Box Shaped Heart - 10. Let’s Make A Salad

Chapter Ten – Let’s Make A Salad

All right, at least he had managed to make the leather chair look decent after the online BDSM groups had supplied him with useful information on how to clean cum off leather. The best part was that he hadn’t needed to call Mark to the rescue, and a tissue and some rubbing alcohol that he had luckily found in the small vanity cabinet available in his office, had done the trick.

He dropped his head on his arms, as he knelt before the chair that had so silently accepted his semen tribute earlier, and allowed himself a long sigh. How was he going to face Aron? Why was this happening? Only because he was in Alex’s body? That was the quickest, easiest explanation.

The only silver lining in that kind of explanation was that Alex still loved his husband. That was good. Maybe Alex wasn’t that bent on cheating. Maybe he was just used to the attention. Maybe the guy was flirtatious by nature, and that made people think they were entitled to ask him about blowjobs and whatnot. For Aron’s sake, he hoped that was true.

And that was getting him off the hook. Only the thought of having done what he had just done with Aron should have made him feel sick to the stomach, like the homophobe he was. But the truth was that he didn’t feel sick. He didn’t feel anything.

Actually, if he was to be honest, that wasn’t exactly true. He felt like his bones were made for something mushy and loose, and it was like he wanted to doze off. There was something delicious, pouring smoothly like dark honey, right into his bloodstream. And all he wanted was to close his eyes and ...

Dream of Aron.

All right, he shook himself off and got to his feet. There was simply no point in indulging in that kind of thing. Aron was his best friend. Carter was straight.

Tomato is a fruit.

Oranges are sweet.

Let’s make a salad.

Good. He was back in charge of his own thoughts. No point in them wandering off to greener pastures. Those were beyond the horizon line, therefore uncharted territory. Luckily, his shepherd dogs were in top shape, and now all the silly sheep were back to the herd.

The steady knock on his door woke him up from his reverie. Good thing Mark hadn’t bothered him while he was still engaged in that hot session with Aron. He had a hunch Mark wouldn’t have judged him, but he was glad he had been spared the embarassment.

Well, not exactly, he realized when he opened his mouth to urge the secretary to come in. He needed to unlock the door. What if Mark was going to ask him why the door had been locked? What was he going to say?

The knock repeated, this time a bit more energetically. Oh, damn, he needed to face the situation as it was. He walked quickly to the door and opened it. Mark smiled at him, in that professional way of his, but still full of warmth.

“Simon from Marketing wants to see you, boss,” Mark spoke softly.

“Why didn’t you use the phone?” he asked, out of curiosity. He had noticed the landline phone among the first things on his desk, and now he was looking at its sibling, installed comfortably on Mark’s desk.

“I heard you locking the door earlier,” Mark said, his eyes wide open and innocent. “I just wanted to gain you some more time by just walking to your door and knocking.”

Gain some more time for me, Carter mused. Now he looked over Mark’s desk through the glass doors. Mark didn’t have the same luxury of privacy as he had. The secretary was practically working in a fish bowl.

He squinted as he examined the guy waiting in the hallway. How nice of Mark to keep the guest waiting there, Carter thought somewhat cheerfully. He recognized the swept back hair, the smart suit, and the attitude. The guy was seemingly examining some impressionist painting clone on the opposite wall, and he was standing with his back to Carter and Mark. By his position, he was crossing his arms over his chest in what probably looked like a disapproving gesture.

“All right, you can see him in,” he sighed.

He turned to walk back into his office, but stopped dead in his tracks. He was pretty sure the room must have smelt of sex right now, even if he had just jerked off.

“Mark, do you happen to have …” he turned towards his secretary.

Not that was professionalism right there. Mark placed the air freshener spray can in his hand and went back to his desk like that was completely natural and no explanations were needed.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Just send Simon in, in one minute or so.”

***

Maybe it was his imagination, but Simon looked at him like he was suspecting something. The guy was handsome, model beautiful, but Carter still could not shake off the sensation that there was something artificial about the guy. Like he was trying too hard.

“Have you gone under the knife?” he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

Simon dared to look affronted.

“What gave you that idea? What did you hear?” the guest asked, obviously distressed.

“What gave me that idea?” Carter snorted. “Your perfect nose. That thing cannot exist in real life.”

Simon brushed his nose with one hand, and shifted in his chair. As Carter began to smile, he straightened up, removing his hand from his face and pretending to clean some invisible lint off his lapel.

“Gosh, you’re even more obnoxious than usual. And I thought your little brush with death made you a better person. At least, that’s the gossip around here.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Carter bared his teeth in what he hoped looked very much like an insincere smile. Maybe the guy was going to take the hint and fuck off. “To what unpleasant reason do I owe this visit?”

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Simon threw him an equally fake smile.

The guy must have had his teeth done, too. Maybe they were fake. Nah, the guy was too young for that. But what did he know?

“Do you really need an answer to that? Look, man, I’m married. Whatever you think is going on here, it’s not,” Carter decided to put the cards on the table.

“That didn’t stop you before,” Simon looked at him, his eyes at half-mast, in what was probably a seductive stare.

It was. The guy was handsome, and he knew how to play that card well.

“Before was before,” Carter shrugged. “Now is now. Do you think you can find the door on your own, or do I need to show it to you?”

Simon raised his hands in surrender.

“Chill, Alex. I’m here just to invite you out to lunch. Stop and don’t protest just yet. Yolanda told me I need to show you the new materials for the organic line ads, and that you’re quite busy today.”

“Okay,” Carter said shortly. “See you at lunch, then. Don’t forget to bring those materials. If you come without them, I’ll kick your ass.”

Simon opened his mouth and, for a few seconds, he gaped like a fish. Carter could not stop thinking that this whole body swap thing was starting to be funny. Not funny like in he wanted to roll on the floor laughing, but enough to feel satisfaction while staring at Simon, across his lacquered desk that had probably cost several thousands of dollars.

“What’s gotten into you?” Simon accused, his eyes narrowing to slits. “It’s not like you to be crass.”

“What can I say, man?” Carter chuckled. “A little brush with death changes one’s vocabulary. Are you ready to leave, or do you still have some unanswered questions? I don’t have all day, you know?”

Simon tensed his jaw, but for a brief second. His perfect face metamorphosed back to straight, flawless lines, and he smiled.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” Simon spoke, his voice languorous and filled with promises.

Carter could swear the guy’s words were doig something funny to his ears. Ticklish. That was the word.

“Look, Simon. You’re a handsome dude. Just go bone someone who’s into you. I’m sure you have plenty of guys fighting over you.”

Simon leaned in and pouted like a child. Carter had no idea why the guy was working in the Marketing department. He clearly had it in him to pose for ads, just like Alex did. Simon was an expert in pushing buttons. But Carter was not that gullible.

“But I want you,” Simon complained. “And, you know,” his eyes darted sideways, “it’s not like, if you want to, I won’t let you do the … boning,” he added the last word with a grimace, seemingly a bit unsure of what he was saying.

“I can’t,” Carter replied sharply. “That seat’s taken. I’m boning my husband.”

The strangest thing about what followed was that he was just as surprised as Simon. What could have gotten into him to say that? Was it true? An image of Aron’s manly body stretched over the bed, ready to be taken, whatever that meant, flashed through his mind, with the power and speed of a short circuit. He swallowed nervously. Could Aron expect that from him? But the guy seemed bent on wanting to be the one on top. It was much easier with a straight relationship. At least, there, he knew who was the fucker, and who was, well, the … fuckee.

Great, now he had to go through the day trying to chase away images of Aron on the receiving end of a good shagging. Go away. Go away, you filthy thought, he struggled.

“You’re fucking Aron? You’ve never told me that,” Simon reproached, when he finally got his voice back.

“And why should I tell you I’m fucking my husband?” Carter shot back.

“Because you said to me that you’re a complete bottom and you don’t care about, well, boning anyone.”

Great, he groaned internally. Now he was going to ruin Alex’s reputation as the perfect passive partner. Ah, well, he could not care less.

On the upside, that was giving him hope. What if he was the one to jump Aron’s bones, not the other way around? How hard could that be? He had gone to town with several of his ex girlfriends, it was not like he didn’t know how to do it. Well, he was going to fuck a man, not a woman, but an ass was still an ass, if he was to be philosophical about it. And that was just going to solve his problem with not being ready to be the one to take it up the ass. Aron was the gay guy between them two. So he must have had at least more experience than him in that particular department.

“I must have lied to you,” he finally replied, seeing Simon still sitting there and watching him like Carter had just told him Santa Claus didn’t exist.

“I thought we had a connection,” Simon glared.

“You thought wrong,” Carter said back. “The only guy I’m having a connection with is my husband.”

Well, at least that was true. Aron was the most important guy in his life. Always had been. Even more important than his dad. But he was not going to go there right now. He had this hot potato, shaped like a male model, on his hands, and he needed to deal with him.

“Simon,” he sighed. “Just go fuck someone and forget about whatever … happened between us.”

“Damn, you’re serious,” Simon whispered. “You really don’t remember. But everyone said it was just a light injury, whatever you’ve been through.”

“Well, I don’t remember.”

Simon opened his mouth again, but this time, he closed it with a small smile.

“All right, Alex. I’ll come take you from the spa and then we’ll have lunch.”

What did it feel like Carter had to wait for the other shoe to drop? Simon stood up and leaned over Carter’s desk, to stare into his eyes.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Carter rolled his eyes. No wonder Alex was so entitled. People were just lining up to kiss his ass. That kind of thing could only inflate one’s ego to obnoxious levels, especially if there were people as beautiful as this Simon dude doing that.

“I’ll refresh your memory over lunch,” Simon walked quickly to the door and threw the last words over his shoulder.

He needed to protest to that, but the guy was already out the door. Great, now he was going to fend off the dude’s advances over lunch.

***

“The car is here, boss. At two, after your lunch break, Yolanda will take you for a spin with our newest clients. But I need to ask you, boss. Are you going to do the interview with New Entertainment? Yolanda insists,” Mark added quickly.

“Yes, I’ll do the damn interview,” he sighed. “It’s already settled. No need to work hard to convince me. Yolanda did that for you.”

“In that case, I will have to reschedule your barre class,” Mark said thoughtfully. “Will it be okay to put it Thursday? So that you don’t have to work so hard on Friday.”

“Barre? What the hell is that?”

“The ballet workout,” Mark replied promptly.

“Ah, then I would like to say never, but it’s not like I really have that option, now do I?” Carter commented wryly.

He could put up with having concealer hide his dark circles, and his hair washed and brushed until he was heaving, and meeting new clients, and fending off all kinds of creeps with a stick. He was even going to put up with the grooming stuff that he was supposed to go through. But he could have lived much much better without doing ballet.

“Boss, you’re so funny,” Mark giggled. “You love your barre workouts,” the guy added, with so much conviction that Carter wanted to strangle him. “People say that it makes you really flexible and supple. Is it true? I’m just the no workout kind of guy.”

Well, Alex clearly was able to self-suck just in case he was going to ever get stranded on a remote beach with only women and dolphins as companions. The perfect bottom Alex was could not flip, even in dire circumstances, Carter was convinced. So that barre thing clearly worked its magic. He just couldn’t picture himself in tights doing splits and spreads and whatever else those movements were called.

“Yeah, it’s true,” he said with a sigh. “So, really, you’re too skinny, Mark. Put some meat on those bones, or some wind might knock you over.”

“I only eat fast food,” Mark admitted plainly, while chewing on a pencil.

Carter glared at him.

“That’s bad for you,” he wagged his finger at his secretary. “Do you do any sports?”

Mark made a funny face.

“I’ll fire you if you don’t play sports,” Carter joked, and now Mark’s face went from funny to terrified. “Just pulling your leg. But you’re young, Mark, and you surely don’t want your liver to swim in fat by the time you’re 30. Let me tell you this secret: the only way to keep up with stuffing your face with hamburgers, is to sweat it off on the court.”

“And how do you know that, boss?”

Mark’s eyes seemed a bit strange as the guy spoke. Carter squinted. What kind of strange colors were in there? He blinked, and looked again; the guy’s eyes were just a normal shade of brown. He was just seeing things, and it wouldn’t have been the strangest thing that was happening to him right now.

“I just read it somewhere,” he waved, realizing that he was supposed to be against sweating, or something.

“Okay, boss,” Mark said cheerfully. “Have fun at the spa. Simon said he is going to take you to lunch. I will prepare the info you need to have for the meeting later. I will reschedule the barre class to Thursday, and talk to the host at New Entertainment to let him know you’re going.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Carter asked, putting on a straight face.

“What, boss?” Mark’s face fell.

Carter laughed.

“Nothing serious. Just take a break, too. Maybe eat something healthy at lunch. I have a reputation to uphold here,” he joked. “We’re like all organic and shit.”

Mark burst into a fit of giggles, and saw him to the door. Ah, so he was just going to relax at the spa for a few solid hours. Well, at least there were perks to being a fashion star.

***

What the fuck was this? He grunted for the umpteenth time as Gladys, as the name of his tormentor was, expertedly pulled another strip of clear wax off his chest.

“Come on, Alex, is not like you to be a cry baby,” the woman gave him what she probably thought was a reassuring smile.

“Easy for you to say,” he glared. “No one is skinning you alive.”

Gladys laughed, showing rows of perfect small white teeth. Her nickname should have been Jaws, the tiny version.

“You know it’s not that bad. You’re just anticipating the pain, that is why you’re so fussy about it. Admit it. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

Well, it was true. But she was basically stripping away his dignity as a guy. Never in his life had he considered shaving, except for his face, let alone waxing. This was a torture born in hell, as a price for beauty or something.

At least, the skin on his legs didn’t hurt as much. Although he had no idea how could that woman hunt the smallest hair on his body. He could have sworn Alex’s body was completely smooth before coming here. Well, according to his standards, at least.

“Great, now on your belly.”

Ah, she probably needed to do the back of his legs, too. He felt a slight change in the massage bed. Apparently, Gladys was adjusting it for some reason. Whatever, he was not there to question her abilities as a grooming expert, slash Torquemada.

“Let’s have this out of the way first,” Gladys said a bit cheerfully for his own liking.

He hated to have his back at her like this. Especially since she just expertedly untied the towel he had over his midsection and pulled it out, making him raise his hips a bit. Great, now a woman whom he had no plans to have sex with, was staring at his naked ass.

And what was that thing, a bit too warm, pouring over his ass crack?

“Eh, what are you doing?” he asked in an unsure voice.

“Just stay still and it will be over before it even starts,” Gladys said, her words followed by a short move.

“Mother fucking I swear to fucking hell what the fuck!” expletives poured out of his mouth without control, as the sudden pain hit.

Behind him, Gladys was laughing. Not ironically, but good-naturedly. It was official. Being in the fashion industry fucking sucked.

***

At least, the full body massage and the face treatment after had been nice enough to compensate about 0.0001% of the horrid experience he had been forced to go through. The only good part in all that was that he didn’t need another treatment like that for another month or so, according to Gladys. That wasn’t good news, as that demonic woman thought. It was just a reprieve.

Maybe until then he could be back to his own body, and rest peacefully in a comma. This was proving too much of a ride for him. To think that Alex enjoyed that kind of thing, he shook his head. The guy was just fucked up.

True to his word, Simon was waiting for him in the parking lot, leaning against a sports car that looked way too gaudy for his tastes. Who was the asshole trying to impress? Obviously, the idiot was pleased with his car and himself, as he pushed up his sunglasses and smiled at Carter.

“How was it? All baby smooth now?” Simon cooed as Carter walked over.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said through his teeth.

Great. So this asshole and probably the entire building where Alex worked knew he was getting his ass waxed today. Some people really had to rethink their lives, if they were interested in stupid stuff like that.

Simon just laughed and pulled open the car door on his side. Carter circled the vehicle and climbed in front, cursing Simon for driving a car with only two seats. With a huff, he pulled the safety belt and crossed it over his chest.

Something shadowed his field of view and it was too late when he realized what was happening. Simon was pressing him into his seat, and his lips were on Carter’s mouth.

The guy was too brash. Carter pursed his lips and pushed the guy away.

“What the hell, idiot?” he spat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Just trying to have you remember,” Simon spoke, looking somewhat wounded in his pride.

“You’re bullshitting me,” Carter mumbled. “Why would I be with you, when I have Aron at home?”

“Aron is cheating on you,” Simon ignited the engine, making it purr.

Well, that was a nice sound, Carter had to admit. But no, he was not going to get derailed by the sound of a nice car right now.

“He’s not!” Carter protested.

“He is!” Simon said back, his hands flexing on the wheel.

He almost felt tempted to challenge the guy to a stupid childish game.

“No shit,” he said aggressively. “So that is why I just feel the need to get on my knees for any cock in the company.”

“Well, it’s not like that. Actually, you were pretty cruel to tell Bernie you were going to suck him off for whatever he has to do for you. He really believed it, the poor shmuck,” Simon laughed.

“You were the one to say that everybody goes in and out my office like a public toilet,” Carter said defensively, this time.

“I was pissed at you for telling Bernie that. Plus, when I saw him getting out of your office, struggling to pull up his pants, I swear, Alex, I thought I was seeing red in front of my eyes.”

“Yeah, right,” Carter snorted. “You were cold as a shark when you came in.”

“Yeah, of course I was. I know well not to act jealous around you. You say you find it bothersome. Funny thing coming from a guy who’s perpetually jealous.”

Carter’s ears prickled with apprehension. What was this all about? Alex jealous? Why? Aron was not a cheater.

“The truth is you have been suspecting Aron for a while,” Simon continued his annoying chatter. “Only when he turned back from his last business trip, though, you were sure. You didn’t get to tell me why, but you were sure. You said you had some proof or something.”

Hmm, things were getting convoluted now. What was this proof Simon was talking about? Of course, the dude could just talk out of his ass.

“It’s not what I feel now,” he said stubbornly. “I love my husband and I would never cheat on him,” he said, hoping he sounded convincing enough.

“Well, you already cheated on him,” Simon said through his teeth. “With me.”

Carter’s heart sank. That couldn’t be true. Yeah, Alex was a scumbag for stealing Aron and making him gay - yeah, Aron had had other gay stuff going on before, apparently, but Carter was sure the guy was just experimenting and stuff - but he could not be that much of a scumbag. Why would Alex cheat on Aron when Aron was perfect?

***

During lunch, Simon proved he knew how to be professional, talking only about business. Until he pushed his phone towards Carter, with a silent plea in his eyes. Carter stared at the offending object for a while, before asking.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Simon continued to stare at his folder.

“Just look at the pictures. Pictures of us. Maybe then you’ll remember.”

Well, that could not be faked, right? He took the guy’s phone and stared at the first photo. He felt the instant need to grind his teeth. The scumbag sitting across from him wasn’t lying.

TBC