The Keynote

Rodney did not want to be at the party, but his boss had literally dubbed it a "command performance." Well, she can force me to be here, he thought, but she can't make me have a good time.

He tried to be as innocuous as possible, balancing a paper plate of crudité and mushroom caps with a club soda. He figured once his boss saw him here, his duties would be fulfilled, and he could get back to his room and prepare.

The thing he hated most about industry functions was that everyone pretended to be great friends. He looked around the room: the same people making the same small talk and laughing at the same jokes they laughed at last year.

As he scanned the crowd, one of his colleagues from Sales, Oscar Nelson, approached him, a potential client in tow.

Oscar already had one too many to drink, Rodney could tell. "Ronnie, I was just telling this gentleman here about your big presentation tomorrow, and he wanted to meet you!"

As the portly salesman turned to the client, Rodney had to laugh - they looked like Laurel and Hardy. Or those robots from Star Wars. Oscar had been "working" the convention all day, and it showed - wrinkled shirt, loose tie, five o'clock shadow. The man next to him, on the other hand, looked like he just stepped in from a Land's End photo shoot - tall, fitted and pressed plaid shirt, creased slacks, and liquid blue eyes. He extended his hand.

"Ronnie, hi, I'm Clark Everett. From Shule Systems."

"It's Rodney, nice to meet you." Rodney took his hand, surprised at how soft it was. One of those guys with a "regimen", he thought.

Oscar slapped Rodney on his back and stage-whispered, "Now don't bore Clint here, Shule is one of our biggest clients." With that, he was away, leaving Rodney to schmooze.

Clark sensed his discomfort. "It's OK, I'm not a techie. I'm in Marketing. We're one of the sponsors of this hospitality event tonight."

Rodney nodded. "This your first conference?" Ugh, the very small talk he hated.

"Yeah, I just joined Shule a few months ago. I think I only got the gig because I'm friends with the conference organizer."

The conversation paused. They looked at each other, each waiting for one to say something. After a beat, they both spoke at once.

"Well, I need to check in with my boss," Rodney said, as Clark asked, "So, this presentation - that's a big deal, right?"

They chuckled, and simultaneously apologized.

"You go," Rodney said.

Clark put his hand on Rodney's arm and smiled. "No, please, after you."

"It's nothing, really."

"You're at the Marriott, aren't you?" Clark asked.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"I saw you down at the Fitness Center earlier, on the elliptical."

"Oh, I didn't notice."

"Of course not - you were going through index cards like a blackjack dealer."

"My notes for tomorrow."

"That's what I figured. You ready?"

"I think so," he paused and smiled. "Maybe a little nervous."

Clark rolled his eyes and patted Rodney's arm again. "Oh, God, I hate public speaking."

"No, that's not it. My thesis is a little controversial for the industry, and I want to make sure I'm ready for the blowback."

From behind him, Rodney heard, "Yes, it will make or break us, won't it?" He turned and saw his boss, Sheila, along with Oscar and folks he didn't recognize - clients probably.

"It's not that dramatic. You just never know what the bloggers will say," Rodney answered. Good, he thought, now that she saw me - talking to a client, even - he could get out of here.

Oscar introduced himself to Clark, whose "We met" was delivered gracefully.

"Say," Oscar announced a little too loudly, "I think it's time we show our clients how much we appreciate them! I have a car waiting downstairs for a little night out!"

"Aaaaand, that's my cue to leave," Sheila said. "I'm having dinner with my fellow CIOs tonight, anyway."

"No spoilers on my speech!" Rodney said. Sheila's smile implied, Do you think I'm an idiot, and she left.

Oscar turned to Rodney and Clark. "So, I have reserved a VIP room at the Pink Pussycat... Who's with me?"

Rodney expected that. "Oscar, I would love to join you," he lied, "but I need to keep a clear head for tomorrow."

Clark smiled. "That's a great invitation, but I also have plans."

"Aw, come on, Rod! What better to clear your head than a lap dance?"

"That's kind, Oscar. I'm going to call my wife, head to the lobby for dinner, and get back to my notes for tomorrow."

"Have dinner with us!"

"Oh, I don't think I want whatever the Pink Pussy is serving. I'll just get a salad downstairs, I'll be fine."

"I hear downstairs is a great steakhouse, actually," Clark interjected.

Oscar slapped him on the shoulder. "That's right, our boy needs a big piece of meat!"

Clark's eyes bugged as he contained his laugh. Rodney just shook his head, and pulled his iPhone from his coat pocket. "Oh, look, it's Margie now. Excuse me." He put a finger in his ear and stepped away.

Oscar snapped his wrist and made a whip-cracking sound, then hustled his still-not-introduced clients to the elevator and out into the night.

Once they were gone, Rodney put his phone back in his pocket. "There was no call. I just hate that shit."

Clark laughed. "Are you really heading downstairs for a bite? More importantly, do you mind if I join you?"

"I thought you had plans?"

"No, I hate that shit, too. Strip clubs aren't really my thing, if you know what I mean."

Rodney thought maybe he did. "Sure, but it won't be great conversation, and I really do need to get back to work as quickly as possible."

"I totally get that, I am just happy to have the company."

While waiting for their entrees, Rodney somehow had gotten sucked into telling the story of marrying his college sweetheart. Clark had a bottle of pinot noir to himself, and hung on every word.

"She's the only woman you've ever seriously dated? That's so romantic!"

"I suppose. Pretty old-fashioned, I know."

"I can't imagine what it would be like to have only one lover for my entire life."

Rodney was surprised at how forward Clark was, but figured the wine helped. And Marketing guys rarely had boundaries. "Yes, she's the only woman I've ever been with."

While Rodney picked at his salad, Clark told him every piece of gossip on various competitors. "And you won't believe what I heard Fi-Tronics is doing!"

Rodney laughed. "I used to work there!"

Clark shook his head. "Bunch of filthy hippies."

"Yeah, when I was there, I had the obligatory beard."

Clark reached across the table and grabbed his chin, turning his head back and forth for inspection. "I cannot imagine you with a beard!"

"Yeah, it was pretty scruffy. I didn't have it all neat and trimmed like yours."

"Ugh!" Clark groaned. "This? I'm so close to shaving it off!"

"Why?"

"Too much gray."

"Don't," Rodney told him. "The gray makes you look distinguished. A man who knows what he wants and how to get it."

Clark smiled, "Well I do know what I want. I'm just not certain how to get it."

That hung in the air for a moment, when Rodney snapped his fingers. "I recognize you... You were lifting weights at the hotel gym!"

"That's right, I was."

"I didn't see your face, but yeah, OK, now I remember. You had on bright red shorts."

"That's me!" Clark beamed. "It's so nice to be noticed!"

"You had a pretty good routine going," he nodded at him. "And it pays off."

Clark blushed. "So tell me about this big controversy you're presenting."

"I can't."

"You are really unprepared!"

"No, that's not it. I can't leak any advance info. Who knows who you'll tell?"

Clark made a mock-serious face. "Oh, honey, I am so good at keeping secrets!"

Rodney smiled. I bet you are, he thought. "Well, maybe when I know you better."

"Do you think you'll know me much better before tomorrow afternoon?"

Rodney pretended to think about it. "Well, no, you're right about that. But still. I can't say anything. Loose lips and all."

Clark did the lock-and-key thing with his mouth. Rodney laughed. Clark said, "So you don't want me to go upstairs and listen to you run through it?"

"Oh, god, no," Rodney said, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"OK, I get the hint."

"Sorry, I'm a little tense. You can imagine."

"That's alright. Although I feel you should have a nightcap, so you can relax tonight. That diet soda isn't going to do the trick."

Rodney thought for a beat. "Maybe you're right about that. One drink won't hurt."

"That's the spirit! Wait - no pun intended!"

Rodney picked up the wine list. "Maybe a scotch. Or a port."

Clark said, "When I need to relax, a shot of tequila does the trick."

"Oh, tequila makes me do very bad things."

"Tequila it is!" Clark signaled for the waitress.

The waitress brought over a platter - two shots of Patron, a ramekin of sea salt with a small spoon, and two limes.

"This is a bad idea." Rodney protested one last time.

Clark shook his head.

"Now, how does this work again? I never remember the mechanics."

Clark reached for the platter. "Salt, slam, citrus." He scooped some salt in the spoon. "Lick your hand, between your thumb and forefingers." Not breaking eye contact, he slowly ran his tongue along his left hand in demonstration.

Rodney did the same. Clark took Rodney's hand and held it steady, sprinkling some salt onto it.

"OK, now, lick the salt off and do the shot - like this." Clark sprinkled salt on his own hand, licked it off, and downed his drink. He picked up one of the limes and chewed the pulp out of it.

Rodney repeated what Clark did, but the strength of the drink made him shake his head. "It burns!"

Clark smiled. "That feels good, doesn't it? Fire in your belly."

Rodney chewed on his lime. Clark smiled conspiratorially, and snapped his fingers to order a second round.

Rodney shook his head. "OK, one more. And then that is absolutely it. I have to get to work!"

It took no time for the waitress to bring the second platter.

Rodney re-licked his hand, and sprinkled salt over it. He held it up for Clark's approval.

Clark shot a quick look around the room, leaned over the table, and slowly tongued the salt off Rodney's hand. He leaned back, raised his eyebrow, and drank his shot. He reached for his lime, nervous about what Rodney's reaction might be.

Rodney was initially shocked. But recovered well.

Holding eye contact with Clark, he leaned down, stuck his tongue out, and traced the wet trail Clark had just left. He drank his shot, reached across the table, picked up what was left of Clark's lime, and put it in his mouth.

Now it was Clark's turn to be surprised.

Rodney stood up, took his sport coat off the empty chair, and tried to inconspicuously hold it in front of himself. "Will you be at the presentation tomorrow?"

"I wouldn't miss it!"

"Well, hopefully I'll see you there." Rodney smiled, nodded, and disappeared into the lobby and out to a cab.

***

About an hour before Rodney was due to present his phone chirped with a text message. He had hung up with his wife - a final "break a leg" call - seconds before, so this was probably Oscar reminding him to mention a special client during his speech.

The message was cryptic: "Did you get your work done?"

He didn't recognize the number, so he typed back, "Who is this?"

A moment later: "Wow. I clearly made a strong impression. It's Clark!"

Rodney typed, "How did you get my number?"

"I have my ways... You gave me your card, silly! Are you ready?"

That's right, they did exchange cards. No one did that anymore. "As ready as I will ever be. Just hanging out backstage. So-called 'green room'."

Immediately after he hit Send, there was a knock at the door. Rodney opened it, and there was Clark, with a huge grin on his face. "How did you know I was here?"

"I told you, I'm friends with the conference organizers. They mentioned you were already back here, pacing." Clark looked around the small room - a mirror, a coat rack, and an armchair rescued from the conference center's last lobby remodel. Some bottles of water sat in front of the mirror. "They certainly are treating you like a rock star."

Rodney laughed. "Yeah. Actually, last conference I presented at, everyone shared one room like this. I was on a panel with competitors, we almost beat the snot out of each other before going on."

"But you have this one all to yourself?"

"Yes, lucky me."

"Maybe... So did you get a lot of work done last night?"

"Truthfully, I fell asleep as soon as I got to my hotel room. Didn't even turn on SportsCenter."

"So tequila doesn't make you do bad things. Tease." Clark noticed three ties lying on the back of the chair. "Having trouble?"

Rodney nodded. "I think they all look OK with the suit, but you never know under the lights."

"Well let's see." Clark turned Rodney to face the mirror, and picked the ties off the chair. Standing behind Rodney, he draped a polka-dotted tie in front of his shirt and checked it out in the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection. Simultaneously, they shook their heads.

Clark picked up a striped tie, and reached over both of Rodney's shoulders to lay it flat against his shirt. Keeping his hands in place, he looked to Rodney for an opinion. Rodney held his gaze, but didn't move. He barely breathed.

Clark picked up the last tie, a striking paisley, and reached over his shoulders again. He lifted Rodney's collar, and laid the tie down, rubbing it flush against Rodney's chest. Clark could swear he felt Rodney's pulse.

Rodney moved his head, lightly rubbing it against Clark's shoulder. "So that's a yes?" Clark whispered.

"That's the tie." Rodney's voice cracked.

"Still nervous?" Clark said over his shoulder.

"A little bit, yes."

"I have some exercises you can do to release tension."

Rodney turned to face him. They studied each others faces. "That sounds like a good idea."

Clark smiled. He lowered his hands from Rodney's tie, and slid them down to his waist. Rodney licked his lips.

Clark cupped his hand over the front of Rodney's trousers. He wasn't surprised to feel the start of an erection. A very good start. He massaged the bulge and leaned in to Rodney.

Rodney rested his forehead on Clark's while he let his balls get massaged. He slowly nuzzled his face against Clark's beard, which tickled. He leaned back a bit and stared at Clark. Neither could wait any longer.

Clark slid his other hand around Rodney's waist and pulled him close. Rodney put his hands on Clark's shoulders and pressed their lips together. Their tongues both raced out of their mouths to meet, to explore each others'. Rodney groaned, a deep, guttural sound, as Clark's tongue found the roof of his mouth.

Clark pulled Rodney's suit coat off, and carefully laid it on the counter. "Wrinkles," he smiled.

Rodney laughed, grabbed Clark's belt and pulled him in for another kiss. Clark's beard rubbed against Rodney's lip; he worried about having a rash during the speech. Oh god, the speech...

Clark pushed him down onto the chair. He kneeled between his legs and opened the clasp on his pants, exposing a black pair of boxer briefs whose seams were ready to tear. Clark rubbed the lycra and smiled. "Mmmmmmm..." He leaned further and kissed the bulge.

Rodney held Clark's head with one hand, running the fingers of his other hand along Clark's cheek, under his neck, along his ear. Clark purred as he pulled Rodney's briefs down.

His hard cock popped out, standing at full attention. "Oh, lovely," Clark whispered. He licked his lips in anticipation and grabbed the shaft. He gave it a good squeeze, and a pearl of pre-cum balanced on the tip. He leaned down and delicately licked it off.

Rodney groaned, and spread his legs. Clark kissed the base of his cock, running his fingers through Rodney's unkempt pubes. He cupped Rodney's balls, and ran his tongue in circles around them.

"Come here, stud," Rodney whispered. Clark looked up; Rodney put one finger under his chin and lightly tugged on it. Clark got the hint, and brought his face back up to Rod's.

Before their lips met, their tongues were playing in midair. Rodney grabbed Clark's face and held it tight while they made out like high schoolers.

"I think what will help me relax is having something to focus on," Rodney smiled. Clark side-eyed him, quizzically. Rodney put his hands on Clark's hips and fell into the easy chair.

Rodney unbuckled Clark's belt, then snapped open his skinny jeans. He pulled them open and down to Clark's knees. He reached up and rubbed the front of Clark's thong - really nothing more than a pouch and waistband.

Clark's cock, already hard, swelled. Rodney squeezed it through the mesh until a small wetspot appeared. "Oh, yes!" He opened his mouth and wrapped it around the tent, while running his hands to Clark's bare ass. He wasn't surprised to feel a nice, light coat of auburn hair covering Clark's legs and cheeks. He ran his fingers through it while he traced the pouch with his tongue.

"Oh fuckkkkkk..." Clark was not expecting this attention. He had been happy to serve, but now ecstatic for the surprises this married man brought him.

Rodney rolled Clark's underwear down, letting his cock bounce into his face. It was about the same size as Rodney's but thicker. "You're beautiful," he said, while rubbing Clark's neatly trimmed pubes.

He ran his tongue just under the head. He looked up to see Clark's eyes roll back. Still rubbing his ass with one hand, he reached with the other to steady the cock. He lapped the precum off the tip as he gave it a slow stroke.

Rodney pulled Clark closer, as he opened his mouth over his head. He licked his lips, and wrapped them around the tip. He sucked in hard as he twisted his head down the length of the shaft. Clark thought he would turn inside out from the feeling.

He raised his head back up, leaving a foamy trail of slobber along the entire cock. And then he repeated himself, snorting. As he came back up, he pushed a finger against Clark's tight asshole. Clark's cock twitched, bouncing off Rodney's teeth.

He laughed and kissed the spot. Then he ran his tongue along the shaft, and back up around the glans. He wrapped his lips around it and repeated the process. Clark's breathing picked up.

Rodney let Clark out of his mouth with a pop, and stroked the sloppy, glistening meat. "You like this, stud?"

"Oh god, you know it. You have me so close..."

"Yeah?" Rodney smiled. In Clark's experience, married guys liked that warning, so they could finish him by jacking him into a pillow or something. Rodney took it as a challenge.

He grabbed the shaft and flicked his tongue along the head, continuing to probe against Clark's ass with his other hand. As he took Clark back into his mouth, he rubbed his balls. He pulled back up and leaned down to kiss Clark's sac, a trail of spit stretching across the gap.

"How close are you, baby?"

Clark rubbed Rodney's cheek. "So close..." Last warning, he thought.

"Oh baby, I want you to fuck my face." He ran his tongue back up and deep-throated him, pulling him tight against his face. Rodney could barely breathe, his nose pressed into Clark's pubes and his mouth stuffed. His eyes started to water as Clark pushed farther in.

Relief came as Clark pulled his hips back, but then he rammed back into Rodney's mouth. Once, twice, as Rodney gagged. Clark pulled back a little too far, and his cock slid out of Rodney's mouth. Almost in a panic, Rodney grabbed it, hands slipping on the shaft, and shoved it back in. He sucked as hard as he could while tonguing the piss slit.

He slid his hand back to Clark's balls as he felt them swell and start to contract. He slid his hands up under Clark's shirt and found his chest. A nipple ring on the left pec! He played with it while continuing to bob his mouth up and down. He could feel Clark's cock swelling, trying to hold it in. He wanted to tell him to let it go, but he didn't want to take his mouth off this wonderful, electrifying, cock.