The Interview

I'd been unemployed for so long that I could no longer afford to be picky when choosing jobs. I was a qualified sports journalist, but with all the local newspapers shutting down it was a bit of a dying industry; the only work I could find was voluntary stuff online. I had to swallow my pride and start looking elsewhere.

Even that was difficult. Places I'd assumed I'd get a job at, like fast food restaurants, wouldn't touch me. 'Overqualified', apparently. Building sites didn't some snobby little journalist on the site struggling to move bricks. It really felt like there was no option.

That was until one job advert popped into my inbox one day. Personal assistant, for the boss of a local men's fashion outlet. Seemed easy enough; make the coffees, shred the papers, that sort of thing. I quickly applied, and sure enough I'd managed to bag an interview.

With it being a shop for men's fashion, I summised I better look the part. Luckily for me I had a sharp, tailored navy suit that complimented my decently-toned frame quite well. It was bought for me a few months prior, as I was a groomsman at a friend's wedding, and I knew at the time it'd eventually come in handy. As I combed my short, brown hair and made sure my stubble was even, I admired myself in the mirror for a couple of seconds before making my way to the interview.

The shop itself was a street or two off the high street. It looked quite old from the outside but had a certain rustic charm, with mannequins in the window dressed in skinny-fit shirts and tight trousers. The sign on the front was meant to say 'Ultra Menswear', but the U, L, T of 'Ultra' had fallen off, as had the last five letters of 'menswear'. I briefly considered making a joke about noodles in the interview, but quickly thought better of it.

As I walked in I noticed the shop was completely devoid of customers. The only person inside was a young guy behind the till. I was 22, and this guy was younger than me, possibly only 18. He was wearing an ill-fitting t-shirt sith some unknown band logo on it, and he was chewing a piece of gum, smacking it loudly every few seconds.

"Scuse me," I said, suddenly feeling rather overdressed. "I'm here for the PA interview, is Mr. Graham around?"

"He's through the back there," the lad said, in a highly pitched, feminine voice. "Early aren't you? The interviews don't start till 1."

"Thought I'd come early, make a good impression, y'know?"

"You've already made a good impression sexy," the lad said, taking me slightly by surprise. "Go on through..."

The main desk was so narrow that I had to edge my way past the young guy to get to the back of the shop. He made no effort to move, and smiled as our midriffs rubbed together when I edged past. When I did get past, I was greeted with a cold, barely-decorated corridor, with a fire exit ahead of me and a door to the right that had 'T. GRAHAM' written on it. I cleared my throat, and knocked once on the door.

"Who is it?" a much gruffer, masculine voice called from the other side.

"Uhh, it's David Thomas here...I'm here for the PA interview?"

"Ahh yes," the man replied. "Come in then..."

I opened the door, to be greeted with the sight of quite a nice, modern office. It was a far cry from the rest of the building's old, wethered look, with a slick, metallic look to almost everything. The walls were painted grey, recently it looked like, and behind the desk to thr back of the room sat Mr. Graham.

Even though he was sat, I could see he was easily taller than me. When he stood to shake my hand, that was confirmed. He was around 6'4 I'd say, about half a foot taller than myself, and he was broad with it, not in a fat way but more in a stocky, rugby player way. If I'd had to guess I'd say he was late 30s, the brown hair on his head receding slightly, and greying stubble on his face. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and some grey trousers.

"Pleasure to meet you son," he said as he shook my hand. "I'm Terry. Don't give me none of that Mr. Graham shite, we're all mates here."

"Pleased to meet you," I replied, finishing up the handshake and taking the seat in front of his desk.

"Do you know Dave, I can call you Dave can't I?" he said.

I nodded.

"Eight people applied for this role. You were the only man."

I didn't really know what to say. "Uhh," I stumbled, "I know a PA job is traditionally more for a woman but I think-"

"I don't want no woman!" Terry interrupted. "This is MEN'S fashion. MEN'S. Should be men working here, no women, no thank you."

I said nothing, wondering if this was some sort of test.

"Bloody law says you can't only advertise to men though," he continued. "Discriminatory or something. Load of bollocks. That's why I was pleased when you applied."

"Well I'm pleased the opportunity came u-"

"Well dressed as well, that's what I like to see. Very smart. Exactly the sort of lad I'd want working for me."

I wondered if I'd get a chance to speak at all.

"I wasn't totally honest in the job advert though. Couldn't have been, y'see. Wouldn't have been allowed."

"In what way?" I asked.

"Well, you've seen for yourself the shop's dead. No one's coming here to buy a shirt when you can get them for twenty quid cheaper online. No, the money isn't in standard fashion anymore."

With that, Terry picked up a cardboard box from behind his desk, and dumped it on top. He opened it from the top, and began pulling out some of the kinkiest stuff I've ever seen. There were gimp suits, gas masks, gags, nipple clamps, latex jocks, anything you've seen in the kinkiest of porn films. I was very much taken aback.

"This is where the money is," he said, holding up a rather large, black dildo.

I sat there, in a state of utter confusion, for a few seconds before I decided to speak. "I don't understand what this has to do with me? I'm here to be your assistant?"

Terry smiled. "Well exactly Dave son. You're a young lad applying for a fucking PA job, you must be gay yourself are you?"

"Excuse me?" I replied, completely dumbfounded.

"I couldn't exactly put out an ad that said 'bent lads only' could I? So I put one out for the most female-oriented job I could offer, knowing that any lad who did apply would likely be a friend of Dorothy!"

"That's the most sexist pile of shit I've ever heard!" I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "One, it's the 21st century and people are free to do whatever job they want regardless of sex. Two, I applied for this job because I'm fucking desperate, not because I see it as feminine and want to show off how un-masculine I am. And three-"

Terry cut me off once again. "Fucking hell son, are you fucking gay or not?"

I looked down at the floor, shaking my head once again. "I'm bi." I muttered quietly.

Terry smiled.

I looked back up at him. I'd never actually admitted my bisexuality to anyone. This was the first time.

"So if this isn't for a PA role, what is it?"

"Does that mean you're still interested?"

"That depends what the role is."

"Well," Terry said, finally putting the dildo down and walking round to sit on his desk. "As you can see, I'm changing the target audience of the business. Less formal businessmen, more horny gay lads. Better still, horny gay lads who don't want anyone to know they're horny gay lads. You see, I'm still operating under the illusion that this is a menswear shop. But the backroom will be full of this sort of gear. A lad can come in, and anyone that sees him come in will think he's after a new shirt or something, when he's actually wanting some nipple clamps and a 12 inch vibrator!"

I listened to Terry, and whether I was going mad or not, his business plan made sense to me. I would have liked a place to go and buy a dildo when I was figuring myself out without anyone knowing about it. There would certainly be a market.

"So what would be my role?"

"You'd get the word out. Kick us off. Maybe model a few of the items. Fit young lad like you, it'd do wonders for business!"

"You want me to walk around wearing a gimp suit for minimum fucking wage?" I snarled back.

"Don't be silly son, you'd be my partner on this. Profits would be split 50/50."

That changed things. It was potentially a lot of money.

"So if I shake your hand, I'm entitled to half the profit, correct. And my role would be advertising the brand, generating a market, that sort of thing?"

"Well, that and a few other things..."

"What other things?"

"Well, I'd still need you to undertake PA duties in the short term. You're a junior partner, after all."

I shrugged. Seemed feasible.

"Oh, and one more thing..."

I watched as Terry stood up, and slowly unzipped his trousers. He let hem fall to the floor without looking away from me, before sliding his white briefs off too, exposing his hard cock.

"What the fuck?" I said, looking away from the man quickly.

"The most important part of the job," Terry said, letting out a slow chuckle to himself. "Give yourself a minute to think. I'll close my eyes. If I hear that door shut, I'll know you've turned this lucrative offer down. If you give me what I know you know I want, well then, we'll consider that a handshake. Suck off, or fuck off."

I turned back to face Terry to see that his eyes were shut tight, his hard cock standing at around seven inches standing to attention between his legs. The more I looked at it, the more I felt my own cock begin to stir and twitch in my trousers.

I wish I could regain a bit of dignity by telling you this was a tricky decision. In truth, it only took me a few seconds to make up my mind, I just dragged it out to make it seem like I was thinking about it.

Terry smiled as he heard the chair scrape along the floor as I stood up. I dropped to my knees as silently as I possibly could, before edging my way towards his waiting cock. Slowly, I parted my lips, and took his meaty cock head into my mouth for the first time.

"Mmm, good decision boy," Terry said, his hand nestling on the back of my head as I began to suck his cock. My tongue swirled around the cock head in my mouth, tasting my business partner's pre-cum for the first time. I looked up and made eye contact, enjoying seeing the pleasure I was bringing to the man, before I pulled myself off it and started licking up his long, girthy shaft.

Terry let out moan after moan, and before long they started growing louder, and more frequent. I briefly wondered if the lad on the till could hear, but I didn't care, all I could think about at this moment was sucking this cock.

"You want my cum?" Terry said suddenly, pulling my mouth off his cock before beginning to wank himself off furiously. "Ain't a done deal to you taste my cum."

"Give me your cum," I moaned through gritted teeth as I waited hungrily, mouth open. Terry began to moan louder, before suddenly his cock exploded with ropes of sticky manseed, flying into my mouth and covering my face, chin, and expensive designer suit. I swallowed every drop that went near my mouth, before diving back onto his cock to hungrily suck out the last few drops. As the man's cock went flaccid, I rested my head on his naked thigh to catch my breath.

"Welcome aboard, son," he said.

I looked up, and smiled.