“That they are.”
Thankfully, the elevator arrived, and we entered the car just as I heard the bottom of the front door drag over the doormat. I hit the button to close the door and then hit the buttons for the second and third floors.
“So, I know you’ve only been here about a month, but be sure to the check your mailbox for a party invitation,” Griffin casually said as his eyes bored into mine.
“A party?”
“Yes.” Griffin took another sip but quickly swallowed and pulled the cup away from his mouth as the elevator came to a stop on the second floor. “I have a company party each quarter, and all employees are invited. The invite will be in your mailbox this week.”
“Great,” I replied, trying to sound excited but not nearly as excited as I really was inside. I stepped out of the elevator and turned to look at Griffin. I was surprised to see that he had held his hand out to prevent the door from closing. “I’ll await the invitation and look forward to attending.”
“Good, Riley. It’ll be nice to have another Michigan grad there.”
Griffin moved his hand out of the way of the elevator door so it would close. Was that flirting? No. Griffin Evans didn’t flirt. He had whomever he wanted without effort. But it was something special that I didn’t think any of the other interns had with him.
Instead of going to my desk, I went to the men’s room and jacked off to the fantasy of him telling me that he remembered me and he wanted me to be with him. I shot a huge load on the back wall of the stall.
“Look at what you made me do, Mr. Evans,” I whispered.
Later that day, when I returned from lunch, I stopped in the mailroom on the first floor and checked my mailbox. The usual Monday flyer was sitting in each box along with a black envelope. I glanced around at all of the other mailbox slots, and most of them also contained the black envelope. This must have been the invitation. On my way to the lobby to catch the elevator, I flipped over the envelope that read “You’re Invited…” in gold lettering. Feeling a surge of excitement, I opened it and pulled out a glossy black card that cordially was inviting me to Griffin’s home for a party one week from this upcoming Saturday.
For the rest of the day, all I could think about was the party. Granted, everyone else would be there, but it was just an extra way for me to be close to him. I felt myself growing hard as the ideas ran rampant in my mind. I could see how he lived at home. Maybe there were other things I could do to be like him or catch his attention. There might be a chance that I could see his bedroom.
The back of the invitation had directions to Griffin’s place, and each night after work leading up to the party, I drove by his estate. It was just outside of town and sat on a huge piece of property surrounded by a patch of woods and a lake. The mansion that kept him tucked away had a gated private entrance, of course. But I was able to drive by and look. I wondered if he walked along the lake in the evenings. I knew I would if I lived here … orwhenI would live here.
Since Yvette had worked for Evans Financial for almost thirty years, longer than Griffin has been at the helm, I decided to ask her about the party attire. People mostly wore party or formal attire to what she termed the “Evanses’ parties.” She commented about how Griffin had carried on the same party traditions that his grandfather, father, and uncle-in-law had. Yvette’s eyes lingered on me a little longer than usual and then she offered to make an appointment for me at a tux rental shop. I accepted because I didn’t know of any off the top of my head, and if she was willing to make me an appointment, then I’d gladly accept the help.
The day of the party finally arrived, and I turned off the main road into the long line of cars waiting for valet attendants to take their vehicles. While I waited, I could see some tents and light posts had been set up between Griffin’s house and the lake. It was overcast today and some light rain had fallen early this morning, but it seemed to have let up for now. Finally, I was able to hand my car off to the valet guy and made my way up the stone steps to Griffin’s home that I had been so eager to climb.
The front doors were wide open, and once I made it inside, I was offered a flute of champagne. I politely declined the offered drink with a quick shake of my head. The man had no idea how important this moment was to me. I was inside Griffin Miles Evans’s home.
The entryway was huge and was open from the floor all the way up to the second story ceiling. Dark wood covered the floors, door casings, and the railing on the dramatic stairs. Sand-colored paint and soft glowing yellow hues from the wall sconces gave the home a warm and welcome feeling. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear music being played, and somehow, I didn’t think it was coming from speakers. As I meandered amongst the others, I found a five-piece orchestra playing outside between some tents and the house.
I wandered down to one of the tents where drinks and food were being served and requested a rum and Coke. With my drink in hand, I walked toward the house and stopped halfway to admire the incredible architecture of his home. The exterior had a lot of dark stone masonry, and everything about the character and presence of the home pointed to being owned and designed by a strong male. It screamed Griffin. Just as I was looking up at the second-story windows, trying to decide which one might be his room, Malcolm came over to me.
“Hey, Riley. Nice to see you. I’ve been wandering around bored out of my fucking mind,” Malcolm said under his breath as Mark Hull and Yvette were coming up the path toward us.
“Bored, huh?” I asked.
Malcolm and I both paused our conversation as we smiled and nodded at Mark and his wife. Yvette wore a rose-colored dress with a plunging neckline. One of her hands clutched Mark’s forearm while the other hand clutched a wine glass. As they walked past us, Yvette’s eyes raked up and down our bodies. When they were well out of earshot, Malcolm laughed.
“She gets completely tanked at every fucking party. It’s going to be a long night for Mark, I bet,” Malcolm said. “Did you get some food?”
“No, I just got here.” I sipped my drink and gestured toward the house, still wondering about which room was his. “Some house, huh?”
“Yeah, he seems to be doing just fine,” Malcolm agreed.
“He’s got an incredible view of the lake,” I commented and turned to gesture toward the lake. Now that I was facing the other direction, a small structure with the exact same dark stone exterior caught my eye. “Wonder what that little place is used for,” I mused out loud.
Malcolm glanced in the direction I was looking in. The small dwelling sat away from the house about fifty or sixty yards, close to the lake with thick woods directly behind it. A pathway with small landscaping lights connected Griffin’s home to the smaller building.
“Who knows. Maybe that’s where he keeps his hired help,” Malcolm joked. The sarcastic joke made my stomach feel like it had been punched, but Malcolm brought up Griffin again, pulling me away from my thoughts. “I wish the fucker would show his vain face.”
Was he waiting for Griffin?
My suppressed and tightly controlled jealousy bounded out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“What are you waiting for him for?” I asked and rapidly tried to backpedal. “Are you so eager to share work stuff with him?” Because really, why the fuck would he be waiting for Griffin? Was he attracted to Griffin? I hadn’t picked up on that before, but then again, I had hoped that no one was picking up on that from me.
