This had to stop. Dan was going out of his mind. On the the far side of the depot his Boss's 19 year-old son was stacking boxes and looking fit as fuck. Dan had a shameful boner most of the day watching the kid bend over, flashing the white cotton of his Calvin's under his dark blue work shirt.
Stefano sensed he was being watched and turned about with his dimple smile, "Alright?"
"Yeah," Dan lied, his heart collapsing like a neutron star.
How was is it even possible for such a cute boy to exist. You'd never guess it judging his parents; Two hunchbacked, grouchy Sicilian shopkeepers with bad eyesight and crooked teeth. Maybe the good genes just skipped a generation or three? But here was this olive-skinned Adonis with dark curly hairs on his belly and a neat bulge in his joggers.
Dan tried to snap out of it. Imagine if the Boss saw him staring like that! Everything about this infatuation was stupid and immature. Nothing good could possibly come of it. He was a thirty-eight year-old, stocky, tattooed heavy-metal fanatic, whose best days were clearly behind him. What would a bright, carefree straight teen ever want from him? Didn't stop him dreaming though.
He wanted to put one hand under that polo shirt and the other down in those pants to grab at what he imagined would be a fat, medium length, circumcised penis and big round boy balls. He'd tear away those Adidas fleece-pants and after sucking on Stefano's delicious teenage dick, he'd fuck his peachy ass. The lad's work shirt would be soaked through with man sweat by the time he was done with him. Anyway, that was Dan's everyday wank fantasy before he dragged himself into the shower each morning.
He'd never even had sex with another guy before. Dan played straight most his life. He'd even been married to a girl he knew at school. It didn't last. About two years back he finally accepted the truth, but felt like he totally missed the boat and wasted his youth. He though he was still cute, maybe, but he was getting fat and old, and he lacked the confidence to try dating apps or visit the bars.
And now he'd developed this pathetic crush on a teenage boy. He felt pretty contemptible. Lonely and sad.
They loaded the truck and pulled away.
Dan knew this round like the back of his hand, it hardly changed in seven years. The same tomatoes, the same olives, to all the same doors. The only thing different was Stefano Liotta. He'd watched him grow from a shy school boy into a smoking hot young stud. And now his exams were out of the way, Stefano's brief window of time for aspirations and dreaming was at an end. He enjoyed his graphic design A level, but the shop was the only future his Dad would ever allow him.
He made the boy don the company shirt and join the ranks to shunt crates around in warehouse. Dan got away with never wearing one. No one challenged him about it. He preferred a white vest that would show his tattoos and keep him cool. He always thought the company polo looked dorky, but now that Stefano was wearing one, it seemed specifically engineered to drive him wild.
A navy blue polo with yellow trim on the collar and the family name stitched over the heart. The teen looked fully peng in it, slouched in the passenger seat with his knees up on the dash board, checking his iphone and chuckling at his whatsapp.
"Dominic is such a fucking gay boy!" Stefano snickered, hurriedly punching some lame wisecrack into the thread.
"Oh yeah, which one's Dominic?" Dan asked, trying not sound too interested or jealous.
Stefano didn't reply. The phone had his full attention. He answered a quick call from his girlfriend Alessandra with the kind of disinterested one-word acknowledgments that only a heartthrob could get away with. The world rumbled by.
It was a beautiful day, earliest summer and Friday to boot. With their deliveries done and dusted, Dan drove to the same spot they always went whenever they had a few moments to skive; A country lane two minutes beyond the suspension bridge, with a stunning panorama of the city below. Even a sneaky half-hour up here was bliss. After parking in the lay-by, Dan twisted the radio dial and threw Stefano a beer. They sat in silence as they drank, Dan's mind an agonising carrousel of sweet fantasies and unspoken desires.
"I got to take a piss," the boy suddenly declared, sliding from his seat and leaving the passenger door wide.
