Inadequate Men
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Chapter 13 -- Back at Work
As he did in all but the worst weather, Jared walked to work. It took about 15 minutes door to door, just enough time to muse over what would be waiting for him on his desk. Along the way, he noticed that the scaffolding in front of the Dubliner, his favorite neighborhood pub, had been removed and replaced by a festive Celtic-looking sign in green and gold that read, "Grand Re-Opening."
Now, sitting behind his desk at around 9:30 AM, he noticed that his balls were actually sore. Not that he minded -- as problems go, ball soreness wasn't exactly telethon worthy.
His assistant, Kyle, came in to bring Jared his ritual second cup of coffee as usual. A blue-eyed 23 year-old with blond hair, Kyle could have been Jared's taller and just a touch more put-together younger brother -- dark suit pants, brightly colored shirt, expensive designer tie, patterned socks, and Florentine leather shoes.
Jared hadn't chosen him just for his looks, of course, but he had to admit that of the final three contenders for the position, Kyle was the cutest for sure. Even better, Jared was 99% certain that Kyle was also gay when he hired him, and confirmed this early on, once they'd established a work routine together.
Despite his outer appearance, which Jared found to be a touch too polished for his own taste, once you got to know him, Kyle was actually sweeter and more corn-fed than he looked. Originally from a small town in southern Illinois -- "below the Mason-Dixon line," as he would say -- Kyle had spent two years in community college before his family could afford to let him accept a partial ride to the University of Chicago, a swimming scholarship which had still left him, as he put it, "swimming in debt."
"So how do you afford Florentine leather?" Jared had once asked him. As a lawyer, he had been enculturated to suspect a variety of shady possibilities, from embezzlement to a sugar daddy.
Kyle's answer had been a lot more prosaic: "It's a lot cheaper in Florence." Where Kyle had spent the summer between his junior and senior years working on his art history thesis about the cathedral architect, Filippo Brunelleschi.
Kyle placed the coffee tray down in front of Jared, who in return looked up at him and smiled, "Thank you, my friend."
"You're welcome," said Kyle, almost suspiciously. Then, instead of leaving the office, Kyle sat down in the chair across from Jared's desk and just waited.
Jared looked up from his laptop. "Was there something you needed, Kyle?" he asked.
"No," said Kyle, "I mean yes."
"With answers like that," Jared quipped, "You'd make a great witness at a murder trial." He waited a few more seconds, then asked, "What's on your mind? Something bothering you?"
"No," said Kyle, "I mean yes." He held up his hand, "I know, I did it again."
"Just spit it out," Jared suggested.
"OK..." He took a breath and said, "Jared, you're really happy, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?" asked Jared, "Aren't I usually happy?"
"No," Kyle said, "I mean... NO! Not usually. I mean, definitely not in the morning before your coffee. And most of the time, not the rest of the day either. What's going on?"
Jared said, "I don't know, it's a chill week around here."
"The week before the MacLauren depositions?" Kyle fired back. "Everyone else in this place has been sniping at each other nonstop. But you're just smiling at everyone all day long. And you've got this..." he waved his hands at Kyle, stumbling for the words, "Um, glow going on. I mean, it's nice for sure, and I'm really happy for you. But I've been dying to know since Monday what's going on." He paused a second, then leaned in and whispered, "You've totally met somebody, right?"
"You don't have to whisper," Jared whispered back. Then, breaking into a grin, he said "Maybe."
"OMG, Jared," Kyle laughed, "With a poker face like that, don't ever go to Vegas." He waited while neither he nor Jared spoke, knowing that in a situation like this, whoever speaks first usually loses. When Jared continued to stonewall, Kyle leaned back in his chair and pretended to hold a large container of popcorn, placing piece after piece into his mouth.
"Well, it's not like all that..." Jared began.
"It is definitely like all that," Kyle said. As one of only three gay men at the firm who were out to each other, Kyle had a lot more latitude than most other assistants had with their supervisors. He and Jared had gone out as friends a number of times to a gay bar that both of them liked. Jared had listened more than spoken as Kyle had poured out his heart about a relationship that was clearly going nowhere. Jared's consistent comment to Kyle was that he could do better, and Kyle had eventually dumped the guy. Since then, he'd been single, with a couple of random sex buddies on the side, and overall seemed a lot happier.
"OK, yeah," Jared admitted, "It's pretty fucking amazing," and his smile burst from ear to ear."
"OMG," Kyle said, "But I don't want to pry."
"You're already prying," Jared said. "What do you want to know?"
"Where did you meet him?" Kyle said, and then quickly reversed course. "Wait, if you met on an app, you don't have to say which one."
Jared assured him, "We met at the gym."
"At the gym," Kyle repeated. "That's respectable, almost old-fashioned. Like meeting at a barn dance or something."
A knock at the door from one of the senior partners derailed their conversation. Kyle, slipping once again into assistant mode, stood up and got back to work. A few minutes later, Jared swung by his desk and asked, "You wanna know more?"
Kyle shrugged, "Of course."
"You busy after work?" Jared asked.
"I'd like to be," Kyle said, "But tonight it's just me and my cat."
"Me too, minus the cat," Jared told him, "How about a beer at the Dub?"
"Sure, I love that place," Kyle said, "Sounds great."
Jared got a few hours of billable work done, pushing his lunch off until after 1:00. When he was ready to leave the office, he let Kyle know that he'd be gone for the next hour. Although he rarely took more than 20 minutes to snarf down a soup-and-salad special from his favorite nearby deli, he usually took the full hour that he was allotted to take a walk around town. On a sunny day, he'd head down to the waterfront. When it was raining or too cold to remain outside, he often took a side trip to a huge structure that had originally been a torpedo factory but had since been repurposed as an art collective.
Fortunately, today was cold but still warm enough for a walk. Jared wrapped his scarf around his neck and put his coat on, then left his office. When he got to the front door of the building, he held the door for two women who were entering at the same time. The wind whipping through the foyer felt pretty chilly, so once he got outside, he buried both of his hands in his coat pockets.
That's when Jared felt it: A piece of folded paper that he didn't expect to be there. He pulled it out and before he could see what it was, it flew away in the brisk breeze that swirled down the sidewalk. Jared was tempted to just let it fly away. It was probably just an old dry cleaning receipt that he'd stuck in there. Except that Jared was meticulous -- "bordering on Rainman" he would describe himself -- when it came to keeping and organizing receipts. Everything got captured, filed, and presented to his tax accountant by early Feburary -- everything.
He chased the scrap of paper down the street, feeling like an idiot as he did so. Would it really kill him if a $20 dry cleaning bill didn't get knocked off the top of his tax liability this year? Apparently it would, because Jared almost ran headlong into woman walking her bicycle on the sidewalk. Apologizing and dodging around her, he leapt across the sidewalk and trapped the piece of paper under the tip of his shoe.
"Got it!" the woman said, encouragingly. She held one thumb up, and Jared returned the gesture, glad she wasn't annoyed at him.
He unfolded it, and his heart skipped a beat as he read:
Saw you guys in the Thai restaurant
totally hot dude!
LacrosseBoySean98
Below that were the names of two popular messaging apps.
To be continued...
Thanks for reading! Apologies to those of you who waited so long for a new chapter. I'll try to keep things moving...
I hope you are all doing as well as possible considering the extraordinary world circumstances. Since my last contribution to Nifty, I've traveled about 10,000 miles, returning home until things get back to normal.
If you're reading this story for the first time, just know that if you're a guy with a small penis, a guy who cums quickly, or a guy who is slow to get hard, you're not alone. And if you've thought about writing, please do: judestjude2357@gmail.com. I promise to do my best to answer, especially if you're feeling alone with no one to talk to about this stuff. Thanks again, TJ