Talked to us? Who was I kidding? Griffin hadn’t really talked to us. All he said was quickly in passing. I felt as though I had been slighted by Griffin. I thought this party might have afforded me the chance to talk to him more. But he blew me off.
In front of me was the den that Malcolm had said Griffin would disappear to during his parties. As I fantasized about going behind the closed door of the den with Griffin, clicking heels lazily scraped along the beautiful hardwood floors, disrupting my thoughts. Annoyed, I turned my head to the left in the direction of the noise to see Yvette Hull wobbling along the hallway. My guess was that she was trying to make it to the bathroom to the right of me as gingerly as possible. I didn’t want to interact with anyone at the moment and walked into Griffin’s den.
Griffin’s den was furnished with heavy wood pieces, masculine brown leather seats, and University of Michigan memorabilia sporadically placed. His desk had a writing pad, a set of pens, and what looked like one of those wireless cell phone chargers. Near the window, two cigar brown leather seats were separated by a small circular table. Instantly, my mind ran with the fantasy of sitting there talking with Griffin about Michigan or their football team. I closed my eyes, and I felt my dick twitch, bringing my hard-on back to life.
I was deep in the fantasy of sitting across from Griffin by the window. Griffin laughed at something I said, followed by him kindly telling me that he was happy that I was here. He told me that he enjoyed spending time just with me and covered my knee with his strong hand.
Then, in an instant, my time alone with Griffin vanished, courtesy of those fucking heels of Yvette’s.
I hoped that I’d be able to regain the fantasy without too much effort, but I heard the heels again. This time, they were much closer. Frowning, I turned and was surprised to see that Yvette stood about six feet away from me inside the den, and the door was now partway closed.
“Good evening, Riley,” she drawled while wearing an awkward smile. She looked inebriated but tried to smile like a sober person. The result was almost embarrassing.
“Evening, Yvette,” I politely replied and nodded at her.
“Enjoying the party? It’s your first one.” Yvette sauntered toward me.
“Yes, thank you. Mr. Evans has an incredible home.” I didn’t move from my position near Griffin’s desk.
“Griff does have an incredible home, doesn’t he?”
Griff?
I nodded as she continued to advance toward me.
“You should sit in his big leather chair. Pretend you’re the boss. See how it feels.” Yvette slurred the word ‘feels’ so that it dragged out longer than necessary. “Go on, Riley. Sit on Griffin’s leather,” she encouraged louder.
Without a doubt, I wanted to sit in that chair of his. I smiled, rounded Griffin’s desk, and pulled the chair away from the desk. I’d never sat in a chair this comfortable in my life, and part, if not most of the thrill, was that it was Griffin’s. I leaned back in the chair and then smiled at Yvette.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Riley?” Yvette asked as she sat on the desk with her back to me. She laid back on the desk and then rolled over onto her stomach and let her arms dangle over toward me. Yvette grabbed the tops of my thighs as she reached for my fly. “I can make you feel just like the boss in this chair, Riley.”
I glanced in the direction of the door and then down at Yvette. Her breasts spilled out of the top of her dress as she lowered my zipper. I leaned my head back against Griffin’s chair when she pulled my aching cock out. She laughed arrogantly as if my hard-on had been because of her.
“Just imagine you’re the boss, Riley,” she slurred again before wrapping her mouth around my cock.
I’d just imagine that she was the boss. Yvette’s drunk mouth moved on my shaft, but then she’d pull her mouth away to make some comment about intern cocks. I kept trying to drown out her voice with Griffin’s voice in my mind. Then suddenly, I felt that we were no longer alone.
Slowly, I opened my eyes to find Griffin standing just inside the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. I moved the chair away from the desk to get Yvette’s mouth off of me, pushed my hard-on inside my pants, and then stood to zip myself up. With Griffin standing there, my cock only grew harder instead of reacting how it should having just been caught.
“Why’d you move away, Riley?” Yvette slurred.
Griffin cleared his throat and walked toward his desk that Yvette was sprawled out on. He had her attention now as she clumsily hurried to get herself upright.
“Mr. Evans!” Yvette dabbed at her chin and the corners of her mouth.
“Yvette, get back to your husband,” Griffin said firmly.
“Yes. Mr. Evans.”
Griffin sat in his chair as I awkwardly moved away from behind his desk. Even though this was a little slice of heaven to be alone with him in his home, possible consequences flooded my mind. The worst would be termination, but that was probably the most likely scenario.
He wasn’t saying anything; instead, he placed his thumb over what looked like a thumbprint reader on the corner of his desk. When I heard a mechanism unlock, he reached into his top drawer and pulled out a tattered leather notebook that had an elastic band holding it shut. With one of his expensive pens in hand, he opened the notebook, found the page that he had been looking for, and began to write. Griffin hadn’t dismissed me yet, so
