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Larry was standing in the office of his employer. The screen to the television had just been shut off.
”Any explanation?” Dr. McPhee asked.
Silence.
”No.”
”Good.” The man behind the desk stood up and walked around it, hand stretched out. “Hand in your keys and flashlight.”
Reluctantly he removed them from his belt and gave them to the man. It pained him deeply to part with the job he'd so quickly fallen in love with. Where would he now put his passion? But his thoughts were interrupted as Dr. McPhee didn't settle for the items he'd asked for.
“What?” he asked as McPhee continued to hold out his hand.
“Your clothes.”
“My what?”
“Clothes.”
“What about them?”
“Hand them over.”
“Now?”
“No, tomorrow. Of course I mean now!”
“Can't I-”
“Daley!”
The exclamation had the younger male stop in his tracks. Was McPhee serious?
“Now, Daley!”
Apparently so.
Larry started to remove his jacket. As it slipped off his shoulders he could feel the other man's stare. Something was off but he kept doing it. He handed over the garment to his boss who gestured for him to keep going.
“Do I really have to-” he began but was stopped by a sudden pull of his tie.
The order came as a hiss. “Keep undressing.”
With trembling hands Larry did as he was told. Slowly he pulled out his tie and had it fall to the floor, just to mess with McPhee. But the man didn't care. His gaze was glued to Larry. There was something in his stare that had Larry grow conscious and feel heat rush to his face.
Every button on his shirt was opened slowly and with care. Soon he stood there with a bare chest, hesitating to remove the piece of clothing. It slipped over his shoulders and he could hear a strangled noise from the other man.
“Oh, Dr. McPhee, I...” he began but was unable to continue the sentence.
“Yes, Daley,” McPhee said. “Keep going.”
The shirt fell to the floor, soon to be accompanied by the pants. Larry feared the walk to the locker room. Damn it would be embarrassing. Little did he know that he wouldn't make that walk just yet.
With a blush spread from ear to ear he turned around, ready to go. A hand on his naked shoulder stopped him.
“No, Daley. Underwear too.”
With a racing heart Larry looked down and checked out the last piece of garment he had on. The museum logo was covering most of the white fabric. With his back to the other man he slipped his fingers towards the edge, feeling a knot in his gut by his own touch. The man couldn't be serious, could he?
“I'm waiting.”
“Are you telling me to walk naked through the museum?”
“You tell me,” McPhee suddenly whispered right by Larry's ear. All of a sudden the man had moved up behind him, the heat from his body against his back. Hot fingers grazed against the skin of his hips, sliding downwards and underneath the hem. A gasp escaped Larry's lips. Soon the underwear was sliding down over his butt.
Why didn't it bother him? This man who seemed to hate his guts was the one to spread a passionate heat inside of his body. Why did he suddenly long for the rough fingers to touch him more? To make him know the touch of another man?
As the underwear fell down around his ankles his hips were caught in a firm grip. A clad crotch pressed against his behind and it was obvious that his boss was turned on by him. Larry liked it.
With a husky, deep voice his boss spoke to him, words that had his head spin with lust. “Oh yesh fishsticks bby.”
And then they fricked until the museum closed.