Taylor avoided wearing suits whenever possible, but for the meeting tonight he was told it was expected of him. Reluctantly he’d complied, choosing his best suit, a Zegna that cost a couple thousand bucks, but he couldn’t wait to get out of the thing as quickly as possible after the damn meeting. That shouldn’t be a problem he thought to himself as he drove to Dylan’s. He had his own key and let himself into Dylan’s apartment. Dylan lay on the couch, knees bent, reading a book, and he looked up eagerly when he heard Taylor shut the front door.

 

“Hey,” Taylor settled himself next to Dylan and leaned down for a very long-overdue hello kiss.

 

“Oh, I must be dreaming,” Dylan said when Taylor finally let him up for air, smiling as he noticed how Taylor was dressed and recognizing the tie he was wearing, one that Dylan had bought him for some occasion or another.

 

“What’re you talking about?” Taylor was slightly confused by the comment, but more than thankful Dylan wasn’t angry that he got back so late from the meeting.

 

“You know, it’s one of my fantasies to be bent over a desk and fucked by a hot guy in a three-thousand dollar suit,” Dylan grinned playfully as he sat up, the book falling to the floor, forgotten.

 

“Is that so? Tell me more about this fantasy,” Taylor prompted. He laughed and hoped he didn’t sound too drunk, because he really wasn’t, just pleasantly buzzed. And horny. Way too fucking horny, but this sounded fun. Dylan didn’t just randomly start talking about his fantasies very often, and Taylor wanted to make the most of it. And do whatever he could to turn that fantasy into reality.

 

“I’m sitting in front of the guy’s desk, like it’s a job interview…” Dylan started tentatively, and a look of slight embarrassment flashed across his face. He picked up the book from the floor and set it down on the coffee table, obviously playing for time. “And, well, he asks some very inappropriate questions…” he went on, a smile slowly starting to bloom. Dylan looked directly at Taylor, no longer self-conscious.  “And then does some even more inappropriate things to me.”

 

“So, Mr. Reese, tell me why I should hire you?” Taylor asked, deciding to turn the fantasy into a game. He went over to the dining room table and sat down—there wasn’t a desk so this was the next best thing. “Have a seat right here. I have a few questions for you.” Taylor indicated the chair to his left, and Dylan laughed, then went and sat down.

 

“You’re serious?” Dylan asked, before turning the chair so he was facing Taylor.

 

“So, are you a virgin, Mr. Reese?” Taylor ignored Dylan’s question and stayed in character.

 

“No.

 

Dylan laughed. “You can call me Dylan. Mr. Reese’s my dad or my grandfather.”

 

“Lovely thought,” Taylor said facetiously, trying desperately not to laugh. “So, Dylan, do you like cock? Because this position involves a lot of cock. My cock.” Taylor unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

 

“I love cock,” Dylan replied enthusiastically, and Taylor knew Dylan was starting to relax and enjoy their role play.

 

“What do you love about it?” Taylor aimed for a business-like tone, which was totally out of sync with the topic of conversation,