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As he played with my hair, I resumed work, popping the snaps on his jeans and struggling to slide them off his hips. They eventually came off, and it left him just in his underwear. In past relationships, all the men’s undies I’d seen had come in two varieties – boxers and briefs. Boxers, while often decorated with cutesy patterns, essentially looked like shorts. They revealed little, and I always found them a bit less than totally sexy, although anyone I’d discussed it with claimed they were. I started to get up, but froze when the supply room door opened, which I admit I didn’t expect. There were whispering voices. I’m not going to act like I didn’t know what was going on; why else would two people come here at this time of day and not speak loudly enough to be heard? Besides, this outcome wasn’t a complete surprise, for reasons that you’ll pick up on if you hang around me long enough. I, of course, lay in shadow, on a black blanket. I’d disabled the light, so I was quite hidden.. ‘Who’s Ian Holloway?’ I asked. Gary was quiet a moment on the other end. ‘Ian . . . Holloway?’ he asked carefully. ‘Yeah. Who is he?’ ‘He’s uh, he’s the president of a technology company that’s trying to buy us out. Why?’ ‘He came in to see me tonight. He said he’s gonna bid.’ ‘What? How the hell does he know about this?’ I frowned, pulling on my cigarette. ‘What do you mean? You didn’t send him?’ ‘Of course not! Jesus Christ, if he knows . . . .’ ‘What’s wrong, Gary?’ ”What’s wrong?” he. "Come in, I will go get it. Have a seat." As Duncan headed for the bedroom, he didn't look back, but heard a small gasp from the woman. He didn't return for a good three minutes, and when he did, the woman was intently studying the television. "Where did you find something like this?" she asked, not turning from the television. "Oh, did I leave that on? I'm sorry!" No, it's okay. Kind of interesting." Duncan looked at the screen. A buff stud was fucking a pregnant girl from the side. Setting.
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