Disclaimers: This work is a work of fiction and is my property.
The story and characters are fictitious and any resemblance to anyone or any actual event is coincidental. There are three distinctly different main characters that will appear as the story progresses.
You should be legally allowed to read this type of material before continuing.
As it is based on an actual book, I had published a few years ago -- free for your enjoyment -- the story will not contain explicit material in all the chapters BUT don't fret, as it is more the exception than the rule.
Note that in one chapter to come, there will be a sexually violent scenario. If this will trigger any trauma for you, please be aware of it before you start reading.
Please direct any comments or feedback to my email address at davidrolsynauthor2019@gmail.com.
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CHAPTER SIX
Stephen Jordan
Getting the promotion was a big surprise! It seemed only fair. If Will hadn't made that disgusting pass at me when we were stranded in the car, then he'd still be my manager at the restaurant.
Soon after, Will was fired and Mike approached me and asked me if I wanted to train as a manager and take on Will's old position. He and Georgia noticed that I was excellent with the patrons and had more objectivity, discipline, and maturity than the other hopefuls working at the restaurant.
One of them was Samantha who had been working there since the restaurant's opening. She was obviously upset that she wasn't promoted, but to be honest, she was far too nosey and involved in the other employees' lives to manage them. They would totally walk all over her if she tried. I think she knew that deep down too, but her pride was hurt.
I was surprisingly good at the new job and the patrons loved me. At first, it was a little unnerving being responsible for the entire restaurant, but Mike made sure I learned the basics. Samantha was instructed to assist me in getting the admin, equipment, and the system under my belt and even though she warmed up to me a little in the process, it was as if she didn't trust me. The rest of the staff was offish to me and most likely envious because I'd only been there a few months before my big promotion.
From the start, I've done everything to stay professional, be fair, and treat everyone with respect. But, they're still distancing themselves from me. They just listen and do what they're told but they don't chat in front of me and try and avoid me whenever possible. The great atmosphere that existed when Will was still the manager isn't here anymore and I've got no idea why we can't simply move on from what happened. Will made the mistake, not them, or me for that matter, so why not let it go?
It became clear tonight.
I'm sitting in the office doing the daily cash-up when I need to take a leak. I get up, lock the door behind me, and head for the staff washroom. As I pass the storeroom, I hear some of the waiters tidying up the shelves, as I asked them to do earlier.
"Can you believe the guy, Cal? He acts all Mr. Important now. To think he got Will fired, acting innocent and then expecting us to just forget about it. It wasn't only Will's fault. Stephen shouldn't have allowed it to happen in the first place. He led him on."
I strain my neck to hear better and my stomach is in knots. Seriously?!
"I know, bro. What an idiot! We all knew Will was gay. It was so obvious to all of us that Will found him attractive. I mean he even tried his best to avoid him. But NO, he volunteers to go out with Will and when Will makes a move, he goes for it. It was just a fucking blow job, so why cry about it? He was cock-teasing. If he didn't like the idea of a dude giving him one, he should've just said no or written it off as a bad experience. He's immature. I agree with Samantha. I'm sure he planned the whole thing from day one just to get rid of Will."
I haven't got a clue what to say or what to do. Is this what everyone thinks? That I set up the car incident to get Will fired? They weren't even there!
Desperately needing to take that leak, I rush off to the washroom, trying to absorb what I just heard.
I finish up, washing my hands slowly and drying them off with a paper towel. Looking into the mirror, I'm still trying to come to grips with what they said. This explains the team's attitude towards me. Well, I did nothing wrong and it's all on Will. Damn them!
Until the end of my shift, I play it cool with everyone. I lock up the restaurant and go home to my apartment. I have to walk home because I don't own a car and with the salary I earn, it'll be quite some time before I can afford one. It'll probably have to be a used car, too. If I decide to get one, I'll purchase it through the dealer back home and not here in the city. My dad can help me shop around and have a look at whichever one I decide on before I sign the papers and hand over my hard-earned cash. Luckily my parents were helping me pay for the apartment close to the restaurant.
...I'm still pondering the conversation I overheard and honestly, I'm astounded that everyone believes it's my fault that Will got fired. It was sexual harassment. Even though it did feel good at the time, it's definitely against my beliefs. It's just not normal. I've prayed for forgiveness many times after it happened and hope that I am in fact forgiven...
I enter my apartment building.
Once inside my apartment, I take off my uniform, my white button-up shirt and black trousers. I've always preferred going commando and my thick penis, about seven to eight inches long, when flaccid, swings leisurely to and fro as I move around the kitchen. Warming up a frozen dinner in the microwave, I grab a soda. I don't drink alcohol because Mom says alcohol invites all life's mistakes. Once you've had your first sip, there's no going back.
I flop down on my tiny couch, put a cushion over my crotch and the tray with my dinner on top of it. Switching on the TV, I notice an old Inspector Clouseau movie is on and although it looks kinda interesting, I've no idea what's going on or what the back story is. The twists and turns in the plot and the investigative techniques he uses to solve the crime is highly entertaining. Eventually I turn down the volume and just lie there, half interestedly watching a show on house renovations.
I know it's a bit gross going around my place naked, but I like the feeling of freedom it gives me. My brother and I skinny-dipped a lot as children, running around on the farm buck naked, chasing each other...it reminds me of that time. Of course, when we started going through the early teenage, unwelcome-boner phase, it became necessary to at least wear shorts. But my preference for going commando has endured.
Here it's just me. It's a bit lonely but I haven't had time to make any friends. Work keeps me busy and between the restaurant and attending the local church's youth activities program on Friday evenings and the Sunday services, I don't get out much. I haven't met anyone at church who I've clicked with, most of the girls are either too young or the women too old. The guys are either weird or have issues. It's really difficult just to make friends with normal, well-adjusted people. At least I make time for my faith and get to meet different people. Thank God for that.
I finally fall asleep on the couch and wake up the next morning to a bird going ballistic outside my kitchen window. It must be the neighbor's cat scaring the heck out of the poor thing. My back is killing me because I'd fallen asleep at a really odd angle, and I'm definitely far too tall for that small couch. I must seriously stop sleeping on it.
I ignore my morning wood. Masturbation is something I've never been entirely comfortable with because it's a sin in itself. Self-satisfaction. So, I think of my grandparents and soon enough it goes away.
Putting on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers, it's time for my morning jog.
I head out towards the park, which is about eight blocks away. Once I get there, I run its parameter, circling it a few times before heading back. I breathe in rhythm with my footfalls and my heart pounds at a steady pace. Very soon I'm pouring with sweat, and I get a few appreciative looks from women along the way. One guy checks me out too. I ignore him. Back at my apartment, I strip, take a shower, get dressed again, and then shoot off to work!
I get to the restaurant around 11 a.m. Some of the staff are already waiting outside for me to open. They greet me politely, but then just go back to their own muffled conversations as usual. It's really such a pity. And tough on me. But my dad told me that being a good and honest man sometimes meant walking a very lonely road. He wasn't wrong.
We all get on with our usual duties while setting up for lunch, and for the rest of the day nothing out of the ordinary happens. Except Mike stopped by to see if everything was all right, but he left about thirty minutes later.
I'm once again the last one to leave and lock up.
As I'm walking to my place, I see a guy on the opposite side of the road checking me out. I've got both a height and build advantage over him. He's about five foot eight, wearing a pair of boots, blue jeans, a boldly patterned shirt, and a large belt buckle. He might be muscular, but he'd be wise not to try and accost me. There's nothing of value on me in any case and am relieved he doesn't follow me home. City life really exposes a person to some serious weirdos and wack jobs. Breathing a sigh of relief, I head up my apartment building's stairs.
The place is in a relatively quiet side street and only about seven floors high. It's been done up in an old, classical white-wash style with fire escapes and landings on the sides where the apartment kitchens are located.
Once inside my apartment, I go through my set routine of stripping, organizing my frozen dinner, and parading around the privacy of my own space with my cock dangling freely. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Until I spot him.
I've the habit of leaving my kitchen window blinds open. I'm on the fifth floor and like to see at least some sort of view, even if it's dark. There isn't a building directly opposite mine, and I can be free to do as I please without anyone being the wiser. It's especially nice in the morning when the sun comes blazing through the window into the kitchen and warms up my whole body while I make myself breakfast. That also reminds me of the farm.
But now, that same guy who I saw on the street is standing on the landing right outside my window, checking me out! He has dark blonde hair but I can't see the color of his eyes. Dark blue or brown? Nonetheless, they've a twinkle in them and he smirks in appreciation as he takes in my full, naked glory. I cup my penis and balls with both hands to hide them from him. "Get lost, man! What are you looking at?" I hurry towards the window to close the blinds.
It dawns on me that I'd also left the window open and will have to let go of my modesty to close both the window and the blinds. So, I just stand there frozen, not certain what to do next.
"I like the view. You have a hot piece of equipment and you're sexy as fuck. Do you know that? You sure you don't want me to come in there and give you some loving? I could suck you off nice and slow..."
"No!" Oh Lord...
"Come on, cupcake. I'll stick my tongue under that foreskin of yours and softly slurp on the sweet, sensitive skin underneath. Then I'll take you completely down my throat and blow you hard until you cum. What do you say?" He licks his lips.
Damn, my penis is stiffening. No! If I let go of the family jewels, he'll see I'm getting hard. This is a nightmare!
Instead, I run to the bedroom to put on some shorts. I hear him laughing in the background.
"What! Scared I'll bite it off?!"
I don't believe in violence but obviously this guy needs a good knuckle sandwich, as my dad would say, for the message to get through. But when I return to the lounge, he's gone. I quickly close the window and pull down the blinds. Maybe I shouldn't walk around naked anymore.
It seems a person has to give up so much when living in the city.
I miss home.
William Morgan
Nine days pass by and I speak to no one.
I switched my cell phone to silent mode and have missed numerous calls. Some from Samantha, some from my mother and the rest from different friends, including Ozzie and Gavin. I didn't call anyone back and ignored any knocks at my door.
At one stage Ozzie nearly broke down my front door to get in and I was forced to get out of bed to plead with him, from behind the door, to leave me alone. He did so after I assured him that I was actually going to be fine and that I would get in touch with him soon. I also knew that he would assure my mother, before she got any ideas in her head to call the cops and send them round to check up on me.
Today I finally decided to pull myself together because staying in bed isn't going to make the prospect of ending up on the street disappear. I have a few thousand saved but it won't last me indefinitely. Being alone has its perks, especially if you have no one to spend money on and added to that, I'm not a materialistic person by nature. But still, money doesn't grow on trees and my savings will soon run out.
Besides, I smell like shit and look like it too. Over the last nine days, I hardly ever showered. There are clothes scattered everywhere, dirty shorts, T-shirts, track-pants, and socks.
I have no clean plates or cutlery in the kitchen and there's practically nothing left in the cupboards. My fridge is empty, except for some sour milk and a slice of old pizza I had ordered a few days ago.
Nope...I need to get my ass into gear and try to go in a new direction.
I spend the entire day cleaning, doing laundry, and manage to get myself to the department store to stock up on some much-needed supplies.
It's evening now. I'm exhausted and flop down on my now clean couch to watch some TV.
I also turned my phone back on and received a few calls, which I dealt with, as best I could.
Samantha was particularly pissed off because I hadn't called her back, but I managed to apologize. She blamed herself for introducing Stephen to me and thought he was a childish prick. In her opinion things were even worse now because Mike and Georgia were grooming him as the new manager.
Karma is a bitch.
I told her not to blame Stephen or herself, but of course I could hear she wasn't convinced.
I was also glad to chat with Gavin and he sounded concerned. He wanted to know what happened, so I told him. Not judging me, he was more interested in focusing on my future plans. I was grateful for that, because I was beating myself up enough over it. I asked him not to worry and assured him that I would be all right. I'm not sure he bought it.
I'm obviously not very convincing, it seems...
I check my emails, and answer them one by one. One of them is an advert for an employment website and I decide to have a look at it tomorrow. It's late and I need to get some sleep.
I wake up at 7:36 a.m., quickly jump into the shower, and then drink a strong cup of coffee and make myself a bowl of cereal.
Sitting down in front of my computer, I stare at the website. I meticulously fill in my personal details, work experience, qualifications -- which basically consists of a college Degree in Art and I click "submit."
I decide to go visit Ozzie and Belinda.
These guys don't have any formal employment. They mostly help the Metal-club owner run his business. They help with door takings, serving drinks at the bar and helping the bands set up.
It did help that Belinda was loaded though. Her mother passed a few years ago and left her a sizable sum of money. Since they own their house and have jobs that they enjoy, they don't really splurge on anything. They get to do what they love and be together at the same time.
They fight a lot, but always make up afterwards. Once, after a big fight, they ended up fucking on the floor right in front of me. I was visiting them and tried awkwardly to watch the late news while they were going at it.
At first, I thought of leaving them to get on with it, but it was really late at night, so I decided to stay put and watch. It was actually quite erotic because Ozzie has a nice body with a few tattoos around his legs and on his back. He's pretty good-looking and definitely knows how to pleasure Belinda. If the sex was the only reason she was staying with him, then he was sure as hell bringing his end of the bargain.
I ended up fetching a towel and jerking off to the sight of them fucking like maniacs.
Anyway.
I arrive at Ozzie and Belinda's and after knocking on the door a few times, Ozzie flings it open and stares at me. "What! Oh. Hi, Will."
Ozzie is standing there with his long hair scrunched up on and around his head. A bad case of bedhead. He's in his boxers and his boner is sticking up, tucked in behind the elastic waistband, the tip peeking out sideways against his stomach.
I clear my throat. "Hi, Ozzie. Can I come in or are you guys busy?" My gaze lands down at his boner.
"No, man. Come in. I'll go wake Belinda. Help yourself to something to drink. You know where everything is." He tries to push it down into his boxers but it just creates a tent shape and points obscenely in my direction.
I had been attracted to Ozzie in high school, but he made it clear very early on that he had no interest in me or anything with a guy whatsoever. In those days, he was seeing a girl and they were often caught screwing at school. It resulted in them both being expelled.
Ozzie's parents pleaded with the principal to let him back in, on the condition that he maintained a good grade point average and refrained from fornicating on school property. He managed to finish high school eventually. Though it was a year after me. I think the donation his parents made towards upgrading the school's gym helped smooth things over too. The girl didn't return to school, and Ozzie moved on to someone new. From then on though, he used his uncle's trailer for his sexual escapades.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and go sit down in the lounge.
A few minutes later Belinda appears. She's at least tried to make herself presentable. "Hey, dude."
I sigh. "Hi."
"Ozzie told me what happened. You ok?"
"I will be."
"Have you found a new job yet?"
"No, not yet. I only started looking today. I've registered for some managerial positions at a couple of restaurants."
"Why? You should do something with your art."
"Art doesn't pay the rent, Belinda. Unless you have a big name or a rich spouse who can support you while you're doing it."
She narrows her eyes as if I'm implying something about her and Ozzie, but she seems to let it go. And of course, I'm certainly not.
"Why don't you come help out at the club. Mason could use you."
Mason is the owner and he's a brute of a man. Very big, with a booming voice. I believe he was an ex drill sergeant. He lost one of his arms in some or other war and had decided to follow his first passion...heavy-metal music.
"I'll think about it."
I can just imagine constantly listening to that music. Just the thought of it gives me a splitting headache. I like hanging out with them from time to time but they're not my first choice when deciding how to spend my evenings.
She touches my shoulder. "Come on, Will? It'll be fun.
Ozzie returns clothed. His hair is wet, straight, and hanging down to his shoulders.
"What's going on? You trying to set up Will with one of you `friends' again?" He does air quotes.
"No, dickhead. I'm trying to get him to work with us at the club. He's got nothing better to do and in any case, he can't sit around at home all the time. We can then also keep an eye on him." She winks, and Ozzie's face lights up.
"It'll be great, bud! I'm not taking no for an answer. You're coming tonight."
I sigh in resignation. "Ok. Ok. I'll just have to go home later and change because if I go like this, I'll definitely get beaten up."
I glance down at my clothes. I'm wearing a light blue sweater, a pair of white trousers, and sneakers. Not exactly a Metalhead uniform.
"Hell yes!" Ozzie slaps me on the back. A bit too hard. I flinch.
We lounge around their place and eventually they ask me more about the incident with Stephen, and they raise their eyebrows when I tell them what really happened and what got me fired.
We have lunch and relax on the couch together. A few hours later I decide to go and agree to meet them at the club around 9:00 p.m.
At home, I check my emails. Nothing new and no responses to any of my applications.
I shower and put on some jeans and a check shirt with a T-shirt underneath, rounding off the ensemble with a pair of Doc Martin boots.
I miss my long hair.
After putting on some black eyeliner, to sort of add a bit of Goth into the mix, I head off to the club.