Page 2 of A LIttle Christmas: Samm
He finds himself in the lobby, asking at the front desk. The receptionist blinks at him with confusion. She looks around for a package and makes a note to ask the other receptionist when she comes back from lunch.
He goes back up to his office and finds the door ajar. Samuel isn’t at his desk. He isn’t in Bryan’s office. Bryan closes the door and sits back down. Nothing is out of place. The message from his inbox has been deleted. His mailbox trash is empty, too.
It doesn’t matter. He knows exactly what it said. It’s burned into his memory.
And he sent a copy to himself. Just in case. He doesn’t know the answer to ‘in case’ what? He’d just seen the email, read it through to himself once, taken a screenshot, and sent it to his phone.
Why he did such a foolish thing, he can’t imagine.
So the evidence of what Samuel did is almost gone. Except that a record of it will be on the servers. And Bryan knows it was sent. Samuel knows it was sent. Just because it’s deleted doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
An email comes through from Samuel saying he’s been “taken ill” and has had to go home for the day. It’s 3 PM, and Bryan needs to leave for his last meeting in fifteen minutes, so it isn’t a problem, but it isn’t the real reason Samuel is going home early for the day. The young man isn’t sick. It’s another lie.
More childishness.
His hands ache, and he realizes they’re clenched into fists, that crescent-shaped marks have been dug into his palms. Hetries to relax his body. Not just his hands but his jaw and his shoulders. He takes a few deep breaths and lets them out slowly. When was the last time he felt so angry? So disappointed?
Even, dare he think it, sad. He gets up from his desk and goes out to Samuel’s, looking at the picture he keeps framed there. Samuel, Bryan, and Bryan’s sister-in-law, Wendy, after the last company picnic. She gave it to Samuel for his birthday.
He looks like a boy in the picture. His hair is gold, a hint of copper in the right light. His pale cheeks are flushed with happiness. He looks like he barely needs to shave once a week. His bright blue eyes blaze from the frame, and Bryan’s breath catches in his chest as he stares at Samuel. It’s like he’s really seeing him for the first time.
I don’t know him, he thinks.
Which is disconcerting because he would say Samuel is one of the people he knows best in the world. Though that’s more a condemnation of his social life than actual closeness to his employee.
He goes back into his office and gathers his things, shuts down his computer, and feeds his fish since Samuel isn’t there to do it for him.
It is so difficult to train a new assistant. He’s become spoiled. Samuel was a once in a lifetime employee. His replacement won’t be as intuitive as Samuel. Samuel was responsive to his needs and anticipated them.
It was as if the young man spent every moment of his day thinking about ways to make Bryan’s day better.
As if nothing else was as important as pleasing Bryan and giving him everything he wanted.
Well.
Now he knows why Samuel was so devoted. The instinct that drove him. Because Samuel’s a gay, submissive boy who wants to have a Daddy he can be a good slut for.
And that was just the first paragraph! Who the hell is Ballbuster69, and why does Samuel want to spend a weekend with a man he’s never even met? Has he no sense of self-preservation? Truly, the things Samuel stated in that email— things he likes, is willing to do, what he wants and ‘needs’ from his male lover are so shocking his mind instinctively shies away from it.
Who wants such things? Why?
There’s no hope for it. He has to fire Samuel.
‘You’ve done good work, Samuel, at best I can fire you in the morning,’ he mutters to himself, with zero amusement at the aptness of the Princess Bride reference. It had been he and his brother’s favorite movie when they were kids.Which Samuel knows, because the two discussed it at the family picnic last year.
Bryan pushes the personal catastrophe to the back of his mind and tries to focus on the upcoming meeting.
Work.
That’s the only thing that really matters.
2
His last meeting of the day runs long, and Bryan stops to grab dinner and take it home. He eats at his kitchen counter and tries to read The Economist. Tries to pretend it’s a normal day for a little bit longer.
He can’t concentrate.
He picks up the phone and calls his brother. Also, a twin. Not identical but fraternal.
