His eyes were metallic blue, the kind that didn’t just look at you, but through you. Gay sex It wasn’t even framed as a favor. Another glance.None came.So I left.But his presence followed me all the way home.Friday came with a fresh snowfall, softening the city and throwing pale light through the office windows. There was a confidence in the way he sat, legs apart, one ankle resting on his knee like he had nothing to prove.A folder sat on the table between us, but he didn’t touch it.“You’ve been really helpful this week,” he said. “Thanks.”“No problem.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Perfect. Just a time, a place, and a promise. A part of me already knew: there might be a folder on the table, but we wouldn’t open it.He looked up when I entered—not surprised, not particularly warm either. I arrived early—too early, really—and spent longer than usual adjusting the height of my chair, the alignment of my monitor, the placement of my stapler. There was a file on the table between us again—its edges perfectly squared to the surface—but neither of us touched it.“You’ve had a good week,” he said. Monday After Work.My heart fluttered as I read the words, a pulse of excitement blooming in my chest.
