briefing late in the morning. CJ had been curious how I could dress to be noticed, and I told him that there wasn’t really any problem in that department. I had brought what I called my party suit, which I had had tailored for cruising the bars when I’d wanted to pick up women. I saw no reason why it couldn’t work as well on a man who was so inclined, and I was proved to be correct.

The suit was tailored of a fine material that, nevertheless, followed just about every curve I had. The seat was basted in a bit to show the roundness and firmness of my butt, the legs fit closely to my well-muscled legs, and a close inspection of the crotch area would leave little doubt which side I “dressed” on. The pants rode quite low for dress slacks—and, in fact, would show a nice curl of pubic hair if I wasn’t wearing a shirt. The shirt was of a fine, close-fitting material as well, which did not completely hide the shadow of my dark chest hair and made no attempt to hide my nipples if they were erect. The coat was also cut to flatter how my full chest flared down to a small waist.

Binggum got his first whiff of the chase when I rose up behind CJ’s chair when it was time for me to brief and I stood at the foot of the table near the slide show only long enough for Binggum to get me completely in his sights. I then walked back to stand beside him at the head of the table for much of my briefing. I could tell that he was hooked because of the thorough once-over he gave me while I was near the slide screen and by the way his eyes were glued to my crotch as I came over beside him. The definitely male musk cologne I was wearing couldn’t have hurt. For most of my briefing, his eyes remained plastered to me rather than to the slides that were flipping at the front of the room.

Suddenly, Binggum became much more interested in CJ’s proposal and he asked fewer questions. By mid afternoon, he seemed irritated if anyone else in the room dared to ask a penetrating or complex question, and he finally just waved all of his people away and said he wanted to discuss the final details with CJ “and his staff” alone. When the room had cleared, I gave a meaningful look at CJ and then turned to Binggum and asked if I could use the nearby men’s room before we restarted the discussions. Binggum said that was a fine idea and that he’d also take a men’s room break. CJ said he was just fine, thank you very much, and would set up the next part of the briefing while we were gone.

Binggum ushered me to a very plush executive washroom right next to the conference room. I went up to the bank of wash basins, while Binggum saddled up to a urinal. I was delighted to see that there were no barriers between the urinals.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered. “Is that a coffee stain I see on my shirt?” I looked into the mirror and made like I saw some sort of blotch. Without another word, I took my coat off and hung it on a stall door. And then, turning three-quarters toward where Binggum was standing up to a urinal, his eyes glued to me, I