Once we had our shoes on, we headed out for the elevator. I was kind of excited. We talked a lot of shit about exercise, but we’d never lifted together in the two months since I got the job. Was all his talk bluster? His body would say no, but you never know until you put weights in a guy’s hands and see what he does.
The gym was underwhelming but empty, which was perfect. I knew we’d be shit-talking, and people find that annoying.
“You call that a deadlift?” Alec said, red-faced and covered in sweat, watching me from the incline bench where he was doing curls.
“At least I’m busting ass. Taking it easy today, old man?”
Alec laughed and shook his head. His weights landed with a dull thud before asking, “Spot me on the bench? This old man needs it.”
I enjoyed working out with him as much as I enjoyed working with him. He had a sharp tongue, but so do I. I think he liked it, too. Alec is alwaysup.Not positive, buton. A real grab-the-day-by-the-nuts kind of guy. I couldn’t have asked for a better manager for my first field position. I knew he’d push me; he already had. But I had learned more in the two months I spent with him than all my previous jobs combined.
I started my career when people still conducted business at home via video. I was sick of cold-calling people to inquire about their toilet needs. No hate, I applied to every single field position in that company, but no dice. Which sucked since I know I’m better in person than on screen. I’m a charming motherfucker. What can I say?
I spotted him for his bench press. He was showing off with how much weight he put on. It was a stretch, thus the need for the spot. I learned early to always let the boss win, just a little bit. Put up a good fight, bust ass, lift just as much as he does, but let him beat me. I think that’s called managing up.
Before he completed a whole set, he racked the bar, said, “It’s a fucking boiler down here,” and stripped off his soaked shirt. My peek from earlier became a gawk.
Like I said, he isn’t too hairy, and I saw how red his chest was underneath the fur. His muscles were huge, and with the added pump, he looked massive. The mischievous glint was gone from his hazel eyes, and so was the excitement. In their place was the white-hot determination of up, down, up, down, breathe—over and over.
I caught him going on his tippy toes as he struggled with a rep and saw his shorts ride up his legs. Damn, even his tight office pants didn’t show off how meaty his thighs were. When he finally racked the bar—red, wet chest heaving as he gulped air—his legs sat still, and his manhood formed an impossible-to-ignore mound in his shorts. My cheeks heated as I looked away.
It wasn’t the first time I noticed his bulge. There was a specific pair of jeans he liked to wear that held his package just so. I didn’t think he realized how on display he was, or maybe he did and liked it. Either way, I might have noticed it before, but not like that—not like some silent monument to his maleness.
He stripped his shirt off again on our jog downtown, tucking it into his shorts like a flag football player. He might’ve been a thick dude, but it was hard to tell watching him in motion.
It was challenging keeping up with his “light jog, just to keep the heart rate up.” I couldn’t help but notice how his ass bunched with his steps, how his pecs bounced, or how determined he looked to get to our destination. I tried to avoid looking at him but couldn’t. Thankfully, I stopped myself from wondering things I didn’t want to about my boss.
A few places were open when we got to the small commercial district, but nothing interesting. I would’ve stopped and bought coffee, but Alec was still shirtless, and we were drenched in sweat. Besides, I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to pay for coffee when it was free in our room.
We took turns taking showers back at the hotel, and I again couldn’t help but notice him. He kept his shorts on until he closed the bathroom door, but when he walked out in just a towel, my eyes dilated.
And here’s the thing: he noticed me, too. Again, not in a creepy way, and maybe it was in my head, but the way he dragged his eyes up and down my body was more than just an assessment. I peeled off my shirt off but didn’t have the good grace to leave my shorts on. His eyes might’ve widened before he looked away.
Alec was dressed in his typical business casual attire when I was done. Once I was too, I fetched my laptop and plopped onto my bed. It was well past the start of the workday, and I could feel my inbox growing.
“What are you doing?” Alec asked.
“Working. I don’t want to come back to thousands of messages.”
“I meant, why are you on your bed?”
“You’re the Senior Field Sales Representative here. I figured you’d want the desk, but I’ll gladly take it.”
“No, numb nuts. We’re not gonna get any work done here. Let’s go to the café downstairs.”
“Yeah?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I’ll buy you a coffee on the corporate card. And a pastry if you’re good.” His smile turned to a smirk. “You busted ass this morning. Gave one hundred percent effort. You deserve it.”
I smirked, too. “The coffee in the room is shit, isn’t it?” I said, looking at the free, full pot on the counter.
“Worse than shit. Dog shit. From a dog who ate baby shit,” he said, making us both laugh.
Alec didn’t just get us a coffee and a pastry, but breakfast sandwiches and juice on the side too. We sat in the little café, tapping away at our computers, taking calls, and cracking jokes, just like in the office.
Somewhere around mid-morning, Alec got a phone call, but I couldn’t make out the whispered conversation. He hung up and grabbed the bridge of his nose. I watched him grimace, let out a long sigh, and rub the back of his neck. When he looked at me, his eyes were just short of bloodshot. He cracked a tired smile and said, “Sorry. Home shit,” with a weak chuckle.
Observing that moment and hearing the creaky rumble of his deep voice, I could no longer stop myself from wondering—was Alec hot?
