by Neil Plakcy
Late in the morning I took a break. I realized I had never Googled Julian. For a tech-savvy guy, he had a surprisingly small digital footprint—a couple of accounts on social media, a few mentions in Stanford-related articles, and a personal website that didn’t look like it had been updated in quite a while. I was curious to see when was the last time he’d worked on it, so I typed in the right commands and saw the list of his files.
The site had been created while he was getting his MBA at Stanford and included a bunch of directories clearly related to courses with titles like GSB314 and MKTG249. At the bottom was one labeled Paul, and I clicked on that, and then on a folder called IMG.
I switched to the “extra-large icons” view, and the first picture in the list was Julian’s head shot, taken a few years before. I switched to “preview” mode so I could scan through the set. Julian and a cute blond guy had been photographed at various locations around the Bay Area. From the way he was dressed, I figured the guy was a classmate at Stanford as well as a boyfriend. Was he the one who had sent the pictures to Julian’s father? But these were innocuous; Julian and Paul could have been good friends.
There was another folder below that level, simply called X. I clicked on it and was surprised to see the first picture was one of Julian naked, lying on his side on a bed in a dorm room, smiling like the happiest guy in the world.
My pulse accelerated, and my dick stiffened as I continued through the gallery. Julian and Paul took a whole lot of selfies. They kissed. Paul tweaked Julian’s nipple, rested one hand on Julian’s dick.
It was a very good-looking dick, I thought. He hadn’t been circumcised, and a couple of the photos showed his hood. I’d seen a lot of dick pics in my time, and Julian’s was among the best. A big vein stood out, but most of the dick was smooth. It sprouted from a neatly manicured bush, with a pair of goose-egg-sized balls below, nicely wrinkled and flecked with fine hairs.
In the next photo Paul had tugged down the hood with his index finger, revealing a thick mushroom cap. In succeeding pictures he licked it, then swallowed it.
I was getting so hard. Thank God both my roommates were gone, because I couldn’t resist pulling out my dick and balls over the waistband of my shorts. I stroked my dick head with my right index finger as I used my left hand to page through the photos. In the next series of shots, Julian was on his stomach, his smooth, tanned ass glistening with droplets of sweat.
Then he pried apart his ass cheeks to reveal a sweet rosebud with a few dark hairs around it. The last shot was of a dick—I assumed it was Paul’s—poised for entry.
I rubbed and jerked myself, the blood rising in my dick, my heart racing, until I shot a load over my stomach. OMG. I sat there for a moment or two, letting the sensations subside. If I could get so turned on by photos of Julian, what would happen if I ever had the chance to see him in the flesh?
As I sat there, I fell into a moral quandary. It was dangerously stupid for Julian to leave those photos up, where any casual hacker could find them. And yet how could I tell him that I’d found them myself? I’d sound like a deranged stalker. I could imagine myself saying, Yo, dude, I found these naked pictures of you online and jerked myself a major load. You ought to take them down.
Come dripped down my dick, and the wet spot on my T-shirt was turning cold. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and decided I’d do what I always did when I had difficult decisions to make—bury myself in work.
A text came in from Julian about an hour later, just a quick how you doing with cute emoticons at the end—a bald guy waving, two pairs of lips, and a thumbs-up.
The timing freaked me out. What if he knew I’d found those photos? Suppose he had tracking software on his website that let him know who was visiting, and what pages were seen?
I took a deep breath.
No. He couldn’t. If he was sharp enough to have that kind of software, he’d have known he had to remove those naked photos. I had a feeling he didn’t even know they were there—maybe they’d been put there by his ex-boyfriend.
I replied to the text with what I’d worked on. I added emoticons of my own—a laptop and a watch, and then the same pair of kisses he’d sent me. I wasn’t sure what they meant—were they those same “besos” he’d given me on the cheeks? Or real kisses? I knew what I wanted them to mean.
Gavin rolled in around three o’clock. He looked like he’d been ridden hard and put away wet, to coin a phrase. His normally shiny blond hair was stringy, there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and a zit was blossoming on his chin. “I met this Russian dude at Java Joe’s, and we drank vodka shots and partied for hours.” He yawned. “I really need some sleep.”
“Before you crash, can I ask your advice?”
He nodded, and I told him about finding the photos of Julian online, but I skipped the part where I jerked off to them. “Should I tell him? He really ought to take them down.”
“I can’t make a judgment until I see them,” Gavin said.
“No. I can’t.” It was bad enough that I’d seen them. I couldn’t go showing them around to other people. Especially not Gavin, who was a huge gossip. Crap. I probably shouldn’t have even told him they existed.
“You’re really crushing on him, aren’t you?” Gavin asked.
I nodded. “I know I shouldn’t. This is business, and he’s way out of my league.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, bro,” Gavin said. He snickered. “That’s pretty ironic, huh? Given how long you are.” The way he accentuated the word “long” made it clear he was talking about something other than my height.
“You think about those pictures,” Gavin said as he stood up. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what to do about them.” He disappeared into his room.
I went back to work, and it was six o’clock before Manny came in. Unlike Gavin, Manny looked fresh and rested and very happy. “Walter’s divorce came through on Friday,” he said. Walter was his boss-slash-boyfriend. “I might be moving in with him. Not right away, but eventually.”
Manny’s dark good looks reminded me of Julian—they both had that Latin-lover appeal, with black hair and deep tans. I gulped. “That’s great, Manny. I’m really happy for you.” Would I end up like that? With Victor Kunin? Or Julian Argento?
There was a lot I didn’t want to think about. How the guys at AppWorks would deal with my being gay, Victor Kunin and his motives, Julian’s pictures, and all the coding I had to do.
The only solution was to go back to work. I e-mailed Julian before I quit at midnight, pointing out a few website issues he ought to look at. I added a candy emoticon and a sleeping head with Zs above it—my attempt at sweet dreams. I knew I’d have to talk to him soon, but I was afraid I’d say something wrong about those photos. So I figured I’d better stick to messages for a while.
When I got to AppWorks Monday morning, Dylan was already there, though he was definitely of the vampire breed of programmers—work all night, sleep all day. It was unusual to see him in the office before noon.
“Dude!” he said, jumping up to greet me and holding up a high five for me to slap. “You’re the man!”
It took me a few seconds to figure out what was different. “You got a haircut,” I said, slapping his hand. “Congratulations.”
“No, dude, it was the makeover.”
I realized he looked cleaner—he had shaved that morning, and he was wearing one of the T-shirts he’d bought on Saturday, so new it almost shimmered. The jeans looked new as well.
I dropped my bag on my desk and turned on my computer. “You look good.”
“The chicks think so too!” he crowed. “I went to the Martini Bar on Saturday night, after I got my hair cut. And when I tried to talk to this girl, she didn’t, like, immediately turn away.”
Wow, that was sad, I thought. To be excited about that. But there was more.
“Then she called over her friend, who was smoking hot, and we got to talking.”
I sat down at my computer, but Dy
lan didn’t take the hint. He leaned against the partition and said, “Her name is Chrysalis, like that thing that the butterfly comes out of?”
I nodded.
“So she’s a pharmaceutical sales rep for this ulcer medicine, and we talked all about how old people don’t watch their diet and shit and need these pills, and we ended up going out to dinner, me and her and her friend and this other guy her friend picked up.”
He was so excited his face was glowing. “That’s great, Dylan,” I said.
“And then we, like, totally texted yesterday, and she was all, let’s go out again, and I was like, sure. Absolutely. And I owe it all to you and your friend. Gay guys rock!”
He went back to his desk, and I knuckled down to programming. Every time another of the crew came in, Dylan babbled about his weekend and this new girl. The only one who didn’t look happy for him was Noah, and I wondered if he’d be the next to ask for my help.
Midafternoon, Kaitlyn found me at my cube. “I have terrific news,” she said. She looked as perky as ever, with her hair pulled up into one of those Pebbles knots on top of her head.
I looked up at her. “Let me guess. Boris is going to take AppWorks public and we’ll all be millionaires.” That was my secret dream, and probably the only way I’d get a sweet future ahead of me.
“Not quite that good. But I got a call this morning from South Pointe Private Bank. Victor Kunin recommended us to develop their mobile app. Isn’t that super? Whatever you’re doing for him, keep doing it!”
I wondered what Kaitlyn would say if I told her what I did for Victor involved getting butt-fucked while handcuffed to his balcony. “I’ll try,” I said.
Victor was intriguing and sexy, and I’d had fun with him. But I didn’t see a long-term relationship for us, and I didn’t know why he’d be recommending AppWorks to other clients before we’d even finished with his work.
I went back to coding and managed to finish a couple of routines before Boris called me into his office. “So, you do good,” he said, his accent as usual reminding me of Boris from Rocky and Bullwinkle. “Model client very pleased. Gives us good referral.”
“I haven’t even finished his job yet,” I said.
“But you finish soon? And then you start on this bank project?”
I knew the right answer to that question was yes. Even if it meant I had to work late every night and put off finishing Julian Argento’s website. I was lucky to have my job with AppWorks and determined to keep it, at least until I had learned enough to make the jump somewhere else.
“Chorosho,” Boris said, which I knew meant “good.” “Will be something extra in your paycheck for referral. Now back to work.”
“Thanks, Boris.” I stood up and walked back to my desk. Cool—a little bonus for getting my ass fucked. I could see a bright future ahead of me.
I spent the afternoon working with Lilah on the interface for the model app. Many of the photos in the database had different backgrounds, and she had to create some generic frames for them that wouldn’t clash, and I had to resize them on the fly, particularly for mobile access. It was a lot of technical geeky work, and Lilah and I got into the zone together.
She was smart, in addition to being very cute, and I thought the other guys probably had trouble ignoring the way her boobs pressed against her blouse, the way her skirt rode up her thigh. Didn’t bother me, though.
Late in the afternoon, she went back to her own cube, and I checked my personal e-mail. Victor had sent me a photo of a cute naked guy trussed up, his dick hanging out of the front of a pair of leather chaps. It was a turn-on—but I wasn’t sure if that was because of the bondage, or because the guy was naked. I quickly archived the message in my account before anybody walking past my cube could see it.
What was up with Victor, anyway? He was blurring the line between business and pleasure, and I was clueless how to handle that fuzziness. I went back to what he’d said, that he thought I was innocent. I might not have been as virginal as he thought, but I sure didn’t have the experience level to handle him. And I was getting tired of going to Gavin for advice. I had to learn to stand up for myself.
I went back to work on Victor’s app, and by the time I stood up to stretch, it was already evening, and the other guys were getting ready to knock off and play Counter-Strike. When I checked my phone, I found a text from Victor. Busy weekend, busier week. C U Friday night?
Like with Boris, I knew the answer was yes.
“You gonna play, Treetops?” Dylan asked.
“Can’t,” I said. “Boris has me on a schedule, and I have to get this app ready for beta testing before I can call it quits.”
I went back to work, trying to shut out the explosions and gunfire around me. Around nine, Julian called my cell. “You all right?” he asked. “Sounds like you’re in the middle of a gunfight.”
“Just computer games,” I said. I walked out to the reception area to get away from the noise. “I’m still at work, and a bunch of my coworkers are playing.”
“You’re not playing with them?”
“Nah, I’ve got a lot to do. I’m afraid I won’t get to your website tonight. I’m sorry because I know you’re under a lot of pressure. But my boss is really loading me up with work, and I need to show him I can perform.”
“I understand,” Julian said. “This is just a side gig for you.”
“I want to do a good job, Julian. I really do. I know how important it is for you to get this site launched.”
“You’re a good guy, Larry,” Julian said. “I appreciate everything you’re doing. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take care of you.”
What did he mean by that? Financially? Or in some other way?
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Julian said. “Good night.”
He hung up before I could say anything back. No kisses or sweet dreams either. Maybe he was treating me like a contractor after all. Not a potential boyfriend.
It was almost midnight when the guys finished their game, and I left with them. I was exhausted, and my joints ached. I hadn’t had dinner, and I was starving. I walked down the street to the twenty-four-hour Burger King and ate burgers and fries and drank soda until I was sick to my stomach. I forced myself to walk all the way home, and by the time I got there, I was drenched in sweat and ready to puke.
A cold shower made me feel better, though, and I went right to sleep, without putting in any time on Julian’s project. It would have to wait. The only rocking this gay guy was up for was rock-a-bye baby. I promised myself I’d make the time up to Julian—when I could.
14 – Useless One
I forced myself to go to the gym Tuesday morning. I had been spending too much time hunched over my keyboard, and I had a lot of muscle kinks to work out. I did my standard exercises and rode the bike for a while. By the time I finished, I felt much more human.
After a quick shower and a bus ride down to the office, I spent most of the day bug testing Victor Kunin’s app between my computer and my cell phone. There were a bunch of problems with loading photos, and each time I had to stop, examine the picture, and see how I could work around whatever was wrong. My app had to work with what was in the database—I couldn’t expect someone at Victor’s office to go in and fix problems with photos that a model had uploaded.
I needed to ask someone’s advice about one routine, and I looked around. The only guy who wasn’t deep into work was Noah, who was staring off into space. I rolled my chair toward his cube and said, “Hey, Noah, can I ask you a question?”
He snapped out of his trance and immediately minimized what was on his computer screen. That was kind of weird, because usually everybody was willing to show off what they were doing. Was Noah working on something on the side? I couldn’t believe he’d be that dumb.
“What do you need?” he asked.
I explained my problem, and he turned back to his computer. He had about twenty windows open, and he kept popping through them. “Isn’t that the
technical-college app?” I asked when he stopped at one screen. “I thought you were done with that.”
“Just fixing a few little problems,” he said. “See this routine here? This is the kind of thing you want to be doing.”
I tried not to get too close to him, because he smelled particularly rank that day. He showed me what he’d done, and I thanked him, then rolled back to my own cube. When I looked at him a few minutes later, he was staring into space again.
Lilah must have told Kevin about the work I was doing, because soon after that he rolled his chair over to my cube. “You have some photo-manipulation routines I can use?” he asked. “I’m working on this wedding-planner app, and Lilah says you’re having some of the same problems I am with images.”
“I can show you what I’ve got.” I thought that assignment was a pretty funny one for Kevin, given how dark his visions usually were. Would his interface screen drip blood? Play the theme from Jaws as brides walked down the aisle?
I walked him through my code. “That’s very cool,” he said when I was finished.
He sat back and shook his head. “I don’t get this whole wedding thing. My parents have each been divorced like three or four times. I mean, why bother? Spend all that money for some big party like it’s going to prove something to everybody.”
What did Lilah think about Kevin’s antipathy to marriage? Was she dating him because he was convenient? In my limited experience, girls tended to look ahead a lot more than guys.
Then I wondered if there was some subtext to Kevin’s comments. Gay marriage had been in the news a lot, as more and more states legalized it or honored marriages performed in other states. Was he asking me if I intended to get married?
I settled for something in between. “My parents have been married for ages,” I said. “And my older brother just got engaged. I have a feeling people are going to keep on getting married for a long time. Which is good, because it means lots of business for your wedding planner.”