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I was so nervous to go. I thought that maybe everyone would know what had happened at Sherry’s, what I had done with Eric, but no one seemed to know or act any different. Except for hostess Sherry’s “Heyyyy, Paul!” it was business as usual. Hours had gone by and I had avoided Eric, the bartender there, the whole time. Then I heard him say, “Paul” and hold up a glass of Coke. I said thank you and took a sip. It was a Rum and Coke! I looked up at him and he smiled, I smiled back.Feeling more comfortable, feeling things were sort of normal, I felt at ease. At the end of my shift, I sat in my car in the back parking lot hoping to maybe meet up with Sherry and although I wouldn’t have admitted it, maybe Eric. Anyone that might touch my cock really. As I said, at that age I was little more than a walking hard on. Eric knocked on my window.Within minutes my windows were totally foggy up and Eric’s big, warm, wet, wonderful mouth was on my hard cock. He felt incredible, making me feel light. He felt his body responding; he knew she could feel it too."STOP staring at my legs like that!" What?" You know damn well what. I am not a mannequin for your enjoyment!"Stacy's face was red with anger.Slowly, Mitt's eyes refocused. The daydream faded. This was not a wedding night. He wasn't in a hotel room. He was in a conference room with his co-worker, Stacy, practicing the presentation they were to give in a few days.Mitt hadn’t wanted to work on the presentation, on a topic that bored him silly. What really was the point? Upper brass kept insisting on status updates and check-ins, which accomplished nothing useful he could see, except interrupt actual work on real projects.Stacy was a very pretty young woman, with long curly blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and an air of determined professionalism. She was dressed in a plain white blouse; sleeves rolled up. Her gray pencil skirt stopped just above her knees. She had been rehearsing her speech, but Mitt had found it so dismally.
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