Excerpt from Indulge Me by Kaenar Langford, final edition may differ.

Meet me at Indulgence. Noon today. I want you naked in the Wet Area.

Keane’s heartbeat speeded up as he clutched the note in his hand. No need to look at it again. He knew the contents by heart. Too keyed up to sit, he strode to the door of his office and yanked it open.

“Who brought this note, Mrs. Sellers?”

Obviously startled by the unusually sharp tone of voice, his middle-aged secretary looked up from her keyboard. “I hope I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Daniels. It was one of those bike messengers. I signed for it and he left. Wasn’t that all right?”

Keane shook his head and forced a smile. “That’s fine. I just wondered who’d delivered it, that’s all.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Sellers acknowledged his acceptance with a nod of relief and got back to work.

Keane shut the door and crossed to his desk. He dropped into his chair and smoothed out the paper, wondering who had issued the invitation. No, not an invitation—a command. Who had demanded his presence at Indulgence? He’d only been to the place—one of the largest gay spas in Toronto—a few times, but somebody knew him well enough to be able to pinpoint his favourite spot in the luxurious bathhouse.

Could it be someone here at work? he wondered. Although he’d never hidden the fact he was gay, Keane had also never gone out of his way to advertise it. Marquette and Associates was a very well-respected architectural firm that had designed some of the more famous buildings that graced the city. The group had a world-wide reputation, their designs having won various prestigious competitions and awards. Keane enjoyed working for them, especially for Rayche Marquette, the head of the company.

Just the thought of his boss made his cock stir. The first time he’d seen him, he’d almost lifted out of his chair. He’d been afraid his erection would elevate the table, he’d been so aroused. Mr. Marquette had been nothing but professional during the interview, never giving any hint he was aware of Keane’s interest or that he returned the sentiment.

So Keane continued to secretly lust after his boss. And what gay man in his right mind wouldn’t hunger for him? he thought.

Before he had a chance to pursue his wayward contemplation of Mr. Rayche Marquette, a couple of sharp raps at the door had him quickly shoving the note into the nearest drawer and flipping open the top folder from a haphazard pile on his desk.

As usual, Rayche walked in without waiting. Keane was never sure if that was his custom with everyone or whether the man just liked to catch him continually off guard. He sometimes imagined what might happen if Rayche dropped in one day to find him stretched out, naked, on the long couch in his office. And who could blame him for thinking like that?

‘Tall, dark and handsome’ might have seemed like a corny cliché, yet those were exactly the words he would use to describe Rayche Marquette. At six-foot-two, he towered over most men, and his golden skin and brown eyes spoke of his French-Canadian ancestry. He kept his mahogany hair longer than was fashionable, long enough that Keane often fantasised about running his fingers through the silky waves. Sharp cheekbones accentuated his exotic good looks and more than once, Keane had wanted to slide the back of his hand along the sexy five o’clock shadow that graced that jaw line by the middle of the afternoon. But he didn’t.

The two of them had been thrown together a great deal over the past few weeks. Some wealthy patrons had commissioned the company to come up with a design for a new art museum in Atlanta. Many late night sessions were needed as the team put the finishing touches to the plans.

Those conferences were pure agony for Keane. Rayche would invariably take off his suit jacket and throw it over the back of a chair. Then he’d loosen his tie and pull it off before undoing the top button of his shirt. He’d roll up his shirtsleeves, revealing his muscular forearms with their soft, dark hair. It was all he could do not to moan when his boss would lean back in his chair, hands behind his head, and stretch. Keane was sure he could see the outline of Rayche’s nipples as his shirt pulled taut against his chest.

He spent every one of those meetings with a hard-on that could have serviced his boss all night long. One particular evening, Keane had made his way to the coffee urn, hoping no one noticed his perpetual arousal. Rayche apparently had decided he needed a cup as well. Keane had tried his very best not to moan as Marquette reached in front of him to grab some cream. It had felt so good when the back of his boss’ hand had rubbed against his cock in passing that he’d gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. It might have been his imagination, but a quick sideways glance made him think Rayche had an erection as well.

Sometimes it seemed like the man was doing it on purpose, teasing him, as if he knew how turned on it made Keane. But other than an occasional smile, there was no encouragement.

If the group went for a drink afterwards, Rayche would usually make an excuse and decline the invitation. Keane was never sure whether to be glad or disappointed when the head of the company didn’t join them.

Unrequited lust sucks, Keane had thought. And not in a good way.

And now here was the object of that unrequited lust standing in his office. Keane could feel his cock stretching, reaching out like a divining rod.

“I wanted to speak to you before I left for lunch,” Rayche said, crossing to Keane’s desk to stand beside his chair. “I’m heading out in a few minutes and probably won’t be back for the rest of the day.”

Keane stared at the papers in the open dossier without really seeing them. He was well aware that with just a turn of his head, his gaze would fall on the fly of Rayche’s trousers. There was no way he could do that and not moan. Or not reach out and trace the outline of his boss’ cock, as he imagined it stiff and potent behind the soft cloth. So it was eyes forward.

“There are some things we need to go over about the commission for the Atlanta museum, and I wondered if we could do that first thing tomorrow morning,” he heard Rayche say as he felt his boss move closer. A quick sizzle skittered down his arm the moment Rayche brushed against him. It was as if the contact had been skin to skin, yet they were both fully clothed. But that didn’t stop Keane’s body from firing up just being near him.

Again, he tried to decide if he was merely imagining an interest on his boss’ part. Am I the only one who feels this electricity between us?

“Does the design team have some final specs they want us to look at?” he asked, finally chancing a sideways glance. Should have kept myself ‘eyes front’. He was certain he could discern a sizeable erection behind Rayche’s fly.

Rayche’s voice seemed completely normal, no indication that he was aroused. “Flanagan dropped the stuff off to me this morning, so I’ll go over it tonight and share it with you when we meet tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you give me a copy and I’ll check it out myself as well?” Keane asked.

His boss hesitated. “Well...I don’t have time. I’ll just give you the highlights when we get together in the morning.”

Now Keane was beginning to think Rayche had only been looking for an excuse to come and see him. Does he know about the note? Did he send it? He wanted to ask him, but the words wouldn’t come. What if I’m wrong? It would be just too embarrassing.

“I need to get going. I’ll see you later.” Rayche headed for the door.

“Okay,” was all he could think of to say as his boss opened it and stepped out. He was still staring at the closed door when it popped open and Rayche stuck his head in.

“Keane.”

“Yeah?”

“That folder on the Lazenby project you’ve got open on your desk?” Rayche said with a grin.

Keane felt a blush warming his cheeks. Busted! His boss knew the file was just a cover, a prop.

“That was all tied up last week.” Flashing a wicked smile, he disappeared and the door closed behind him.

Keane shook his head. Well, that was certainly interesting. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but for some reason he felt Rayche had found out what he wanted to know. Too bad Keane hadn’t a clue what that was.

* * * *

A little while later there was a hesitant knock at the door. Mrs. Sellers poked her head in.

“I’m heading off to lunch a bit early today, Mr. Daniels. I’m meeting my daughter to look at wedding dresses. I mentioned it to you last week.” She smiled hesitantly.

Keane checked his watch. He needed to leave as well if he wanted to catch the streetcar to be at Indulgence by noon.

“Yes, I remember. Take the rest of the afternoon off, why don’t you, Mrs. Sellers? I’m sure you have lots to do to get ready for her special day.” He grinned as he realised she wouldn’t be there to notice if he took an extra long lunch hour.

She beamed. “Why, thank you, Mr. Daniels. I believe I’ll do that. Are you sure you won’t need me?”

“I’m sure I can make do,” he said. “Have fun.”

He didn’t want her wondering why he was racing away early, so Keane listened for the sound of the outer door opening and closing before shooting to his feet. He grabbed his jacket, pulling it on as he crossed the room. His cock came to life just at the thought of what might happen during a noon hour encounter at the gay spa.

And who sent the mysterious note? he mused.

He couldn’t wait to find out.

Copyright 2009 Kaenar Langford

www.kaenar.com