Yes, Master Part 8

The meeting with the buyers was over before I knew it. My usual bravado and smooth talking charm had all but disappeared, as my thoughts were on the sullen man that stood to the side the entire time. Tate hadn't uttered a word since leaving Quantis. Not when he turned in his badge. Not when he shakily handed over the keys to his company car. Nothing. He kept his head down, hiding his eyes behind his bangs, and looked every bit the victim that he truly was. My heart ached and not even the transfer of millions of dollars could heal it. I was lost to him. I, Oliver Caldwell, had become a hopeless fool.

A fool who let his temper get the best of him and ruined whatever chance I had with the beautiful creature that was Tate Raymee. I looked at him. He leaned against the open entrance to the warehouse with his arms wrapped securely around his chest. His hair was still disheveled and his tie clung haphazardly to his neck. I wanted to go to him, tell him I was so sorry, and wrap him up in my arms. But he hated me now. How could he not? I called him a whore, I got him fired, and I accused him of faking his innocence. I hated myself more than he could ever know. Even I, who was a stubborn hard ass, was not too stubborn to admit that.

"Sir?" Richard put his hand on my arm. "The car is waiting."

"Thank you Richard," I murmured. My heart beat louder and louder with every step I took towards the open door. Every step closer to him, my mind played out the words I should say, the apology I should make. But I found it hard to breathe let alone speak. Why was he even still here? Why hadn't he run for it? Was he trying to make me feel guilty? If he was, it was working.

Tate moved outside before I reached him, slipping into the car quietly, and shutting the door. Richard patted my shoulder with a look of pity and got in the front seat with the driver. This was terrible. I had an aching feeling in my gut that at any moment Tate was going to let it all come out, and I didn't want to be in an enclosed space with other's watching when he did.

The minute I slid into the back seat and closed the door, he turned to me. His eyes were blank and his words were cold, "I want a job. It was your fault I lost mine, so I believe it's the least you can do."

"Tate," I slid over and he put up a hand.

"It's really simple Oliver. A simple yes will suffice," he bit out, plastering himself to the door. I pondered this god given opportunity for only a second and smiled inside.

"Fine, I'll have Richard look around for assisting positions within the city," I murmured. This way I could know where he went and still keep an eye on him.

"No. I want a job with your company. I'm not about to start out as some entry level grunt boy. I worked my ass off to get to the top of Quantis and maybe I had a little help from Alex, but it was on top and that's how I pay my bills." He narrowed his beautiful eyes. God, he was sexy as hell when he was mad. I had never seen this side of him. Well, I really had only seen him in bed, but as I stared at him, I planned to rectify that immediately. I was not about to let go of Tate Raymee. No matter how much he hated me. I would do whatever it took to be the man he wanted me to be. Who was I becoming? This wasn't me but I didn't care anymore.

"Richard, when we get back to the office, set up a station across from you. Talk to payroll and send them Tate's information. If you need anything, put it on the company card. Looks like your getting that help you wanted after all." He wanted to be on top? Hmph. I'll show you top buttercup.

"Wait! You're going to put me with you directly?" Tate's eye's went wide.

"Isn't that what you wanted? To be at the very top?" I smirked.

"Well yes but..." His eyes were innocent again, his submissive side struggling with his anger.

Richard turned in his seat to face us, "it'll be nice to have someone else to help out. I'll be glad to show you the ropes when we get back."

Tate looked between us for a minute, then sighed, "okay. Thanks."

"Would you like to get changed before we head back? We can swing by your place if you like." I peered down to get an answer.
"Yeah. I'm on Jackson, across from St. Catherines."

"That's pretty far away. Why don't you live closer to work? That's got to be hell in the morning." I grinned.

He looked up, shame flushing his cheeks. "I can't...I don't have the...I just can't okay."

He couldn't afford it, could he? What the hell was Alexander paying him with, dog treats? I would have thought at least six figures, judging by the guy's designer attire and flashy hair, but looks could be deceiving. Why would Tate stay with someone like Rutovsky? What did Tate see in someone that couldn't even pay him what he was worth?

"Sir?" The driver asked.

"Jackson," I nodded.

"Very good Sir," the driver replied.

"I don't want any special treatment Oliver. It's a job and nothing else, understood?" Tate looked over, trying to be stern, but his wavering, ocean hued eyes were uncertain.

"Richard do I give you any special treatment?" I raised a brow at the lumberjack blonde.

"Uh, no sir," Richard chuckled. "None what so ever."

I turned back to Tate, "satisfied?" He grunted and muttered something under his breath before turning back to the window.

Early afternoon traffic would be mind boggling for out of towners, but not locals. The driver was definitely the latter and he knew every shortcut that the city had to offer. Instead of the thirty to forty minute trip to Jackson Avenue, it was thankfully more like twenty. Tate directed the graying gentlemen to a stooped brownstone across from the massive catholic church. The brick was faded, there were bars on the lower windows, and a lovely display of spray painted signatures graced the surrounding walls and doors. I didn't like knowing he lived here. It made me uneasy and I feared for his safety.

"I'll just be a minute," Tate's cheeks were burning red with shame.

"I'm coming with you," I narrowed my eyes at the group of gang bangers sitting on the next stoop, eyeing my car like it was candy. "Lock the doors until we get back."

"You don't need to come with me Oliver! I'm not a child and I'm not going to make a run for it, if that's what you think," he spat.

I grabbed his delicate chin in my strong grasp, "this is not up for discussion. I will come with you. Now get out of the car and let's go."

He whimpered, pulling back and opening the door. I hurried out of the car and eyed the group of men watching us. Tate rounded the vehicle and stood at my side, rolling his eyes up at me.

"Hey Raul!" Tate called out with a smile.

The leader of the stoop pack raised a hand with a grin," what's up bro? Gettin classy I see."

"Nah, just with my boss for a minute. His ride not mine. Say hey to Tina and the kids for me," Tate waved and the whole group waved back. What the hell? These were friends of his? These tatted up, sweaty latin thugs, were his friends?

"Ha. Sure thing bro. You come by and grab some tamales this weekend. Tina would love to see you!" With that Raul stood up and placed a hard hat on his head.

The other guys stood too, gripping lunch pails and bottles of water. Ah fuck. Guess I really was a spoiled brat from the right side of the tracks. My mind had been trained to judge anything lower than myself and I scolded my upbringing. I let my scowl drop and raised a hand to the group walking past us back to the construction zone on the corner.

"Have a good day man," Raul tipped his hard hat with a chuckle.

Tate moved around when they were out of sight and snorted, "come on, let's make this quick."

The hallways smelled like a pack of elderly men had just pissed everywhere and the yellowed carpet rolled away from the walls, peeling up from the dirty tile job underneath. Tate swiftly unlocked the chipped, brown door in front of us and stepped inside. It was small. I could've used the word quaint, but it was just plain small. A living area the size of my bathroom offered a small, clean black couch and a little glass table that held a tiny flat screen television. No pictures on the walls, no potted plants, it was depressing.

He looked at me over his shoulder with a pained expression, "you can sit if you want. I'll be right back." With that, he glided out of the room and down the attached hallway.

Making sure he was behind closed doors, I wandered into the galley style kitchen. Everything was so neat and orderly. This small nook of a kitchen was packed with spices, dried goods, canned goods, and surprisingly a decent selection of wine. I could tell he liked to cook. A splayed out cook book with handwritten notes confirmed my suspicions. An open laptop was on the counter next to the book, along with a slew of loose papers. I skimmed a finger over the pile. Past due. More past due. Final Notice. Ah shit Tate. Why did you stay there?

I heard the door open down the hall and folded the small pile of papers, shoving them inside my coat pocket. I would take care of this. He shouldn't have to live this way.

"Oliver?" His voice sounded uneasy. I grabbed a warm can of coke from the box and popped the top. I had never really drank soda. Maybe once or twice when I was young. My mother never allowed it, so I grew up with a lack of craving for it. Now though, I had no choice. I needed a reason to snoop around this rented cage of an apartment and the shiny red can had just become my alibi.

"There you are," he rounded the corner and I took a sip of the room temperature cola. It was sweet and fizzy, delicious even if it wasn't cold. Holy shit, this is amazing. I lowered the can and looked at it, licking my lips.

"I hope you don't mind. I got thirsty," I grinned, taking another sip. Then another, then another.

"I can see that. You can have more if you want." Tate covered his mouth with a laugh. I slowly put the can down feeling slightly embarrassed but not yet beaten.

"More of what?" I turned my head to look at him and he lowered his hand from his face. He froze up. A familiar look of innocence was in his eyes and I couldn't resist.

He backed into the only free wall at the end of the kitchen, his hands searching for somewhere to escape as I stalked towards him. Suddenly my brain snapped into overdrive and my mouth started to say the things I had longed to tell him, "I meant what I said earlier. I'm sorry how it came out and I'm sorry that I accused you of things you didn't do. My anger is something I seem to struggle with when you're involved, but I'll work on it. But, I meant that I can't stop thinking about you. Your smell, your voice, your eyes. Everything.
When I woke up and you were gone..." I put my hands to either side of his head, trapping him against my chest.

"I fucking lost it. God, I felt so guilty. I still feel guilty. I have no idea what it is about you that makes me crave you. But I will find out and when I do Tate Raymee...I'll never let you go. Not for anything. Because you are mine." I bent my head and sucked at his neck. Tate trembled and tilted his head to the side with one of his soft whimpers.

"Can you forgive me?" I whispered, flicking his earlobe with my tongue. "Will you forgive your..." I couldn't say it. I had said everything right and that one word could bring everything crashing down. Fuck, I was so whipped.

His small hands wrapped around me and clutched at my back. He clung to me, bringing his mouth by ear,"Oliver."
I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my cock twitch in my slacks. Fuck yes. This time I didn't even hesitate when I pulled his head back and kissed him. He was mine, his lips were mine, everything about him belonged to me. My tongue licked open the seam of his lips, like opening an envelope from the unknown. I had never kissed another man. I'll admit it. I had been too scared that it meant more and now I knew it was true. The taste of coffee filled my mouth, mixing with the tangy syrup I still had on my tongue. His lips were small, but soft and they fit perfectly to mine. I wanted to devour him alive. In this moment though, I finally thought before acting and settled for a gentle exchange of tongues and fingers stroking through hair.

Tate's body relaxed into me. His small frame resting warmly against my chest while his fingers ran slowly up and down my back. What was this? What was happening to me? This slow and gentle crap wasn't me! Think Oliver! In the end though, did I really know who I was after hiding behind my mask this whole time? Could I be gentle and sweet for him? Could I give him hugs instead of spankings? I didn't know. Then again, I didn't know if I didn't try. I would try...For him. I lifted him up and set him on the only free space the kitchen offered. My hands cupped either side of his face and we never stopped kissing. His thin arms encircled my neck, running his agile fingers against the flow of my hair. He whimpered when I slipped a hand down his back and cupped his ass.

Tate gasped as I squeezed, his body arched and his head flung back in pleasure, breaking our kiss. Whack. Oh fuck! His head smacked against the cabinet door above.

"Oh Jesus! Tate are you okay?" I freaked and brought his chin up.

"Ow!" His face scrunched up and he rubbed the back of his head. "Holy crap, that's gonna leave a mark."

"We should get you to a hospital, you could have a concussion!" I pulled him from the counter, clutching him to my chest as I walked.

"Oliver," he laughed. "Put me down, I'm fine I swear it."

I stopped and looked at him seriously, checking his eyes for any signs of dialation, "Oliver..."

He pushed against my chest, his previously quiet laughs now bringing tears to his eyes.

"What is so damned funny? You hit your head harder than I thought. I'm calling Richard." I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Leave it to me to mess this up within five minutes of being near him. I just could not catch a break.

Tate grabbed the phone out of my hands and slipped it into my pocket, "I'm laughing because it's funny. You finally kiss me and I have to go and smack my head. I do it almost every day! Hit my head on those cabinets that is. Not kissing guys." He laughed some more.

I breathed a sigh of relief, "wasn't really Hollywood quality was it?" I smirked. His laugh was infectious. If I wasn't holding back, I would have smiled.

"It was perfect." He glowed from head to toe, a faint pink blush settling over his cheeks. I liked how he blushed. He was so... Oliver, we do not say things like cute. How about...He looks attractive. There we go. Men do not call other men cute.

"I don't think perfect is the correct term," I rubbed a hand slowly over the back of his head. A small bump was starting to swell.
He hissed a little. The bump had to be tender. "We should put some ice on this. Like now." I found myself taking my time running my hands through his hair.

Tate grabbed my hands in his. "Oliver. It was perfect," his eyes were warm, his voice soft. Did he know? How could he? I cleared a knot from from throat and darted my eyes from his beautiful gaze.

"Oliver," he stroked the side of my face. "Do you regret it? Kissing me?"

My head snapped back to him, my eyes narrowed, "How could you say that? I would have never wasted my first kiss if I knew I would regret it..." I trailed off. My eyes went wide and I stiffened with a sharp intake of breath through my nose.

Tate beamed and gasped, "I knew it! I could tell." He bit his lip and looked up at me shyly, "thank you. That was better than any apology you could ever give me."

I let the breath I had been holding go. Be a man Oliver. You can do this. "You're..."

My phone blared in my coat. The high pitch shrill cutting off whatever sweet nothings I had planned to say. Tate sighed and went to put on his shoes as I answered.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Richard?"

"Martin called because Kev is swamped with phone calls at the moment. The inspector's report came back and it doesn't look good. He emailed me a copy of it. Sir, if I may?" Richard hesitated.

"Go ahead..." I sighed. This was bad. I could tell. I would not let Alexander get to me. This was a game after all and I had just as many resources as he did.

"Well if the report I was emailed is the one the inspector has turned in, then you're going to need a lot of help from people in high places. Mr. Rutovsky, er I mean uh Alex, cleaned house this round," he went quiet. My anger was starting to wind it's way to the surface, but just then, Tate looked up at me from his spot on the sofa and smiled. For no reason, he just smiled at me. My heart beat started to slow and I unclenched my fists.

So I just smiled back, "then we'll just have to make a mess for him won't we?"
　
　
　
　
　
　

A Yaoi Addiction....

Sekai Ichi Hatsukoi - World's Greatest First Love

So yesterday when I started feeling sick, I came across a show that I am now addicted to.  Some of you might be into anime and some of you might not, but I guarantee you will all love this show.  It's a yaoi anime, or simply translated.... 'boy love'.   While most anime's and even Yaoi have characters with super powers or are non-human aliens, or some such, this does not.  In fact, I would just call it a soap opera between boys.  It's cute, it's funny, and at points...I got a little teary eyed.

Yes, it's animated, but I promise you it's worth a watch.  So to all of you out there looking for some boy on boy lovin', check this out.

I just thought I would share this little find with all of you!  Here is the link to watch all 24 episodes at crunchyroll:   Watch World's Greatest First Love right HERE!!!

Will post more later~~ NightTempest

Yes,Master Part 7

Hey everybody!!  Thanks for all the nice comments and I hope your still enjoying the story.  This part I sort of titled "When Shit Hits the Fan."  :)  

We're almost halfway through now, so hang tight!!!  Thanks again!

~~~~~~~~

I picked up the phone and connected to Richard outside, “Yes sir?”

I sighed heavily, resting my forehead in my hand, “Richard…schedule me something tomorrow morning with...Alexander Rutovsky.”

“What?” Richard sort of gasped. I groaned, placing my head on the desk.  Exactly… what was I doing?  Was Tate worth being within feet of that tennis playing pimp?  I needed help. I had no idea what I was doing.

“Sir?” my assistant asked urgently.  Sighing against the polished wood, I saw my breath fog around me.

“Get in here Richard.”

“Uh, yes sir,” he audibly gulped and set down the receiver with a click.

The door to my office squeaked open and I sat up straight, placing my own phone on the hook, “sit.”

“Am I in trouble?  I swear I didn’t jam the copier,” his face was that of a guilty child as he sat in the tufted leather chair across from me.

Rolling my eyes, “this isn’t about the damned copier.  I need some…well I need…help.”

“Help sir?” Richard looked from side to side carefully as if he was being pranked.

“Yes help, is that so hard to believe or something?”

“Well, um no, but you’ve never…” Richard sat back and closed his mouth.

“You have a girlfriend right?” I leaned forward and he sat back tightly against the chair.

“Yes sir,” he replied with wide eyes.

“Drop the sir bullshit.  It’s Oliver and I’m not your boss right now.  Got it?” I raised a brow and he nodded once in disbelief.  “Let’s say you did something really…bad and wanted her forgiveness, but she left you.  What would you do to get her back?”

“What did ‘I’ do exactly?  That would be an important factor, right?” He eyed me carefully, waiting for me to flip a switch.

“Is it really that important?” I clipped.

“Uh yes si…I mean Oliver, it is.”

I looked him up and down.  His brush cut, blonde hair was thinning a little, and his blue eyes were tired, but I could see where a woman would be attracted to him.  Like I said he was a big guy, around six one, with a build like a good ole country boy, but in slacks instead of Levi’s.  He looked trustworthy, oozed of it even, and at this point I was desperate.

“You took her virginity and wouldn’t kiss her,” I blurted.

“Whoa,” both his blonde brows rose with exclamation.  “You did that?”

“This is a hypothetical scenario where you did it…” I narrowed my eyes, but inside his reaction made the guilt grow like a virus.

“Hypothetically if I did that, I’d be lucky if Lorna if ever spoke to me again.  I mean, have you talked to him since?” Richard crossed his leg and threw an arm over the rest to his side.

What the fuck?  Did my hypothetical declaration all of the sudden make us casual?  And how did he know I was gay?  I was not the stereotype and country boy here probably knew as much about homosexuals as I did about growing corn.

“Him?” I inquired.

Richard sighed, “I just know okay?  Can we get back to this guy?  I’m sorry Oliver, but I’d like to go home sometime tonight.”

“Whatever.  It’s alright Richard it’s just been a long week, and…never mind.  No, I haven’t talked to him. He left the next morning without a trace.  Well, until now that is,” I held up the badge.

He leaned forward and pulled it from my hands, flipping it over.  He shrugged, “he’s alright for a man I guess.  Wait, Quantis?  Is that why you wanted to…”

“Yes.  How do I do this Richard?  I don’t want anything to do with Rutovsky, but I can’t exactly march into Quantis and make a scene over an assistant.”

“Don’t you know where he lives?  Just go over there and apologize.  Bring some flowers or a card or something,” he gestured with his hands.

“No I don’t.  Before today, I didn’t even know his last name.   I’ve been trying to find him, but it was kind of like finding a needle in a hay stack.”

“Hold up.  Let me get this straight.  You took home a guy that you only knew his first name.  You then took his virginity and wouldn’t kiss him, and then he felt like shit and left while you were sleeping?” He sat back, with a stunned expression.

“Yes,” I murmured and looked down at the business cards.

“Damn.  That’s really bad Oliver.  Like really, really…”

“I know how bad it is thank you very much,” I cut him off.

“Well then you had better make like John Cusack and break out the boom box, because flowers and hallmark aren’t gonna fix this,” he sighed.

“Really?  That’s your straight boy revelation, a boom box?” I snorted.  Yeah, this was fucking hopeless.

“Then if you’re not going to go declaring your undying love for the guy, how about you start with returning his badge?” Richard shrugged.

~~~~~~

The elevator rode up to the top floor of the Quantis building.  My palms were sweaty from fisting them and opening them a thousand times.  Richard was at my side, his tablet in hand, and sparing me a pitiful glance every few seconds.  I sucked in a breath as the second to last floor came upon us, straightening my black tie, against my pin stripe button up.  I looked good. I had made sure of it. A custom silk lined suit from Italy, platinum cuff links engraved with my initials, and dress shoes shined to blaze.  In short, I looked dress to kill…or win over in this case.

Our plan was actually a meeting with a duel purpose.  Richard had scheduled a last minute appointment with Rutovsky through his assistant this morning and I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I told him the reason I was here.  I wanted to watch his perfectly plucked, blonde brows narrow in anger when I told him where he could point his dick from now on….maybe towards my mother, since the two seemed to be so buddy buddy.  Then I would find Tate and try and sort all this out before my afternoon warehouse meeting.  Everything was going to be fine.

Richard seemed as nervous as I was, but straightened up and took a deep breath before the doors dinged open.  The Quantis executive offices were buzzing.  Three secretaries sat behind a long back lit desk that looked more like a high end bar than a place to put their computers.  The phones were ringing off the hook, but the females ahead of us simply hit a button, “Thank you for calling Quantis, how may I direct your call?”

Over and over, these girls connected calls like robots, never looking up as we wandered past into the lavish pit of soulless cubicle employees.  The top floor was open, with lots of windows showcasing the grey skies over the city today.  Four private enclosed offices sat to the back of the pit, the last and largest being Rutovsky’s.

A nymph like woman with a tight brown bun and smart silver glasses approached us.  It was obvious that her pencil skirt limited her walk and that the ‘I’m a bitch’ stilettos were killing her feet, but she masked her pain and stopped in front of me.

“Mr. Caldwell?” she looked me over quickly, returning to my eyes with a blank face.

“Yes, I’m here to see…” I started.

“Right this way,” the little cat cut me off and turned on her heel, striding towards the back offices.

“Friendly,” I murmured to Richard, who snorted and followed me.

She opened the door to the large corner office and gestured us inside, “Mr. Rutovsky’s assistant will be with you shortly.  Mr. Rutovsky apologizes for the delay and insists that you make yourselves at home.  Have a nice day gentlemen,” she rushed and shut the door behind us.

I looked around with a raised brow.  This is how he decked out a top floor office?  It was bare, Spartan in its decorative taste.  Two walls that met into a corner were nothing but glass, overlooking the city and the heart of downtown.  The other two walls were done in a masculine, black leather finish.  No pictures, no artwork, nothing more than a modern steel desk and three black leather chairs.  It felt like a corporate interrogation room and I eyed Richard, seeing his similar reaction.

“Maybe he’s cutting corners?” Richard offered, before shuffling to a chair and easing into it.

“Yeah or maybe he’s trying to sweat out his clients,” I grunted, sitting in the chair next to him.  “You brought the badge right?” I asked.

“Yep,” he smiled and patted his messenger bag, pulling out his tablet and booting it up.

A small sweep of air made me turn around to the opening door, “I am so sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting. Mr. Rutovsky is still in his meeting and might be a little while longer.  Mr. Caldwell is there anything I can get you to drink?”

Tate’s hands were full of coffee and a busily chirping cell phone.  He finally glanced up in his hurry and froze.  His mouth opened and his eyes went wide with shock, “I…I…uh…”

I stood up slowly, “Tate?” He was Rutovsky’s assistant?  Oh hell no.  No fucking way!

“You’re Mr. Caldwell?” He squeaked and almost dropped the coffee carrier.  “What are you even doing here?” He looked to Richard with panic and looked back to me.

“I have an appointment with Alexander,” I replied softly, looking away.  He looked divine and my mouth was going dry.  A well tailored navy blue suit with skinny legged slacks fit him like a glove and I bit my lip to keep from groaning.

“He said he had a personal arrangement this morning, but… Oh my God.  You’re…with him?” I looked up into Tate’s pained eyes.

Richard snorted, “I think you’re mistaken Tate…?”

“Tate Raymee.  I’m Da… I mean Mr. Rutovsky’s executive assistant,” Tate looked Richard up and down.

“Well Tate, if I may?” Richard paused and I waved him on, I couldn’t even speak.  “Mr. Caldwell is here for a business related meeting.  Mr. Rutovsky might have said ‘personal’, but he meant that he has known Mr. Caldwell for a long time, making them business colleagues, and nothing more than professional.”

“Oh,” Tate nodded and rounded the desk, setting the coffees down.  “Well if I may, why do I get the feeling you know a lot more than a personal assistant should?” The dark haired creature looked up with narrowed eyes at me, but he spoke to Richard.

“Don’t all of us assistants know more than we should?”  Richard chuckled.  Where was this confidence suddenly coming from?  Richard, the big bastard was completely in his element, and I was kind of dumbfounded.

“How much do you know about Mr. Caldwell exactly?” Tate crossed his arms and his lips tightened into a line. What was that supposed to mean?  Did he think that I had…with Richard?  My nerves got the best of me and I busted out laughing.  Richard chuckled softly and blushed. He must think I fuck everything with a dick.

“I think what my boss means is,” Richard smiled with reddened cheeks, “is that I’m…uh straight.”

“Oh God,” Tate groaned and covered his face.  “This is so messed up.  I wasn’t ever supposed to see you again and now you come in here looking like that and with him,” a gestured to Richard.  “I need to leave.  Yeah, I need to get the hell out of here.”  He tried three times to pick up his phone with shaking hands.

“Tate, please just listen to me,” I stood up.

“No, we aren’t doing this.  Not here, not in front of this guy, and not ever.  My boss is about to walk in here and I am not losing my job and becoming a freaking mess, because you want to make me feel guilty or something for leaving.  You should feel guilty, not me,” he swallowed and sucked in a breath as the door opened.

“Ah, Oliver, it’s so good to see you,” Alexander waltzed in.  His green eyes cut to Tate and a small grin played over his lips.  “Tate, I need a drink.  You know how I like it,” he winked and Tate looked down.

“Yes, sir,” he strode out of the room without another word, letting the door close softly behind him.  What the fuck was that about? You know how I like it…Ugh.

Alexander came over to me with open arms, “it has been such a long time,” he purred and wrapped his long arms around me.  A hand strayed down my back and brushed over my ass.

“Not long enough,” I whispered in his ear and pulled out of his arms.

He frowned playfully, but shrugged and went to sit behind his desk, “I see you brought a playmate for Tate?” He chuckled and unbuttoned his grey suit jacket. 

“This is my assistant Richard,” I gestured next to me.

“Pleasure,” Richard smiled.

“Hmm, right,” Alexander dismissed my assistant like he was dirt.  “So, I assume this little meeting has to do with the club.  Am I right?”

“My club?” I crossed my leg and sat back.  What?

“Well yes, you’re angry about the inspection aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, to bitch me out and tell me I’m worthless?  I assure you it’s nothing personal.  As you know, I thought I’d made clear my intentions towards you,” he looked over to Richard with irritation.  “Did you get the tickets I sent?  I would have thought you’d have at least called me back.”

“Don’t change the subject Rutovsky.  What aboutthe club?” I fisted my hands.

“No need to be angry Oliver,” he pouted.  “I’ve been trying to buy that block of downtown for years.  I’ve already been sitting around six years on blueprints for over a hundred high end condos.  That’s a lot of waiting Oliver, and now that you failed your quarterly inspection this morning, it would seem that the property has only forty eight hours before closure.  Sharks will be sharks Olly boy.”

“Excuse me? What the fuck are you playing at Rutovsky?” I stood and put my hands on his desk, leaning in close.  “That’s impossible.  I don’t have an inspection by the health department scheduled for another three weeks and even if they did give me a violation, forty eights hours?  Where did you pull that from, your ass?  There are a series of procedures that would have to take place before closure was even put up as a possibility.  So tell me Alexander…just what the fuck did you do?”

“I did what was necessary to ensure that block became mine.  You told me I couldn’t have the property and you outbid me, you told me I couldn’t have you and you blow me off, and you told me to step up my ‘pussy ass game’,” he made quotations with his fingers.  “So I did.” He shrugged.

“So, Oliver…would you like to play…my game?” he leaned in so our faces were inches from each other.

“How did you do it Alex, huh?  Or who did you do?” I growled, my fingers itching to punch him in his smug little mouth.

“That’s not part of the game Olly.  Must he be in here?” Alexander flicked his eyes to Richard with distaste.

I grabbed his chin, biting my fingers into his skin, “you listen to me you little punk ass bitch.  I will see your inspection and raise you the closure of your company.  How about we find out how daddy’s little cocksucker went from country club washout to fortune five hundred in under a year, shall we?  And I will find out Alexander, trust me.  Your shit stinks and everyone is about to find out.”

Rutovsky pulled back, just as Tate entered the room with a foaming latte.  He looked between his boss and I, tears almost in his eyes.

“Tate, can you make sure our dinner reservations are on for eight please?” Alexander smiled like the devil and extended an arm for his coffee, acting as though nothing had just transpired.

“Yes, sir…I already checked and everything is set,” Tate murmured, putting the coffee in his boss’s waiting hand.  Rutovsky slowly brushed his free hand over Tate’s arm and narrowed his eyes, “thank you.” He purred.

Oh fuck that!  This was his ‘not my boyfriend’ boyfriend?  That much was obvious as Tate blushed and put his hands together behind his back with a smile, “it was nothing sir.”

Was this all a scam?  Had Tate been using me to give Alexander information?  Had he actually slept in my bed that night or did he wait until I was asleep to creep around my house, looking for what he needed?  My scowl fell and my brows furrowed in pain.  I didn’t use him…he used me.  I was furious.  My fists shook at my sides and my voice was strained.

“This whole week I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.  This entire time I thought I was the one to blame…that I had done something to hurt you.  But it was you.  You helped him get to me and well played by the way Rutovsky, well played indeed,” I turned to Alexander who looked at me with utter confusion. 

Tate went wide eyed and took a step around the desk towards me, “Oliver no, I never…”

“No, you stay right the fuck where you are.  I don’t want you near me.  I don’t want to smell that god damned cologne and I don’t want to hear your voice.  Your boss here really knew what he was doing sending you into my club, gorgeous little thing like you, with eyes that burn a fucker’s soul. He knew there was no way I could resist.  What he didn’t count on was that I would actually want more than your fake virginal ass.  But now, you can go to hell you little executive whore.  I hope your ‘not my boyfriend' here and you have a wonderful life together,” I wrenched Richard’s bag out of his hands, fished the badge from it, and threw it at Tate.

“What the hell are you talking about Oliver?  Jesus Christ!” Rutovsky pushed his chair back and stood with a scowl.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about you sick fuck.  Sending Tate to me like bait, having him fake his virgin-hood, and letting me fuck him so he could go through my shit while I slept,” I seethed.  “Did you get everything you needed Tate? Huh!” I shouted and Tate burst into tears.

“You let him…” Alexander looked at Tate with pure hatred.  “You know him!  You let him fuck you!  Are you kidding me?  Do you know how long I…” Rutovsky threw his coffee across the room, the steaming liquid sloshing across the glass window.

“You’re fired,” Rutovsky hissed.  “Get out.”

“What?  I didn’t do anything!  Oh my God,” Tate screeched. 

Richard at this point was flat against the wall on the other side of the room, his eyes wide with fear.  Tate was sobbing uncontrollably and Alex had his palms flat on the desk, breathing like fire would erupt from his mouth at any second. 

He tilted his head at Tate, “I said get…OUT!”

“Oh please David, I didn’t do anything wrong!” Tate countered with tears running down his face.

I stopped and stared at the scene before me.  Tate was so upset…not even an actor was that good.  He really had no idea what I was talking about and so help me, neither did Rutovsky.  But in my anger, I had done a hell of a lot of damage, and now I cringed at was resulting.  And David, what was that all about? Why did he call him that? 

“Turn in the keys to the company car at the front desk with your badge. As you don’t have a desk, there is nothing else to take with you.  Get, out of my office, now!” 

My head hurt with all the drama that was unfolding.  Alex wanted to fuck Tate, Tate wanted Alex to love him, I wanted Tate to want me, and somewhere underneath all that, Tate wanted me too.  Not to mention my club!  Oh this fucker was going to pay.  I needed an aspirin in the form of a fifth of bourbon.

“This is war Rutovsky,” I pointed a finger at him.  “Tate, go with Richard to the car.  Do not tell me no.  Do not say another word,” I turned to him.  Richard unglued himself from the wall and grabbed Tate by the shoulders softly, pulling him away from the two fuming wolves in the room.

Tate’s eyes locked with mine, something was there, but at this point I had no idea what it was.  It’s okay, I mouthed to him, and he sniffled, but nodded. 

When the two of them started down the hallway, I turned, holding the door open, “I want you to remember this feeling Alex, the anger.  Because that is nothing compared to what you’ll feel when I’m done with you. Watch your back Rutovsky, because I’m coming for you,” with that, I let the door swoosh close behind me, and walked past the pit of stunned Quantis employees, and after my heart.

Yes, Master Part. 6

He startled as I sat next to him on the bed, trying to turn him to look at me, “Tate I need you to talk to me.  Tell me what’s going on, because I can’t help if you if you don’t.”

“Can you just stay with me, while I sleep?  I just need to sleep,” he whispered, attempting to convince his own mind that rest was all he needed.

“Here let me clean you up first,” I swept the cloth over his stomach. “Then we can sleep, alright?”

I laid down with my chest to his back and he snuggled in close, “I’m so sorry Tate.”

He said nothing in return, but didn’t pull away when I pulled his hips close to mine, snaking an arm around his waist.  I sighed, nuzzling my face into his hair, and fell into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~

My cell phone blared in my ear and I shot up in bed, completely thrown off by the hour.  What time was it?  I rubbed my eyes and snatched the cell from the bedside table.  The I.D. read Mother, the time eleven thirty, and I clicked ignore and tossed the damned thing to the floor.  I closed my eyes again and reached over with sleepy hands to search for the body that had warmed my chest all night.

I patted the bed and opened an eye.  He was gone, I realized, sitting up and looking around, “Tate?” I called out, my throat scratchy and dry.

I got up and padded to the hallway, “Tate?” No smells of coffee or food, no sounds of any sort, just silence. 

 After a good ten minutes of rounding the house, I knew for sure he was not here.  For some reason I started to panic.  I knew this would happen, this is what always happened.  They left and I went on with my life.  But this time was not the same and my heart agreed.  My cell phone went off again and I almost punched a hole in the wall, pounding my feet to the bathroom and slamming the door behind me. 

  

I slumped against the door and just breathed it out. Get your shit together Caldwell.  He’s just some loser that you took his flower from.  What the fuck ever, no big deal.  Yet, I could still smell him on me and was tempted to bury my face into my bed and inhale his scent for the rest of the day.  My face was burning from shame all of the sudden and the damned phone kept going off like a siren.  What did the woman want!  I threw my hands up in the air, getting off the floor and splashing some water on my face.

Gripping the sides of the vessel sink, I looked into my own dark eyes.  The eyes that were once hard and domineering now searched for something deeper, but what?  A hint of regret of what I had done?  A piece of something that I told myself I would never be a part of?  My parents had done this to me. It was all their fault and I wasn’t too stubborn to admit that.  Hell, I would shout it to the world if I was a crazier man, spit in the face of all the shrinks who my father had paid to make my hatred go away, be satisfied with my life and not seek the attention my body craved.  No, I would be softer with a lighter heart, and accepting of sharing my life with someone, but they took all that away from me.

I couldn’t accept the fact that two people could coexist together in harmony for a good span of their lives and not shown a hint of betrayal.  I had watched my father run my mother into the ground with his twenty something country club bimbos and in turn watched my mother retaliate with my father’s colleagues.  It was a never ending mess of lover’s revenge and no one thought to realize that a child was in the midst of it all.

So, now as a man, I stayed away from everything that even hinted at a relationship, favoring control instead.  It was the one thing in my life that was all my own and no one would take it away from me.  But, did they really have too?  Could I still be in control, but care for someone at the same time?  Tate, that little bastard, had me questioning every deep aspect of my life, but again, why?  Well that was easy, for fuck’s sake he was gorgeous.  That had to be it, he was just beautiful and my inner male roared for his body again.  That was it, lust, nothing else.

The phone went off again and I groaned, it was time to face the wrath of my mother.  What had I done this time?  What socialite had I pissed off now?  Still naked, I threw open the door and grabbed the blaring cell from the floor. 

Taking a deep breath, I slid the screen to answer the call, “yes, mother?”

“Well Oliver, it’s about time.  My Lord, however do you sleep this late?  You were sleeping weren’t you?  I hope you weren’t doing something else…unpleasant,” she rambled, displeased already.

I sighed, “I was sleeping.  What do you need…mother?”

“Alexander phoned this morning, wondering why you haven’t returned his calls.  He said he sent you tickets to the ballet and you never so much as called to thank him, or ask him to join you.   Oliver, have you no decency?  He is an upstanding and attractive man, and if you insist on being a homosexual, you would do well to settle down with a man such as him.  Why last year alone his company was featured by Forbes!  Forbes Oliver!  Darling, you need to call him back, before he gets bored and changes his mind.  He is smitten with you and you would be a fool not to see this through,” she chided.

“First off, I do not insist on being gay mother, I am.  It is not a decision that I made and we have talked about this before.  Secondly, I hate the fucking ballet and wouldn’t be caught there even if you put a gun to my head.  Thirdly, I have my own money as you know, and more than Alexander Rutovsky could even dream about for that matter.  And lastly, I think Alexander is a pompous school boy who wouldn’t get near my prick with a ten foot pole.  I wouldn’t ‘settle down’ with him if he was the last man on earth.  Anything else?” I grinned, touché Oliver…jolly good show.

“Oliver Andrew Caldwell!  You will watch that mouth of yours when speaking to your mother!  You will call back Alexander today and invite him to dinner and that is final!” Louisa screeched into the phone.

“No, mother I won’t…on either account.  I’m thirty three, not five…deal with it,” I smiled spitefully and hung up.

Alexander Rutovsky could suck my dick in hell.  There was no way I would ever call him back or go to the…ballet, I shuddered.  Like me, he was a trust fund baby, but unlike me, he was all talk and no action.  He was a prissy little snob and I was all man.  Not to mention he was not my type. No, Alexander wanted a man-wife, not a dom.  No way in hell would I wear an apron and bake little muffins for that jack ass, or for anyone period.

I rubbed my eyes in irritation and the phone rang.  This time I didn’t even look at the caller I.D. and answered, “You had better be calling to apologize, mother.  I will not listen to another minute of your dictating.”

“Uh, Mr. Caldwell?” a meek squeak came over the line and I flopped onto the bed.

“Hello Richard.  I…I’m sorry about that,” I shamefully apologized to my assistant.

“No worries Mr. Caldwell, I know how…Louisa can be,” Richard murmured.  For a big guy, he was as skittish as a mouse, but he was a damn fine assistant, and never gave me any problems.

“She called you didn’t she?” I draped an arm over my face, hiding my eyes from the sun that cut through the window.

“Yes sir.  She tried to get me to schedule lunch with a Mr. Rutovsky tomorrow.  She said you had already agreed to it,” he sighed.  Oh, the nerve of that…

“I take it you declined?” I grunted.

“Of course sir, you specifically said that I was not to take calls or appointments from…Alexander,” he boasted proudly and I smiled.  Good boy.

“Thank you Richard.  Add my mother to that list too,” I chuckled.

“Already did,” he laughed quietly.  “But you do have appointments today.  I already tried to reach you, but since you weren’t answering, I rearranged your schedule for later this afternoon.”

God, I loved this kid, “thanks. Give it to me.”

“You have a meeting with your beer and wine distributor at two at the club.  A three o’ clock with a Mr. Freemont from Buyer Real Estate about the ninth street property you were interested in.  A four thirty with the historical society about the upcoming renovations on the theatre.  You have a free spot at six, for dinner if you would like.  Then a seven thirty with a Ms. Lynette Kapshaw from the city for an inspection before the sale of the warehouse on Court Avenue.  Also a Mr. Malet called about possible drinks with potential investors this evening, but only if you were free.” Richard took a breath.

“Call Mr. Malet back and tell him that drinks sound fine.  I should be done with Ms. Kapshaw around eight fifteen.  It’s just a quick look-see.  Did you send my schedule to my phone?” I asked.

“Already done an hour ago sir.  Let me get back to you on drinks and I’ll update as soon as I do.  We’re on route to your place, so…uh, you might want to get dressed,” Richard got quiet.  Poor kid was trying not to tell me what to do, because he knew I hated it. 

“I’m up, I’ll be down in twenty,” I grunted.  “See you soon.” I hung up the phone.

“Ughhhhh,” I groaned and sat up, looking at the spot that Tate had slept last night with a frown, and then went about with my day.

~~~~~~~

Five days.  It had been five fucking days and still I could not get those eyes out of my head.  Every small dark headed guy reminded me of him and every time I got a whiff of some light, clean cologne my cock stirred to attention.  To say I was beginning to go nuts was an understatement.  Every chance I got, I looked online for Tate’s or Tatum’s in the area, coming up with over a hundred.  I even lowered myself to logging onto three different social networking sights in hopes of spotting his face, but it was no use.

We lived in a large city and Tate was one man, and I was hopeless.  Martin had said he would keep a lookout for me in case my boy showed up at the club, but as the days passed and I’d heard nothing, a sinking feeling took hold of me.  I was a lost man with an obsession, for a guy I would never have again.  Even Richard started to notice a difference in my temperament.  Gone was the asshole and domineering routine, in its place a sullen and defeated disposition.  Not even currently sitting amongst the gorgeous array of Mercedes lifted my spirits.  I was done for; weakened.

“Did you hear me Oliver?” Henry leaned forward on his desk, pushing a few fingers of bourbon at me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I glanced away from the gleaming silver, new edition ride in the showroom; picturing Tate with his head thrown back in rapture.

“I asked if you were thinking of upgrading… Your model is over a year old and it’s obvious your drooling over the new series,” Henry, my long time dealer sat back.

The thought of ridding myself of the very car that Tate had sat in made me shiver, “No, I’m happy for now, maybe in the fall.”

Henry’s brows rose and he shook his head, “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever see you this…quiet.”

“A lot on my mind my man,” I raised the glass at him and didn’t bother sipping, favoring a toss back of the contents instead.

“I can see that,” Henry mused, glancing over as his secretary buzzed him. “Excuse me a moment,” He politely held up a finger and answered.

I got up while he was busy and walked out of the glass cubicle and into the showroom.  The car that had caught my eye was beautiful, a SLS AMG coupe in a signature alubeam silver.  The smell of fresh leather hypnotized me, my hand running over the top like it was metallic skin. 

“Mr. Caldwell?” A lean black, gentlemen walked forward with a folder and black plastic bag in hand.  “Your car is ready.  Diagnostics were good, the oil has been serviced, and the detailing is complete.” He handed over the folder and bag.

“Thank you,” I searched his jacket for his name tag, “Pierre.”

“Have a nice day sir,” he smiled and walked away. 

“Keys?” Henry called from the door of his office and tossed them to me with a grin.  “Have a nice day Oliver.” He nodded and shut the door.

~~~~~~

I sat in my office downtown and tossed the folder and the bag on the desk, removing my suit coat and rolling up my sleeves.  God it was hot in here, I mused, loosening my tie.  It was going to be a long night.  Richard was staying late to help me with three property turn-around meetings I had set for tomorrow.  Three warehouses on the water that would rake in over twenty million dollars after all was said and done.  You had to love foreigners looking for a good deal and water front warehouses that could be turned around for the right price were hot overseas.  Plus the taxes and commissions were cheaper over here, so why not right?

The only downside to an international sale was all the fucking paperwork and meetings where you had to actually show face and schmooze with guys who wore orange tinted glasses and said things like ‘bitchin’.   I sighed, running both hands through my short dark hair, thinking of everything that needed to be done.  I eyed the folder and bag in front of me.  I never got a bag, the realization came.  I grunted and picked up the zip locked bag and opened it, dumping the contents onto my desk.

I frowned, this had to be a joke.  Two black dress socks, not my brand, a few business cards, a badge of some sort, and a white Mercedes embossed, hand written note.

These items were found in your vehicle while cleaning.  Thank you for choosing Mercedes-Benz.

Socks? I scrunched my brows.  All the sudden my breath left me.  The last person that had taken their clothes off, hell the only person who had gotten naked in my car was…shit!  I threw the note over my shoulder and started flipping the cards over with frenzy.  One was a time and date for a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow, one was for a Thomas Meyering Contracting Co., and the last one was blank on one side, and on the other a handwritten phone number with the letter ‘D’. 

Fuck, none of this had Tate’s name anywhere on it.  I reached for the badge and flipped it over, and my breath caught in my throat.  Tate stared back at me, a small professional picture, but it was still gut wrenchingly gorgeous.  Tatum Raymee, Executive Assistant, Quantis Corp.

Quantis?  He worked for Quantis?  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  This was bad.  No.  Not just bad, fucking terrible.

I picked up the phone and connected to Richard outside, “Yes sir?”

I sighed heavily, resting my forehead in my hand, “Richard…schedule me something tomorrow morning with...Alexander Rutovsky.”

Leather, Hairy Chests, and Bears..Oh My!!!

I thought it would be a nice midweek gesture to have a blog picture parade.  Now, I know I normally post pictures of young smooth, buff little thangs on my twitter, but tonight I'm feeling something different.  Maybe it has to do with a story I've been thinking of for a while now or maybe it's just my imagination run wild, but this evening will be devoted to bears.   Yeah, I said bears...oh and and a few leather bears *wink*, because what makes a big muscled male hotter?  Oh that would be leather. Exactly.  

So while we take a day's break from Yes, Master....  I give you big hungry bears... :)

...and this next picture was just for fun, because it cracked me up...

Happy Valentines Again!!! Yes Master Pt. 5 (It's a long one!)

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