Joe did a quick but thorough inspection of Scott, looking for any clues that would help him take the scene forward in the direction Scott was hoping for. There was a logo on Scott’s shirt.Harrington’s Department Store. Next to it, was pinned a name tag.Scott.
They were playing dress up. Even if Scott’s costume hadn’t been bought from the back room of a sex shop, the fact Scott had taken such a leap of faith in his direction rushed straight to Joe’s cock.
He cast a quick glance over the department they stood in, trying to guess how their surroundings fitted in with any kinks Scott might have.
Cushions, and curtains, and fabrics, oh my…
“I’ve known a few gay guys whoreallyliked their interior decorating,” Joe said. “But I’d never have pegged you as having a secret fetish for soft furnishings.”
Scott blushed. He ducked his head, but he also smiled. Gradually, his shoulders relaxed into a more natural position. Joe could damn near see the tension pouring out of him.
“No cushion fetish?” he checked.
Scott shook his head. “I p-p-picked up some summer work here in my first year at university.”
“Doing what?” Joe asked, leaning back against a stand full of throws and cushions as he pictured a version of Scott who was a few years younger and even less sure of himself than he was now.
“Mostly I just n-nodded, smiled, and pretended I was s-straight,” Scott stuttered, with a chuckle.
Joe nodded his understanding, only just resisting the temptation to walk across the room and wrap his arms around Scott in a clumsy attempt to comfort him. It had never been more obvious just how different Scott was to Joe’s usual hook ups, or how differently Joe felt about him, compared to his previous lovers.
Far more at home with offering kinkiness than comfort, Joe felt like he was stumbling forward in the dark with no way of knowing if he was about to step on a landmine. “How old were you when you came out?” he hazarded.
Scott tilted his head to one side, confusion filled his eyes for a moment, before it quickly cleared. “No, I didn’t m-mean… I came out before I went to uni. I just r-r-retreated into the closet for a while when I w-worked here…”
As he trailed off, Scott looked around them, at the big bolts of curtain fabric and shelves full of sample books. Joe was willing to bet Scott didn’t really see any of it—not as it was now, at least.
Joe tensed. “Bigoted boss?” he asked, dragging Scott’s attention back to him before Scott could mentally wander off into a past that Joe had no way of protecting him from.
Scott blinked, as if he had no idea what Joe was talking about. Then he shook his head. His embarrassed half-smile came back.
“If you’re a straight m-man working in the textile department, people w-want you to fetch the heavier bolts of fabric or move b-boxes around in the store room. But, the moment you let on that you’re gay in a p-place like this, everyone suddenly assumes you know what colours go with what, and what a t-t-triple-headed pinch is.”
Joe relaxed back against the display stand and raised one eyebrow at Scott. “Okay—I’ll bite. What is a triple-headed pinch?”
Scott shrugged. “I’m d-damned if I know,” he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I was studying history, not f-f-fashion. It’s probably something to do with curtains, but it always sounded a bit k-kinky to me.”
“No, it can’t be,” Joe said, with complete confidence. “Youmight not know what it would mean if it was kinky, butIsure as hell would.”
Scott met Joe’s gaze properly for the first time that day, laughter shining brightly in his eyes.
Joe grinned back at him until Scott’s expression gradually turned more serious.
Pushing his hands even deeper into his pockets, Scott shuffled his feet against the ugly brown carpet. “Whenever I wasn’t w-working really hard at pretending to be straight,” he said. “I’d creep over to one of the windows and look d-down into the car park.”
“Oh, I see—this is all about a displaced car fetish,” Joe said. He kept pace with Scott as Scott moved, seemingly without thinking about it, toward the window.
This time, Scott didn’t chuckle in response to his teasing. Joe narrowed his eyes and studied Scott more closely.
“All the deliveries used to be m-made down there.” Scott whispered the words very softly, as if the store’s owner might race in and sack him for giving away company secrets unless he was careful.
Joe nodded, purposely keeping his own expression just as serious as Scott’s. “So, what you’re actually trying to tell me is that you stopped pretending to be straight every now and again, so you could ogle the pretty delivery men?”
Scott nodded. The blush tinting his cheeks deepened.
Joe stepped forward, glad he finally understood where this fantasy was heading. “Did you ever actually do anything withany of them?” he asked, pushing his jealousy aside as best he could.
Scott shook his head.
