Who’s That Boy
Who’s That Boy
Who’s That Boy first appeared in DNA Magazine (Australia) around 2006 and was my first ever published story.
Ok, so he’s straight. But hell, he’s cute.
Mornings with Milk and Lust
Cute straight boy in the office next door has this way of looking at you that stirs something deep. And no, it’s not just my morning coffee doing backflips while we chat in the staff area.
He doesn’t notice my silent thirst as he bends to grab the milk from the fridge. I say full fat with a grin while he passes it over, catching my smirk. I’m flirting with my teaspoon, asking about his week, and ignoring every word. I just want to watch his lips move.
Friday Night and Public Humiliation
Friday rolls around and we hit the pub across the road. Cute office boy and I are mid-conversation when pretty receptionist, who can’t hold her drink or her spatial awareness, spins around with two beers and knocks him off balance.
I move to steady him and we headbutt hard. I go flying. The table behind me flips. Beers everywhere. I slide down it, soaked, stunned, and dragging cute office boy’s feet out from under him. He lands right on top of me.
Crotch Contact and Corporate Speeches
Now we’re both drenched, breathless, and lying on the floor in a growing puddle of beer. Pretty receptionist lunges forward to help, slips, and lands on cute office boy. Her tits push his head square into my crotch.
His jaw opens in pain and suddenly his mouth is alarmingly close to swallowing my gay dignity whole.
I panic and grab his head, trying to steer it elsewhere. My other hand somehow lands on receptionist boob.
Right then, the boss walks over.
We all freeze. Me with one hand cupping a head near my junk and the other wedged between boobs. Cute office boy’s face in my lap. Her eyes on him. His eyes on me. Boss man, baffled.
Aftermath and a Change of Clothes
Boss man launches into some high company profile rant while we stand there dripping and marinated in pub lager. We’re released eventually and run to the men’s room.
The mirror confirms the obvious. We look like hell.
Turns out cute office boy lives nearby and offers me a change of clothes. I accept because why pretend this night can’t get weirder.
He lends me a trendy Ben Sherman and some Diesels. We both still want to drink but far away from everyone else. So we head to a mixed bar further down and laugh our way into another round of beers.
The Confession and the Straight Boy Smile
Somewhere between pint three and pint who-knows, I tell him I’m gay. He smiles that cute office boy smile and says he already knew. He’s not bothered. Thinks it’s cool. Wants to hang out more.
I promise I won’t hit on him. While very clearly hitting on him.
He laughs and says he knows. Finds it flattering. Tells me again that he’s straight and asks if I know any hot fag hags.
We drink more. The night softens. So does the awkwardness.
New Friends, Old Walls
Back at work, we start emailing from our adjoining offices. The banter continues. We joke about drilling a hole through the wall to communicate. I suggest other things that might fit through it. That part, I wasn’t joking.
Turns out we’d been working next to each other for over six months before that night of beer-slicked chaos shoved us into real friendship.
It’s funny how it took a drunken fall and his face in my crotch to get there.
Enjoy Who’s That Boy? You’ll find others like it in my Memoirs and & Real Life category.