Page 8 of If I See You Again

David

“ D avid?”

I stopped, coffee cup halfway to my lips, as I stood in the doorway to my office.

“What is it today, Audrey?” I loved my sister, but since she learned about Malcolm, I’d faced non-stop questioning from her, particularly as my departure for Chicago approached.

She grinned as she shoulder-checked me when she breezed by into my workspace. “You act like all I do lately is make you miserable. You should have thought about that before leaving me in charge here.” An extensive file I hadn’t noticed she’d been carrying landed on my desk.

“What’s that?” I asked, moving toward her and finally taking a sip of my coffee. It was a little too hot still, and it singed my tongue. The damn girl had distracted me from blowing on it to cool it down.

“Just the numbers for the last idea you had. It’s going well, by the way. Who would have thought that people wanted an easier way to search for pet toys?”

I chuckled. “Have you ever looked that shit up? It’s like a minefield sometimes. You type in cat toys and you’ll get cat toys all right… down to cat-shaped dildos and butt plugs.”

Audrey rolled her eyes. “I still don’t get your fascination with protecting those who don’t want to see those things.”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at my sister. Most days, I had a lot of faith in her, and then she said things like that.

“Audrey… The entire purpose behind this company is to make things more accessible. Sure, nothing is stopping a kid or a teen from searching for those things anyway, but it’s the idea that we made an effort to help those who wanted to limit that access.

Not to mention this new venture to help those who struggle with fraud. ”

She deflated and plopped into the chair across from me. “I get it. I do. The demand has surprised me.”

Instead of getting further frustrated, I retrieved my coffee and took another sip, wincing as it scalded my tongue again. “Never underestimate what there’s a need for.”

When she stood and left my office, I picked up the file and flipped through it. Audrey had been correct in that the numbers were better than expected. I had high hopes of going forward with more projects if we could keep up that sort of momentum.

I pulled my phone out, shifting it in my hands as I thought about what to do. Reflecting on projects made me think about Chicago. Thinking about Chicago meant Malcolm.

He’d been a good sport about the phone call the other night, but I didn’t want to push my luck with him either. I liked him. If I wanted to win him over, being overbearing wasn’t the way to go about it.

My fingers had a mind of their own. All I had to do was think about Malcolm, and I wanted to talk to him. I typed a text message across my screen before I knew what was happening. At least it was professional, and I wasn’t harassing him this time.

Me: How are things going with your proposal?

The message flipped over to read, but it took several minutes before the dancing dots appeared to indicate that he was responding.

Malcolm: I keep thinking there’s more to the message.

I snorted a laugh.

Me: I promise that it’s just business this time.

There was another long delay, and instead of torturing myself by continuing to stare at my phone, I set it on my desk and pulled out my laptop.

I had access to a few files that he’d sent over since we’d made the agreement, and I could at least start looking over those.

Most people scoffed at my idea. People with disabilities or even the elderly were more susceptible to fraud, and any attempts to make purchases easier for them often put them more at risk.

Malcolm’s proposal still had some of the usual hesitations, but it lacked the all-out refusal that the majority I’d approached with it had.

Most of these advertisers failed to understand that it wasn’t their job to manage the website’s content.

That belonged to my team and me. They only needed to help me sell it.

Then again, selling a product you didn’t believe in was hard.

Most of what Malcolm had sent over were simple slogans and website designs. I clicked through them until my phone vibrated on my desk again.

Malcolm: Still working on fine-tuning a few things. Did you pick any favorites yet?

I wanted to tell him I loved everything, but that was laying it on a little thick. The man produced a great product, but I needed to narrow things down to one or two slogans that I could work with and finalize the main advertisement site.

‘So easy, even your grandpa can do it. ’ Lacked punch and seemed borderline offensive.

‘ Moving ease of purchase into the new wave of the future .’ Felt a little more promising.

Me: I’m looking over things now. I like the website designs. Those are great. The slogans can use a little work, but we’re almost there.

It all felt so clinical, and I ached to see him face to face and not have to deal with these interactions via text. However, it was only a couple of months before I had everything squared away and could move the operation to Chicago.

Malcolm: I can rework them. No worries.

Instead of replying, I continued to look at the designs for the advertisement site. There was no point in picking something I liked if there wasn’t a slogan to accompany it.

I shoved away from my desk, standing and pacing around my office. All I wanted to do was grab my phone and call the man who was running my advertising, but he needed space, and I couldn’t always be on top of him.

My hands itched to make the call, to throw caution to the wind, and say fuck it.

I’d had a taste of Malcolm Fisher, and I wanted more.

To dig deeper. I wanted to peel back all his layers and get to know everything about him—and not just physically.

While the package was pretty as fuck, that wasn’t all there was to him.

There was so much more. I wanted to bury myself in his secrets and uncover everything.

Before I knew what was happening, I’d locked my office door and flopped back in my chair.

Was it fucked up that I’d snapped a picture of the man while he’d sat at the restaurant, waiting for the date who didn’t show?

Maybe just a little. It didn’t stop me from pulling it up and propping my phone against my monitor.

I unbuckled my belt as my cock stiffened.

Maybe if I worked off some of the tension, I could get some actual work done.

There wasn’t anything special about the shot.

Malcolm leaned over the table with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

I’d never asked who he was talking to. It might have been his no-show date, or it could have been someone else entirely.

He looked fantastic in the crisp, light blue button-down he’d worn that day.

It tapered into the waist of his black slacks.

My cock pulsed once more as I remembered peeling him out of those clothes and seeing the way he’d writhed beneath me on the bed.

My hand dove beneath the waistband of my pants and boxers, wrapping around the hot, hard flesh of my cock, and I squeezed my eyelids shut.

The vision behind my eyes flashed back to that night as I worked my fist up and down.

This wasn’t keeping things professional, and it was crossing so many damn lines, but what Malcolm didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Pre-cum gathered at my slit and I pushed my thumb through it, spreading it down my length. A grunt worked its way past my lips as I continued to jerk my dick with fast, even strokes. Sparks of pleasure surged up my spine as flashes of color danced behind my closed eyelids.

I wanted to live in the moment, to sink into the memory of that special night with Malcolm.

Never in a million years did I imagine that someone would change my mind about being content with hookup after hookup, but Malcolm Fisher sure checked all the right boxes.

He was sweet, compassionate, caring, and responsive.

My vision filled with him, his eyes closed, and his tousled dark hair as he threw his head back against the pillows and mewled for his release.

How he’d begged for me to give it to him, to provide him with the pleasure he’d craved.

When my cock throbbed in my hand, with a warm, constant pulse, I knew I was close.

So damn close to falling over the precipice.

What pushed me over the edge was remembering the way his face looked when he came. The way he’d looked completely raw, so wholly undone by the encounter.

Sticky cum slid over my fingers as I panted, chest heaving as I struggled to pull in full breaths. What was it about Malcolm Fisher that made everything that much more intense?

It took several minutes for me to regain my composure. I pulled a few tissues from the box on my desk to wipe myself down before putting my clothes back in order. The innocuous picture of Malcolm still sat propped against my monitor. I needed to get back to Chicago, and I needed to make it soon.