Work and Play Pt. 08

It's a little dreary outside, causing the building to be darker than usual. I hope it's not too dark when Grayson and I go running tonight. I shut down my office, and realize exactly how eerily quiet it gets in here when most everyone is gone, especially since maintenance isn't here yet. Just as I turn off the light, the door opens.

No, no not tonight. I can't handle it tonight. I need to go running with Grayson and I need to clean my house and I need to not worry about protecting myself please no.

"Late night?"

"Look, Clay. Please. I'm sorry for whatever I did to you. I'm sorry alright? I have a lot to do and I swear..." I try. "I won't tell anyone."

Clay steps completely into my office. "Sweetheart, you say that all the time," he laughs. "I know you're not gonna tell anyone. I know you don't want trouble. I know it all, Princess. I also know that under that ironed shirt and freckled skin, you like handing your ass over to strong men like me. So how many times do we have to do this until you admit that you're beggin' for someone to bend you over and give you what you want?"

I don't say anything. I know there are still people here, scattered around in their cubicles or other. Clay is smart. He knows I'd fight him off if there was no one around, but he's been waiting for this moment, trapping me again. "If you want a friend, I can be a friend," I say shakily. "You don't have to keep doing this. I'll talk to you. I'll listen. Just don't—" I stop short when I hear a series of footsteps outside my door. Clay uses this opportunity to close the door completely and trap me between him and my desk. Before I can try and push him away, he grabs my wrists and wedges his leg between my own so I can't really fight back unless I use a lot of effort, which would make a lot of noise.

"Shhhh, Harvard. You'll be alright. This ain't the worst thing," he whispers into my lips. I instantly close them tight and even bite down to keep him from kissing me. "C'mon, don't be difficult. I gotta date tonight." I keep trying to keep my breathing still and resist sobbing hopelessly. Clay squeezes my wrists tighter and I almost lose it. I know someone is in the office diagonal to mine. Clay pushes his body against mine and breathes against my neck. I just stand there and let him. I let him grind into me in his intoxicated state and hump me until he's moaning against me.

It's like I'm a drug to him or something. Like I'm an escape. The thought doesn't make me feel better, but it makes me understand. If Steph Edgar constantly told him how worthless he was, and I'm guessing he's conflicted about his sexuality, he's probably out of touch with everything.

"Turn around," Clay orders. I do. He pleasantly groans as I feel his rough hands size up my waist in comparison to my ass. "Fuck—you get me every time you know that? Every time, boy," he muses. I keep my jaw clenched tight. Clay marvels at my ass, playing with it, rubbing it, smacking it occasionally, while I shiver and try not to cry. Again. It doesn't feel good.

Clay is taking a different approach than the last times, and I have to wonder what he's thinking. He's more intoxicated than the last times, too. He seems more desperate this time, more caring. He really wants to be on me. Like REALLY. As in, he doesn't just want to screw with me and my head, but he wants me. He likes me and can't stand it.

He reaches around, undoing my belt so quickly, I don't even have time to protest. "No! No, no..." I say in a harsh whisper, trying to get his hands away from my waist, but he has me in a vulnerable position. He kicks my desk loudly to get me to shut up and he smacks his hand over my mouth for good measure. With is other hand, he cups my dick and massages. That's it. I can't hold back the tears and they fall gently, and I know Clay feels them on his hand because he tries comforting me by kissing my neck. "Shh, shh, shhh, Princess. I'll take care of you, Baby. I just wanna touch you. I just wanna—"

"Mmm," I sob into his hand. Clay just shushes me again and rubs his hand at the natural bulge in my crotch—not aroused, which again, I'm relieved for. He doesn't give a shit that I'm breaking down right in front of him. Every part of me feels violated. I close my eyes and I don't realize how hard my heart is beating until I can feel it in my ears.

Clay unbuttons my pants with one hand and reaches beyond my pants to stroke me through my underwear and I almost lose it. I can feel my brain start working hard and imagining every possible scenario from people walking in, to me accidentally telling Grayson, to Clay having his way with me—

Clay pulls my pants and shorts down to reveal just half of both ass-cheeks, but it causes me to go full anxiety. I feel the panicky contracting of my lungs and make as little noise as possible, but I can't breathe. He's going to do it, right here. He's going to force me to have sex with him tonight. In my own office. My body is frozen to the point where I can hardly move, and every breath I take is a fraction of what my brain and body needs.

Clay is just shushing me at this point, trying to calm me down, but I'm already in too deep. I try doing what I learned a long time ago, clenching and unclenching my fists, but it doesn't work. My thoughts are being attacked, and I can feel Clay starting to freak out at my unresponsiveness. "Shhh, Princess—" somehow he thinks kneading my bare ass will calm me down, but I just get a hitch in my throat and tears start streaming down my face. I cover my face and shake my head, trying to tell myself that I'll be okay, that I'll see Gabriel tomorrow and I'll be okay. But right now I'm very not okay. Clay isn't stopping even with my panic attack in full force. He just keeps his body against mine, thinking that his simple 'shushing' will stop my panic, but I end up collapsing into him, and he catches me, lowering me onto the ground slowly.

I swing wildly, not able to properly form words. Clay catches me by both wrists—and he's so goddamn stupid and drunk—he thinks kissing me on the lips will soothe me, but I only end up sobbing more, and I think at this point, I'm getting uncomfortably loud for him, because he shoves me to the ground and lays on top, doing everything he can to make me quiet. "C'mon baby, c'mon sweetheart—you don't want em all to hear us. C'mon shhhh, shhhh. It's gonna be alright. Breathe, Harvard. Breathe."

"Off!" I manage to hiss. When he lets me go, I scramble away and curl into a ball, rocking back and forth. "H-help."

"You're fucking crazy," Clay seethes, checking through the window, I'm assuming to see if we've gathered attention. "I just wanna touch you and you—god, you're fuckin' nuts."

I feel like my head is on fire, and my only reaction is to grip my hair so tight, I'm sure my knuckles are white. Clay crawls over to me, and I swing at him, hitting him in the shoulder. "Inhaler," I wheeze and fling my hand in the direction of my bag. Clay doesn't even budge. I'm not coherent enough to handle zippers right now.

Clay touches my face, sending me into another fit. I sob aloud and curl into myself even more. Clay takes this as invitation to try his hand at comfort again, and I end up with him trying to pry me apart, and then eventually between my legs again and groping me in sexual ways despite my tears and quiet protest.

I feel his hard bulge against the inside of my thighs while he puts no effort into calming me down, and instead humps me. While I've managed to stop my flow of tears, my breathing is still irregular, and I stare up into nothing as Clay puts his grabby, rough hands on my torso.

"Fuck, you're such a beauty. God, I wanna stick my cock in you, Baby. Later. Later," Clay breathes hard, and with a grunt, I'm almost sure he's climaxed in his work pants. Unbelievable. By this point, my panic attack has subsided, but my breathing still sucks. In one hard shove, Clay is off of me, and I crawl toward my bag for my inhaler, not before saying some nasty words to him, though.

"Saw your fucking ex-wife," I breathe before locating my inhaler. "She said you were good for shit and you're too dumb to have this job." I get my hands on it when I stop shaking so much. "Drinking your fucking life away; not like you had one in the first place."

My comments don't seem to bother Clay; he sits there, breathing hard and staring me down.

"I ain't even in you yet, and I haven't blown so hard in years, Boy," he says. "So I'm gonna let that shit slide, but I suggest you leave your nose outta my business." With that remark, Clay stands up and leaves my office after checking the area. My pants still hug my ass, exposing the upper half of the cheeks. My head hits the ground harder than I expected, but I can at least function. I pull up my pants and lay on the ground in defeat.

It must be five minutes before my phone rings. "Hey," I say groggily.

"Hey Zeke—were you sleeping?" Grayson asks.

"Nope," I reply sitting up. "What's up?"

"I hate to be an ass, but I'm caught up in something, and I don't think I can run tonight. I don't wanna miss it though, so do you think we can shoot for tomorrow morning? 7 am?"

"Yes, yes. Perfect," I sigh in relief. "I'm also pretty caught up in junk. I probably do need sleep." I start gathering my things.

"Alright. Sorry; I hope you weren't all ready to go or anything," Grayson says.

I scoff. "Not even close. See you at 7."

________________

Grayson sleeps in, ironically, and shows up at my house at 7:15 am. I don't mind. I'll have to go grocery shopping for my and Gabriel's date—er... get-together—tonight anyway. I have a bike that I bought during a Black Friday sale two years ago. My ass hasn't even touched it. I think I'll ride it around to get groceries. It's worth $450 and I got it for $100, so I should probably use it more. It even has an attachable basket. I get to thinking about how impressive it is, so when Grayson arrives, I wave him over. He looks like he's only slept a few hours, and his eyes are glassy. As we walk over to my garage, I decide to ask. "Long night?"

"Yeah uh... Sean and I had a long talk last night," he says with a yawn.

"Argument?" I ask, putting in the code to open the garage. Grayson shakes his head.

"He and I just talked about some of our hang-ups and shit..." Grayson smiles. "We're dating now."

"No shit! That's awesome!" I pull Grayson into a quick hug and pat him on the back. He's absolutely beaming. "You're welcome."

"I was going to thank you, Mr. Humble," Grayson says. "What are we looking at here?" I roll my bike out from its storage area. "Hey! That's nice."

I nod. "Right? I haven't touched it, but I think I'm going to start. It tracks your calories and shit—it's not new. I'm just lazy."

"Hey, my 33rd birthday is coming up, and I'm not one of those people who likes keeping it a secret. And I really would love a bike..." Grayson trails off, giving me a knowing look.

"Are you sure your body can handle this type of thing? I mean, 33 is pretty far up there," I tease. "You're older than Gabriel."

Ugh. IDIOT. I don't want to start talking about Gabe whenever I get the chance. I don't want it to get to the point where I'm craving to tell people about him. With the way I run my mouth, it is most definitely a possibility.

Luckily, Grayson doesn't seem to speculate my comment at all, and he just rolls his eyes. I hop on the bike and ride it along the sidewalk, around my front yard. Then I come back to the garage. Grayson nods his head, impressed. "Lookin' good," he comments. "And I mean your ass. I'm talking about the way your ass looks when you sit on the seat. Just an observation."

"Oh shut up." Grayson has me turning to check out my own ass, and then he laughs at me. He's right. Sitting like this makes my waist look even smaller than it already is, and my butt looks bubbly and round. I smile to myself. I'll have to take Gabriel bike riding. Maybe I'll wear shorts, then.

In a few minutes, we're running alongside the road. The sun has risen enough that it actually is behind some clouds, so it's cooler out. It's also darker. Grayson doesn't run ahead of me like he usually does. I guess he's more tired than he let on. We've been running for twenty minutes according to my watch, and when I look up to see what's around, I spot a familiar woman across the street, running with her dog. Kelsey. She's ahead of us, so I bet she doesn't even know we're behind her. Grayson notices my staring. "Who's that?"

"Kelsey. She lives beside me, with her grandparents," I explain between breaths. "She brought me the cookies I shared with you yesterday."

Grayson hmmphs, and then we continue. "Do you like her?"

"Grayson. I'm gay."

"Just asking, geezus. I mean, I've been with women before."

"Yeah, I'm not going there." I notice that she stops by a bench, and I think it'd be rude if she recognized me, and I didn't say anything. Also, that dog is just so damn cute. "Let's talk to her," I whisper to Grayson. He seems confused, so I point. "That dog is a purebred German Shepherd. I love that dog. Do it for the dog, Grayson."

I wait until there's no traffic to cross the street. "Hi, Kelsey!" I say happily. She looks around, confused, before taking an earbud out. She smiles bright when she sees me.

"Hi, Zeke! What's up?" Kelsey has Toby tied around a pole, and I want nothing more than to pet him.

"Out running like you, it looks like. This is—"

Grayson sticks out his hand, "I'm Zeke's boyfriend, Grayson."

I laugh in surprise and horror. "Oh no—that's not—wow, that's not true. He's not my boyfriend," I say with a laugh, then I punch his shoulder. Kelsey is nervously laughing too, and she looks between Grayson and I almost in cartoon style. "I-I don't have a boyfriend."

"That's me. A joker," Grayson says.

I can tell Kelsey is either confused or disappointed, and I have an unnatural smile on my face. "So do you run often?" I ask. She nods.

"Y-yeah I um... I wanted to get to know the area," she says, still smiling. "I was gonna ruin it and get a donut in a few minutes."

"Zeke loves donuts. Our first date was in a donut shop," Grayson says. I give him my best 'I'm going to kill you' look.

"He's lying. I'm not—he's not my boyfriend. I'm sorry this is so weird. Wow," I laugh. The awkwardness is starting to make me tick, so I start petting the dog. Kelsey still has a weirded-out look on her face, and I almost freeze. "The cookies were great. Thank you. I had to share because god knows I couldn't eat all of them by myself."

"I have some culinary experience," Kelsey says. "Sorry; I knew that was a lot."

Grayson doesn't say anything else while I talk to Kelsey. I don't know what his issue was, but I'm not having it. Turns out Kelsey is going grocery shopping today around noon, and I agreed to go with her. I give Toby one last scratching before Grayson and I continue. When I'm sure we're far, far away from her, I shove him into a chain-link fence. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"What? She didn't know you were gay."

"Is it okay with you if I have friends?" I ask.

"What? Why can't she know you're gay?" he asks.

"God! Grayson. I still want FRIENDS," I seethe. He just smirks and shakes his head. "This is funny to you?"

"So what? Were you going to lead her on until she told you she liked you? and then tell her you were gay?" Grayson asks. I don't say anything. I wasn't even thinking about that. "And even if that's not your plan, were you afraid she wouldn't want to be your friend if you were gay? Cause if that's the case, any 'friend' that doesn't accept that probably isn't a friend you want."

I cross my arms like a child. "Are you my caretaker or something?"

"You can go ahead and undo that, and tell her you're not gay or whatever, but I saw the look in her eyes. She's into you. She may not even believe that you're gay, dismissing me as your asshole friend. Either way, you should think about it. Let's head back. I'm driving to see Sean, and I'm spending the night. Coming back on Sunday."

Goddamnit. He's right.

--

Kelsey and I walk into Whole Foods, looking like a blatant couple. She still flirted with me in the car, so I decided I'd casually slip it into conversation.

Kelsey wants to be a chiropractor. She talks about it while we sort through red onions. I tell her where I work. She's impressed I went to Harvard, and was one of the valedictorians. We both love cooking, and we talk about our favorite dishes and desserts. She starts standing closer to me, making flirtatious gestures, and I sigh. Grayson is right. I don't want to lead anyone on. "So what are you shopping for?"

"Just restocking Grandma and Grandpa's fridge," she says happily. "What about you?"

"Oh I uh... I have a date tonight. I'm cooking," I say casually. I watch the subtle crash and burn of her expression, but I try to soothe it best I can.

"That sounds great! Lucky g—well," Kelsey chuckles.

I gulp, and put a bag of celery in my cart. "Yeah. I mean, I have a guy coming over. Not Grayson; he has a boyfriend of his own," I explain cumbersomely. Kelsey just nods. "I'm sorry; that was awkward this morning. Grayson likes to tease me. I have a hard time telling people I'm gay."

"Right. No worries," Kelsey says with a smile. She nods awkwardly before blurting out: "I'm partially deaf. I don't like telling people that."

"No worries," I repeat.

_____________

I put the finishing touches on the cheesecake I made when I hear a knock at the door. I'm just dressed in dark jeans and one of my nicer t-shirts. Gosh, I'm nervous. For some reason, this is much more of a big deal than the last time he ate at my house. Granted, we're not eating leftovers—I've been cooking for over two and a half hours—but maybe it's just because we planned something. And it's not a date. We're not dating. I like Gabriel, but like he said, he's leaving soon. We could eat every weekend from now until he's on the plane back to California, and then that's that.

He's only a few minutes late, which isn't a big deal at all. I still have macaroni and cheese in the oven. He greets me with a big smile, and I invite him in quickly. It stayed pretty dreary all day, and I'm sure he's still getting used to the crazy weather fluctuations. He's wearing a black v-neck that's driving me crazy; he looks so fucking good. A fraction of me wants to eat dinner after we go a few rounds.

"If I recall, you like champagne?" Gabriel asks, holding up two bottles.

"Oh god. I haven't touched champagne since..." I trail off. "We both know how that went." Gabriel's smile falters.

"Maybe I shouldn't have brought it," he says. I shake my head and laugh. "I mean, you did get a little crazy." Gabriel sets the bottles on the table, and I only then realize that I'm tapping my foot repeatedly. Gabriel notices and pulls me in for a kiss. I close my eyes and place my hands on his broad shoulders. A feeling of comfort and security washes over me instantly, and I don't know how to feel. I jump off of his lips when the timer dings from the stove. Gabe gently pats my butt before I take the dish out of the oven. "This is a gorgeous little house, Zeke. I mean it."

"Thank you," I say, setting the mac n cheese on the counter. "I'm going to repaint the living room, but other than that, I love it." I see Gabriel staring at the display of ribs, and I smile to myself. I start putting our plates together, and he insists on helping me, but after he takes a call.

"My uncle's friend," he says with an eyeroll. "¿Hola? Esto es Gabriel... oh, hi Trena. No... I—I'm kind of in the middle of something..." Gabriel laughs. "Slow down please—wait what?" Gabriel holds up a finger to me, and then he heads to the living room. When I'm done putting items on plates, I join him.

Gabriel turns on the TV and searches until he gets to NBC news. It cuts on in the middle of a sentence. "—is planning on staying right where he is, what he describes as: 'what used to be the best place with the best people'," the reporter says. "At this time, reports say there is not enough evidence to convict or even try current CEO of OrtegaTech, Roderick Tracy in the case of fraud. And in a shocking twist, Tracy speaks of suing OrtegaTech for wrongful accusations and discrimination against the disabled. Tracy's lawyers talk hundreds of millions of dollars in damage. His representative, Harper Welsh, is here to elaborate on the issue."