Carrying the sports bag as casually as he could, he made his way through reception, smiling at the security guard as though it were any other Monday morning.
"Morning, Jake."
"Morning."
The lift seemed painfully slow.
When the doors finally opened, he stepped out into the silent corridor.
No, Rachel.
No, Dylan.
No, Angela.
Exactly as he'd hoped.
He unlocked Dylan's office, placed the sports bag neatly beside the wardrobe and took one last look around.
Everything appeared exactly as it should.
Jake allowed himself a small sigh of relief.
One problem solved.
Back at his own desk, he switched on his computer and opened the day's diary.
A busy Monday.
Plenty of meetings.
Several video calls.
The usual stream of emails had already begun arriving.
Normality.
That was exactly what he needed.
The familiar routine gradually settled his nerves.
Rachel arrived a few minutes later carrying two coffees.
"Morning."
"Morning."
She studied him for a second before raising an eyebrow.
"You look shattered."
Jake accepted the coffee with a grateful smile.
"Didn't sleep brilliantly."
"Were you binge-watching something again?"
He laughed.
"Something like that."
Rachel shook her head.
"You need another hobby."
If only you knew, Jake thought.
At quarter to nine, the office doors opened again.
Dylan strode in, looking stunning and sexy as always.
Navy suit.
White shirt.
Polished black brogues.
Despite everything that had happened over the weekend, he looked as though he'd stepped straight out of a magazine.
"Morning, Jake."
"Morning, Dylan."
"How's Sally?" Jake asked.
Dylan smiled.
"Much better, thanks. She's got a fractured arm rather than a clean break, so she's in a sling for a few weeks, but she'll be fine."
Jake smiled with genuine relief.
"I'm glad to hear it."
"So am I."
Dylan paused for a moment.
"And thanks again for sorting my things out on Friday. I really appreciated it."
Jake forced himself to remain calm.
"You're welcome."
"Couldn't ask for a better PA."
With that, Dylan gave him a grateful smile before disappearing into his office.
Jake sat perfectly still until the door closed.
Only then did he let out the breath he'd been holding.
He'd got away with it.
Or so he thought.
Chapter Seven – Lunch at The Nici
The next few days passed without incident.
Meetings.
Emails.
Conference calls.
The occasional coffee with Rachel.
He still caught himself watching Dylan whenever he walked across the office.
Sometimes Dylan would glance back.
Sometimes he wouldn't.
Jake could never decide whether he was imagining things.
Friday arrived quicker than expected.
Just before one o'clock, Dylan's office door opened.
He leaned casually against the frame.
"Jake?"
Jake looked up from his screen.
"Fancy some lunch?"
He blinked.
"Sorry?"
"Lunch."
Dylan smiled.
"I thought it was about time I thanked you properly for helping me out last Friday."
Jake stared for a second.
"Just... the two of us?"
"Unless you've invited someone else."
Jake laughed.
"No."
"Good."
Dylan picked up his jacket.
"Come on then."
Rachel watched the pair of them leave.
As Jake passed her desk, she grinned.
"Behave."
Jake rolled his eyes.
"I always do."
"That's not what your face says."
He laughed as they walked towards the lifts.
The Nici Hotel was about a twenty-minute walk from the office.
It was one of Jake's favourite Hotels in Bournemouth.
Stylish without trying too hard.
For a few moments neither of them spoke.
Jake was acutely aware of Dylan walking beside him.
Relaxed.
Confident.
Completely at ease.
"So," Dylan said eventually, "how long have you worked here now?"
"Eight years."
"Really?"
Jake nodded.
"Started in Customer Services."
"I remember reading your CV."
Jake looked surprised.
"You read it?"
"Of course."
"I thought HR dealt with all that."
"They do."
Dylan smiled.
"I still like to know who I'm working with."
Jake found himself smiling back.
Inside the hotel, a waiter greeted Dylan by name.
"Good afternoon, Mr Newman."
"Good afternoon."
Jake noticed.
He comes here a lot.
The thought lingered only for a moment before Dylan turned to him.
"Window table okay?"
"It'd be rude to say no."
They both laughed.
The restaurant overlooked the sea.
Despite being busy, it felt calm.
Soft jazz drifted through the room.
Glasses clinked quietly.
Conversations blended into a gentle background murmur.
Jake took it all in.
He'd never been here during the day.
A waiter handed them menus.
"No wine," Dylan said with a grin.
"We're supposed to be setting an example."
Jake chuckled.
"Probably for the best."
"What can I get you instead?"
"Lime and soda."
"Same for me."
They chatted easily while they looked through the menus.
Nothing particularly important.
Work.
The weather.
Jake noticed something.
Whenever Dylan was with him one-to-one, he seemed... different.
More relaxed.
Less formal.
Not the Sales Manager everyone else saw.
Just Dylan.
"I can recommend the salmon," Dylan said.
Jake looked up.
"I was just thinking the same."
"Good choice then."
They both ordered it.
As the waiter disappeared, Jake found himself looking out towards the sea.
"You don't do this very often, do you?" Dylan asked.
"What?"
"Switch off."
Jake laughed quietly.
"I suppose not."
"You should."
"Easier said than done."
"I know."
There was a brief silence.
Not awkward.
Comfortable.
Jake realised he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a lunch this much.
The food arrived, beautifully presented.
Jake smiled.
"It almost seems a shame to eat it."
Dylan laughed.
"Give it five minutes."
He was right.
It was excellent.
As they ate, Jake found himself forgetting where they were.
For a little while, it didn't feel like lunch with his boss.
It felt like two people simply enjoying each other's company.
That thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
As they finished their meals, Dylan dabbed his mouth with his napkin before looking across the table.
"So..."
Jake looked up.
"So?"
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
Jake's stomach tightened.
Dylan's expression gave nothing away.
Not a smile.
Not a hint.
Nothing.
"About last Friday..."
Jake felt his heartbeat quicken.
Dylan rested his forearms lightly on the table.
"When I left in a hurry on Friday..."
Jake felt his heartbeat quicken.
"...you packed my things away."
"I did."
"And hung my suit up."
"Yes."
"So first of all..."
Dylan smiled.
"Thank you."
Jake let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"It was no trouble."
"I appreciated it."
There was a comfortable silence while the waiter cleared the table.
Then Dylan looked back at him.
"There was just one thing."
Jake's stomach tightened.
"Oh?"
"My socks."
Jake kept his expression neutral.
"What about them?"
Dylan smiled thoughtfully.
"This is going to sound ridiculous..."
Jake gave a small smile.
"Go on."
"They just felt... different."
Jake frowned.
"Different?"
"I know."
Dylan laughed quietly.
"It sounds daft."
"But when you wear the same kind of socks every day..."
He paused for a moment.
"...you just know."
Jake nodded slowly.
"I suppose you do."
For a few seconds neither of them spoke.
Jake picked up his glass, hoping Dylan wouldn't notice the slight tremble in his hand.
Does he know?
Or was his own guilty conscience making him think the worst?
Dylan looked at him for a second longer.
Then he smiled.
"Anyway..."
"What shall we have for dessert?"
Jake smiled back, but his mind was still racing.
For the rest of lunch, he couldn't shake the feeling that Dylan knew far more than he was letting on.
We talked about his job on the way back, how many years he'd been there and how he had been head-hunted for the post he currently held. He never mentioned Sally or Edith, though I did notice that.
Rachel gave me a knowing smile, but only I noticed, as it was gone three by the time we got back.
"Glad you enjoyed your lunch," and I thanked him. I just whispered to Rach, "I'll text you later," then got on with my emails and meeting requests.
So, at five, everyone left. Dylan was chatting on the phone. I said bye to Rach and popped my head round the door to say goodbye, but he waved his hand and pointed one finger up in the air.
I trembled.
Oh, fuck... he's sacking me!
He finished the call, went to his office door, looked outside to check everyone had gone home, then shut the door.
"I've got you a little gift," he said.
He sat down and slipped off a loafer.
My face was mesmerised.
He knew all right.
He was loving this.
My cock was at attention!
"Are you okay, Dylan?" I squeaked.
"Yes, I'm fine. Are you okay, Jake? Take a seat."
"Just have a little something for you."
He slipped off his sock, slowly...
"Oh, my feet," he moaned. "They get so sweaty."
He told me to get closer.
I wheeled the chair closer, carefully covering how pleased I was to see him.
Fuck... I could smell his socked foot.
Heaven.
Pure fucking heaven.
He handed me his sock, damp and shiny around the toes again.
"Sniff this," he said in a low voice.
He was staring at me, and his usual smile was not there.
He was serious.
Very serious.
I obeyed with pleasure.
I took it, damp and shiny around the toes.
"Do you like it, Jake?"
"I'd rather sniff them on your feet, Sir..."
“Sir, I like it”
"I thought that would be too smelly for you."
"No way!" My cock wanted to burst out of my trunks.
"Show me what you do with my sock if you still want it, Jake."
So I showed him.
I put my hand inside it up to the toes, spread the material, and took a big inhale, then groaned.
I said, "Fuck," then I licked it, tasting the handsome guy's fresh sweat.
I had my eyes closed.
I was in heaven again!
But this was different.
He was watching me.
What the hell was I doing?
The smell was masculine.
It smelled of him.
Intense, but salty and fresh.
His sweat.
Dylan's sweat.
I opened my eyes.
Dylan winked, but still did not smile.
Was this for real?
"Good boy. I like it."
"You like it?"
"I like that someone is turned on by me... my socks."
"Well, you must be ten years younger than me. I'm thirty-eight."
"You are attracted to me, yes?"
"Yes... yes! Fuck."
I said it.
Two years later, and I'd said it.
To not only my boss, but a married man with little Edith.
"Dylan... I mean, Sir..."
"Right, I've got to go. Keep the sock. I have others. I've got to pick Edith up from her group."
"Oh, and just one thing."
"Yes?" I said.
"Three rules."
"Three rules?" I said.
"Yes," he replied.
"One. Call me Sir when it's just us. Otherwise, it's Dylan.
"Two. Don't tell anyone, and I mean anyone, about this!
"Three. Make sure you're available when I ask. I'll give you two days' notice."
"For what, Sir?"
"You'll find out, Jake..."
Holy shit.
I started to tremble, but I controlled myself, my hand still on my lap, hiding everything.
He picked up his briefcase and slipped his loafer back on, still with no sock.
He winked as he reached the door.
"I had to be sure, Jake."
"What of, Dylan?" I asked, then quickly corrected myself. "Sir..."
I sat there for what felt like an eternity.
I put the sock in my pocket and walked back to my PC as though I were drunk, trying to take in what had just happened.
"Holy shit," I said out loud, though not that loud.
I shut down my PC and waved to the security camera, like I always do.
Shit... the security cameras.
Had he thought of that?
I checked.
His blinds were down, but slightly open.
Thank fuck.
Then I went home feeling as dizzy as someone who had just won the lottery!
