waited, I could see some tents and light posts had been set up between Griffin’s house and the lake. It was overcast today, and some light rain had fallen early this morning, but it seemed to let up for now. Finally, I was able to hand my car off to the valet guy and made my way up the stone steps to Griffin’s home that I had been so eager to climb.
The front doors were wide open, and once I made it inside, I was offered a flute of champagne. I politely declined the offered drink with a quick shake of my head. The man had no idea how important this moment was to me. I was inside Griffin Miles Evans’ home.
The entryway was huge and was open from the floor all the way up to the second story ceiling. Dark wood covered the floors, door casings, and the railing on the dramatic stairs. Sand-colored paint and soft glowing yellow hues from the wall sconces gave the home a warm and welcome feeling. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear music being played, and somehow, I didn’t think it was coming from speakers. As I meandered amongst the others, I found a five-piece orchestra playing outside between some tents and the house.
I wandered down to one of the tents where drinks and food were being served and requested a rum and Coke. With my drink in hand, I walked toward the house and stopped halfway to admire the incredible architecture of his home. The exterior had a lot of dark stone masonry, and everything about the character and presence of the home pointed to being owned and designed by a strong male. The home screamed Griffin. Just as I was looking up at the second-story windows, trying to decide which one might be h
is room, Malcolm came over to me.
“Hey, Riley. Nice to see you. I’ve been wandering around bored out of my fucking mind,” Malcolm said under his breath as Mark Hull and his wife Yvette were coming up the path toward us.
“Bored, huh?” I asked.
Malcolm and I both paused our conversation and smiled and nodded at Mark and his wife. Yvette wore a rose-colored dress with a plunging neckline. One of her hands clutched Mark’s forearm while the other hand clutched a wine glass. As they walked past us, Yvette’s eyes raked up and down mine and Malcolm’s bodies. When they were well out of earshot, Malcolm laughed.
“She gets completely tanked at every fucking party. It’s going to be a long night for Mark, I bet,” Malcolm said. “Did you get some food, Riley?”
“No, I just got here,” I sipped my drink and gestured up toward the house, still wondering about which room was his. “Some house, huh?”
“Yeah, he seems to be doing just fine,” Malcolm agreed.
“He’s got an incredible view of the lake,” I commented and turned to gesture toward the lake. Now that I was facing the other direction, a small structure with the exact same dark stone exterior caught my eye. “Wonder what that little place is used for,” I mused out loud.
Malcolm glanced in the direction I was looking in. The small dwelling sat away from the house about fifty or sixty yards close to the lake with thick woods directly behind it. A pathway with small landscaping lights connected Griffin’s home with the smaller building.
“Who knows. Maybe that’s where he keeps his hired help,” Malcolm joked. The sarcastic joke made my stomach feel like it had been punched, but Malcolm brought up Griffin again, pulling me away from my thoughts. “I wish the fucker would show his vain face.”
Was he waiting for Griffin?
My suppressed and tightly controlled jealousy bounded out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“What are you waiting for him for?” I asked and rapidly tried to backpedal. “Are you so eager to share work stuff with him?” Because really, why the fuck would he be waiting for Griffin. Was he attracted to Griffin? I hadn’t picked up on that before, but then again, I had hoped that no one was picking up on that from me.
“Fuck work, Riley. I don’t give a shit about work outside of the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday,” Malcolm said through the fake smile that he plastered onto his face as another high up walked by with his spouse.
I was annoyed that Malcolm wasn’t as dedicated to Evans Financial as I was. It pissed me off that he even had the audacity to continue working in the intern position. Malcolm would never advance within the company as I would.
“So,” I shrugged. “Why so eager to see Griffin?” I asked again.
“So he can see my face and see that I was here at his rich, shitty party. Once he sees me and knows I was here, then I can bail.” Malcolm looked at his watch. “If I can get the fuck out of here within the next thirty minutes, I can still meet my girlfriend for a movie. Don’t you have shit you’d rather do than be here, Riley?”
There was nowhere that I’d rather be than at Griffin’s place. But I had to blow it off and pretend like I was annoyed with being here too. I glanced in the direction of the food tent and saw that Yvette was looking at me. When she noticed that I was looking at her, she slowly licked the bottom of her lip before she wrapped her plump lips around the glass.
“I figured that since I spent the money to rent a tux that I might as well get use out of it,” I explained. I looked back toward the house as people mingled in and out. “Hopefully, he’ll show up soon,” I said, hopefully without sounding too eager.
“Oh, he’s been out and around,” Malcolm said.
“Yeah? Are you sure? I haven’t seen him yet,” I recalled.
“I’m sure. I came out here to get something to eat and drink while Chase, Jeff, and Mike were inside. Mike sent me a text saying that Griffin saw them inside, and he thanked them for coming. They already left, and now I’m stuck waiting for him to grace me with his presence. He does this at every party.”
“What?” I paused and sipped from my glass, so I didn’t sound too desperate for information. “What does he do?”
“Disappears for a while. He always goes to his study off and on through the evening. Probably bangs someone.”
I held the glass to my lips and let the liquid slowly fill my mouth. It prevented me from saying anything smug about Griffin banging anyone. I didn’t care who he had fucked; I hated all of them.
“Want to come inside with me and see if we can spot him?” Malcolm asked.
I went inside with Malcolm, and we strolled around the lower level. Mentally I burned everything into my memory and took it all in. Each time we passed the stairs, I could hear people laughing and could tell lights were on in the upstairs. Malcolm told me Griffin had a game room upstairs with a pool table and things like that.
“Maybe he’s up there,” I suggested. I was dying to go up there and snoop.
As I was looking up the staircase, Malcolm discretely bumped my arm with his elbow. When I looked at him, I saw that his eyes were focused down the hall. Griffin had just exited a room and was walking toward us with an annoyed look on his face. He didn’t look like he wanted to be interrupted, but he stopped when Malcolm said something.
“Mr. Evans, awesome party, as usual. Thank you for the invite,” Malcolm said in a total suck ass tone.
“You’re welcome, Malcolm. I hope you’re having a good time,” Griffin said and then shifted his attention from Malcolm to me. “Riley, thank you for coming.” With that, Griffin smiled and headed outside.
Fuck! That was it? Was that all he was going to say to me? I thought maybe we could talk about more of our similarities. Maybe the business program at Michigan, or the football team, or our cars. Was that really it?
“Alright, man, let’s go,” Malcolm murmured.
I wasn’t fucking leaving. Not without something more from him than a generic thanks for coming comment. I told Malcolm to go on without me and that I wanted to at least eat. After Malcolm left, I wandered around the house a bit and found myself taking a chance upstairs. As people laughed, drank, and played pool in the enormous loft, I went in search of a bathroom. All of the rooms had doors partly opened and with lights on in them, except for a room at the end of the hallway. That room’s door was open, but it was dark inside. I knew it was Griffin’s room.
I was just looking for the bathroom. That was what I’d tell anyone who caught me and asked what I was doing.
Casually, I walked down the hallway toward the darkened room. I pushed the heavy door open and saw his bed. Quickly, I ducked into the room, and without moving from my spot, I glanced around. Even in the cover of darkness, I could see that his bed was made up of crisp white bedding. Probably put on freshly this morning by some maid. My body turned and took me in the direction of his bathroom. Aside from being oversized, it was immaculate. Slate-colored quartz sat on top of dark cabinets. I wondered which of the two sinks he predominantly used.
I reached for the blue-gray hand towel that was hanging next to one of the sinks. Impulsively, I held the hand towel up against my face and inhaled the scent. The fibers had a fresh scent to them, which could either be laundry detergent or his hands after they’d been washed. I felt my hard-on demand attention. I quickly unzipped my pants and reached inside my fly to stroke my hard shaft for a moment. Laughter out in the hallway sounded like it was coming closer, so I rushed to the toilet and flushed it before zipping up. If nothing else, the sound of a flushing toilet bought me a few extra moments. In case someone was waiting for the bathroom, I finished the charade by washing my hands and then drying them slowly on his hand towel.
Now my scent is here for you, Griffin.
Momentarily satisfied, I felt like I had shared a private piece of Griffin. I bet no one else at Evans Financial had done that. By the time I got downstairs, the high that I had felt while upstairs faded. I roamed around the lower
level and looked around at everything. I stopped in front of the open door to the room Griffin had walked out of before he talked to Malcolm and me.
Talked to us? Who was I kidding? Griffin hadn’t really talked to us. All he said was quickly in passing. I felt as though I had been slighted by Griffin. I thought this party might have afforded me the chance to talk to him more. But he blew me off.
In front of me was the den that Malcolm had said Griffin would disappear to during his parties. As I fantasized about going behind the closed door of the den with Griffin, clicking heels lazily scraped along the beautiful hardwood floors, disrupting my thoughts. Annoyed, I turned my head to the left in the direction of the noise to see Yvette Hull wobbling along the hallway. My guess was that she was trying to make it to the bathroom to the right of me as gingerly as possible. I didn’t want to interact with anyone at the moment and walked into Griffin’s den.
Griffin’s den was furnished with heavy wood pieces, masculine brown leather seats, and University of Michigan memorabilia sporadically placed. His desk had a writing pad, a set of pens, and what looked like one of those wireless cell phone chargers. Near the window, two cigar brown leather seats were separated by a small circular table. Instantly, my mind ran with the fantasy of sitting there talking with Griffin about Michigan or their football team. I closed my eyes, and I felt my dick twitch, bringing my hard-on back to life.
I was deep in the fantasy of sitting across from Griffin by the window. Griffin laughed at something I said, followed by him kindly telling me that he was happy that I was here. He told me that he enjoyed spending time just with me and covered my knee with his strong hand.
Then, in an instant, my time alone with Griffin vanished, courtesy of those fucking heels of Yvette’s.
