The Chauffeur Chapter 1
Mr. John Reeves parked the car to drop off his employer, Mr. Crane at the corner next to his building. John, chauffeur to Mr. Crane for a little over a year, turned in his seat and rolled down the privacy screen. “How we doing Harold?”
Harold Crane pinched his lips together, “Fine, Mister Reeves can you get my door? Like a proper chauffeur.”
John smirked, “Come on Finch. There’s nobody here but us chickens. Your meeting might take all day, but we got here so early we might want to really use the car for something,” John’s voice dropped to a low purr, “nice”
Harold looked at John blankly and then blinked. John grinned and got out of the car. Instead of going to Harold's side he jumped in the back. Harold was startled, holding his briefcase up as if to fend off an attacker. John pulled the case away and placed it on the floorboard. He gathered Harold into his arms and nuzzled a side-burn. “Couldn't we maybe have Mr. Crane show up for the monthly progress report ruffled and obviously back from a sexual encounter?”
Harold was flustered, which happened every time John was so near. “It... it would be unprofessional to... to.” He trailed off as John captured his lips in a comforting and loving kiss.
Harold slid his hands between their bodies, flattening his hands on John’s chest intending to push him away. He couldn't help but feel the rapid beating of John’s heart beneath the palm of his hand. Instead of rebuffing John, Harold curled his fingers into the lapels of crisp black uniform shirt that Mr. Reeves wore, pulling him even closer.
John, sensing Harold’s resistance to his advances fading with those hands clenching tighter, stifled a groan and deepened the kiss. Harold’s whimper of need trembled against his employee’s mouth and belied his own words when they broke from the kiss to breathe. Harold gasped huskily, “Mr. Reeves, this…this...behavior is unacceptable.”
“Yes, Mr. Crane, you...are...right.” John resumed his worship of a side-burn while murmuring in Harold’s ear, “Since I assume I will be getting fired for sexual harassment, I might as well make my impending unemployment worthwhile.”
Ignoring Finch’s yelp of surprise, John cradled one arm around Harold’s back and slid the other under his lover’s knees. He scooped his boss onto his lap. Harold huffed out indignantly,”What...what are you doing? Are you out of your mind?”
John slid his arm from under Harold’s legs and moved it to join the other, embracing Harold and pulling them both back onto the seat. “I’m harassing you,” John teased, grinned and winked up at Crane’s heated face. “And yes, I am.”
John ran his hands seductively up Harold’s back, lightly caressed his neck. With fingers threading through the soft brown hair, he gently pulled a still huffy Mr. Crane to face him and lightly kiss.
Harold moved his hands that were trapped between their two bodies to make a half-hearted attempt at pushing himself up and away. However, his desire to kiss John back defeated all the pretense of being the incensed employer. “We can’t do this,” he feebly protested, then groaned, “John.’’ He moved his hands up to the sides of the other man’s face and firmly kissed him back.
The reminder tone blaring annoyingly from Crane’s cell phone interrupted them, finally putting an end to the increasingly intense and heavy petting going on between the two men in the back seat of a Lincoln Limo in broad daylight on a busy city street. It was John who reluctantly positioned Harold back on the seat beside him. John cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure, ”Mr. Crane, you are due for your meeting in thirty minutes.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Harold admitted regretfully, his voice still gravelly from his desire. Harold put his hand on John’s knee reassuredly, when he looked over and saw the startled look on the man’s face when John realized he might have gone too far. “You’re not getting fired,” He said and smiled his half smile at his chauffeur.
They spent the next ten minutes straightening up ruffled clothing, John buttoning up his uniform shirt undone by Harold's seeking hands at some point and combing mussed hair. When both men were presentable with no evidence of arousal, John opened the door to get out and walked around to Harold’s side, opening the door for him.
John had covertly look around for any prying eyes but the streets were still fairly empty for that time of morning and the few people he did see were hurriedly on their way to somewhere, too wrapped up with themselves to have taken time out to watch two men in a car. “No prying eyes,” he murmured to Harold as he helped his boss out of the car.
When Mr. Crane was out of the car and ready to walk into the building he instructed, “Mr. Reeves, be here at 4 pm sharp. I will not allow these meetings to last beyond that.” Crane limped away, his gold cane catching glints of sunshine and reflecting them into the eyes of several beefy young men leaving a bail bondsman's office.
The gentlemen in question had just posted bail. They looked to the Lincoln the old man left and saw the driver straighten his suit. The cripple and the driver both looked like they had been locking lips for some time.
The voices of Crane and Reeves carried to the men. Crane telling Reeves he would walk to the restaurant down the street when the chauffeur had inquired if Crane needed driven anywhere for lunch.
One of the men then consorted with his none too bright partners in crime that maybe the gimp might not make it to lunch and pretty boy might pay something to get his boss back.
~*~
The Chauffeur
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue