Sam hit the floor hard, the cheap carpet burning his knees and the palms of his outstretched hands. The office was small and stank of stale liquor and cigar smoke. Sam gathered himself into a crouch, instinctively covering his nakedness. At twenty-four, Sam still had the lithe body of teenager, but benefited from the gentle chiseling bought with hours in the gym and with a cock that swung down past his ass as he crouched.
Bull came through the door behind Sam, lashing out with a kick that failed to connect. "Fucking cheapskate!" spat Bull, towering over Sam. Bull was six and a half feet of solid flesh, a combination of muscle mass and fat that made him look like a walking, talking side of beef. Sam couldn't help but notice the flayed skin across his knuckles, and the blood stain on the end of his boot.
The boss looked up from his desk. His face was masked behind a swirl of cigar smoke as he spoke.
"What you got there Bull?"
"Caught him trying to get out the bathroom window Boss," said Bull. He launched another kick at Sam, connecting this time, and sending Sam sprawling onto all fours in front of the boss' desk.
The boss stood up, although he didn't look much taller from where Sam was sprawled. "So why is he naked?"
"Like that when I found him," replied Bull. "Looks like another stag night prank to me."
"Ah," said the boss. "The old 'run up a big bill and leave the groom to pay' trick eh? Nice friends you've got there pal."
Sam, still trying to get air back into his lungs, pulled himself up onto all fours. "Yeah," he wheezed, "Although I can't believe they stripped me too."
"Well, you'd better hope they jammed your credit card up your ass pal," said the boss, "Or you've got a problem."
"Look," said Sam nervously "There's no need for any trouble. I've got money, whatever the bill is I can pay it, I just need to get home and get my cheque book."
"Is that why you were climbing out of the window?" asked Bull.
