“Fuck work, Riley. I don’t give a shit about work outside of the hours of 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday,” he said through the fake smile that he plastered onto his face as another high up walked by with his spouse.
I was annoyed that Malcolm wasn’t as dedicated to Evans Financial as I was. It pissed me off that he even had the audacity to continue working in the intern position. Malcolm would never advance within the company as I would.
“So?” I shrugged. “Why so eager to see Griffin?” I asked again.
“So he can see my face and see that I was here at his rich, shitty party. Once he sees me and knows I was here, then I can bail.” Malcolm looked at his watch. “If I can get the fuck out of here within the next thirty minutes, I can still meet my girlfriend for a movie. Don’t you have shit you’d rather do than be here?”
There was nowhere that I’d rather be than at Griffin’s place. But I had to blow it off and pretend like I was annoyed with being here too. I glanced in the direction of the food tent and saw that Yvette was looking at me. When she noticed I was looking at her, she slowly licked her plump bottom lip before she lifted the glass to her mouth.
“I figured that since I spent the money to rent a tux that I might as well get use out of it,” I explained. I looked back toward the house as people wandered in and out. “With any luck, he’ll show up soon,” I said, hopefully without sounding too eager.
“Oh, he’s been out and around,” Malcolm said.
“Yeah? Are you sure? I haven’t seen him yet,” I said.
“I’m sure. I came out here to get something to eat and drink while Chase, Jeff, and Mike were inside. Mike sent me a text saying that Griffin saw them inside and he thanked them for coming. They already left, and now I’m stuck waiting for him to grace me with his presence. He does this at every party.”
“What?” I paused and sipped from my glass so I didn’t sound too desperate for information. “What does he do?”
“Disappears for a while. He always goes to his study off and on throughout the evening. Probably bangs someone.”
I held the glass to my lips and let the liquid slowly fill my mouth. It prevented me from saying anything smug about Griffin banging anyone. I didn’t care who he had fucked; I hated all of them.
“Want to come inside with me and see if we can spot him?” Malcolm asked.
I went inside with Malcolm, and we strolled around the lower level. Mentally, I burned everything into my memory and took it all in. Each time we passed the stairs, I could hear people laughing and could tell lights were on upstairs. Malcolm told me Griffin had a game room upstairs with a pool table and things like that.
“Maybe he’s up there,” I suggested. I was dying to go up there and snoop.
As I was looking up the staircase, Malcolm discretely bumped my arm with his elbow. When I looked at him, I saw that his eyes were focused down the hall. Griffin had just exited a room and was walking toward us with an annoyed look on his face. He didn’t look like he wanted to be interrupted, but he stopped when Malcolm said something.
“Mr. Evans, awesome party, as usual. Thank you for the invite,” Malcolm said in a total suck-ass tone.
“You’re welcome, Malcolm. I hope you’re having a good time,” Griffin said and then shifted his attention from Malcolm to me. “Riley, thank you for coming.” With that, Griffin smiled and headed outside.
Fuck! That was it? Was that all he was going to say to me? I thought maybe we could talk about more of our similarities. Maybe the business program at Michigan, or the football team, or our cars. Was that really it?
“All right, man, let’s go,” Malcolm murmured.
I wasn’t fucking leaving. Not without something more from him than a generic thanks for coming comment. I told Malcolm to go on without me and that I wanted to at least eat. After Malcolm left, I wandered around the house a bit and found myself taking a chance upstairs. As people laughed, drank, and played pool in the enormous loft, I went in search of a bathroom. All of the rooms had doors partly opened and with lights on in them, except for a room at the end of the hallway. That room’s door was open, but it was dark inside. I knew it was Griffin’s room.
I was just looking for the bathroom. That was what I’d tell anyone who caught me and asked what I was doing.
Casually, I walked down the hallway toward the darkened room. I pushed the heavy door open and saw his bed. Quickly, I ducked into the room, and without moving from my spot, I glanced around. Even in the cover of darkness, I could see that his bed was made up of crisp white bedding. Probably put on fresh this morning by some maid. My body turned and took me in the direction of his bathroom. Aside from being oversized, it was immaculate. Slate-colored quartz sat on top of dark cabinets. I wondered which of the two sinks he predominantly used.
I reached for the blue-gray hand towel that was hanging next to one of the sinks. Impulsively, I held the hand towel up against my face and inhaled the scent. The fibers had a fresh scent to them, which could either be laundry detergent or his hands after they’d been washed. I felt my hard-on demand attention. I quickly unzipped my pants and reached inside my fly to stroke my hard shaft for a moment. Laughter out in the hallway sounded like it was coming closer, so I rushed to the toilet and flushed it before zipping up. If nothing else, the sound of a flushing toilet bought me a few extra moments. In case someone was waiting for the bathroom, I finished the charade by washing my hands and then drying them slowly on his hand towel.
Now my scent is here for you, Griffin.
Momentarily satisfied, I felt like I had shared a private piece of Griffin. I bet no one else at Evans Financial had done that. By the time I got downstairs, the high that I had felt while upstairs faded. I roamed around the lower level and looked around at everything. I stopped in front of the open door to the room Griffin had walked out of before he talked to Malcolm and me.
Talked to us? Who was I kidding? Griffin hadn’t really talked to us. I felt as though I had been slighted by him. I thought this party might have afforded me the chance to talk to him more. But he blew me off.
In front of me was the den that Malcolm had said Griffin would disappear to during his parties. As I fantasized about going behind the closed door of the den with Griffin, clicking heels lazily scraped along the beautiful hardwood floors, disrupting my thoughts. Annoyed, I turned my head to the left in the direction of the noise to see Yvette Hull wobbling along the hallway. My guess was that she was trying to make it to the bathroom to the right of me as gingerly as possible. I didn’t want to interact with anyone at the moment and walked into Griffin’s den.
The den was furnished with heavy wood pieces, masculine brown leather seats, and University of Michigan memorabilia sporadically placed. His desk had a writing pad, a set of pens, and what looked like one of those wireless cell phone chargers. Near the window, two cigar-brown leather seats were separated by a small circular table. Instantly, my mind ran with the fantasy of sitting there talking with Griffin about Michigan or their football team. I closed my eyes, and I felt my dick twitch, bringing my hard-on back to life.
I was deep in the fantasy of sitting across from Griffin by the window. Griffin laughed at something I said, followed by him kindly telling me that he was happy I was here. He told me he enjoyed spending time just with me and covered my knee with his strong hand.
