After Hours

C.C. Williams

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 C.C. Williams

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“Coffee, tobacco or tea, BriteWite leaves your smile bright and white!” I delivered the

tagline without retching and flashed my cover model smile.

“Thank you!” yelled the director. “We’ll call.”
Hopefully not looking skeptical, I thanked the panel and left the agency’s studio.

Waiting for the elevator to wheeze up ten floors, I examined my reflection in the doors. Who
could possibly outdo this—especially for a toothpaste ad? Blond curls framed a tan, all-
American boy-next-door face with great teeth. What more could they want? Chiming its
arrival, the elevator opened and I watched my face ripple as the doors receded. Sighing, I
punched the lobby button and leaned back as the elevator shuddered downward.

On the subway I moped. Usually I people watch—that’s what I call it—my friends call it

cruising. But why not? NYC is full of hot guys. Granted, most of us know that we are, but
everyone should be appreciated. And I appreciate hot guys. Exiting at Christopher Street, I
headed down Seventh and decided to treat myself to Starbucks. Given the imminent demise
of my checking account if I didn’t find a gig soon, it wasn’t a prudent thing; but a caramel
macchiato would soothe my ego.

Starbucks was quiet; a few NYU students sat hunched over laptops. I ordered my drink

and eyed the shorts-wearing barista—sexy legs with a cool tattoo around his calf. I considered
passing him my number, but the hot Italian guy walking in distracted me. Tall and dark, he
oozed masculinity with curly hair filling the open collar of his shirt and covering his muscular
forearms. Oakley sunglasses that had easily set him back a bill and a half hid his eyes.

Disappointingly his glance passed right over me; although a blond coed got a twice-over for
ten seconds—or at least her tits did.

Not above a little stalking, I followed him as he left. We headed up Grove toward

Fourth; he walked confidently, striding among the pedestrians; I followed secretively, lusting
after his butt. Past Waverly he crossed over what was now Christopher Street and entered a
storefront beneath a red awning with ‘Trattoria Louisa’ in black script. Dodging a cab, I went
after and pretended to read the menu posted in the window. Unable to see into the dark
interior, my eyes glimpsed the handwritten sign below the menu—Server needed. Apply
within. Bingo!

#

Louisa, nee Lois Mitcham, was a big-busted, loud-laughed, bottle-dyed mountain of a

woman with a soft spot for stray animals—most of whom she had hired to work at the
restaurant. We were a motley crew: from Jayzee, born Jakob Zuchowski, the tattooed, skater-
wannabe busboy; Adamo, the hot Starbucks guy, was the bartender and only real Italian in the
place; Carlie, the cocktail waitress who was screwing Adamo; to Axel, the dark-haired, elfin-
blue-eyed cook.

Two weeks had passed and I felt right at home: everybody bitched, just like family.

Saturday night was finished. We’d been short-handed, so Louisa had belted down two
Tanquerays with dribbles of tonic and tossed the keys to Adamo, telling him to lock up, as she
lurched out the door.

Stocking fell to me and I moved around the restaurant refilling supplies. At the prep

sink I closed the door of the first aid cabinet and did a double take at its attached mirror. With
the proper angle I could see around the corner into the storage room—where Jayzee and
Adamo were making out!

Mesmerized, I watched as Jayzee unbuttoned Adamo’s jeans and pulled out a

breathtaking length of dark cock. Rolling foreskin between his fingers, Jayzee coaxed the
bartender’s dick to full attention. Running fingers down the shaft, the busboy combed through
the curly bush to cup the bartender’s balls and roll them on his palm. Adamo groaned. His
plum-colored cock head peeked out past the retreating foreskin. Jayzee dropped down, taking
the head in his mouth. Amazed, I held my breath as he swallowed the entire length, finally
burying his nose in the black pubes.

Adamo gripped the back of the busboy’s head and began to fuck Jayzee’s throat,

gaining rhythm and speed. With one hand tugging Adamo’s nuts, Jayzee used the other to
pull out his own cock. His meat, cut and blue-veined, bobbed free, rising immediately. Wiping
pre-come on his palm, Jayzee stroked the length of his hard-on, all the while his lips and
tongue working Adamo’s cock.

Trapped in my slacks, my dick swelled uncomfortably. Adjusting my half-hard cock, I

forced myself to breathe, not wanting to gasp and betray myself. Nervous, but unable to look
away, I gripped my erection through the fabric of my pants. I had never considered myself a
voyeur—I wasn’t even that big on porn—but watching excited me.

Suddenly a hand closed over my mouth. Axel’s voice whispered, “Enchanting, aren’t

they?” I caught my breath, unsure of his intentions. “They’ve got you turned on.” His other
hand landed atop mine, pressing my hand harder against my groin. Electric tingles shot up my
arm. “Can I help you with that?”

I nodded against Axel’s hand as his cock pushed against my hip. Rather than

releasing me, he pulled my head to the side and ran his lips along my neck. His breath tickled,
sending shivers down my spine. The shivers met the tingles and sparks exploded in my chest.
My heart raced, hammering against my ribs.

Axel’s tongue traced a burning cold line along my collarbone as he undid my belt and

pants. His mouth never left my skin. Keeping one hand over my mouth, he pulled me back
against him, supporting my weight as his left hand grasped my throbbing cock.

“Watch them. Imagine you’re there.”
By now I was more aroused by Axel’s control than by Jayzee and Adamo’s show.

Usually I’m in charge, but Axel’s sure dominance gave me little choice. The enforced
submission fired my cock. My pulse beat in my ears, competing in intensity with my panting
breaths.

Axel stroked me, moving down across my balls and between my legs. My cock

twitched, sending spasms through my abs. Rubbing up, his fingers traced the edge of the
corona. My dick was so hard it ached. Faster and faster he stroked. Tension built in my gut.
All the while he nuzzled me, licking and nipping at my neck.

Orgasm washed over me, exploding outward from my groin. My body shook as Axel

held me even closer.

“Yeah,” he cooed. “Come for me.”
Semen coated his fingers as he drained me. I slumped against him; releasing my jaw,

he caught me under the shoulders.

“Shit!” I whispered. “That was hot!”
Axel steadied me. “Not as hot as you, Ryan.” Licking his fingers, he grinned, moving

away. “I’ve wanted to taste your sauce since I first saw you.”

Redressing, I followed after. “And?”
“I want more.”
“I’d go for more too.” I reached for him, turning his face so his gaze met mine. “You

always take charge like that?”

“Why? Did you like it?”
My face grew warm. “Well…yeah.”
Axel grabbed my neck and whispered, “Good.” He pulled me close.
Our lips met, wet and hot; our tongues dueled.
I surrendered.

###

About the Author

After moving several times about the country and Europe, C.C. Williams currently resides in
the Southwestern United States with his partner JT. When not critiquing cooking or dance
show contestants, he is at work on several writing projects.

A finalist in numerous writing contests, C.C. has had his work appear in such collections as
Brief Encounters, Frat Boys, and the forthcoming Best Gay Romance 2012.

He invites you to find out more at

ccwilliamsonline.net

.

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