Bishop: A True Lover's Story

“I only listen because it gives me a goddamn break from Netflix all the time. We don’t have cable, and video games get boring, so…”

“I get it.” Trent nodded.

He really did wish Sicilia had some mystery, or science fiction, or something. Listening to some of those love scenes were a bit much for a man who hadn’t had any in almost six years. Shit. Bishop closed his eyes and drank one of his bottles of water in one go. The second one, he let the last quarter of it run down his hot throat and into his collar. He was suddenly feeling warmer than before.

“There’s a Barnes & Noble up that block.” Trent pointed. “Next to the Bed, Bath place.”

“I saw it,” Bishop murmured, opening another cold bottle of water. He leaned forward where he sat on the soft ground and dumped half of that one over his skull, then put his hat back on.

“You should go over there and pick out your own,” Trent said matter-of-factly, then stood to leave. “I gotta call Sil.”

Bishop balled up his other coveralls and stuffed it under his head while he stretched out to relax for the last thirty minutes of his lunch break. The thought of going into that high-end bookstore didn’t appeal to him. He wasn’t sure he could even find what he was looking for without having to ask for help. He hated doing that. With his dark shades on he stared up at the tall Town Center office building and wondered what it was like to go to a place like that for work.

~

Edison

Edison took another bite of his Nature’s Own honey wheat granola bar, feeling proud that he’d pushed C9 on the vending machine and not C15 for the Snickers. He’d been standing at his window staring down at the landscaping crew for the past forty-five minutes, even though his lunch had been over ten minutes ago. He just couldn’t pry himself away. Edison hadn’t seen Bishop at all on the grounds, not that he was stalking him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to glance out of his window from time to time and enjoy the view. It was a nice view he had.

Bishop had decided to eat his lunch on the south lawn where Edison had an unobstructed view of Bishop dumping ice cold water all over his sun-kissed skin. He believed Bishop was a white man, but he was so tanned, Edison couldn’t be sure if that was from his job or if he was mixed race. Bishop’s hair was a simple buzz cut of shorn black strands with a tight trim framing his stern forehead, and a full beard of stubble. Edison yanked another bite of his snack and chewed. Bishop had climbed out of his navy-blue overalls and tucked them under him while he napped in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. From just a few stories up, Edison could just make out the definition in Bishop’s arms and stomach that he was sure he got naturally. All that hauling and mowing and lifting was bound to keep a man in shape. Such good shape.

Edison was practically drooling. Bishop cocked one leg up and let it fall to the side and Edison damn near pressed his forehead to the cool glass to see if that was indeed an imprint of… Oh, this is so bad, not to mention immature. You have to stop. Edison groaned as his cock rebelled and stiffened to the point where he couldn’t ignore it. Oh gosh. Bishop draped one arm over his forehead and the other across his chest, tucking his hand into his pit. Against his better judgment, Edison’s other hand, that wasn’t fisting an empty granola wrapper, inched towards his zipper. He wouldn’t dare pull his dick out in the office, but he couldn’t resist giving it a few firm presses to ease the throb.

He wondered what it’d be like for a big man like that to hold him against the wall and take what he wanted from him. A big man who wouldn’t have a problem with his size because with arms like those he could probably bench press him. Edison moaned faintly, bearing down on his swollen cock. It looked obscene, shoved against his smooth slacks. He licked his bottom lip when he thought of how the water had cascaded down Bishop’s long throat.

“Edison!”

The two rapid taps on the door before his secretary stuck her head in and blurted his name made him jump so hard, he banged his head against the window. His hand flew away from his dick and up to his face. Crap! “Mila,” Edison huffed, trying to get his mind to stop spinning. He felt so danggone busted. Like when his pop had caught him jerking off to a Blake Shelton video when he was sixteen. He half turned so she wouldn’t see what was still quite visible. “You should be courteous and wait until I say come in, please.”