Page 31

Blue

“I mean, none of us believed Joy would actually get her fist up Eric’s tiny fucking asshole, but she proved us all wrong. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t witnessed it for myself. Disappeared up there really easily, too. Like she’d coated her hand in enough butter to cause a coronary and shoved her hand so far up it was like she was trying to scratch his tonsils from the inside. Made him sing and everything. I never would have thought someone as straightlaced as Eric would have been up for a public fisting, but it’s always the quiet ones that surprise you, isn’t it?”

My work-wife Amy laughed like I knew she would, tossing her long wavy brunette hair over her shoulder. She’d unfortunately had to miss the group outing to one of the local BDSM dungeons this past weekend as she and her actual wife, Tessa, hadn’t been able to find a babysitter for their two-year-old terror, Bailey, in time. Not that I think she was that disappointed. Ever since Tessa had birthed Bailey, Amy had become a doting mom who much preferred to stay at home with the family than go on all-night benders.

She wasn’t alone. Over the past few years, a lot of our mutual friends had settled down and started popping out babies. It almost felt like it was unusual to go a single month without hearing about another pregnancy or wedding announcement. Pride month seemed to be the only time of the year where a lot of us could get together and let our stylish, luxurious, and in some cases metaphorical hair down to party until the sun rose the next morning.

Alas, many other families had the same idea as us, and the demand for trustworthy babysitters during June had skyrocketed. This year, Amy and Tessa had left their search too late and hadn’t been able to source someone in time. Hence my current need to regale Amy on how Joy had made her boyfriend Eric dance like a puppet on our way to lunch this fine Monday afternoon. If she couldn’t be there in person, she could at least be there in spirit after the fact.

“I don’t know, Blue,” Amy said once her laughter calmed enough to draw a calm breath again. “Joy’s always loved a bit of exhibitionism. It’s not that much of a stretch that she’d eventually get Eric to crack, especially in a safe place like E.N. ”

My head bobbled from side to side as I mulled over her words. She wasn’t wrong. Exquisite Nights , or E.N. to the regulars, was a popular national chain of clubs and bars that catered to everyone, but our local E.N. was a multi-level building that also had restricted member access to floors like the BDSM dungeon I’d visited with Joy, Eric, and our other friends on the weekend. The restrictions E.N. put in place for these special floors were some of the strictest I’d ever come across, which meant it was one of the safest places for a potential new submissive like Eric to stretch their wings.

“True,” I admitted when we pushed through the swinging doors of the communal lunchroom. “I guess I’m still surprised that Eric would have the courage, is all. Especially on such a busy night.” I looked around the crowded room, trying to find an empty table. “You want to eat in here? Or outside? I’m good either way.”

Amy looked around at our limited options as we both walked over to the fridges to get our lunches. “Outside? I think the weather should be okay for us to sit out.”

“Let’s do it.” I opened the door to the fridge, reached in to get my lunchbox, and knew as soon as I lifted it that someone had stolen my lunch.

Again.

“God fucking damn it,” I cursed under my breath and cradled my poor violated lunchbox to my chest.

“You’re kidding.” Amy’s frown mirrored my own before we both turned around to cast our eyes over the crowd of people sitting in the lunchroom, searching for the person we knew was the culprit. She let out a growl before up-nodding toward the way we’d come in. “There.”

My eyes immediately homed in on the person who’d made my life a living hell for the past year, and I snarled at the man grinning maniacally back at us.

Travis fucking Hafler.

We’d both been hired by the Eckersley’s Institute at the same time, so we’d been on the same orientation tours. Right from the very first day, Travis had been a thorn in my side, making snide remarks about anything he thought would offend me, whether that was the stylish clothing or jewelry I wore, the flash of color in my hair, the way I talked, or even the company I kept—nothing was off limits. It was like my very existence offended him.

I wasn’t na?ve. I was well aware I was flamboyant and that wouldn’t be to everyone’s tastes, but that didn’t give anyone the right to belittle, taunt, or bully me.

Not anymore.

That didn’t matter to Travis, though. Whenever he got the chance to needle me, he took it. The only problem was that he did it cleverly. Never in front of anyone higher up the management food chain than either of us, and never in a way that could be recorded and used as proof of wrongdoing.

Most of the time, I let his words roll past me like water off a duck’s back. Growing up as a painfully obvious gay boy, I’d heard it all from both family and so-called friends from school, and I eventually perfected the comebacks I needed to survive, then thrive, to become the amazing and might I say popular man I was today. He hadn’t been telling me anything I’d not heard a million times before.

Eventually, he’d grown frustrated by my lack of physical or verbal response, so he’d branched out into finding other ways to annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

His latest tactic? Stealing my god damned lunch.

For the past three months, my lunch had mysteriously been going missing at least once a week. There was no regularity to it; sometimes it’d be later in the week, other times earlier. He didn’t seem to have a preferred meal either, so it wasn’t something I could just stop bringing in.

Nope, it appeared that he was stealing my lunch purely out of spite and bitterness, then waiting around so he could watch my reaction to my lack of food.

A snarl in his direction was the only satisfaction I’d give him. It wasn’t worth getting any more worked up than that.

“Come on,” I said to Amy, elbowing her in the side when she continued to glower in Travis’s direction while we watched him happily get up and leave the lunchroom. “It’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”

“Fine,” she huffed, pressing her lips together in annoyance before turning to poke me in the sternum. “But you’re telling Matthew again.”

Matthew was the boss of our small team of research scientists. Although he was the smartest man that I’d ever met and could confidently go toe to toe with the higher ups with anything science based, including sourcing research grants, his interpersonal management skills were somewhat… lacking.

“I’ve told him,” I said, leading her out of the lunchroom towards the elevator to go down the fifteen floors to get to the in-house deli in the foyer that catered to everyone who worked in the building. “He hasn’t been able to do anything about it before. I doubt he’ll be able to do anything about it now.”

“Yeah, but he has to record every complaint.” We both went quiet while we traveled downstairs and entered the foyer, although Amy tapped the top of her lunchbox the whole time in a beat that I didn’t quite recognize. She often tapped on things when her incredibly clever mind was whirring away. “If we can show a history of bullying, maybe when the fuckwit eventually slips up, we can nail his lumpy pancake ass to the wall.”

“He’s been clever so far,” I reminded her as we both joined the long line at the deli.

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Bullies always slip, Blue. It’s only a matter of time before he fucks up, then we’ve got him.”

I hummed in vague agreement before I gave my attention to the menu board, searching for whatever was on special for the day. Reporting my bully could wait; my hungry stomach couldn’t.

“Got a minute, Matthew?” I asked, tapping on the metal doorframe of my boss’s messy office.

He looked up from his monitor, eyebrows furrowing slightly until he realized who was at the door. “Blue! Of course. What’s up?” As he rolled his chair back, he motioned to the tired and dated chairs opposite.

I took the nearest seat, sat back, and crossed one knee over the other. “Travis.”

He grimaced. “Again?”

“I’m getting tired of my lunches going missing, Matthew.”

Scratching the several-day-old stubble on his chin, he took his time to formulate a response. “I’ll record it like I’ve recorded all the other times he’s done it, but without definitive proof…”

I sighed as he trailed off and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “Surely, there’s something that can be done here.” I rubbed my thumb and forefinger against my forehead as I scrunched my face up in annoyance. “Why is it so hard for the higher ups to believe this is happening?”

Matthew sat there for a moment watching me, before he rose, went to the door, and shut it. He leaned his back against the glass, his hands behind him while he chewed his bottom lip. “After the last time you made an official complaint and we got the usual response, I did some quiet digging. It turns out Travis is a relative of Roman Eckersley, but it’s been kept quiet because they didn’t want his appointment to be scrutinized for nepotism. Apparently, Travis’s mother is Roman’s cousin, and she asked Roman to do her a favor.”

I let my head tip back so I could stare at the ceiling, letting the bitter taste of defeat settle. “So, there’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Matthew said eagerly, lifting my spirits just enough to arouse my curiosity. “Evidently, Roman can’t stand the little turd, but because he’s family, his hands are somewhat tied in what he can do.” He took a moment to pause for effect. “Officially.”

I sat up and turned in my chair to look at him with renewed intrigue. “What about unofficially ?”

With a massive grin on his face, he made a grand display of shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure I don’t know what you could possibly be imagining.”

I tilted my head to the side and studied my boss. The knowledge that Travis was related to Roman changed things. Any complaints to HR would already be an issue of my word against his, and I assumed they would take his word over mine. Even if I had a witness like Amy, I suspected Travis would just twist things and claim we were out to get him. “You need proof,” I said slowly, to which he nodded. “Definitive proof.”

He nodded again.

“But how I get that proof…” I let my voice trail off when his smiling and nodding became almost comical.

“Glad we had this chat, Blue.” He opened the door wide and waved me out. “I’m sure I’ve given you a lot to think about.”

“Yes, sir, you certainly have.” I rose from my seat and was nearly past him before he raised his hand to stop me.

“Just one thing,” he said quietly, leaning into me so whatever he was about to say wouldn’t travel any further than my ears. “As someone who has recently had anaphylaxis, I’d refrain from tainting my food with anything that could cause such an allergic reaction. I’m all for getting the proof that you need, but be sensible about how you do it, okay? I don’t want to have to deal with any deaths, accidental or otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.” I grimaced as I remembered what he was referring to. He and his wife had gone out to celebrate their wedding anniversary about six or seven months prior, only for him to have a severe allergic reaction to the lobster they’d tried for the first time. He had been incredibly lucky that another diner had had an EpiPen with them, otherwise he wouldn’t have survived.

“Good man.” He patted me on the chest and let me pass, saying a little louder, “Keep me updated with your results.”

“Will do, sir.” I nodded in thanks to him before heading straight to Amy’s desk.

We had a lot of things to discuss.