Deep Fire

The afternoon wind passed through the crowded street. The commercial district was packed with men in sweaty dress shirts and black suits - men of all ages leaving their jobs, talking loudly. Young men with huge egos and shiny shoes, and old men with dirty smiles and robust bellies.

The most powerful men were usually larger, with broad shoulders and solid necks. Their hands were big and warm, veined and heavy, smelling of coffee, cigarettes and traces of afternoon piss. Their arms and legs were succulent, emanating testosterone, and were used to dominate. Their torsos were prominent, strong and often out-of-shape, yet wide and intimidating. But most importantly, if you were a curious fellow, you would look down and notice a fat volume between their legs.

But there weren't just big, powerful men outside. They were followed by smaller men, weaker men - malleable young sons, waiting for approval, and defeated old fathers, trying to keep their wives. These men were shorter, slimmer and smoother. The hierarchy of men was never mentioned or discussed, but it was certainly there, imperceptible to starters, and ignored by experienced cynics. It was mostly a physical order, dictated by the stronger men, but some courage and masculine charisma were equally appreciated.

Among these men was Brian, an inexperienced twenty-two-year-old assistant in a media company. He was a short and slim guy, with brown hair and kind blue eyes. His father's friend, Robert, had decided to hire him as a friendly act. Brian wasn't that excited to work, but he felt he needed to please his father and prove that he was worth something.

The first few weeks at the office were tough. Brian's work consisted of miscellaneous activities, such as data entry, taking calls from affiliates and sponsors, organizing arrangements, and even making coffee. Robert, the boss, was a fairly intimidating man. He was around forty years old, with a tall and robust body, broad shoulders and piercing gray eyes. He had a commanding yet relaxed posture, and a deep, masculine voice that filled the entire room.

Brian remembered seeing that man throughout his adolescence, a few times every year, when his parents would visit Robert's farm during summer. Robert had a dominant energy wherever he went, but he wasn't necessarily arrogant - he was simply a man who learned to run a business from an early age, after inheriting his father's business. Brian had an image of him in his head - Robert walking around the farmhouse wearing a cowboy hat and a light, white shirt that accentuated his muscles, which were strong but never too defined. His big, tanned calves, were exposed by beige cargo shorts, and his veined feet stomped the hard ground in sandals. And a dirty smile on his bearded face, while his mysteriously sexy wife sat on his lap at sunset.

Brian quickly walked into the company building, in the late afternoon. When he entered the elevator, he saluted some colleagues that were leaving. The whole place closed around five, and few employees rarely worked overtime.

The elevator took him to the last floor, and its doors opened to the corridor of dark marble floors and large glass windows that encompassed the boss' room. Brian walked toward the main door, drying the sweat off his forehead, and entered the large office. The boss was sitting on his tall leather chair, behind the large desk filled with documents, speaking on the phone. He had one arm raised behind the back of his head, and his deep voice echoed in the room.

Brian walked to the desk and slowly placed the folder in front of Robert, and stood there, waiting until Robert finished the call.

The sunset could be seen through the large windows. Robert spent another five minutes on the phone, while Brian reflected on the fact that it was past five and his feet hurt inside his tight shoes. Finally, Robert put the phone down and stared at him.

"The contract," said Brian, pointing to the folder on the desk.

"Oh yes, thank you," replied Robert, quickly skimming through the papers. "I will take care of this later. I need you to stay and help me organize the next meeting with the board of directors."

"Sure, no problem," said Brian promptly. He didn't want to show any sign of tiredness around his boss.

"Great. Sit down," ordered Robert, nonchalantly. "We'll solve this as quickly as possible."

The process wasn't as quick as Robert had promised. For the next three hours, Brian took many orders and made a few mistakes, which seemed to irritate Robert, and the landscape outside was filled with darkness and sounds of traffic in the distance. Everyone had left at that point.

"We're almost done," said Robert, with a tired sigh. "Would you please make us some coffee?"

Brian stood up and walked out of the room. His back hurt, his feet were sore and he needed to piss, but he didn't want to show any sign of fatigue in front of Robert. He faced the coffee machine and took around fifteen minutes to prepare the coffee the way Robert liked - strong, with a light amount of sugar. He put the coffee in two mugs and took a deep breath.

When he entered the room again, Robert was on the phone, laughing and joking with a business partner. Brian offered one mug to Robert, but his hand felt suddenly weak and shaky, and he dropped the mug just before Robert could grab it. The coffee hit the table and splattered on Robert's torso and arms. The man jumped up and threw the phone on the other side of the table, and quickly removed his shirt.

"I'm so sorry," said Brian, filled with guilt.

Robert didn't answer. He simply used the clean part of his shirt to dry off his torso. Brian couldn't help but feel impressed by the strength and shape of his anatomy, with his muscular chest and tanned, hairy belly. Brian suddenly realized his boss could beat the shit out of him if he wanted to.

"It's okay. Just bring me a new coffee," said Robert, unfazed.

"Did you get burned?"

"Not really."

"I'm sorry... What about your shirt?"

"There's a shirt in my car," informed Robert, raising his hand when Brian turned around to leave. "But coffee first."

Brian stared at him like an idiot for a few seconds, then turned around again to get the coffee.

"Shit," he whispered in the corridor. Robert probably thought he was an idiot.

When he came back, his boss was sitting on his chair again, with his arms raised behind his head, showing his thick muscles and hairy armpits. He seemed to be relaxed, with his legs spread open, staring at the ceiling.

He grabbed the mug and took a sip, while looking at the distance outside.

"You're lucky I enjoy being shirtless," he said with a smirk on his bearded face, "otherwise you would be punished."

"I don't know what happened to my hand," said Brian.

"You got nervous. I have that effect on people," joked Robert.

"It's probably because I'm hungry."

Robert mumbled in agreement.

"But you're also kinda intimidating," admitted Brian, instantly regretting saying that.

"Really?" Robert stared at him with his stern gray eyes.

"I-I mean, you're a big guy," justified Brian, nodding at Robert's muscles.

Robert kept staring at him. He seemed to be thinking about something.

"We need to talk, Brian. Sit down," he said, abruptly.

Brian silently obeyed. Robert took a deep breath and put the mug down on the desk.

"Your father was excited to see you join the company, and you seem like an intelligent guy. I'm just not sure if this is the right place for you."

Brian didn't say anything. He feared that moment would eventually happen.

"You've made a few mistakes that could've cost me money, and I'm not impressed by the way you handle phone calls," Robert continued, his arms spread on the chair. "Don't get me wrong, I know you're trying really hard and I salute you for that, but you need to follow your own path."

"Please..." said Brian, "don't fire me yet. I will be better."

"That's not the point," said Robert. "I know you're trying, but I'm not sure if that's what you want to do in life. Your father told me you want to be an artist."

"That's just a hobby," explained Brian. "I want to be here. My father..." he paused.

"Your father, what?"

"He would hate me being fired... He really wants me to succeed."

Robert kept silent and crossed his arms. He seemed to reflect on what Brian had just said. His legs spread wider under the desk.

"You have to follow your dreams, Brian," he finally said, after a painful minute of silence. "You don't have the right skills to work here."

"I'm still learning. Please..."

"Brian, look me in the eye. You're staring at my arms," said Robert.

Brian's face suddenly burned with embarrassment when he noticed Robert was right. He was staring at his boss' arms and hairy pecs for several minutes. He tried looking Robert in the eye, but he couldn't sustain that magnetic gaze, instead looking at the window.

"What's the matter?" asked Robert, with a serious face.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't look me in the eye?" continued Robert, raising his voice a little.

Brian tried his best to stare at Robert's face, but didn't respond.

"Are you intimidated by me?" asked Robert. Brian suddenly noticed his boss' biceps were pulsing discretely.

"I'm not," replied Brian, but he sounded weak.

"Your body language says otherwise," noted Robert, still serious.

Brian suddenly became painfully aware of his weak posture, the way his spine was curved, his shoulders were forward, and the way he sat at the tip of the chair. He looked like a loser, in front of a confident older man, who comfortably sat on his chair, shirtless. Robert sat like a king in his castle, and Brian was a small little jest. He felt humiliated, and he hated the way his boss was looking at him, judging him.

"Are you a bitch boy?" asked Robert, showing a cold smirk.

"Excuse me?" Brian whispered in disbelief.

"Don't be shy. It's okay if you like my muscles," said Robert, raising his arm in the air and flexing his big bicep.

Brian stood up and quickly walked out of the room. He felt revolted and shocked, wanting to disappear from that building and never come back. He went home and took a hot shower that lasted a whole hour, while a few memories flashed through his brain, as he caressed his smooth, slim body with soap.

Later that night, he received a message from Robert.

"Brian, I want to apologize. Come back tomorrow so we can make an agreement."

He felt infuriated, yet relieved that the man at least had the decency to apologize. What would his father say if he saw the way Robert treated him? Robert was always so polite, yet so intimidating, but he had shown a different side of him that Brian wasn't expecting. Brian laid in bed and meditated about his options: going to work and trying to look Robert in the eye again, or never showing up again and ignoring him forever, or even suing him. He fell asleep with a faint image of strong biceps in his mind.

The morning sunlight hit the bedroom window and Brian woke up in a hurry. He got ready for work without much thought, only remembering what had happened last night in the middle of the road. He decided he wanted to know what Robert had to say.

It was a sunny Friday morning and the streets were crowded again. He parked the car and the company glass building stood tall in front of him, like a sacred monument. He got inside and didn't really say "hello" to anybody, fearing that they knew something, and the elevator took him straight to the last floor. He crossed the marble corridor thinking about Robert's muscles, which became an intrusive thought he couldn't get rid of.

"Oh, good morning, Brian," said Robert, raising his head from the desk. "Have a seat."

"Good morning," replied Brian, sitting down.

"I'm sorry for last night," apologized Robert, "I don't know what happened to me. I was tired and stressed out, and your insecurity made me angry."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Brian gave in.

"It's okay, no problem..."

"Great!" said Robert, smirking. "I want you to continue working for me."

"That's good news," said Brian.

"I want to continue training you, but I want you to be more relaxed and confident in my presence. There's no need for insecurity here."

"Sure. I will try my best."

Brian didn't know exactly why he accepted Robert's apology and the new terms so quickly, but it had something to do with his piercing eyes and superior demeanor. He couldn't picture himself saying "no" to a man like Robert. He looked great, wearing a black dress shirt that was partially open, exposing a bit of hairy chest. His arms bulged against the dark fabric. His fingers fidgeted a silver pen from one masculine hand to another. He looked at Robert's face again and the man smirked. Brian felt his penis grow inside his pants. What was happening to him?

"Good," said Robert, casually. "Make me some coffee."

"Yes, of course," replied Brian, standing up. He felt a fire inside of him - some kind of warm excitement.

That day was long and confusing. Robert seemed to be energetic and ready to tell Brian what to do, ordering him to make endless calls and talk with agents and partners, asking if he could organize boxes of archived documents, registering some infinite data about old sponsors, telling him to call an employee, or to move the furniture from one side to another, or to make more coffee, or to organize his desk... Brian felt overwhelmed and confused. Was Robert testing him?

The following week was equally tough and filled with extra work. Robert would make him walk around the building doing all sorts of tasks, and sometimes they would be insignificant things, like going to the parking lot and bringing something from Robert's car, or buying food from a store that was several blocks away. Sometimes the man would get anxious and tell Brian to man up or talk louder, but that just wasn't part of Brian's personality. He stayed past five almost every day, savoring what it felt like to be ordered around.

Another week passed by, and Brian started to get used to his new routine, and his boss' demanding attitude. He felt that he was being conditioned to work hard and act tough. He understood that Robert was doing it on purpose, which gave him a dark stoic feeling and the necessity to resist. Brian wanted to prove he could take it. That... and the deep fire he felt inside, when being commanded by that man. It felt good to obey Robert.

Sometimes, Brian would start daydreaming about Robert and his wife - she was a short, blonde lady with a sculpted waist and large hips; her eyes were dark-blue and she always seemed to have a mysterious smile, as if she knew about something. Images of Robert's big, muscular body enveloping her delicate frame, with his arms around her waist, would come up in Brian's mind and would distract him from his job. The strong, muscular back and manly glutes shaking as Robert pounded her, being on top of her, his legs spread wide open in a missionary position, and her soft legs wrapped around him. Brian could even hear the dirty sounds of Robert's heavy thighs clapping against hers.

"Brian, come here now," said Robert, through the speaker. Brian tried to hide his erection, and ran to Robert's room.

"Yes?"

"I need you to do me a favor. Remember that shirt you destroyed?" Robert's voice sounded threatening. He looked tense.

"Y-yes."

"I need you to buy me a new one, and take that opportunity and bring me some shoe polish. I'm going to a dinner this evening."

"Shoe polish?"

"Yes, are you deaf?"

"Sure. Right away..." replied Brian, heading to the exit.

He felt annoyed that Robert didn't even describe the type of shirt he wanted, or what store he preferred. Was he supposed to know everything? He got in the car and headed to the most expensive place where Robert was a client. He tried to remember the shirt the man wore on the day of the coffee accident, and decided to look for a similar one. Luckily, he found an effeminate clerk who was familiar with Robert's taste and pointed to an identical dress shirt. The clerk also knew about the shoe polish, and offered Brian a horsehair brush and a soft cloth as well.

The high price was annotated under Robert's name, without any questions. When Brian suggested he would take the items with him, the store insisted they should deliver the products themselves, but Brian explained it was urgent and took a few minutes to convince them.

It was getting late when Brian arrived at the company building. He called Robert on the phone, to ask whether he should bring the items or leave them in his car. Robert instructed him to put the shirt inside the car and bring everything else.

"There you are," said Robert, looking away from his computer on the desk and inspecting the shoe polish, the brush and the clean cloth. "Good job."

"At your service," replied Brian.

"Pull that chair over here," the boss pointed to the space in front of him.

Brian did what he was told.

"Sit down. I'm going to teach you how to polish my shoes," said Robert, casually.

"What?" asked Brian, looking around to see if anybody was watching. The building was empty.

"You heard me. This is something I want you to learn, because I might need to leave the office and go to an urgent meeting," explained Robert.

Brian sat down in front of Robert - the boss' chair was slightly taller - and the man unpacked the items and explained exactly what he wanted.

"First you dust off the shoes with the brush, with light buffs," he said, and then he raised his right leg and placed his big shoe on Brian's lap.

Brian stared at Robert to see if he was serious. The man's eyes were stern and penetrated his soul. Brian felt a weird tingle inside him, and he looked down and observed Robert's thick, heavy leg stretching his dark-gray pants, his dark socks underneath, and the large, black leather shoe resting on his lap.

Brian started using the brush to clean any visible dust, stretching his neck to inspect the top and the sides of the shoe.

"That's it. Brush every inch," said Robert, calmly. His arms rested on the chair. He seemed more relaxed.

"Like this?" asked Brian, applying some light force to the top of the leathery surface.

"A little stronger. Like that. Good job."

He brushed the shoe for another minute, until Robert moved it away and raised his other leg. This time, Brian couldn't help but look at his boss' crotch, where he could see a reasonable bulge.

"Now the other one. Clean it for me," commanded Robert. His voice sounded soothing yet demanding.

"Yes, boss," said Brian, meekly. He suddenly felt the weight of Robert's shoe get heavier on his lap, as the man became more comfortable.

Another few minutes passed, until Robert was satisfied.

"Time to polish," he said, taking his foot off Brian's lap. "I think you will be more comfortable on the floor."

"On the floor?"

"Get on your knees, Brian," explained Robert.

Brian looked around again. He was alone with Robert, being asked to get on his knees and do something unexpected. The warm, deep fire filled his body. He obeyed, moving his chair away and kneeling down, and then he looked up to the big, towering Robert in front of him, with his legs spread wide open.

Brian opened the product, as instructed, and applied it to the surface of Robert's right shoe, using the soft cloth to spread it around and start polishing.

"That's right," said Robert, raising his hands to the back of his head. He looked very dominant in that position. "You're a natural."

Brian's dick was rock-hard in his pants. He couldn't control himself anymore. Being so close to Robert's powerful body was highly erotic. He felt warmer, and his hands were slightly shaky. He polished Robert's big shoe for a while, and then switched to the left one, applying the same amount of dedication to each side.