He looked up and thought...."Oh, God....another one. And this one has his glasses on top of his well cut hair, is holding a file and is trying to look casual.....the file is upside down, I doubt there are corrective lenses in the glasses and he looks about as casual as an over styled dummy in a shop window...." He looked up over his half glasses, which did have corrective lenses, from a file he was reading as he was somewhat sprawled back using a desk drawer that had been pulled out as a convenient foot rest for his well attended to Bally of Switzerland loafers.
"Yes?"The question was implicit but, he feared, the answer was going to be the same old thing.
"Uh, I, uh, I found files...these, I mean I found these files....". He was edging toward the desk, his eyes on the dark eyed man with a silver grey crew cut that made him agonize to feel it, see if it were soft or slightly spiky when he fell over the edge of a coffee table.Behind the desk, the man slightly extended his spine to see if there was any real damage to the furniture. He'd seen the face plant before-some said that's why the positioning of the low flying table-and knew his visitor would pop up as quickly as a toy figure made the fall down and then right itself. He lowered his head slightly to indicate what might be taken for concern.
"No, Sir, fine, right here, all good, see, nothing bent, broken....my fault, sorry, I, uh, well you don't know me, no I mean you do know me or of me, you hired me two weeks ago and, uh, I found this file....."He was stymied, in his tour de floor for he'd dropped the file and, as they will do, it had scattered. Another trip to the floor to launch into recovery mode. "Gee, I'm real sorry sir, I bet you needed this...."
"I didn't ask for it which would suggest I didn't need but, further, leads to the conclusion that you wanted to come see me for whatever purpose and thought the old file trick...by the way, your glasses are under the table. It has a glass top which is how I know that. Now that we've established I have no need for the file and you've got yourself into my office, why don't we play a quick game of I'll tell you why I think you're here and then you can answer by telling me why you think you're here; I save the answers I've gotten and the dumber they are the less chance you have of getting whatever it is you think you might wish to get. Clear?"
"Uh, yeah, I mean, yes Sir, got it."
There was a silence during which a window washer on an opposing building momentarily feared for his life until he remembered he was standing at ground level, the only damage being to several pairs of open toed sling back pumps which, the ladies wearing them were now staring at.
"Got anything in there? I'm very patient but, at some point, I'm going home and if you haven't come up with something....well, you see how it is. Catatonic or not, you'd have to leave my office or give the overnight cleaning people a helluva scare. So....any time, not to seem unkind but I really don't have all day."
"I came to suck you dick."
"Good answer, direct, honest, simple declarative sentence that states the purpose and the goal. I like that, better than the idiot who said he was here to give me, and I quote, 'a shiner'. I think he meant he wanted to shine my shoes but we didn't get much further as his nerves got him and, luckily, he got to a waste paper basket before lunch made a command performance. So you're off to good start. As you say it has been two weeks so refresh my memory."
"I want to suck you dick."
"We've established that but that's not what you wanted to do two weeks ago or, hell, I may be wrong and you really did wish to apply suction to my cock and failed to mention that to the nice people in Human Resources. Did you fail to tell that to HR but, actually, my question has more to do with your name, in the intervening two weeks, I'm sorry but I don't remember it."
They looked at each other. One passive, the other trying to remember his name. One willing to be helpful, perhaps call HR and ask who they'd hired, and why, two weeks previously. Across the street, to avoid being clubbed to death with various hand bags wielded by ladies, not to mention one who had an erector set in a sack, he'd winched himself up two floors.
"Dick, my name is Andrew, no, I mean my name is Andrew, not dick...."
"I figured that out, not the Andrew part, just that your name wasn't dick. As I recall dick, at least my dick, is the stated purpose. Tell you what, why don't you sit down and describe, with gestures if you wish, just what specifically you wish to do to my dick. Yes, I know, suck it but does that mean you're going to eat my trousers in your interest in whether I'm wearing Paisley printed underwear? I'm not, I'm not wearing underwear at all, never do accept in bed. Weird isn't it, no underwear all day but for sleeping purposes I have a very specific brand of boxers which I always wear to bed."
The occasional silence was becoming both oppressive and boring-the two are not the same.
"Uh, sir, I mean like, I heard, from some of the other guys, I wouldn't just assume this, that, uh, sometimes you liked to have your dick sucked."
"Yep, that would be true. Of course, I don't know any man who doesn't like to have his dick sucked, the oftener the better, prevents blue balls, gives you more stamina when fucking so, sure, now that I think about it, I love to have my dick sucked. That's what you're here to do, right? The guys in the office told you that. Oh, which guys, Frank, Rocco, Ain.....they've all sucked my dick and, on several occasions, with Rocco, I sucked his back."
"I didn't know that."
"Why would you unless Rocco told you and since Rocco knows what's good for him, what keeps him employed, what keeps him as my assistant when I go boring places like, oh, for instance, Rome or Buenos Aires he gets to go. Now, young Andrew were he to tell everyone that his boss, the guy in the corner office, sucked his dick, wherever in the world that might have happened, how long do you think his current employment would last?"
"Uh, not very long? Sir."
"Right, not very long. Indeed if I were to get word, overseas, that he'd mentioned some off hours cock sucking he'd find himself someplace, lets say Barcelona, with no money, not speaking Spanish and, oops, he boss has his passport but has run off to Ibiza with a fine looking young bull fighter who, for money, very little money, will remove his suit of lights while whoever was back in Barcelona, possibly on the Rambla de las Flores, with only a couple of Euros and a piece of paper telling him where to go and find temporary employment as a male whore, specializing in being fisted."
Andrew shuddered. Once, in desperation, he'd let a guy fuck him for a C note but that was way back in college and he had needed the money in the worst possible way. One might say, he found the worst possible way to get it but that depended on your point of view. The man sitting behind the desk, now reclining even more, his hands behind his head, would have told him that having made a start at a prosperous, do it on your own time business, he quit before they started the race. As to the possible, degradation, something with which he never bothered, well, if you let little things like that get to you then your chances of accelerating in big business were dim. Had he wished, he could have told Andrew that, however ineptly, he'd started on the first rung up even thought that had him on his ass on the floor. He could have told him that most really successful men start with their asses on various floors but they don't stay there for long.
In a sentence that he said so slowly you could recite any Armed forces anthem, twice, he partially closed his eyes and,"So........You.....Want........to .......Suck......my .......Dick?You, my dick, here in my office, your going to open what I hope is not a virgin mouth and suck 'er up. Hoover that bit of flesh and erectile tissue just like it was a popsicle and you wanted it. That the plan?"
"Uh, yes, yes Sir, that was, kinda what I had in mind and, uh, well, you see...."
A hand slammed a desk. "For Christ sake, stop babbling, Jesus, you're beginning to make me think English isn't your first language. If you came in here, dropped to your knees, opened your mouth very wide and point in it, I'd get the idea. If you didn't think I'd figured it out, fuck, boy, stick out your tongue and waggle it. If I can't pick that up then you should be sitting where I am and I should be on the floor, not just opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue but stripping off my pants while, in my mouth, I had a pair of spurs. I should be getting fucked for how dumb I am."
"You're not dumb. Sir."
"Boy I know that, clever of you to pick up the clues so all we have left to do is let you crawl around here and see what you can find, see if you can make the snake come out of his hole and stare at you with his one eye that doesn't shed tears but does shoot cum."
Andrew dropped to the floor.
"Hold it, before you get here, truth in advertising forces me to make the following statements based on what you may have heard from some of the other guys. I am NOT, I repeat, NOT hung like a horse, a bull, a St. Bernard, a goat, a mule, a boar, an elephant, Rhino or Hippo. No beasts of the field, domesticated or otherwise. It is not fatter or bigger or whatever than a two liter bottle, a fire hose fully engorged, a flag pole or the ever popular Polish sausage. No edibles, from the product of Oscar Myer to a rump roast. I have what is called a standard issue set of cock an balls, perfectly serviceable, which you're about to do, but nothing that's written up in magazine.Nothing that causes my tailor to add six extra inches, vertical and circular, to the left leg of my pants. I'm not concealing a cannon, a bazooka, a fouling piece or any weaponry apart from a Swiss Army Knife. Oh, on thing, see this cigarette lighter as it's in the middle of an ashtray? When I push it down it gets very hot, a lot hotter than cigarette lighters usually get and that's because it's not a cigarette lighter, it's a brand since no one smokes any more. This was given to me, custom made, by a dear friend, a prominent sadist in Warsaw; Really, few gifts have pleased me more. If, after a certain number of suckings, I find you're doing a good job then, well, figure it out. Better yet, ask around the office, or more specifically those who told you to get in here and suck my dick, to show you their left ass cheek. Okay, keep crawling, I've got my pants off and you don't need to worry about my shoes, socks or, this will throw you, so I'll tell you they're there, sock garters, I collect them. My favourite pair says, 'All The Way With LBJ'".
What was there left to do? Andrew turned the corner and there was his object, as described, save for the garters, the socks and the shoes, naked from his waist down. An appropriate amount of manscaping had been done, more to emphasize the cock, and keep hair from it that might get in mouths, than all the balls. As he'd said, it was completely appropriate, the head wasn't hovering just above the carpet, his balls slightly extended, somewhat restrained by the chair.
Nothing for it, Andrew took a radar beam on his target and went in for the kill. He had a good mouth and, a DNA anomaly, two more spit glands than usual so even from the start, it was warm, very moist and a pleasure to be in. His boss leaned by, silently touched a timer, closed his eyes and let unnatual nature take his course.
Andrew would of course deny it but....he'd been sucking cock for some years, starting with his cousin then, on reference, two of his uncles, the meter reader, fifteen professors, lots of fellow students, virtually every one in the frat house where, the word got out, not one member there was gay. The cock sucking? Well, everyone knows that's just part of the initiation ritual, nothing sexual was meant by it, just young guys having fun. The gentleman in the chair could easily recognize experience but also realized that what he'd done, and however much he done it, had never cost him his amateur status. Every cock he'd suck, as he was doing now, was to get some place, some where, some thing. He smiled, knowing what ever he wanted this day, he was doomed to failure however good the suck job had been.
Across the street the window washer had quit washing windows but was running his squeegee over his crotch, mouth open, and little slurping noises coming. From the corner of his eye, the man behind the desk noticed, gave him a friendly wave and made a note to get the name of with window washing company and, oh yeah, did they do inside as well as outside?
Meanwhile, behind the desk, Andrew felt that old feeling in his lips, that of a cock beginning to pulsate, a quick look showed the abdomen close to spasm and so he shifted into overdrive. It worked, three seconds later a milk delivery was made good sized, warm, intensely viscous, tasty. There were two more of diminishing returns and all that was left to do was to do a little clean up, suck a ball or two and then wait for his boss to relax.
A hand came down, raised his chin, a voice told him to get dressed.When he turned, looking like a business professional, so did the gentleman behind the desk, not even a hint that anything had happened.
"I, uh, guess that's about it, Sir"
"Seems so." Not even thank you or the offer of a tissue to clean up his face. "I guess I'll be going then...."
"I think that's best." Andrew headed for the door until he heard his name called. "Come here, I've something else."
All smiles he almost fell over the desk when he ground to a halt. The man was picking up a phone and between two fingers extended twenty dollars, Ha!!! not even a decent tip, this was his last day working for that Putz.
Back at the desk, the gentleman completed his call.
"Hi, Carl, uh, I think I need a new assistant. The one I just had blew out the door before I could ask him to join me for coffee, even gave him twenty bucks to go to that expensive place to get it, slammed out of here,...I'm guessing you'll get his reservation shortly."
"Well, at least you didn't waste any time training him....actually, I've got one oufside that had potential, played water polo at Houston, got himself a smart looking GPA, graduated....fine looking, the sort every man would like to have as a son or as an assistant. Want to see him? He's here."
"Yeah, sure why not. But don't send him up, I'll have Rocco come down, get a feeling for him.
"Good idea, if anyone knows what you want it's Rocco."
"Lets let him cool his heels for a bit, send me his application and I'll cue Rocco. Oh, what's his name?"
Across the street a nice looking man was perilously trying to stand on a ledge reaching for the scaffold that held a window washer. In Business, things can turn on a wink.