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that helped me survive. I don’t know what I’d do without her.
    I knew Dyson was gay, I had since the first day I met him and he bled all over my sixty dollar designer tie. He was adorable, with his curly hair and puppy dog eyes. I was very pleased to meet him. His brother EJ rushed me off all too soon that day. I could have listened to Dyson’s deep baritone voice until the sun set, and then the things I could have done to him. No man had roused me like that in a long, long time.
    I’m gay, but unfortunately only a handful of people know. It has been a secret kept hidden behind a heavy curtain since my coming out, you see my mother wanted it kept that way. Her political career depended on me staying a well-kept secret. Martha Helmsley-Cooper my mother, and I use that term loosely, believed that she would be shunned if people knew she had a gay son. Therefore most people around me believe I am the rich bachelor dating every woman that sniffs around, I’m well known as the playboy who will never settle down.
    Back to thoughts of Dyson, I could really go for him. Dyson’s the sweet nerdy type, sexy as fuck, hidden behind a pair of heavy rimmed glasses with his nose stuck in his computer screen. He had magical fingers that moved at the speed of sound on a calculator, I bet they could do a number on a man in more ways than one. Plus, he was the smartest guy I knew.
    The only problem? Dyson didn’t know I was alive.
    All these years of working at the same company, spending time together with his brothers and I was just noticing now that he wasn’t attached, I may have not wanted a relationship with him, but I most definitely wanted to be close friends.
    Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know I was alive, because as much as I’d love to get Dyson into my bed, I’d only end up hurting him. The amount of baggage I had, made it impossible to get close to anyone. I was and would forever be an unsalvageable mess, the kind you avoided at all cost. Run screaming now and save yourself, I laughed, as I stepped off the treadmill and headed for my weights.
    Sometimes the way Dyson looked at me, the smile that caught my eye on more than one occasion had me wondering if he knew I was gay. Sometimes I had to wonder if he was checking me out, the idea was crazy, although I watched him often when he wasn’t aware. He had this habit of tongue typing, his concentration was so intense his tongue would peek out from between his lips and my loins would set on fire. Many times I had to ignore that he was near in fear of springing an embarrassing boner, which I wouldn’t be able to explain.
    Sitting at his desk the other day, while he corrected my pay problem had been fanfuckingtastic. I sat as close to him as humanly possible without climbing onto his lap and grinding into him. I recognized the scent of his cologne, not too many men could wear sweet scents, but infused with Dyson’s natural aroma it was seducing. I wanted to lick his neck, trail my tongue along his jawline and across his gorgeous pouty lips, weave my fingers into his hair and get lost in his dark, silky mane. As thoughts of tying him to my headboard and kissing every inch of him distracted me, a very familiar tent started to form in my pants and I knew I had to get away from him for a while. Him jumping to his feet, making some feeble excuse about printer paper, gave me a chance to clear my head before we went for lunch.
    Thinking back now, I wondered if I gave him the wrong idea at lunch. I think he was going to ask me if I’d marry him, for the sake of the Will of course. No way was I going there, not in this life time. No fucking way. We were business associates and friends, we had been for the last four years. Bedding him and marrying him were two entirely different things.  Though I thrilled at the idea of being buried balls deep inside him, the idea of getting married to anyone terrified me. It was like saying I was giving up who I was. That would never happen