Brad & the talking man.
A short story
Brad’s life has never been better.
The cfo at his place of employment committed suicide after being charged on multiple counts for embezzling money from the company. Sure there were some years where the employees were not given their annual raises or granted a review. But Brad had always soared amidst the chaos.
A week after the suicide, he was finally given the promotion he had always wanted, alongside the office x2 the size of his cubicle. Windows overseeing the open land that was beside the office parking lot, a huge painting that sat on top of a white keurig machine and two finely polished wooden chairs that seemed to predate the company itself.
As far as Brad was concerned, life was great.
His wife Morgan would finally be able to get the Volvo she had always wanted, and they could go somewhere else that was not his in-laws for thanksgiving. The plans and receipts had started to file themselves finely in Brads mind, nothing could get in his way.
The gym on thursday was not as busy. After work at 5pm, Brad drove to the gym, changed and planned to do a series of workouts he would only decide on, whilst on the treadmill. And today he walked with his head held high and led with his chest.
He was on the treadmill, categorising the bicep workouts for the day, when beside him another man got on the treadmill and started to walk. He was on a phone call, talking loudly, his dark skin glistening as sweat trailed down from his neck to his shoulders and down his bulging arms.
‘why talk so loudly in the gym’ Brad thought to himself ‘everyone’s here to workout and not be privy to your personal conversations’ he pondered as he walked to start his various sets. But midway through, anger had consumed him, how dare this random black dude be so carefree and loud in the gym.
And so Brad walked to the bathroom. He was going to give this guy a piece of his mind. The steam rolled out from the shower to the left. An iphone with neon headphones sat on the wooden bench, a string of gym clothes were loose at the bottom of the bench. The shorts were recognizable, belonging to the talking man.
Brad went to the urinal, thinking of what he would start his confrontation with, how he would let the talking man know that he should not be in here distracting everyone else’s personal time. He had started to dry his hands when the showers went off, the steam taking one last tour around the bathroom.
“i seen you’ve been staring” the talking man said, smiling at Brad. This was his chance.
“no man” Brad said “i-” he started, with the sentences he had decided on to start his confrontation. But he got distracted. Why had the talking man come out of the shower with no towel on?
Brad looked from the bulging chest to his large areolas, down to his thick stomach that managed to be full and carved at the same time. And then down to the thick black pubic hair that above the talking man’s penis that curved to the left. He looked back at the talking mans face and all he did was smile.
He walked back into the shower, motioning for Brad to follow. ‘maybe it’s better the conversation is in private’ Brad thought. His legs had made up their mind as he found them taking him directly into the shower, with the talking man.
“like what you see?” the talking man said, looking down at Brad. Brad was in shock as he saw that he himself had an erection. ‘not part of the plan’ Brad thought. But before he could make another thought he found himself on his knees, filling his mouth with the endowment of the talking man.
The next day, after Brad had started the transition at work, all he could think about was the unfinished conversation with the talking man. It was imperative that he find that man again and tell him the proper behaviour when in the gym.
And so, 5pm came again and Brad parked in his usual spot under the tiny shade from the trees in front of the vietnamese restaurant. He took a couple deep breaths as he knew he was headed to confront the talking man
This time, Brad already knew what he wanted to work on for his workout, the same way he had practiced how the conversation should go. ‘WILL GO’ he told himself. He bypassed the treadmills, walking straight to the showers, waiting instead for the talking man.
“i see you waited for me cutie” the talking man said. Smiling, cleaning the sweat off his face. He took off the neon headphones from around his neck and put them on the same bench as yesterday. Slowly he peeled off his clothes and left them in the puddle that they fell. Sweat trailing down to the start of his ass crack.
He did not look back at Brad once, instead he kept singing with no regard as to who might hear, who he might be disturbing. Brad busied himself as people kept coming in and out of the bathroom, until it was just himself and the talking man.
He walked slowly into the showers, the steam had not started yet. the talking man smirked, slapping the balls that laid underneath the curve of his penis. He turned around, lathering his buttocks with a bar soap, the buttocks that brad had held onto for dear life as the talking man emptied himself into his throat previously.
“As a matter of fact-” brad started, making sure that no-one else had walked in that would recognize his voice. He walked directly to the front of the talking man, sliding upwards from the soap that had started to bubble on his balls and up to his wet neck.
He for a few seconds had some trouble, trying to find the perfect grip, but as he found it, he made sure not to let go. Not until the talking man, seized to speak.
Brad washed the scratches of his hands and biceps, the struggling man had tried so many times at scratching and clawing at brad, as brad closed on his neck. He cleaned up, put on his gloves for his workout, left the shower running.
Brad worked out, and it had never felt better.