DECEPTION CHAPTER 9

DETECTIVE ROSCOE*

The sound of the station was minimized to a low murmur. Most of the other detectives had long gone after dumping the file on his laps. Detective Roscoe had drawn the shortest straw and was dumped with the case of the mysteriously run over John Doe.

Already the case looked like it would be a pain in the butt, a lot of the facts didn't add up. 

The man probably in his 50’s, was run down by a car as evident by tire tracks on his chest and face and apparently backed over again.

Yeah someone had wanted this man dead and the multiple identities found on him were not in the system; criminal or any other data base the police used to identify random individuals, anyone with a criminal record or public record for that matter.

The identities belonged to ghosts, this man was anything but.

Roscoe sighed and used his palms to rub his eyes. If only the unsub turned out to be some famous person. Maybe his work would finally be appreciated and better yet recognized.

He twirled the pencil in his hand and imagined it. The cheers of his colleagues, the well done s and pats in the back. He imagined the chief shaking his hand and immediately the dream died a swift death. 

After several request for promotion had been turned down and younger or less experienced people were picked over him. Roscoe wondered if the chief had a particular issue with him but he couldn't muster the courage to ask.

 Detective Roscoe looked at the calender on his black work desk.

Next month would make it his twenty-fifth year on the force. If they, meaning Chief Marks couldn’t acknowledge his efforts, he was better off somewhere else.

His chair creaked loudly as He leaned back and kept on waiting for the fingerprints result to come in, feeling morose and with the storm brewing outside he could just imagine better ways he could have spent his Friday night.

 The ping of the computer brought him out of his thought and he looked at the name and picture on his screen with alarm. This was going to be worse than a pain in the butt, this was going to be a nightmare. He quickly printed out the search result and added it to the file on the John Doe.

 He had to catch his boss before he left the building.

THE CHIEF OF POLICE*

Chief Marks Isle was heading out of the exit when he heard his name, 

“sir!”

He turned around and watched Roscoe jog towards him. With each step, his plumb over weight body wiggled like jello. Chief Marks was disgusted, he hated to see people especially officers who refused to keep in shape.

“Chief Marks! He shouted again.

“Yes, yes that’s my name don’t wear it out”. He replied crossly

“I’m sorry sir” he said breathlessly, “but you’ve got to see this”. Roscoe waved the file in his hand.

“Quit waving it around and give it to me” he plucked the brow file from Roscoe's fingers.

"Good grief!” he exclaimed after a brief glance. “Are you sure?”

“Yes sir”, Roscoe replied “100 per cent affirmative sir, the victim is_was the current Prime Minister of Bulivia”.

“What a nightmare” chief marks sighed deeply. He turned around and walked back towards his office. It was quite obvious that he won’t be able to meet his wife for their date night and he was already in the doghouse.

“Betsy send a dozen white roses to my wife at the four seasons with my apologies again then get me the commissioner and the DA’s office” he called out to his secretary as he passed her desk.

He opened his office and walked in, his mind on possible theories why the very well-guarded prime minister of Bulivia would be found dead in one of the most notorious neighborhoods of Chicago.

Just this morning he had been interviewed on air about his much celebrated visit to Chicago, politics in Bulivia and his close relationship with the Narusian family on E! How the heck did he get from the red carpet to the red light district?!

Chief Marks dropped into his chair with a huff. He could just imagine the PR nightmare. The whole world would be watching his every move. This situation could make or break his career and future aspirations to be the next commissioner. Darn it!

He looked up and noticed that detective Roscoe had followed him but was hovering around his door.

“Yes, detective can I help you?”

“Ahh...no...Yes... I was wondering if I could do anything for you sir” he mumbled.

Chief Marks looked at him slack jawed. The prime minister of a foreign country had just died in their district, under their watch, run down like a homeless old man and this excuse of a detective stood in front of him and asked if there was anything he could do?

“Yes Roscoe, you can do something for me” he said sarcastically, “You can get the hell out of my office and go tell the lab to hurry up with the results of the evidence bagged at the scene. We need to go over the entire evidence again, we have a murder to solve”

Roscoe stepped back from the door, his boss’s disapproval was quite obvious and it made him shrink into himself. “Right away sir” he said timidly and waddled away.

Chief Marks groaned, he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh to the other man but Roscoe obviously needed a firm hand. If he could help indeed.

Betsy knocked on the open door "the commissioner on line one sir"

"Good, thank you. Now please get those sloths back to the station. There is an emergency meeting in 30mins".

He turned away from her in dismissal and picked up the landlines on his chocolate colored mahogany desk.

LMAO! HOW TO KISS A**

This chat happened this morning between me and an awesome new friend I met online today. I came across his work while stalking* (clears throat)..err..checking up on my friends activities on Facebook.

 

     ***********

Lovegoodhead: hi

Artloverno.1: hello

Lovegoodhead: I saw your pictures in my friend Trixie's profile page.  They are amazing.

Artloverno.1: thanks a lot. I think I know her .

Lovegoodhead: aiit. Do you read novels?

Artloverno.1: yea..I do. Sometimes.

Lovegoodhead: cool, I love to read and write. I have an account on wattpad and I would like you to check out the app so that you can have an idea of the favor I'm about to ask.

Artloverno.1: huh..OK. I used to read a lot before but school load has reduced my free time. I really don't have that luxury for now.

Lovegoodhead: ok..well then. You might not have time to do the stuff for me then.

Artloverno.1: can't be entirely sure. What's the favor?

Lovegoodhead: I wanted you to make a cover for my story.

Artloverno.1: cover art?

Lovegoodhead: I guess.  One of your pictures I liked and commented on inspired my request.

Artloverno.1: really?..not sure I got the notification. Will check again.

Artloverno.1: can't see it. When was this? What's the title of the

 picture?

Lovegoodhead: I can't remember but it's a picture of a virtual woman standing under the rays of the sun.

Lovegoodhead: or something*.

Artloverno.1: Oooo..I see * THE REBIRTH?#

Lovegoodhead: yup. That's it. I would like a cover like that with the book title and my name.

Artloverno.1: is this a job proposal?

Lovegoodhead: umm.. not a job per se. This is why I wanted you to check out the app or website. www.wattpad.com.

Artloverno.1: Well..is this urgent?

Lovegoodhead: Nope. Not urgent at all.i could wait for a trillion years if you like :D

Lovegoodhead: whether you decide to do this for me or not, your work is really great and you have a fan right here.

Lovegoodhead: it would be nice though if you check out the story before you decide.

Artloverno.1: wow!..I'm honored. You won't have to wait too long. Though reading it asap isn't a promise I can make. My work load is crazy at the moment but I definitely will.

Artloverno.1 : is your story the only one there?

Lovegoodhead : Nope there are LOTS! .

Artloverno.1 : lemme understand.. This art your asking for..is it for the entire page or a single story?

Lovegoodhead : hmm..OK.(how do i explain this) it's just like a book. It needs a cover. It's got one now..*made it myself (and is quite crappy if I must confess).

Artloverno.1 : Oooo..OK. I think I get it now.

Lovegoodhead : yup.. That's why I want you to check it out. Then you'll have an idea of what I want.

Artloverno.1 : OK dear. Will check it out.

Lovegoodhead : no worries. I can wait.

Lovegoodhead : the more striking your cover art is,  the more people want to check out the story. The more people who check it out, the more readers and fans I get and the more fans I have the sooner I take over the world!.. (*in Brain"s voice)

Artloverno.1 : O.o ..hmm. OooK. But you have to wait. Thesis work is so crazy at the moment.

Lovegoodhead : no problems.. my plans to TOTALLY DOMINATE THE WORLD can wait.

Artloverno.1 : lmao! lol..you're very funny.

Lovegoodhead : nah. I'm just roping you in. (Cheshire smile).

Artloverno.1 : lol. I will be sure to check it out and let you know. I'm actually quite busy right now. Doing multiple stuff while chatting with you.

Artloverno.1 : yeah that reminds me.. here's my Facebook art page, it's separate from my personal profile. *(withheld for obvious reasons)

Lovegoodhead : yay! More awesome pictures! Don't fear if your screen feels wet or slimy. That's my saliva. (*drool!). I'm off to slobber on some great pictures.

Artloverno.1 : lol. Thanks for the support. You sound like an art enthusiast.

Lovegoodhead : lol..I guess. I love cartoons, anime and manga. But I should never be told to draw at gunpoint or there will be bloodshed.

Artloverno.1 : hahaha..why?!

Lovegoodhead : that gift is definitely not in my genes.

Artloverno.1 : naa. I think it's there. If you love art, you have it inside.

Lovegoodhead : but can't make it except I write or cook it,RIGHT....

Artloverno.1 : yeah. That too.They are all connected.

Lovegoodhead : wow! We've spent hours chatting. I just read right through from the top. It's quite interesting. Do you mind if I share it?

Artloverno.1 : share it how?

Lovegoodhead : i mean.. I would like to make a short story of it. Please say yes..!

Artloverno.1 : I'm kind of a private person. Well..provided that it's not connected to me, I guess it shouldn't be a problem.

Lovegoodhead : yes!..(thank you, thank you, thank you) don't fear. It will have none of your personal information. There will be no mention of your ancestors, generation or your self.

Artloverno.1 : lol..OK. I have to go. It's been nice chatting with you.

Lovegoodhead : yes it has..*big hug* just lemme know when ever you do check it out. My user name is the same and the story is titled *DECEPTION (LGBT).

Artloverno.1: alright I will. :D *hugs*

Lovegoodhead: and thanks for listening to me ramble. Bye.

Artloverno.1 :  lol.. twas really nice meeting you. Have a lovely day. Bye.

**************

Author's Note.
 Yeah..so very soon I'm gonna get a new awesome cover for my story free (chuckles) and I made an interesting friend. (Yay!)

DECEPTION CHAPTER 2

The words, "Mum..Dad, I am gay, i'm .. homosexual" rushed out of his mouth.

He heaved a sigh of relief, a heavy weight dropped off his shoulders.

After all these years, he was finally able to come out to his parents. Maybe because they were in a place where he couldn't hear their opinion.

He placed the calla lilies he had brought by their tomb stones. Even in death, they were together just as they had lived.

His parents had been childhood sweethearts that had gotten married and his childhood was spent watching them express their love for each other every day until their fatal accident 4 years ago.

Their relationship had made him hunger for that kind of love. The only difference was he hungered for that kind of relationship with a man.

Whether people saw it as an abomination or a crime he didn't really care. It was the way he was wired.

He looked at the remains of his parents one last time. After what he's about to do what he had decided to do, he wasn't sure if he would live to visit them again.

"I'm so sorry mum, dad..I know you wanted something else for me but I can't change who I am or Who i fall in love with. I'm going to try and stop them. I won't let them ruin your good work. I'm so sorry that am the instrument they're using to tar the family", he said as he stood up dusted of his trousers and made his way to the car.

"Did you do it? ", Katie asked immediately the door opened and he slid into the seat opposite her.

He nodded still chocked up with emotions from the visit with his parents.

"Good boy. Now we tell the rest of the world Prince Harrison", she smirked and sipped some more of his pricey cognac, the wrinkles on her face like deep grooves, transformed the little smile into something sinister.

"Imagine the number of broken hearts every where", she chortled. "Things are about to become very entertaining and I have been bored for so long" she said, her cold grey eyes bored into his, daring him to respond.

He stared back at her, waiting patiently for her next move. His lack of expression frustrated her and he knew it. Someone had once said "revenge is best served cold".

One of his royal bodyguards closed the limo as the others got into the cars in front and behind him, ready to leave. None of them had any clue of the conflict within.

He didn't really need them to protect himself. It was a close guarded secret that He had been in the army and served two tours. His enemies had no idea who they were messing with.

He fingered the gun in his seat's partition,it was loaded with two bullets. One was reserved for this vicious old woman and the other for his dear wife.

********
A/N (author's note)

This is chapter 2, an excerpt from my most current and an on going story. Go to my profile on wattpad if you're interested in reading more of it. @lovegoodhead on www.wattpad.com . Thanks.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOVE

I have a stalker, nope not that kind of stalker with crazy $h*t and death threats (though in my opinion this chic is just as crazy). This type of stalker just follows you about the internet liking all your pictures and comments. My very own fan girl.

Most stalkers have a shrine of your pictures at some hidden alter, well i can tell you that her shrine isn't hidden at all and all the pictures are framed, hanging out in the sitting room.

From my first burp (smile), to last weeks surprise shot during dinner(where i looked like Alvin's long lost cousin), all my embarassing moments are set on display for the world to see.

Yes, you understand me now. My mum, My stalker. I'm bloody sure am not the only son with a single mum out there but sometimes it seems like i drew the shortest straw.

It wasn't always like this, all my life up until my sixteenth birthday we were the best of pals and then every thing crumbled when i found out that she had lied to me all along.

To find out that the dad i had always wanted, cried for when i was younger was actually an inconsiderate jerk who dumped her when he found out she was pregnant (from listening to a phone coversation i had no business hearing in the first place), Is alot to take in.

My mum and i used to be able to talk about anything, girls, relationships, friendship, school even her job as a lawyer and cases shes dealth with, she had always been straight up with me.

My friends call me 'mama's boy' but i have never been bothered by it. So why did she feel like she couldn't talk to me? Did she think that i couldn't  handle the truth? What ever, right now she doesn't even know i know the truth.

So for the last two months, i have been giving her the shoulder (i really do hate being lied to) , spending more time at the basket ball court with my guys, or just hanging out with Ben and Cesear, my best friends. When i'm at home i text them or girls who want to hook up, my phone has become my constant companion and she detests it.

Yup, she's one of those mums with the technology rules and i know it kind of irritates her to not be able to talk to me about stuff especially when she comes back late and excited about something that probably happened at the firm, maybe this situation would push her out there so she can make friends and start dating again.

Do you have any idea how lame it is when your mum is the first person to comment or like your status? No? Well i wish i didn't too, I guess this is her way of irritating me.

At first i didn't notice because she didn't use her real name.She used 'hotmamaforever' (who does that?!). I gradually began to see her footsteps just behind mine on the internet, Like an ominious cloud, she followed me every where.

From face book to twitter, my space, nimbuzz, whatsapp, she's a member and my follower on all my social networks (this is a crime? right?)

The good thing is i can't be bullied by my friends about it, my school also has a zero bullying tolerance (she made sure) besides appearance is enough to discourage the idea. All these years of football and basket ball paid off (*kissing my guns).

The guys don't even mind, they think it's funny, they love checking out her pictures, in their minds she's a milf (the first and last person that mentioned it to my face ended up in intensive care unit at the hospital).

It really is the worst day on earth when it's saturday and it's raining, all the plans for the weekend made over the week just goes down the drain and you are stuck home with your parents.

Tired of my self exhile to the room, i came into the sitting room with earbuds on and sat on the sofa beside her. An episode of supernatural is on the tv but she's not watching it, she's doing something with her phone (stalking me probably).

"Jude.. baby, i had no idea".

I look up at her and she has tears running down her face.

"baby", she says, "i had no idea, am so sorry i would have told you. I just didn't want you to think that no one wanted you. I wanted you enough for both of us".

Ooh yes, she follows and fans me on watt pad and blogger too, how could i forget.

Ok, so maybe i didn't forget and writing a rant about how i felt was just what the shrink ordered, the only way this cold war would end. Obviously she read it.

Now she's coming to give me a hug, like when i was five and she said a kiss and a hug would make the pain go away. Am not sure about this but am going to let her try. I have kinda missed them.

*After lots of hugs, kisses and apologies (from both the guilty and rude parties), i'm back upstairs in my room waiting for dinner where she has promised to tell me the truth, all of it. She thinks i want to have a relationship with the jerk, damn right i do. My fist badly wants to meet his face.

Minus her stalking, she's really the best parent any one could have, i'm proud of her and i'm not ashamed to say. "I love you mum".

FRIENDZONED BY DARWIZLE

A SONG

Looking out through the window,
The sight of you and your man having a fight again hurts my eyes.

Wonder why you love him,
don't understand
but i know that love is a feelin and not a game.

I'm seated here
I'm thinking and wishing
That i could give you the love that you've been missing

Be the one to take care of you
Serve, love and always protect you
Be that superman that'll fly down and always come to your rescue

You're still with him because he's got the money
To get you all the fine diamonds and nice jewellery
Amma try my best to let you see
That true love will come if you believe.

When i see you with your face down,
no one needs to tell me that damn.. you've been crying.

Obviously true love is blind, but there's a possibility for all to see,
he's not even trying.

It hurts so bad when i see you wear a frown
You're a queen, you deserve to wear a crown.

When i look at you and see the sadness on your face
I think of nothing else to do than to wait.

Wondering if i'ld ever have a chance to hold ur hands
Wondering if i'ld ever have the chance to be your man.

Girl let me be your man
No mistakes
No amends
'Cos girl i'm tired of being a friend.

You're still with him because he's got the money
To get you all the fine diamonds and nice jewellery
Amma try my best to let you see
That true love will come if you believe.

MARY'S STORY

    This is a story of a very stupid and naive girl who ran away from home to the big city thinking to make big waves. She falls into the hands of a married couple and they take her in. Our girl marveled at their generosity, gave away her trust. She told them her life story and how no one would come searching for her. A crippled father, an over worked mother and a small farm in the middle of nowhere.

       Now lets call her Mary for clarity's sake. Mary moved in with the couple and began to work as a maid to earn her keep. She was assigned to clean the mistress' bedroom and that's where the story starts.

         After a month of working there, things began to disappear.  First a gold ring then the madame's favourite jimmy choos. Now these items were easily replaceable as the couple was richer than midas but for some reason the wife refused to let them go and requested for a thorough search of the house and premises.

      All the six bedrooms were searched and still no shoes or ring. Our girl then became vocal about possible reasons why the items vanished.
Quickly suspicion bounced around and the servants were just as quick to deny. A solution was offered, everyone and their properties were to be searched.

       Other than Mary, there were three other maids one of whom had a disabled son, the driver and a gate man. The search progressed to the staff quarters, moving from room to room. Still no luck.

        Mary's room was the last searched .The couple entered her small room alone as usual, there lo and behold poorly hidden in her bag, were the elusive items.

     Quickly,  Mary decried all knowledge of how the missing items came into her possession, She said she was innocent and had been set up. No one believed her. The other servants shook their heads and walked away. There was nothing else to see.

       The couple looked down at her in disgust as she cried and pleaded. Mary cried till blood came out of her eyes and begged them not to arrest her or toss her out as they had threaten to do to the culprit. She had no where to go, she cried. She said in desperation she would do anything; swear an oath even. The couple laughed and mocked her.

      They reminded her that she had left her village far behind. That in the city, things were done differently. The guilty were punished severely for their crimes.

     Part ii

       After a short while of watching Mary moan and plead, the wife had heard enough. She scolded her and told her to put her self together. She said that she won't be tossed out or arrested but she would be punished. Mary hugged the madame's knees in gratitude.
She kicked her away and told her to pack up her things. She was to move to the big house.

      Quickly, Mary complied and followed the madame away from the small room in the servant quarters that had been her home and yet bigger than the room she had had at home.what was the worst punishment? She asked herself, at least she would have food and shelter. If only she knew, the idiot would have run screaming back to the little village she came from.

Part iii

     Her new accommodation was quite a step up from the tiny room. Her current room was on the same floor as her bosses'.

     All day she was nervously anticipating her punishment locked away in the room. When the clock stroked nine, she gave up the struggle with sleep. In dreamland, she never heard her doorlock click and the door creak open. Time for Her punishment had finally come.

      The husband with a lecherous grin, caressed her full breasts. His large rough hands roamed over her flesh as he undressed her. Stupid Mary slept on. His actions a mere distraction, like a fly or mosquito.

       Sleep was brutally ripped from her eyes when he climbed on her. Her eyes opened to see his ugly mug looming closely over hers. She screamed and he laughed , she struggled but he easily subdued her with his beefy hands. Her slight frame quivered in fear.

His white teeth glimed in his black face with triumph, he had her where he wanted her.

"Please master", she begged.

"Just shut up you little thief and take your punishment", he said.

As usual tears weren't far from her eyes.

"Scream.. yell if you want, there's no one here to save you".

        As With most young girls from calabar and it's neighbouring states in Nigeria, their bodies matured from an early age. Mary's figure was delightful and her boss couldn't wait to plough that field.

        Her 'punishment' continued for a month otherwise she lived a life of luxury. No chores, no errands and all the television she desired locked in her padded prison. One day, the madam came with a strange man.

"Remove your gown and lie on the bed", she said "the doctor wants to check you".

"But madam, am not sick", she said.

Smack! The madam slapped her cheek,"filthy whore! Shut up and do as you'er told"

"Madam please", the doctor grabbed her hand,"she might be in a delicate situation"

Delicate situation? Mary was puzzled and hurried to obey. Was it a disease?

     The man poked and prodded her for some time before he turned to her boss's wife with a nod.
The madame's face became sour. Why? she thought to her self bitterly, did people who deserved to have children fruitlessly search for them while the hungry, deprived and wretched people reproduced like rats? she led him out of the room while Mary looked after them in confusion. Our girl had lived a sheltered life. Such euphemisms were greek to her.

Part iv

      The prison sentence was lifted, she was allowed to roam around the house and compound. It was on one of such treks past the kitchen that she heard a whispered conversation. She stopped to listen compelled by curiosity.

      Thus she learned that the deformed child wasn't really Sarah's but the madam's and because of his imperfection, she rejected him and warned them all to secrecy.

      The sad truth was that the little rejected boy,  joseph was their third attempt and all the others had ended as miscarriages. As a test of her love, the wife, Anita decided to play along with his nefarious plans. He was desperate for an heir, a perfect heir to carry on the Marshal name.  They found their golden goose in Mary. Sweet, innocent, naive Mary.

         As time progressed and her 'disease' pregnancy became obvious, Anita's attitude towards her changed while her husband, Oscar became more affectionate. He bought her jewelry, gave her back and foot rubs despite her protests.

       The more attention he paid to Mary, the bigger the green monster grew in Anita, her madame. It made her reckless with her taunts and one day, Oscar overheard her. This earned her the beating of her life and worsened Mary's situation as he would leave for work, leaving her in Anita's capable and envious hands.

        Matters came to a head when the couple had another fight where words and accusations were tossed around. Mary finally got to understand that her 'beloved' bosses weren't so kind. That it wasn't out of the goodness of their hearts they had taken her in. The knowledge of their intentions gave wings to her feet.

       That night, Mary took only the jewelry she had so graciously collected from her boss, leaving every other thing behind, crept down the stairs, out of the house and to the compound gate, all the while fearful that some one would see her and raise alarm. That night luck was on her side, the gateman snored at his post, drooling like a sloth. The same way she ran away from home so did she run from the bosses from hell, bearing their 5  months old cargo. The money from the jewelry would last for a while. The cost of living in her village was quite low.

      Our formerly stupid and now wiser Mary made a beeline for that little farm in nowhere. Apology and reconcilation in her near future. As for her bosses, she couldn't care less what ever happened to them. She prayed her patents would for give her and accept the innocent unborn infant.
 

A DARING WOMAN'S GAME by Anonymous

I woke up alone. We'd only been together for a few months, but I found I could miss him rather quickly in the cold dark of night. He was becoming a writer, possessing a kind of violent brilliant that stunned me every time I read one of his pieces. Seeing him put such astonishing thoughts on paper seemed incredible, like some sort of magic.
He worked at night, when the mood or the inspiration struck him, and he slipped from my bed to answer the urge to create magnificent things about dragons and sorcerers and elves. I usually lay in bed while he worked, listening to the quiet clicking of the keys as he wrote. Then I would welcome him back into my bed when the words had gone dry and he fell exhausted against the pillow.

Tonight I was restless, full of dark and brooding energy. I stepped from the bed and went to the window, looked out over the snarling city toward the smug, fattened moon. I folded my arms across my chest, enjoying the smooth satin of my short nightgown as it shifted against my cool skin, shivering a little as the lace at the edges of the low cut neck nipped at my arms and pressed against my breasts.
Tonight I missed him badly. We'd both been busy at our day jobs, hadn't really spent all that much time together in almost a week. I watched the traffic in the street under the window, wanting him badly, the channel between my thighs aching for him. I slid my hand slowly over the slick, creamy satin and cupped myself, pressed my palm against my vulva until I could feel the solidity of my pubic bone behind the soft flesh, feet the heat of my need burning me through the cloth. I cupped and squeezed my left breast with my other hand, pinched the hardened, tingling nipple and tugged at it as he liked to do. I bit my lip, beginning to breathe hard, almost desperate for him now. To hell with his work, I wanted him, and badly.

I padded barefoot down the hall, and then paused for a moment inside the doorway to his office. He was a breathtaking sight, six feet of lean man hunched determinedly over a keyboard, his dark hair tousled and wearing only dark blue boxers and thin, silver rimmed glasses. I grinned to myself; seeing him in his glasses makes my mouth water, and he only wears them very seldom. I felt a quicksilver flash of mischief, a sudden urge to break his control and concentration, distract the hell out of him.

I stepped silently across the carpet at his back, but I needn't have bothered to be quiet. He never notices anything when he's working, even me. I approached his chair, a really oversized wooden one with a hard back, and then slipped into it behind him, pressing myself against his back. He jumped, turned his head to the side.
"What-" he started.
I covered his mouth with my hand and leaned forward, bringing my mouth to his ear. "Don't mind me, baby, just go ahead with what you were doing."
He frowned, and then grasped my wrist, pulled my hand down gently. "I'll be done in a few minutes," he said, and smiled at me. "Then I'll come to bed."
I returned his smile, wrapping my arms around his chest. "I'll wait."
He nodded absently, already thinking about his book again. I smiled, watching him turn back to the screen and begin to type. I waited a moment, pressed against his back, breathing slowly and deeply, feeling his own chest expand and contract inside my embrace. I tucked my chin over his shoulder, watching his fingers on the keys. Then I slowly slid my hands down to the waistband of his boxers.

His breath caught, then returned to normal, either suspecting nothing, or too preoccupied to care. I ran the tip of my tongue up the center of the back of his neck, and smiled as I felt him shiver slightly. I slipped my hands into the fold of his shorts, and idly stroked his rapidly hardening cock with my thumbs. I heard his fingers stop on the keys for just a moment before the soft clicking began again. I wrapped a single finger around him, just under the head, squeezed slightly, moving the circle slightly up and down, ever so slowly. He shuddered against me. I grinned to myself, as he turned around lifted me up and took the stairs two at a time to our room.


this was written by a VERY shy friend and he begged me to not put up his name. pls vote, comment and prove to him that he has nothing to hide.