After that, Richie noticed Toby more often. He saw him in passing once or twice a week. He’d see Toby getting off the elevator, or walking to the conference room, and they’d always smile and exchange glances. But it took a while for them to actually speak again. And that’s partly because Richie had been so preoccupied with more pressing matters that fall.
After the night Richie had been locked out of the office, Brad Lindsay started turning up in the most unlikely places. Richie would be pulling a mop and pail out of the men’s room and Brad would show up as he was leaving. Or they’d run into each other in the service elevator and Brad would use the excuse that the service elevator was faster and that’s why he was using it. Richie knew what Brad was doing; he wasn’t dumb; none of the guys in suits ever used the service elevator. It was as if Brad had Richie’s scent and he was on his tail. Once Brad actually followed Richie to the subway platform and pretended to bump into him by accident.
Richie had no doubts that Brad was following him; he trusted his instincts, especially with the married men who liked to keep it quiet. Richie knew how to throw out the bait and reel them in, too. He wasn’t exactly an amateur. Whenever he ran into Brad Lindsay, he always gazed into Brad’s eyes with an innocent expression and pretended he didn’t know what was happening. Sometimes he’d brush his fingers against Brad’s wrist on purpose. Once he even unbuckled his pants and pretended to tuck in his shirt while he was alone with Brad in the service elevator. They were between the second and first floor, heading down to the lobby. He pulled his pants down just low enough so that Brad could see the bulge in his white briefs, and then he tucked in his shirt and buckled them up again so fast poor Brad’s mouth hung open.
After a few weeks of these so-called accidental meetings, Brad finally cornered Richie in the men’s room. He followed Richie inside, checked to be sure they were alone, and then locked the door.
Richie knew what Brad was doing. He’d seen this coming for weeks. But he played dumb again, so that Brad would think he was in total control. “Nice day, isn’t it, Mr. Lindsay,” Richie said, as he pulled the mop out of the pail and ran it through a wringer. Then, as a tease, he groped his dick a few times, on purpose.
Brad crossed to where he was standing. He reached for Richie’s hand and said, “I have this place where we can meet up. Are you interested?”
Richie looked into his eyes and nodded yes. “Is it safe? I stay out of trouble and I never get mixed up in anything I shouldn’t.” There was no use in pretending. They’d been flirting with each other and leading up to this moment. But Richie wanted to get a few things clear up front. He’d been in situations like this before and he’d learned his lesson. His last job had been in maintenance in the mayor’s office at city hall. One of the most popular politicians in the city had approached Richie the same way Brad was approaching him now and they’d wound up getting caught in the act. The guy’s wife came home early from a long weekend in the country and she found Richie and her husband in bed, with Richie on top and the guy’s legs over his shoulders. She turned a blind eye to what her husband had done, but she ordered her husband to fire Richie from the best job he’d ever had.
Brad reached down and squeezed Richie’s ass a few times. He took a quick breath, rubbed his dick with his other hand, and said, “It’s the safest place in the city. It’s an apartment that belongs to a friend of mine not far from here. He lets me use it once in a while.”
Richie arched his back for a second, allowing Brad to get a good, long feel. He could almost smell Brad’s strong male hormones raging in the enclosed space. Brad had soft hands; they felt so good Richie wanted to strip down and get a little action right there in the bathroom. But he knew that wouldn’t have been safe, especially not in the middle of the day. So he stepped back and said, “Let me know when and where.” Then he reached for the mop and walked over to unlock the bathroom door.
* * * * A few days later, Brad followed Richie into the service elevator after lunch and handed him a small, folded slip of paper. He said, “Here’s the address. Can you meet me there this evening at six?”
This happened on a Wednesday, a night when Richie didn’t work late. He took the slip of paper, shoved it into his back pocket, and said, “I’ll be there. You’re sure it’s safe?”
“The guy who owns the apartment is a very good friend,” Brad said. “We can trust him completely.”
On the way over to the strange apartment that night, Richie had second thoughts. He hadn’t had time to shower and he was still wearing his work clothes. Though he would have liked to change, he wasn’t concerned about his outfit. This was the third time he’d gotten involved with a married guy. He’d told himself he’d never do this again. It led nowhere and left him empty and emotionless in the end. He almost stopped and turned back toward the subway.
The first time this happened with a married guy Richie thought he’d met the love of his life. This was back when he’d been filled with all the dreams of youth and didn’t think anything bad could ever happen to him. He’d been hired to work as a dishwasher at a small Italian restaurant on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx. and he’d wound up falling in love with the boss. He’d only been twenty-one at the time. His boss had been thirty-one, married for ten years, and had three kids. This guy promised Richie that he’d tell his wife, he’d get a divorce, and he and Richie would move away to California together and start a new life of their own. Richie believed him, every single word. Richie let this guy do things to him in bed he’d never let anyone do before. Richie had even gone to the library to research Los Angeles to find out where the best places to live were. And then the guy’s wife followed them to a small hotel on the Grand Concourse one night, with her brother, who happened to be a New York City police officer. And while Richie was on his knees, naked with his boss’s huge dick in his mouth, the wife’s cop brother broke the door down and he beat the hell out of them both. That ended Richie’s love affair, his perfect nose, and his career in the restaurant business.
The second time it happened had been with the politician at city hall. Richie had been twenty-three at the time. And now he was twenty-five and he should have known better then to repeat the same mistakes. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Brad Lindsay’s handsome face and his strong hands. When he was with Brad, something inside him ignited and he had trouble concentrating. Though he knew this was wrong because Brad was married, he rationalized it by comparing it to his own circumstances. Richie had once been engaged to a woman because he thought it had been the right thing to do. He was eighteen years old and still denying that he was attracted to other men. His family forced him to get engaged; they complained that he didn’t date women like his older bother and said it was time for him to get a girl. They also added that if he didn’t get a girlfriend people were going to start thinking he was a “fag” or a “goddamn fucking queer.”