I hate working late - or I did until recently. I spend my time in a suit in an office making sure the wheels of industry turn smoothly. At the end of each quarter the returns have to be completed and that means I end up working after hours.
Now, because of my desk-bound job I do my best to keep trim. So in spite of my 45 years I manage to make sure that the body is fit: the weight stays down, the muscles are toned and to make sure that when the opportunity arises itself I can present my assets to the world in the best of shape, I shave. I keep my balls smooth and that sensitive bit between the balls and the arse and around the hole are hair-free, smooth and very, very sensitive!
So, it was the end of the quarter and I had all these reports to go through and correct. I'd resigned myself to the fact that this was going to be one long, long evening and once everyone else had cleared out of the office I loosened my tie, made myself a coffee and started to plough through the seemingly endless sheets of figures.
I was so engrossed in my work that I didn't notice the security guy standing next to me for several minutes. I didn't see him, I sort of sensed his presence, felt his body heat.
"Hi, working late again?"
"Indeed I am, sorry we haven't met, I'm Jon."
"Chas, nice to meet you Jon."
"Yea - you too. Fancy a coffee or are do you need to be somewhere?"
"No, coffee sounds good."
I got up from my computer and went into the kitchen, Chas followed. He was slightly taller than me, thicker set and younger. Like mine, his hair was close-cropped but unlike me he had long shaped side-burns, they framed his face and gave him a cool look. He was in the standard uniform of our buy-in security company: dark trousers, white shirt and black boots. His shirt was open at the neck and I could see his chest was thick with dark hair. Mmm.
