Maybe Bo told him about the kiss. Maybe he just doesn’t like you, Realty-Man.
Whatever. He wouldn’t jeopardize his professional relationship with Bo by bringing it up. No. The most valuable thing real estate had taught him was the importance of relationships. And Bo was a damn good contractor. Finding that kind of partner was rare and worth protecting. Not only was he talented, but he was trustworthy and reliable. Ralph wouldn’t hesitate to give him the keys to any property, knowing full well that things would be in expert hands and safe.
He leaned back in his chair. On his desk was a picture of Shirley and him from the previous year’s Christmas party. Bo was photo-bombing them in the background, eyes wide, mouth open with a huge surprise-smile.
He thought about that time they had kissed at the Shirlington property. Well, he had been the one to do the kissing. But for the briefest second, it felt as if Bo had reciprocated, had wanted to at least. There had been a fleeting hesitation that Ralph had not imagined. Bo had smelled of sawdust and drywall, his hair was dusty with it. Ralph had studied him from behind as he faced away, observing the muscular curves beneath the taut, semi-transparent t-shirt still tucked in at his hourglass center. Below, the curves of his round ass had pressed firm against embroidered Levi pockets, the denim snug, molding to his hamstrings and the calves below.
When Bo had turned, Ralph was compelled to kiss him, as if some strange sideways gravity had pulled him into it. Standing there was this incredibly beautiful specimen of masculinity, a model worthy of Michelangelo, and the next thing Ralph knew his lips were on him—welcome or not.
And it was not. Bo had been very kind, letting him know that he was in a relationship and that there were no hard feelings.
What Ralph remembered most of the entire incident was the beating of Bo’s heart. His hand had been on Bo’s chest when their lips met and he could have sworn he felt Bo’s heart beat faster. He was so sure that he had let his hand linger after they’d separated—seeking validation, perhaps—before falling away.
Reminiscing about it made him woozy. His dick was taking notice.
You could bang one out real quick,he thought. Shirl’s gone. You’ve got the place to yourself.
But he decided against it. Wouldn’t look good if an agent—unlikely as it was—decided to pop in.
You just had sex this morning, for God’s sake.
Fantasizing about that moment with Bo had never failed to arouse him, a premium masturbatory resource at his fingertips, often sending him spiraling into carnal consciousness.
Calm down, boy. You’re getting old, remember? Shirley said so.
He stood, put on his jacket, and turned out the lights.
Yeah, right.
* * *
In the garage, he saw that Cal was locking up the booth.
“Hey, Cal. Closing early?”
“Hey there, Ralph. Yeah, my wife’s a worrywart. She’s been calling every half-hour with weather reports.”
“I keep forgetting to check,” Ralph said. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough to pick up booze and food if you ain’t got none.”
“I’m covered there, but I was planning a detour to Columbia first. Do you think I have time?”
“You in Virginia?”
“Yeah, Falls Church.”
“You have a few hours, but I wouldn’t linger. Of course, that truck you drive is probably fit for Antarctica.”
“I hope so.” Ralph grinned. “It cost enough.”
“Just remember, it’s the other idiots out there behind the wheel you have to worry about.”
“Amen to that. Take care, Cal. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be here. Have a great weekend.”
Ralph picked up his pace. When he got near his truck, the running board lights came on and the doors unlocked. He climbed in, fastened his safety belt, and started the engine. It purred, reassuring him he was in good hands. He pulled toward the garage exit, waving to Cal one last time before exiting onto Massachusetts Avenue.
