by Noah Harris
“Didn’t want to risk getting transmission grease on that smart suit,” Charge said softly, releasing Jon’s hand.
“Oh – of course. But thank you. Hitting the floor would have been embarrassing. One would think that at 38 I would know how to walk.”
38 and virgin innocent. Gotta admit the blushes are cute. Charge indulged in a head shake since Jon wasn’t looking at him. And there I am calling a 38-year-old man ‘cute.’ Well, he is – granted he looks hot in a GQ sort of way in that suit. Personality…that’s what it is, he has a cute personality.
“So, how was work?” Charge asked benignly.
“Fine after I put on noise canceling headphones and barricaded my office door,” Jon answered; his tone not even bothering to hide the resigned frustration.
Charge stared at the older man’s back as they crossed the screened porch to the back door. ‘Barricaded’ his office door…what the hell was going on?
“Is that a normal work requirement for you?” Charge finally inquired.
“When I have a very desirable potential client on the phone and other members of senior management, who want the account, find out, yes. Normally, they try to be sneakier about it, today they didn’t even bother. Finally, the client had to ask them to leave.”
“So your client kicked a couple of suits out of your office for you over the phone? Wow, that is some serious command.”
Jon laughed, “Yes, Mr. Swalters has quite the commanding presence. And he kicked a dozen high-power suits out of my office. Not just a couple.”
How big is his office that a dozen people can fit into it? Charge wondered.
“It was impressive, and entertaining for me. Of course, if looks could kill – you would be restoring the Morgan by yourself.”
“Dude, if you were a greasy stain on the carpet of your office, I would find the keys and titles of your cars, spirit them away to some undisclosed storage location. Then, I would rent a U-Haul truck and a 4-wheel car dolly, come back, load up the garage in its entirety, hitch the corvette (yours) to the dolly, and drive on to Florida.” Jon stopped just inside the door into the house and stared back at Charge. When Charge cocked a brow at him, Jon’s inscrutable mask broke and full-throated laughter filled the room.
Gasping over the laughter Jon’s mirth-filled blue eyes met Charge’s, “At least you would be able to keep them in good repair…and my father would be so pissed. Hell, it would be worth it to go ahead and write up a minimal will leaving all cars and tools to you, just for the benefit of sending him into an apocalyptic fit.”
“I take it you don’t get along with your old man?”
“No – he’s a bastard.”
Guess he didn’t take his son’s debatable sexuality well. “Your family live in Houston?”
“No,” Jon said as he stripped off and dropped his suit jacket over the back of a plush chair in the den area. “I grew up in a suburb of Dallas – North Texas. I meet my mother for an obligatory lunch when I go to Dallas for work. Comes out to about twice a year. About every-other-year she’ll drag my father to one.”
“Thus making an uncomfortable situation into a painful one?”
“That is a polite way to describe the debacle it always turns into.” Jon looked as if he were about to say something else, but suddenly he sniffed the air.
Charge didn’t chuckle, but the way the full human turned and craned his neck made him think of a canine casting for a scent. Charge knew the instant he caught the smell he was looking for and smirked as Jon’s hard-soled shoes clapped against the wood floor as they carried him into the kitchen.
Stopping before the extravagantly large range he had installed when he had remodeled the kitchen, Jon opened the oven door and crouched to stare. His mouth watered as the scents of beef and gravy filled his nose. A piece of foil was draped over the deep cast iron skillet sizzling in the oven. Careful of the walls and the gas plate, Jon snatched the foil off the top of the skillet and found a buttery golden crust glistening.
Surprised, Jon turned on his heels and saw that Charge had followed him into the kitchen. A smile had tweaked the corners of that model-perfect mouth. Charge approached, flicking his fingers lightly as he grabbed a shop towel out of his back pocket.
“I’ve got it,” Jon insisted. He stood and pulled an oven mitt from a drawer. Not bothering to put it on, Jon wrapped the mitt around the handle of the skillet and lifted the heavy dish off the shelf and placed it carefully on a cold burner.
“Let it sit a few minutes – I am going to go get the grime and grease off. Maybe you should change? After we eat we could probably get a couple hours on the Morgan. I have had about as much as I can stand of my junk heap for today.” Charge muttered as he looked down at himself
“Yeah – Ok.” Jon agreed, distracted by the shining streaks of sweat he could see in the even light of the kitchen. One was particularly intriguing in the way it cut a line through the grit clinging to Charge’s chest before skating, just barely, around a flat nipple. Desperate to stop his prurient thoughts, Jon realized that he had no idea how Charge’s interview had gone with Jason. “Oh, you have to tell me how things went with Jase.”
“Will do,” Charge said as he turned away, toward the bathroom, “After a shower, over dinner.”
Charge shut the bathroom door behind him before allowing himself the smile he had been holding back. As he toed out of the work, and socks he glanced at the mirror. Just as well, I waited to really grin. His smile wasn’t just the cocky smirk he normally had. No, it was feral –so much so that his fangs had dropped and were showing.
His eyes widened at the sight of the fangs. “Shit – when is the last time I had a bust out?” At least eight years. Charge unhitched the button of the old, ripped jeans and dropped the soft, faded fabric to whisper down his legs. Underwear had been a waste of time to Charge for many years – especially when it had become obvious Sammy would steal them to jerk it off into.
“Fuck man, I don’t want to put my dick where my feet have been. You’ve seen my feet.” While that fight had been, epic and had caused Charge to abandon boxers, briefs, and every other option in between, it had been forgivable.
Nude, Charge flipped on the water too hot and waited a minute before stepping beneath the steaming streams. Forcefully putting the bobcat from his mind, Charge turned his thoughts back to his host. This time when he smiled, he felt his eye-teeth and canines extend into vicious points. Even smiling, they pressed into his lower lip.
Jon had absolutely been susceptible – a good sign. He had managed to hide it well until he had been thoroughly distracted by food. A low chuckle purred into the confines of the shower. As I thought, he goes for the honest working not afraid to show it, masculine type. That look was more than worth the grit, grime and grease. Now if he were the kind for shared showers; that would be fantastic.
Charged pumped a handful of soap out of the container of pumice soap he had picked up that afternoon, after the interview. It was harsher than most people liked to use on their bodies, but it removed the grease and kept his skin clear. After scrubbing his torso, neck, arms, hands and legs, he slathered another handful onto a long scrubbing mesh cloth and worked the soap over his back.
Confident he had gotten the evidence of spending a couple hours under a car off his skin Charge grabbed the bottle of shampoo and lathered it in his hair. After rinsing the suds away, he smeared in conditioner. His stylist in Vegas had been a lion shifter. The brutal pride-female had nearly scalped him when he had admitted to never conditioning his hair. For ten years, she had trained him in using the product on a regular basis. While the conditioner sat, Charge considered the razor he had bought. Screw it – I’ll do it tomorrow. Since my beard isn’t patchy, what’s another day with some scruff? Charge cranked the water to blistering, rinsed away the thick cream, and finger combed his curls before finally acknowledging the insistent length of his erection.
“I don’t have time to deal with you,” Charge snipped down at his body. �
��And he isn’t going to go for you just yet. If neither of us is lucky, he might never. I’m working on it – so don’t be obnoxious.”
I called a nearly middle-aged man cute and am trying to have a conversation with my cock. Thank whatever force in the universe that prompted me to buy a pack of Guinness. Jon probably won’t go for Irish, but I figure he’s got something to his tastes around here somewhere.
VII
Jon heard the water shut off. He had settled on the sofa with the book he left here for whenever he actually managed to get some reading time in and the tumbler of whiskey he had been desperately craving. As he sipped the amber spirit, Jon’s stomach groused forcefully. He glanced down at his midriff.
The water is off – that means he’s coming. I know I missed lunch. Still, I can’t believe he made a pie. An incredible smelling pie.
Ignoring his growling stomach, Jon looked back at his book. He had read the book about a magic kingdom being put up for sale a number of times, but it was one of his favorites. A book he could count on distracting him when a distraction was desperately needed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing its job. He could still clearly picture the carved ridges of muscle and smeared sun-bronzed skin.
Come on Jon – even if a young man were interested in you, can you actually get past everything that happened in the past? A shudder ran through him, but before he could dwell on the memory that was trying to surface Jon sensed someone behind him. He looked up and found Charge leaning over the back of the sofa peering at the book in his hands.
“What’cha reading?” Charge asked.
“Oh – just a book I’ve read at least a dozen times over the years.” Jon stood, dropping the book onto the sofa. He grabbed his drink and strode around the sofa. Charge straightened, he had put the lounge pants from that morning back on and had covered the expanse of his chest with a thin, well-worn t-shirt. Suddenly, Jon’s stomach growled loudly.
“Hungry?” Charge smirked as Jon braced a hand over his insistent middle.
“Well, very. I skipped lunch.”
“You had to barricade your office before lunch?”
“Umm – yes. At least I wasn’t alone in my misery. While Mr. Swalters could get a drink delivered, the resort drew a line at delivering a steak to the changing room in the pool house.” Before Charge could ask what the hell he was talking about, Jon elaborated, “His wife drug him off to some fancy resort and he was hiding from her and the spa worker that was determined to wax his back.”
“Wow. And let me say ouch – I know some people love waxing, but in my experience, that shit hurts,” Charge commented as he stepped past Jon into the kitchen.
“You,” Jon began before he got stuck and had to shake his head to shake the words free. “You’ve had waxing done?” he asked incredulously.
“Oh yeah, figured I should try it at least once. Not something I would ever repeat. I barely made it through having my chest and stomach done. Figured I couldn’t just stop. But I wouldn’t let them go any further.”
Dumbfounded, Jon watched as Charge rummaged through the cabinets and drawers until he found the bowls, forks, and a large pie serving spatula Jon couldn’t remember having had in his kitchen. Pulling a large knife from the block, Charge cut a triangle wedge through the crisp crust; he then maneuvered the pie server into the cast iron skillet and lifted a wedge of the meat pie out of the dish. He swung the server toward a bowl as the still steaming gravy holding the wedge together started to ooze. Charge manage to get the savory slab of pie into the bowl as it collapsed into a puddle of crust topped hot meat, gravy, and slow-cooked vegetables.
After spearing one of the forks into the bowl beside the floating crust Charge handed the bowl into Jon’s waiting hands before turning back and fixing his own. Jon walked around the counter and dropped into a chair at his table before finally lifting a loaded fork-full to his mouth.
Normally when Charge heard a sound like the one that slid from Jon’s chest, it was sex induced. Bowl in one hand, a cold bottle of Guinness in the other, Charge rounded the counter between the kitchen and dining areas took a couple of steps further and slid into the chair catty-corner to Jon.
Well that is basically an O-face.
Satisfied, Charge settled to enjoy his first helping. As minutes passed, he periodically glanced up and found Jon enjoying his own serving with gusto each time. When his bowl was cleared, Charge stood and wandered back into the kitchen. A scrape of a chair on the floor told him that Jon had finished as well.
“You sure being a mechanic is really your calling? That was awesome.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” Charge smiled as he levered another wedge into his bowl.
“Oh yeah…are you getting more? Your first slice was bigger than mine,” Jon commented as he peered around Charge’s arm to watch as the pie puddled in the bowl.
“I’ve always been a big eater.” Can’t exactly tell him that I feel like a big cat. Of course, I’m nothing compared to a lion – those boys can eat a grocery store out of stock.
“I’d say. And you’re in such good shape anyways. You must spend forever in the gym.”
“Not if I can help it,” Charge muttered. When he noticed Jon’s surprised expression, Charge shrugged, “Probably just a fast metabolism.”
“Must be…”
“Here, come finish your drink and I’ll tell you what I think of Marsters.”
“That’s right. How did things go with Jason.”
“Your friend is an interesting guy.” And you have no idea that he is a shifter.
“Hah – you’ve got that right. His dad was this high-powered attorney and insisted on sending his son off to college when all Jason wanted to do was work on cars. His old man knew it too. If I recall correctly, Jason was seen as something of an embarrassment to his mother’s family – but ultimately it was his mom, Virginia, that fronted the money out of her trust for him to start his first shop. Now that he owns three and is working on opening one in Austin, they treat him a bit better. But from what he has told me, they tell everyone that he is a multi-branch business owner, not a mechanic.”
“Too bourgeois for them, huh?” Charge considered what he knew of Texas packs – specifically the snooty ones. Could be the Martens or the Glendowners – well, Marsters fell pretty far from the familial tree.
“Excellent use of a 20 point word,” Jon joked. “So, how did it go?”
“After, and I’m quoting here, ‘getting reamed hard – no lube by that snarly, foul mouthed bastard’ – my former boss – he came out into the garage, where I was being grilled by the guys and offered me the job with a 30-day probationary period.”
“Benefits from day one or after 30days?”
“Half-and-half. Sick and medical before; vacation, vision, and dental after.”
“That’s not too bad, I know of places that like to hire second to last week of November and work the employee like a dog for a 60-day, no benefits.”
“So they don’t have to pay Thanksgiving, Christmas, or New Years…or year-end bonuses. Wow – that’s shitty.”
“Yes. It is. One time we had a small business owner come in, wanting to open an investment portfolio. They had the minimum capital requirement available for investment, so the company agreed to talk to them. We have a reputation of soliciting to a particular echelon of clientele – so if you’re an unknown a management level will meet with you. I was on short straw duty, it was my turn to vet and unknown – it can be a difficult process which is why everyone avoids it.” Jon sipped his drink, Charge’s nose said it was a nice whiskey. “So, a call from their office comes in. No problem – please take it – happens all the time. So, one of their employees, a senior tech, is getting his American citizenship. You’d think, wonderful news, right?”
Since Jon was looking at him, Charge nodded as he shoveled in another bite and chewed.
“Yeah, well this potential client and his sister, she’s the VP, start talking about how inconvenient it is. That this guy is havin
g this important day in the middle of the busy season and he is going to miss work. He is missing it to attend the ceremony in which he is sworn in as an American. Now, you have to understand these two are hard-line conservatives that employ Mexican immigrants almost exclusively – they’re bitching that one of their employees has worked all these years, fifteen of them for this company, and managed to traverse the long, hard rode to citizenship. It is almost comical – at least it would have been if they hadn’t decided that this man had to use a vacation day to attend the ceremony.”
Charge chuffed out a breath, “I am trying to decide if that is shitty or shady.”
“Both, it’s both. Something about the whole conversation made me question their business ethics in general.”
“So your company have their account?” Charge asked.
Jon smirked coldly over the rim of his tumbler. “No, no we don’t. I went to my boss and he went to the owner. Senior management was summoned and we were all informed that minimal investing standards were being raised. Instead of having 5 million in liquid funds to immediately invest, the company was raising the minimum to 8 million. All potential clients in negotiations with us, those that had already completed a full financial screening – which is only done after the initial interview and satisfied the 5 million dollar requirement were grandfathered in, any who had not been subject to the full financial review were subject to the 8 million, which would be increased over the next two years to ten million.”
“One, that’s a lot of money. Two, ouch. And three, well played sir. Well played, indeed. I suspect the others that were invading your office today have no idea how cool and crafty you can be.”
“Probably not, but it is better if they underestimate me.”
“So, Marsters’ set up is a good deal?”
“Yeah – a lot of places are no benefits for the 30-day. So, when do you start?”
“I go at noon through close tomorrow, so about 7:30. Same thing the next day, but I won’t work this weekend. Marsters suggested I make my skills available to you – especially since he confirmed I have worked on Morgans, and knows you ordered one.”