Date: January 29th, 2043, 10:51 PM
Location: Nova express, Job interview
Luca Hullo stepped out of the taxi and immediately felt the cold January air bite at his exposed thighs.
The short skirt he'd rented from that sketchy costume shop downtown barely covered anything, and the see-through black panties underneath were definitely doing more showing than hiding. His black crop top rode up just enough to flash the tramp stamp womb tattoo on his stomach, a bold choice he'd made at nineteen while drunk and emotional. Now it was his secret weapon, a little piece of art that made customers' eyes drop and their wallets open.
He adjusted his posture, arched his back just slightly to push his ass out, and walked toward the entrance of Nova Express. The building loomed above him, all glass and steel and expensive lighting that probably cost more than his entire student debt.
He needed this job. Badly. Two thousand dollars in the hole, a landlord who was getting impatient, and a stomach that had been surviving on instant noodles for the past three weeks. He needed to look rich to get rich. That was the plan. Dress like you belong, act like you own the place, and let the tips roll in.
The revolving doors swept him into the grand lobby, and Luca's breath caught for a second. The place was stunning. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like frozen waterfalls, casting warm golden light across marble floors so polished he could see his own reflection. The walls were lined with dark wood and gold trim, and the smell of expensive food and even more expensive perfume hung in the air like a promise. Femboy waiters in crisp tuxedos moved between tables with practiced grace, their massive asses swaying hypnotically with every step.
Luca smiled. He was right at home.
He found a spot near the hostess stand where he could watch the floor without being too obvious, and what he saw made his grin widen. Every single waiter on the floor was doing exactly what he would have done. They were working the customers, flirting shamelessly, using every weapon in their arsenal to squeeze every possible dollar out of the rich bastards sitting at those tables.
The first one he noticed was a shortstack with bright red hair, barely four foot eleven if he was lucky. He was built like a fire hydrant, thick arms and broad shoulders that made his narrow waist look even more dramatic. His tuxedo was tailored perfectly, the jacket straining just slightly across his biceps, the pants hugging the massive curve of his ass like they'd been painted on. He was working a table of three older men in expensive suits, and he was working them hard. (yall are sleeping on muscular shortstacks)
"Come on, gentlemen," the redhead purred, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. The move pushed his chest out and made his tuxedo jacket pull even tighter across his shoulders. "You're telling me you're gonna order the cheapest wine on the menu? For a special occasion like this? I thought you boys had taste." He winked, slow and deliberate, and one of the men actually blushed. "I'll tell you what. You let me pick the bottle, and I'll make sure you get a little something extra with your meal. A little... personal attention. The kind that doesn't show up on the bill."
The man on the left, a silver fox with a wedding ring and hungry eyes, leaned forward. "What kind of personal attention are we talking about, sweetheart?"
The redhead's grin turned sharp. He reached out and trailed one finger along the man's tie, slow and teasing. "The kind that has you coming back to this restaurant every single night just to see me. The kind that makes your Husband wonder why you're suddenly so interested in fine dining." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that Luca could still hear from across the room. "I'll suck your dick under the table while you eat your steak. Medium rare, just like you like it. And I won't stop until you've finished both your meal and have me for dessert." (TELL ME THIS ISNT PEAK WRITING?!?!)
The silver fox's mouth dropped open. His hand shot out and grabbed the waiter's hip, fingers digging into the plush curve of his ass through the tight tuxedo pants. "How much extra is that going to cost me?"
The redhead laughed, bright and loud. "For you? Free. Because you're gonna tip me so well after that I won't even need to charge for the blowjob." He straightened up and grabbed a wine list from the table next to them. "Now let me pick you something that'll make that steak taste even better. And remember, gentlemen, my name's not on the menu, but if you ask nicely, I'll still be on the menu for you."
The three men laughed, the tension broken, and the redhead sauntered off toward the bar with an extra sway in his hips that made his ass clap softly with every step. Luca watched him go with genuine admiration. That was talent. Pure, unfiltered talent.
The second waiter was a complete contrast. Tall, at least six foot two, with jet black hair that fell in straight curtains around a face mask that covered the lower half of his face. His eyes were dark and intense, lined with thick eyeliner that made them look even sharper. His tuxedo was fitted perfectly, emphasizing his height and the dramatic flare of his hips, and his presence was commanding in a way that made the customers around him sit up a little straighter. He was working a table of college freshmen, four of them, all of them clearly nervous and out of their depth in a place like this.
The goth waiter didn't even try to be subtle. He walked up to the table, placed his hands flat on the surface, and leaned forward until his face was inches from the nearest freshman's. "You look lost, little one," he said, his voice low and smooth, carrying an edge of dominance that made the freshman's cheeks flush bright red. "First time in a place like this? First time with a man who knows what he's doing?"
The freshman stammered, his eyes darting to his friends for support. They weren't helping. They were all staring at the waiter with identical expressions of terrified arousal. "I—I mean, we're just here for—for a celebration, I guess, we're not really—"
"You're not really sure what you want," the goth waiter interrupted, his voice dropping even lower. "That's fine. I can help you figure it out." He reached out and hooked one finger under the freshman's chin, tilting his face up. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to order the most expensive thing on the menu. You're going to tip me at least fifty percent. And then, if you're very, very good, I might let you follow me into the back and show you what a real man feels like."
The freshman's mouth opened and closed like a fish. His friends were all leaning forward now, completely captivated. One of them actually whimpered.
The goth waiter's eyes crinkled with amusement behind his mask. "Don't worry, little one. I'll be gentle. The first time, anyway." He straightened up and pulled out a notepad. "Now. What are we drinking?"
The third waiter was the complete opposite of both of them. Pink hair, pastel and soft, falling in gentle waves around a face that was all wide eyes and innocent smiles. He was wearing the same tuxedo as everyone else, but he'd accessorized it with a small pink bow tie and a little flower pin on his lapel. He moved through the restaurant with the grace of a newborn fawn, stumbling occasionally, knocking into chairs, dropping a spoon with a soft clatter that made him gasp and apologize profusely.
His table was a group of businessmen, older men with expensive watches and predatory smiles. The pink-haired waiter approached them with a tray of drinks, his hands trembling slightly, his eyes wide and innocent.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" he squeaked as he nearly dropped one of the glasses.
"I'm such a clutz, I can't believe I almost spilled it all over your nice suit!" He set the tray down carefully and pressed one hand to his chest, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. "You must think I'm so silly, tripping over my own feet like that. I just get so nervous around such distinguished gentlemen!"
The businessmen ate it up. One of them reached out and patted the waiter's hip, his hand sliding down to squeeze the curve of his ass through the tuxedo pants. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. You're adorable. We don't mind a little clumsiness from someone as cute as you."
The pink-haired waiter blinked up at him, his expression the picture of innocent confusion. "Cute? Oh, you're so kind! I don't really understand all that stuff, but I'm glad you think I'm nice!" He leaned forward to set down the drinks, and his ass brushed against the businessman's hand. The man squeezed harder, and the waiter let out a soft, breathy little gasp, still keeping that innocent look on his face. "Oh my, that tickles! I'm so sorry, I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"
He didn't stop moving, though. His hips kept swaying, his ass kept brushing against the man's hand, and when the businessman's fingers slid under his jacket and found the waistband of his pants, the pink-haired waiter just giggled and said, "You're so silly!"
The businessman laughed, his hand sliding lower, squeezing harder. "You're adorable, you know that? Absolutely adorable. I could just eat you up."
"Eat me up? Like, with a fork and knife? That doesn't sound very comfortable, sir. I don't think I'd like that very much. I'm not very tasty, I don't think. I taste like soap and sadness, probably." The pink-haired waiter's voice was so earnest, so completely bewildered, that the businessman burst out laughing and pulled out his wallet, handing over a crisp hundred-dollar bill.
"Here you go, sweetheart. For being so delightfully confused."
The pink-haired waiter took the bill with wide eyes, his cheeks flushing. "Oh my goodness, thank you, sir! That's so generous! I don't understand why you gave me this, but thank you! I'm going to buy my cat so many treats! He's going to be so happy! Thank you!" He bounced away, clutching the bill to his chest, his ass jiggling with every delighted step.
Luca watched all three of them and smiled a slow, knowing smile. They were all just like him. Masters of the game. Professionals at the art of the flirt. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they were all going to walk out of here tonight with fat tips and maybe a few phone numbers.
Luca straightened his crop top, adjusted his short skirt, and walked toward the manager's office with a confident sway in his hips. He was right at home.
---
Luca watched the three waiters work their magic for a few more minutes, his confidence growing with every passing second.
The shortstack had somehow convinced his table of businessmen to buy him three shots of top-shelf whiskey, the tall goth had a college freshman practically drooling and handing over his credit card, and the pink-haired innocent was now sitting on a customer's lap while pretending to be confused about why everyone kept trying to touch his ass. Luca smiled, a slow, knowing grin that stretched across his face. These were his people. This was his tribe. He was exactly where he belonged.
He pushed off from the wall where he'd been leaning and walked toward the tall goth, his hips swaying with practiced confidence. The goth noticed him approaching, his dark eyes flicking up and down Luca's body with obvious appreciation. Luca stopped a few feet away, his hands on his hips, his croptop riding up just enough to show the full tramp stamp tattoo.
"Hey there," Luca said, his voice dropping into that low, flirty register he'd perfected over years of practice. "I've got a job interview scheduled for eleven tonight. You know who does the interviewing around here?"
The tall goth's eyes crinkled above his facemask, a muffled chuckle escaping his lips. "Travis usually handled the interviews, but he quit three days ago. Couldn't handle the pressure. Said the customers were too demanding and the hours were too long. Total lightweight." He shook his head, his long black hair swaying with the motion. "Anyway, the district manager decided it was a good idea to put his nervous wreck of a son in charge of hiring. Kid's incapable of firing anyone, so he makes a perfect manager. Can't say no to anything. A total pushover."
He stepped closer, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. "He also makes a great toy, if you know what I mean. Real easy to manipulate. You could probably get him to do whatever you want with just a little bit of pressure." He reached out and patted Luca on the back, the gesture almost paternal. "Should be a walk in the park for someone like you, sweetheart. You've got that look. That hungry, ambitious look. I like it."
Luca grinned, his heart racing with excitement. "Thanks for the tip. I'll make sure to use it well."
The tall goth chuckled again and turned back to his table of college freshmen, already leaning in to whisper something that made the nearest one blush so hard his face looked like a tomato. Luca walked toward the back of the restaurant, following the signs that pointed toward the manager's office. The hallway was quieter back here, the muffled sounds of the dining room fading into a distant hum. He reached a door with a small plaque that read "Manager's Office" and pushed it open without knocking.
The room was small and cluttered, stacks of papers covering every available surface, a single desk lamp casting a warm pool of light across the chaos. And behind the desk, hunched over his phone with the intensity of a man trying to solve world hunger, was a twink. He was skinny, almost painfully so, his narrow shoulders hunched forward, his light brown hair falling over his eyes in a messy curtain that he kept pushing back with trembling fingers. He was wearing dolphin shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, the fabric riding up to show the pale skin of his upper legs, and a plain white t-shirt that hung loose on his slender frame. He was typing frantically on his phone, his brow furrowed, his lips moving silently as he read whatever was on the screen.
Luca cleared his throat. The twink startled so hard he nearly dropped his phone, his head snapping up, his eyes wide and panicked. He stared at Luca for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, before he finally managed to stammer out a greeting.
"O-oh! You're—you're here! For the interview! I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come in, I was just—I was texting my brother, he's having a crisis, his cat is sick, and I'm trying to help him find a vet that's open this late, but the one he usually goes to is closed, and the other one is too expensive, and I'm just—" He caught himself, his cheeks flushing bright red.
"I'm sorry, I'm rambling, that's so unprofessional, I should be asking you questions, not talking about my sister's cat. I'm Malcolm. I'm the manager here. Well, the interim manager. For now. I mean, I'm the manager, but I'm also the one who's supposed to be interviewing you, so I should probably start asking questions, right? That's what interviews are for. Questions. Lots of questions."
He was already shuffling through the stacks of papers on his desk, his hands shaking so badly he knocked over a cup of pens and had to scramble to pick them up. Luca watched the whole display with a slowly growing grin. This was going to be even easier than he'd hoped. Malcolm was a complete mess, a nervous wreck who could barely form a sentence without apologizing. The tall goth had been right. This was going to be a walk in the park.
Luca dropped into the chair across from the desk, crossing his legs in a way that made his short skirt ride up even higher. He leaned back, his arms folded behind his head, his entire posture radiating casual confidence. "Alright, Malcolm. Hit me with your best shot. I'm ready for anything you've got."
Malcolm finally found a sheet of paper that looked vaguely like a list of interview questions and clutched it like a lifeline. He cleared his throat, trying to sound professional, his voice cracking on the first word.
"O-okay! Okay, first question. Uh, what experience do you have in the service industry? Like, have you ever been a waiter before, or worked in a restaurant in any capacity, or—"
Luca leaned forward, his grin widening. "I've got plenty of experience with my hands. I'm really good at handling things, you know? I've got a gentle touch when I need to, but I can also be firm. Really firm. I know how to grip things so they don't slip away. I know how to stroke things until they're satisfied. I know how to make something small feel really, really big."
Malcolm blinked, his face going red. "I—I don't think that's—that's not really what I was asking—I meant like, actual work experience, not—not—"
Luca laughed, the sound light and teasing. "I'm just messing with you, Mal. You're so easy to fluster. It's adorable." He leaned back again, his eyes never leaving Malcolm's burning face. "But if you really want to know, I've done some work in a coffee shop. Small place. Learned how to handle a crowd. Learned how to keep people happy. Learned how to make people feel like they're the only person in the room." His voice dropped, turning low and suggestive. "I know how to make people feel special. I know how to make them feel like they're the center of my world, even if they're just another customer. It's a talent. A gift, really."
Malcolm swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. He looked down at his list of questions, his fingers trembling as he tried to focus on the next one. "O-okay, well, that's—that's good experience. That's really good. Uh, next question. How do you handle difficult customers? Like, if someone is being rude or demanding, how would you—"
Luca cut him off, his voice dripping with confidence. "I know how to handle difficult people. I know how to calm them down. I know how to make them forget why they were upset in the first place. Sometimes you just need to give them what they want, you know? Sometimes you need to give them a little extra. Something they didn't even know they were craving. I'm really good at reading people. I know exactly what they need before they even realize it themselves."
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face inches from Malcolm's. "I'm also really good at being patient. Really, really patient. I can wait for as long as it takes. I can be gentle. I can be soft. I can be everything you need me to be. All you have to do is ask."
Malcolm made a small, strangled sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan. He was gripping the paper so hard his knuckles were white, his eyes fixed on the questions like they held the secrets to the universe. "R-right, okay, that's—that's good. That's very good. Let me just—let me look at the next one. The next one is, uh, why do you want to work here specifically? Like, what draws you to Nova Express?"
Luca laughed, the sound low and knowing. "What draws me here? I think you know what draws me here, Mal." His eyes flicked down to the dolphin shorts, then back up to Malcolm's burning face. "I heard the staff here is really friendly. Really accommodating. I heard they go above and beyond for their coworkers. That's the kind of environment I want to be in. Somewhere supportive. Somewhere that encourages growth. Somewhere where people look out for each other."
He reached out and tapped the edge of Malcolm's paper, making the younger man flinch. "I also heard the uniforms are pretty comfortable. That's important in a high-paced environment, don't you think? You need to be able to move freely. You need to be able to bend and stretch without any restrictions."
Malcolm's face was so red now it looked like it might actually catch fire. He was stuttering so badly he could barely get the words out. "I—I don't—that's not—the uniforms are standard, they're just—I mean, they're tuxedos, they're not—not particularly minimal—I don't think—"
Luca grinned and leaned back, giving Malcolm a moment to compose himself.
The interview continued like that for another ten minutes, Luca answering every single question with a sexually blunt remark that made Malcolm squirm and stutter and hide behind his papers. What was your previous salary? "I'm willing to negotiate, Mal. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want."
How do you work under pressure? "I thrive under pressure, baby. I love being pushed to my limits. I love seeing how much I can take before I break."
What are your career goals? "My goal is to make sure everyone leaves satisfied. That's my only goal. That's all I've ever wanted."
Malcolm kept trying to steer the conversation back to professionalism, but Luca kept derailing it with teasing remarks and knowing grins. Finally, Malcolm asked another question, his voice barely above a whisper, but when he looked up from his papers, the chair across from the desk was empty.
"What—where did—" He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor, his eyes darting around the small office. "Luca? Hello? Did you—did you leave? Is the interview over? Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry if I did something wrong, I know I'm not very good at this, I'm not very good at anything really, I just—"
Something cold and wet pressed against his ankle. Malcolm looked down, his eyes widening, and there was Luca, grinning up at him from under the desk. His hands were already on the waistband of Malcolm's dolphin shorts, his fingers hooked into the fabric.
"Hey there, Mal," Luca purred, his voice low and dripping with promise. "I think I'm ready for the next phase of the interview."
He pulled the shorts down, the fabric sliding over Malcolm's pale thighs, the cool air hitting his exposed skin and making him shiver.
Luca reached up and flicked the hard outline of Malcolm's cock through the thin fabric of his briefs, a sharp little snap that made Malcolm jolt and let out a startled squeak.
"Awww," Luca cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "What's this? Barely two inches, huh? That's so cute, Mal. So, so cute. I almost feel bad for you. Almost."
Malcolm's face was burning so red it looked like it might actually catch fire. His voice came out in a strangled, stuttering mess. "I—I'm not—it's not—I mean, it's average for—for post-Vanishing standards, it's completely normal, I'm not—"
Luca laughed, the sound bright and teasing, and flicked the tip again through the fabric. "Shhhhh, you're so cute when you squirm, you know that? All flustered and defensive. It's adorable. I could just eat you up."
Luca let out a low, appreciative hum, his eyes fixed on the small length.
"Here's what's gonna happen, cutie," Luca said, his voice dropping into a low, commanding purr. "I'm gonna suck you off so hard you're gonna hire me. You're gonna give me the job, and you're gonna make my hours as little as possible. Kay? You're gonna be a good boy and do exactly what I say. Kay?"
Malcolm nodded frantically, his head bobbing up and down like a dashboard ornament, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kay. Kay. I'll do it. I'll hire you. I'll give you whatever hours you want. Just please—please—"
Luca leaned forward and pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip of Malcolm's cocklet. Malcolm let out a high, breathy whimper, his hips twitching forward involuntarily. Luca pulled back, grinning.
"Please what, Mal? Use your words. Tell me what you want."
"Please—please just—I need—I need you to—"
Luca didn't wait for him to finish. He opened his mouth wide and took the entire two inches down his throat in one smooth, practiced motion. Despite being a virgin, Luca had spent countless hours practicing on dildos of every size, watching hours of porn and studying every technique he could find.
He knew exactly how to move his tongue, exactly how to hollow his cheeks, exactly how to create the kind of suction that made men forget their own names. And he put all of that knowledge to use right now.
Malcolm's hands flew to Luca's head, his fingers tangling in the dark hair, his body convulsing as the sudden, overwhelming heat enveloped his cock. "OH—OH FUCK—LUCA—YOUR MOUTH—IT'S SO WARM—SO WET—HOW IS IT SO—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Luca bobbed his head up and down, his lips sealed tight around the small shaft, his tongue swirling and pressing and flicking against the sensitive underside.
He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing with the effort, the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working filling the small office. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK— the sounds were relentless, a constant, rhythmic symphony of suction and saliva that made Malcolm's knees buckle.
Luca pulled off for just a second, his lips shiny with spit, a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to the tip of Malcolm's cock. "You like that, Mal? You like getting your little cock sucked by a professional? I've been practicing for this, you know. I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to show off my skills. And you, my sweet little manager, are the lucky recipient."
He dove back down, taking Malcolm's cock all the way to the base, his tongue working the underside with rapid, eager strokes. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK— the sounds grew faster, wetter, more desperate as Luca picked up the pace.
His hand reached up and wrapped around the base of Malcolm's cock, stroking what his mouth couldn't cover, his fingers twisting and squeezing in perfect rhythm with the bobbing of his head.
Malcolm was a mess above him, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hips bucking forward uncontrollably, his hands fisted in Luca's hair. "AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—LUCA—I'M GONNA—I'M GONNA CUM—I CAN'T—I CAN'T HOLD IT—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Luca pulled off at the last second, his lips still wrapped around the tip, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive slit. "Not yet, Mal. We're not done yet. I want to make you cum at least five times before I let you go. That's the deal, remember? You're gonna be a good boy and take everything I give you."
He dove back down, swallowing Malcolm's cock to the base again, his hand stroking the shaft in quick, desperate pulls. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—the sounds were relentless, a constant barrage of wet suction and eager slurping that made Malcolm's head spin.
Luca's other hand snaked down between Malcolm's thighs, his fingers finding the tight, twitching hole hidden behind the smaller boy's balls. He pressed two fingers against the entrance, circling the rim with slow, teasing pressure before pushing inside.
Malcolm screamed, a high, broken sound that echoed through the small office. "AHHHH—YOUR FINGERS—LUCA—OH GOD HOLES—I CAN'T—I CAN'T HANDLE BOTH—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Luca's fingers pumped in and out of Malcolm's tight hole, curling and stroking, hitting that spot deep inside that made Malcolm's whole body convulse. At the same time, he took Malcolm's balls into his mouth, sucking them gently, rolling them over his tongue while his hand kept stroking the small, leaking cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a dual assault that pushed Malcolm right to the edge.
"I'M—I'M GONNA—AHHH—LUCA—PLEASE—LET ME CUM—PLEASE—I'LL DO ANYTHING—I'LL HIRE YOU—I'LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER HOURS YOU WANT—JUST PLEASE—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Luca pulled his mouth off Malcolm's balls and wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock again, sucking hard, his fingers still pumping in and out of the tight, fluttering hole. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—the sounds were frantic now, desperate, the wet rhythm of his mouth mixing with the obscene squelch of his fingers working Malcolm open.
Malcolm came with a shattered scream, his body convulsing, his cocklet pulsing in Luca's mouth as thick ropes of cum flooded his tongue. Luca swallowed every drop, his throat working, his lips never leaving the small shaft. GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—he kept sucking, kept stroking, kept fingering, pushing Malcolm through the aftershocks and straight into a second orgasm before the first one had even finished.
"AHHHH—AGAIN—I'M CUMMING AGAIN—LUCA—PLEASE—IT'S TOO MUCH—AHHH—AHHH—AHHH—!"
Luca didn't stop. He kept going, his mouth working tirelessly, his fingers relentless, his eyes fixed on Malcolm's face as the smaller boy fell apart above him. The third orgasm hit, then the fourth, each one weaker than the last but no less intense, Malcolm's body shuddering and twitching with every pulse of his spent cock.
Finally, Luca pulled off, his lips shiny and swollen, a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to the oversensitive tip. He looked up at Malcolm with a satisfied grin, his hand still resting on the smaller boy's thigh.
Malcolm was gone. Completely gone. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his mouth hanging open, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his lips. His body was limp, his legs barely holding him upright, his chest heaving with ragged, shallow breaths. He looked like he had been through a war and wasn't sure if he had won or lost.
Luca wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, smoothing down his short skirt and adjusting his croptop. He reached out and patted Malcolm's cheek gently, his voice soft and teasing.
"So, Mal. Am I hired?"
Malcolm's lips moved, but no sound came out at first. He blinked slowly, his eyes struggling to focus on Luca's face. Finally, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, he managed to get the words out. "You're... you're hired. You're hired. Please... please just... let me breathe..."
Luca grinned and pressed a soft kiss to Malcolm's forehead. "Good boy. See you Monday, Mal. Don't be late."
He turned and walked out of the office, leaving Malcolm slumped against the desk, his body trembling, his mind completely empty, his shorts and briefs still pooled around his ankles. Luca strode through the hallway and back into the main dining room, his hips swaying with every step, a satisfied smirk on his face.
The tall goth waiter was walking past, a tray balanced on one hand, and he shot Luca a knowing look. "How'd it go?"
Luca winked. "I got the job. And a little something extra."
The tall goth chuckled, shaking his head. "Atta boy. Told you it would be a walk in the park."
Luca laughed and headed for the exit, calling over his shoulder, "See y'all Monday!" The door swung shut behind him, and he stepped out into the cool night air, his heart light, his future bright, his new job secured in the most satisfying way possible.