Page 2 of Out of Order
“New Canton House, can you send someone round to help get me out… Please?” Maybe pleading might work better, like mom always said,‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’
“Sorry buddy, it’s just me here and I can’t leave the desk just in case there’s an emergency,” Mr. Vague and rather annoying said. “This is a damn emergency.” I yelled. “Everyone has gone home. I’m here alone. Trapped in the elevator, you have to get me out!” To hell with trying to be calm. Clearly, this guy was not understanding plain English.
“No can do. Sorry I can’t leave the guard station, but I’ll radio the fella on patrol and ask him to stop by.”
“How long before he gets here?” I asked, feeling a small spark of hope.
“Well, I don’t know. They don’t run on a schedule. Might be a while before he gets to your building.”
Was this guy for real? After all this time, I was no closer to getting out of here. My finger ached, my feet too. I removed my aching finger from the button and slumped to the floor. The only good thing to have come out of that entire conversation was it was a good distraction. My bladder was telling me I really should have gone to the men’s room before stepping into the elevator. But home was only a 10-minute drive away. I could have held it till I got there. But now with the prospect of being stuck here for what could be hours. What the hell am I going to do? The thought of tying a knot in it flitted across my mind.
Niall
Bending down, I pulled out the steel pin and moved it a notch lower, increasing the weight level on the bench press. I’d had one hell of a day and needed to burn off my frustration by pushing myself in the gym. Having had a meeting earlier with one of the senior partners where I’d had to explain the budget. Why I’d requested an increase and why it was necessary for the company’s latest development.
They just didn’t seem to grasp the fact that using so much steel in the construction when there was a shortage would push the price up and cause delays. But that was the problem with Mr. Williams and his bean counting and not being an architect.
I could hear William’s voice grating in my head. “We need to think about the bottom line–always.” The old man leaned forward in his chair as he said, “We do not design buildings to win awards, Mr. McBride. We build them to make money. Do try to remember that when you change the plans.”
Odious little man, how would he know what design was -he was living in a bland, mediocre world. You could tell that by his office. It was laid out with cheap leatherette seats and beige walls. The office was so basic and impersonal you’d have thought it was unoccupied most of the time.
Moving into position on the bench press, I started the first rep of three before moving on to the treadmill. I still had the rowing machine. Then, if I still had any energy left, I’d finish up with my usual 500 sit-ups. It was exhausting, but it was paying off. I was in the best shape of my life.
It wasn’t just the endorphin rush I got when working out that I loved. It was how focusing on something far removed from work helped free my mind. Sort of a gym Zen thing.
Before long, thoughts of Williams slipped away. I forgot about my friend Geoff’s comment about my not having time to meet ‘someone’ because I was always in the gym.
Heck, now I am back to thinking about it. I’d wanted a quick coffee break between clients and site meetings we had. Geoff had once again asked if I’d gotten laid, or should he set me up again with a date or two?
“You know, I think the only way I’d get you to sit down and talk to anyone on your own would be to lock you in the same room. Not let you out till you asked him or her out or at the very least had a phone number.” My so-called friend said, smirking.
Well, what the hell did Geoff know? The man was a ‘player’ and that wasn’t my style. I like Geoff, I truly do, but I really didn’t want to know about his latest conquest, or which new girl had caught his eye.
It was a wonder how he’d made a career at anything other than being a gigolo.
Ugh! Enough. I pushed that thought out of my mind too, deciding to attack the leg curl instead. Not that I needed to. My legs were as hard as marble, with not one ounce of fat on them, or on any part of me. I looked after myself, or tried to. Yes, I was well muscled, but not so much that I bulged. Sure, I had broad shoulders, a narrow-waist and as for my ass, well, that was as firm as an unripe peach.
Just a few reps more. Then I’d head home, take a shower and grab something out of the freezer and watch the latest episode of RuPaul’s drag race. I loved watching the outrageous queens trying to outshine each other. Some of their antics were down right hilarious, and some of them were seriously drool worthy. So much that my dick perked up and took more than a little notice.
If I was being honest with myself, I just wanted to sit and ogle the cute, petite queen with the bedroom eyes.
Yep, I should probably go home now. Even though I was the only one left in the building basement gym. I didn’t want to have an enormous erection for the entire ride home.
CHAPTER TWO
Luca
Rummaging through my two bags, I found a squished granola bar and a half-drunk bottle of water. I’d taken to sitting on my feet with my dick squeezed between my thighs to ease the building pressure on my bladder. I’d given up trying to stand up and, to be honest, the longer I waited for rescue, the more my feet ached. These boots make my ass look amazing and boost my height, but they weren’t made for comfort.
Well, at least I wouldn’t starve or die of thirst, but then again, how am I going to resolve my increasing need to pee?
Huh, maybe I should drink the water, then try to use the bottle? Yuck, it was like camping or going to a music festival–reduced to peeing in a bottle! Seriously, there are just some things that a guy shouldn’t be forced to do… and that was definitely one of them.
Just where in the fucking hell was that damn security guard? It had been at least 45 minutes since I’d spoken to him. Had he clocked off and forgotten to mention that I was stuck there? Should I try ringing the alarm button again, hoping someone else would answer and they’d actually send help this time? That would involve standing up and having to clamp my knees tight, cross my legs and do what my brother had called my ‘Pee shuffle’.
My brother Enzo had a lot of fun teasing me when I was desperate to use the toilet. By blocking my way, to make me wait or try to get into the bathroom first. He liked to make splashing sounds to make me think of the ocean. He found it oh so funny when I did a jig, desperately trying to hold it in while I waited.The BASTARD.
What’s more, Enzo would have had no problem or qualms about pissing in a damn bottle! Fuck! Yeah, he’d even gone to the frigging Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. It was a lot like the UK’s Glastonbury, but without the Arthurian legend vibe and the cows. Enzo had boasted about peeing in an old fabric softener bottle to save hunting out the toilets in the middle of the night. Seriously, hygiene was not high on his priorities. He was a typical guy like that. He’d just whip it out anywhere and pee behind a tree.
