Poetry to Watch

I've been befriended by a guy at work.

He's like a good looking Eddie Munster. No, not really, but he has that kind of widow's peak, dark hair, big blue eyes. He likes writing too. We talk about books, he's well read and interesting. He's so damn handsome, it's hard not to think of him sexually. Not really sexually, but with that familiarity that gay guys take with other guys. There's a certain social intimacy that gay guys take with each other. It borders on sexual, without ever getting there. You know... um... (good joint) flirt. It's hard not to flirt with him. I have to (sometimes, occasionally) actively stop myself. It's hard, as he's gorgeous... except he's straight. There's always something, isn't there?

He's going to give me some of his poetry to read. Cute, huh?

Flirty accountant Michael is back from leave for his mother dying. I hadn't really seen him around, not until today. I was leaning against my desk, looking out of my office and he was at the photocopier, someone else was there first. He had to wait. I was talking to a colleague. Michael looked sideways in my direction, I took his gaze and held it. He's got big, puppiy dog eyes. He gave his sly, sexy smirk and his cheeks flushed red. The other guy was finished. Michael looked away. How long after their mother's dying are you allowed to hit on them? I mean, what's etiquette?

Cute lawyer Ben got in the lift with me this morning; both arriving five minutes late. He's leaving tomorrow, I haven't seen him around to ask why. There were two others in the lift too, judges, CEO's, billionaires, not sure what, but they had that look about them; well fed, well dressed, air of superiority. Ben stood facing me. Cute, blonde hair, blue eyes. He's one of those guys who has a good package in a suit. The material hugs tight at his hips, and then just flows, bulging out like a fist, beautifully in the middle.

I drop my eyes, I can see that he has packed his cock downwards, I don't care if he notices, he's always flirted, he leaves tomorrow. I can see his nob pushing the material out from the inside. I reckon he's circumcised. I just want to step forward and cup it in my palm. I look up. His eyes look up at the floor numbers above the door. He looks back at me. He can't stop himself from smiling. Nervous. He's turned on. He looks down at his feet, still smiling. I clear my throat. He glances up at me. His eyes dart to the other two captains of industry, then look back up at the floor numbers. Still smiling, despite himself. My floor. The doors open. See ya Chris. See you Ben. He smiles and pulls his head back, as if to really look at me for the first time.