Wednesday Briefs: No Way Out #13

Hello again and Happy Hump Day!  Before I forget, I want to remind everyone that at some point, I will be pulling this story, before it's done. If you're interested in having chapters emailed to you, let me know and we can make arrangements!

This week's prompts were: "You want to bury your bone where?" or use a bare cupboard in your story or it's THAT time of the month or use: penny, cranberry, doctor or something interesting with soup or use something cold, such as ice cubes or "My mother always warned me about guys/gals like you..." or have a character reflect on a memory of band camp or use a rap on the knuckles.

Last week, as you'll recall, Wyatt and Shy's time together was cut short by a phone call from Randy, who instructed Shy to meet him at home with lunch and more... Don't forget to visit the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!

No Way Out #13

Shy thought that Randy was a confusing mass of contradictions. He didn’t even pretend to understand the man, despite having lived in his home for fifteen years, and in his bed for five. He demanded Shy stick to the healthy diet proscribed for him, yet he was not above indulging when the mood struck. He drank far more than his dietician suspected and worked it off with his trainer.

Shy never questioned, he simply obeyed. To question any command was to invite trouble. That he did not need.

Today was obviously going to be a day of indulgence, although Shy never asked why. He just did as he was told, like the robot he was.

Today Randy’s requests required Shy to make extra stops. In and out, no time to think, no time to question why. Shy ignored the Masterson house as he passed it on his way home. He pulled the car around back and schlepped everything inside, careful not to drop the expensive vintage he’d been instructed to pick up. On occasions such as this, Randy sent him to a particular liquor store, one owned by one of his cronies. The man waited for him in the parking lot and slipped Shy whatever Randy wanted so that no money changed hands and no questions were asked; he’d settle with Randy later, for providing this service.

Shy didn’t care about that.  His main concern was not to lose focus. Thoughts of Wyatt would have to wait, perhaps forever.

Shy busted a gut to make sure the house was cleaned according to specifications. There was actually a printed manual, one that Randy updated when he made new acquisitions. Shy had been doing this so long he no longer needed to refer to the pages, but he kept them handy, as a reminder to live up to Randy’s standards.

He hadn’t been able to gauge Randy’s mood from their brief phone call. Nor did the demands he’d made give Shy any clue as to what to expect. That was not unusual. Randy thought of no one but Randy. No one else deserved or received consideration.

Randy arrived five minutes early. Either traffic had been exceptionally good, or he thought to catch Shy in something. Shy was careful that there was nothing to be caught in. Lunch was ready. Two thick and juicy hamburgers, cooked to rare perfection, the same way Randy preferred his meat. Shy had a recipe that included his own special rub, and contained spicy peppers that he chopped and worked into the meat. Randy said the heat of the peppers helped burn calories. Shy accepted what he was told without comment.

The bottle of Mumms chilled in the ice bucket. The bed sheets had been lightly spritzed with Randy’s favorite scent, a custom blended aroma that combined musk with citrus, with just a hint of mint.

Shy wore nothing, per Randy’s instructions. He’d taken a shower and carefully cleansed every orifice. As Randy bounced through the door, Shy felt a measure of relief—Randy wore a smile. Whatever had prompted this spur-of-the-moment luncheon must be a good thing. That should help.

Randy handed Shy his briefcase, heading up the stairs without a backward glance. Shy obediently trailed him up, into the bedroom.  Everything was at the ready. The heavy drapes were closed against the sunlight. Lit tea light candles dotted the room. A hand blown pink vase sat on the bedside table, filled with stalks of fresh-cut iris. Beside it were laid out what Randy had requested: lube, cock ring, nipple clamps, paddle. Shy gave no thought to how any of these would be used. His not to reason why...

Shy stood beside the bed, eyes cast to the floor, waiting. It was Randy’s habit on such occasions to take every last item from his pocket and lay them neatly out across the top of his dresser, everything in its proper place. One time an ill-placed coin had rolled off the edge and Shy had scooped it up. He’d earned a rap on the knuckles for his pains.

Once this ritual had been performed, Randy clapped his hands once. That was Shy’s cue to look up. Randy held out his arms, and Shy helped him off with his jacket first, followed by every other article of clothing he wore. Each piece was carefully laid aside, out of harm’s way. A single wrinkle could send Randy into a screaming tizzy.

Shy was surprised to find Randy at half-mast already. And without his Viagara, too. The little blue pill sat by the champagne. Randy had been taking the pill for the past couple of years, to enhance his performance. Especially in the club. Shy suspected neither the trainer nor the dietician knew he partook. He wasn’t even sure Randy’s physician knew. Surely he was too young to need it. It was more of an ego thing. To hold his own against the younger studs, and lord it over the older men.

Shy took the fact that Randy was halfway to hard as another sign that things had gone very well today. Probably the client he’d been talking about, the local beverage company. Shy hoped there would be many clients that produced such a pleasant effect on Randy.

Randy scooped up one of the burgers and bit into it. Juices flowed from the meat, as he savored each bite, licking his fingers. When he was done, he demolished the second sandwich with ease. Shy’s face was impassive. If he’d expected to receive one of the two hamburgers, he didn’t show it, waiting for Randy to be done. He handed him the pill and a glass of the Mumms.

Apparently this was to be a celebration for one.

Holding the fluted glass in one hand, Randy popped the pill, washing it down with the expensive vintage. Shy could fairly feel the energy that poured from him, the excitement. No doubt, a new client had turned him on so much.

Sure wasn’t Shy.

to be continued

Here come the Briefers!

Nephylim  

MA Church  

Cia Nordwell    

A.R. Von 

Lily Sawyer    

Victoria Adams 

Tali Spencer

Andrew Gordon 

Until next time, take care!

♥ Julie