“Yes, sir.” I’ve got buffet food and soft drinks to order for Friday.
He turns around and lifts his mug. “And I’m out of coffee.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stand and go to retrieve his mug.
“I don’t want the caterers hanging around,” he says almost absently. “They need to be set up and gone before any guests arrive. They can come back on Saturday to pick up their plates and trays.”
“Yes, sir.”
I might be imagining it, but I’m sure Hamish shivers in response to my words. I realise I’m probably flirting right now, but it doesn’t seem like he minds. If I want to lose my job, I’m probably heading in the right direction. Fuck. I don’twantto get fired, but I can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to be pressed up against his large, bearlike body. Heat flushes from the top of my head to the ends of my toes, and I scurry out of the office.
Alone in the kitchen, I put the mug down and lean against the counter, taking a few deep breaths. It doesn’t help. I’m all hot and bothered and can’t stop fantasising about Hamish. My knees shake, and my heart quivers. I shouldn’t desire my boss, but I do. What the fuck do I do?
6
Hamish
I spot Gabe's car in the pub car park when I arrive. It's a short walk from my house, so I'll definitely be drinking tonight. My local is a cosy place, where the bar staff know all the patrons.
“Evening, Hamish. Pint of Stella?”
“Aye, thank you.”
I wait for the lass behind the bar to pour my beer and then wander over to the window seat that Gabe has claimed for us. He's drinking lime and soda, by the looks of it.
Gabe, Calvin, Spencer, and I have known each other for five or six years. I found out Calvin was into kink, like me, when we both turned up at the same munch. I was new to the area, so it was great to have a familiar face to talk to. That was when we met Gabe and Spencer. The four of us hit it off as friends, so I invited them to one of my parties, and the rest, as the saying goes, is history.
Unfortunately, only two of my friends will be here tonight. I could have done with getting advice from all of them.
"It's a shame Spencer couldn't make it." I'm not good at small talk, never have been. I also don't like repeating myself.
“Night shifts are a pain in the arse,” Gabe agrees.
Spencer is a consultant in an accident and emergency department. He works ridiculously long shifts and switches between working days and nights, with a run of days off in between. I can't keep track of his work schedule, so more often than not, I suggest a drink when he can't make it. Maybe I should get Archie to keep track of my friend's shifts for me.
“That’s not something you ever have to worry about, is it?”
He shakes his head. “Welding in the dark isn’t exactly sensible.”
Gabe’s a specialist at working at heights and in awkward places. He’s not only a welder but also rope-use certified. He spends his days hanging off buildings or dangling down dams and some of his evenings creating artwork by knotting rope around male models. Which is where Calvin comes in. He’s a photographer with his own studio. He does boudoir shots and also works for local companies to earn his income and takes photos of Gabe’s works of art on the side. Together, the images they create are some of the most sensual and erotic I’ve ever seen.
Gabe nods to the door. “Cal’s here.”
Thank fuck for that. I need to rant, not fill in dead time while I wait for both my friends to arrive. Calvin grabs himself a drink at the bar and then joins us, sitting next to Gabe, opposite me. He's an imposing man, well over six feet, with muscles to match. He's Black, of African descent, although his parents were both born in the UK. He shaves his head, just like I do, although he only has the slightest trace of stubble rather than a beard. Objectively speaking, he's the best looking of our small friendship group. Other than his bulging muscles, he's no bigger than me, but we both dwarf Gabe.
Gabe's the kind of guy you'd expect to be cast as a friendly neighbour in a sitcom. He has a cheerful face with rounded cheeks and dimples that peak above the line of his neatly groomed black beard. His skin is several shades paler than mine, which has always struck me as odd, considering I sit in my office all day, and he hangs off buildings. I assume he wears a lot of safety equipment, though, which likely covers him up and prevents him from getting much of a tan. Unlike Cal and me, he has a full head of hair, even if it is receding at the temples.
“What’s up?” Calvin asks. “If you’re asking us out for a drink this close to party day, something must be bothering you.”
He’s not wrong. “I’ve got a new PA.”
Gabe and Calvin exchange a glance.
"I know, I know. I whine about my PAs a lot."
Gabe laughs. “Just a little. What’s this one done?”
