Six Steps To Being A Better Stand-Up 2/6
Jan. 16th, 2008 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
randomlingThe second part of my SeSa story, reposted here for posterity. Or something.
Part 1
Summary: It's pretty hard to date a guy who thinks you're straight. Part 2 of 6.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF. There is sex in later installments.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dizmo.
Six Steps To Being A Better Stand-Up
Step Two: Chris Sucks
November 26th
Chris was bored. Very, very bored. Two hours into Monday morning, and the phones were silent and the communal inbox empty. Even JC, who could usually find something work-related to do, was leaning back in his chair, chatting with AJ. The only person Chris could see working was Lance, who had his phone pressed to his ear and was making pacifying noises into the mouthpiece.
Beside Chris, Justin was surfing the Nike web site, no doubt drooling over sneakers he couldn't afford. Chris killed Facebook – he'd thrown a sheep at pretty much everyone he could think of, including Kevin – and leaned to his left to peer at Justin's screen. “Let me guess. Shoe porn?”
Justin rolled his eyes and said, “It's not shoe porn. It's the new Jordans,” but the next thing he did was bring up his bookmarks and go somewhere else. From the look of the flashing lights and painfully bright colours, it was a Myspace page. Chris shielded his eyes.
“It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know,” he said in a mock-serious voice, putting a brotherly hand on Justin's shoulder. “Lots of people are into feet. It's not so weird.”
Justin shrugged off Chris's hand. “I do not like feet!” he protested. “Or even shoes. I'm not a girl. I just want some new kicks.” Realizing he'd left himself wide open, Justin suddenly covered his face with his hands.
“I just bet you do, baby,” said Chris, never one not to take the open shot.
Justin turned bright red and shoved Chris in the arm. “I like sneakers, that's all,” he said. Chris shoved back playfully.
“You have about forty thousand pairs!”
“Twenty-six,” Justin corrected him, in the flat monotone of an automatic response.
Chris, judiciously, left it for a few seconds, turning back to his computer screen. He considered, briefly, Googling “shoe porn”, but dreaded what he might actually find.
“So your ultimate fantasy is, like, Janet wearing nothing but a pair of Jordans?” he asked casually.
Justin turned away from Myspace to look at Chris, spluttering. “I – oh, for – I don't like feet, Chris! You suck!”
Chris laughed, and at that precise moment his phone rang, with perfect timing. He picked up his headset. “What can I say? It's a natural talent.” With a sly grin, he hit Answer. “Travelstar, you're through to Chris, how can I help?”
Chris watched Justin out of the corner of his eye. It took him just a couple of seconds to go from puzzlement to wide-eyed shock to a fetching shade of red. Justin looked suddenly away from Chris, and Chris turned back to his computer screen to pay full attention to the call.
***
Justin spent the rest of the morning looking anywhere but at Chris, blindingly embarrassed. It didn't help that Chris was right there, sitting right next to him the whole time, and every now and then he would glance at Justin and smirk a little. Justin would meet his eyes, just for a second, and be overwhelmed all over again and have to look away. Did the way-too-powerful fantasy have to take place right there in the office, with Chris dropping to his knees right where he was and sucking Justin off at his desk? Apparently it did, because Justin couldn't get it out of his head.
Idly, between calls, he entertained the idea of grabbing Chris and kissing him, right in the middle of the office. He'd only kissed one guy before, a random, beer-fuelled thing at his graduation party, and it had been glorious, right up until the moment the guy had backed off saying, shit, he was really drunk, and now he thought about it, it was sort of disturbing; Justin had been crushed. Chris was older, so he'd be a better kisser, and Justin could imagine the scratch of Chris's beard against his face and the warmth of Chris's body pressed against his. Most importantly, the Chris in his head was sober, relaxed, and totally into it. That fantasy was almost as good as Chris actually sucking his dick.
Of course, he could never follow through on the fantasy: Chris would hit him, AJ and JC would laugh, Howie would look at him like he'd just pissed on the carpet, and Lance would fire him on the spot. He liked his new life in Orlando; he didn't want it all to end because the wrong people found out he was gay.
That didn't stop it popping into his head at the wrong moments, though. He'd be stuck on a boring call, listening to some customer drone on and on about what her kids would eat, and all of a sudden Chris would say something next to him, and in his head, it was Chris murmuring something into his stomach between kisses. He'd be pretending to work, doodling the word Chris in the margins of his notepad instead, and for no reason he'd be rock-hard, imagining himself saying Chris's name over and over as he came. He even got hard in the middle of a meeting with Lance, for God's sake.
“Okay,” Lance was saying, “how do you think you're doing on the phones?”
Justin had to take a second to re-focus: somewhere in the back of his mind, Chris was expertly sucking his dick. “Uh... yeah. I'm doing okay, I guess.” It was the start of his third week and he'd already worked out that one-on-one meetings were boring as hell. No wonder he was thinking about sex. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, realizing just a moment too late that he was making a really obvious display of himself.
Lance raised both eyebrows. “Oh, boy... that's not for me, is it?”
Justin coughed and spluttered and tried to fold himself up again, but succeeded only in falling right out of his chair with an undignified thump. Lance clearly tried not to giggle, but didn't quite manage it. He leaped up to help Justin to his feet. As soon as he got his feet back under him, Justin brushed Lance off and settled himself into another chair. He could feel himself blushing bright red.
“Are you okay?” asked Lance. Justin nodded and pointedly didn't look at him. “Oh, God, hey, it's fine.” He reached out to touch Justin's arm and went on, almost under his breath, “Dude, you think I never got a hard-on at work? And, I admit it, these meetings are pretty boring.” He raised his eyebrows and dropped them again really fast. “Just, you know, be a little bit subtle.”
“God,” said Justin, breathing out and daring to meet Lance's eyes. He allowed himself a little smile. “Wow. Okay. That sure dealt with the hard-on.”
Lance exploded with laughter, and Justin laughed too, hard and long, burying his face in his hands. They didn't get back to their meeting for five minutes.
***
Chris got a little pang of jealousy when Justin and Lance came back from the meeting room, talking and giggling, heads close together. He had to forcibly remind himself that Justin was straight – one of two straight boys in all the office – and therefore not available for jealous thoughts. Before they made it back to Justin's desk, Nick called Lance over to help out with a tough call. Justin flung himself into his chair, all long limbs and grace, and Chris almost drooled. “Good meeting?” he asked. Good thing he'd had plenty of practise acting casual in front of the drop-dead gorgeous.
Justin grinned as he changed the setting on his phone, back to taking calls. “Yeah, pretty good. Lance is a cool guy.”
“Lance is a dork,” Chris said, grinning back. “But he's a nice dork.” He glanced over to where Lance was putting on Nick's headset. “Good guy, too.”
“Yeah,” said Justin.
Before Chris could think of a way to carry on the conversation, Justin's phone rang. While he talked, Chris opened new email from Alecia. There was no title on this one, and just a single line of text above her signature:
Hey. When Justin says he's straight, do you believe a word of it?
Chris glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye. Justin, engrossed in trying to find somebody's booking, didn't notice. He hit Reply before he even knew what he was going to write in response. His fingers, seemed to, though.
Sure. You think there's some reason not to?
He glanced over at Alecia who, true to form, was talking into her headset. She'd dyed her hair bubblegum-pink over the weekend. He hit Facebook for a few minutes and kicked Joey's zombie ass until new email appeared from Alecia.
Just wanted to make sure I wasn't treading on your toes, old dude. :)
Chris glanced up, ready to make a rude face at her, but she was still talking, totally focused on her screen. Damn that girl and her ability to multi-task. He thought for a minute before typing:
Go for it, Pink.
Okay. Even if it felt bad, it made sense: if Justin was going to go on a date, it might as well be with Alecia, who was hot and smart and would show him a good time.
Justin was still on the phone. Chris sat back in his chair, sighed, and willed his own phone to ring.
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Part 1
Summary: It's pretty hard to date a guy who thinks you're straight. Part 2 of 6.
Warnings: Boybands, RPF. There is sex in later installments.
For
dizmo.Six Steps To Being A Better Stand-Up
Step Two: Chris Sucks
November 26th
Chris was bored. Very, very bored. Two hours into Monday morning, and the phones were silent and the communal inbox empty. Even JC, who could usually find something work-related to do, was leaning back in his chair, chatting with AJ. The only person Chris could see working was Lance, who had his phone pressed to his ear and was making pacifying noises into the mouthpiece.
Beside Chris, Justin was surfing the Nike web site, no doubt drooling over sneakers he couldn't afford. Chris killed Facebook – he'd thrown a sheep at pretty much everyone he could think of, including Kevin – and leaned to his left to peer at Justin's screen. “Let me guess. Shoe porn?”
Justin rolled his eyes and said, “It's not shoe porn. It's the new Jordans,” but the next thing he did was bring up his bookmarks and go somewhere else. From the look of the flashing lights and painfully bright colours, it was a Myspace page. Chris shielded his eyes.
“It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know,” he said in a mock-serious voice, putting a brotherly hand on Justin's shoulder. “Lots of people are into feet. It's not so weird.”
Justin shrugged off Chris's hand. “I do not like feet!” he protested. “Or even shoes. I'm not a girl. I just want some new kicks.” Realizing he'd left himself wide open, Justin suddenly covered his face with his hands.
“I just bet you do, baby,” said Chris, never one not to take the open shot.
Justin turned bright red and shoved Chris in the arm. “I like sneakers, that's all,” he said. Chris shoved back playfully.
“You have about forty thousand pairs!”
“Twenty-six,” Justin corrected him, in the flat monotone of an automatic response.
Chris, judiciously, left it for a few seconds, turning back to his computer screen. He considered, briefly, Googling “shoe porn”, but dreaded what he might actually find.
“So your ultimate fantasy is, like, Janet wearing nothing but a pair of Jordans?” he asked casually.
Justin turned away from Myspace to look at Chris, spluttering. “I – oh, for – I don't like feet, Chris! You suck!”
Chris laughed, and at that precise moment his phone rang, with perfect timing. He picked up his headset. “What can I say? It's a natural talent.” With a sly grin, he hit Answer. “Travelstar, you're through to Chris, how can I help?”
Chris watched Justin out of the corner of his eye. It took him just a couple of seconds to go from puzzlement to wide-eyed shock to a fetching shade of red. Justin looked suddenly away from Chris, and Chris turned back to his computer screen to pay full attention to the call.
***
Justin spent the rest of the morning looking anywhere but at Chris, blindingly embarrassed. It didn't help that Chris was right there, sitting right next to him the whole time, and every now and then he would glance at Justin and smirk a little. Justin would meet his eyes, just for a second, and be overwhelmed all over again and have to look away. Did the way-too-powerful fantasy have to take place right there in the office, with Chris dropping to his knees right where he was and sucking Justin off at his desk? Apparently it did, because Justin couldn't get it out of his head.
Idly, between calls, he entertained the idea of grabbing Chris and kissing him, right in the middle of the office. He'd only kissed one guy before, a random, beer-fuelled thing at his graduation party, and it had been glorious, right up until the moment the guy had backed off saying, shit, he was really drunk, and now he thought about it, it was sort of disturbing; Justin had been crushed. Chris was older, so he'd be a better kisser, and Justin could imagine the scratch of Chris's beard against his face and the warmth of Chris's body pressed against his. Most importantly, the Chris in his head was sober, relaxed, and totally into it. That fantasy was almost as good as Chris actually sucking his dick.
Of course, he could never follow through on the fantasy: Chris would hit him, AJ and JC would laugh, Howie would look at him like he'd just pissed on the carpet, and Lance would fire him on the spot. He liked his new life in Orlando; he didn't want it all to end because the wrong people found out he was gay.
That didn't stop it popping into his head at the wrong moments, though. He'd be stuck on a boring call, listening to some customer drone on and on about what her kids would eat, and all of a sudden Chris would say something next to him, and in his head, it was Chris murmuring something into his stomach between kisses. He'd be pretending to work, doodling the word Chris in the margins of his notepad instead, and for no reason he'd be rock-hard, imagining himself saying Chris's name over and over as he came. He even got hard in the middle of a meeting with Lance, for God's sake.
“Okay,” Lance was saying, “how do you think you're doing on the phones?”
Justin had to take a second to re-focus: somewhere in the back of his mind, Chris was expertly sucking his dick. “Uh... yeah. I'm doing okay, I guess.” It was the start of his third week and he'd already worked out that one-on-one meetings were boring as hell. No wonder he was thinking about sex. He leaned back in his chair and stretched, realizing just a moment too late that he was making a really obvious display of himself.
Lance raised both eyebrows. “Oh, boy... that's not for me, is it?”
Justin coughed and spluttered and tried to fold himself up again, but succeeded only in falling right out of his chair with an undignified thump. Lance clearly tried not to giggle, but didn't quite manage it. He leaped up to help Justin to his feet. As soon as he got his feet back under him, Justin brushed Lance off and settled himself into another chair. He could feel himself blushing bright red.
“Are you okay?” asked Lance. Justin nodded and pointedly didn't look at him. “Oh, God, hey, it's fine.” He reached out to touch Justin's arm and went on, almost under his breath, “Dude, you think I never got a hard-on at work? And, I admit it, these meetings are pretty boring.” He raised his eyebrows and dropped them again really fast. “Just, you know, be a little bit subtle.”
“God,” said Justin, breathing out and daring to meet Lance's eyes. He allowed himself a little smile. “Wow. Okay. That sure dealt with the hard-on.”
Lance exploded with laughter, and Justin laughed too, hard and long, burying his face in his hands. They didn't get back to their meeting for five minutes.
***
Chris got a little pang of jealousy when Justin and Lance came back from the meeting room, talking and giggling, heads close together. He had to forcibly remind himself that Justin was straight – one of two straight boys in all the office – and therefore not available for jealous thoughts. Before they made it back to Justin's desk, Nick called Lance over to help out with a tough call. Justin flung himself into his chair, all long limbs and grace, and Chris almost drooled. “Good meeting?” he asked. Good thing he'd had plenty of practise acting casual in front of the drop-dead gorgeous.
Justin grinned as he changed the setting on his phone, back to taking calls. “Yeah, pretty good. Lance is a cool guy.”
“Lance is a dork,” Chris said, grinning back. “But he's a nice dork.” He glanced over to where Lance was putting on Nick's headset. “Good guy, too.”
“Yeah,” said Justin.
Before Chris could think of a way to carry on the conversation, Justin's phone rang. While he talked, Chris opened new email from Alecia. There was no title on this one, and just a single line of text above her signature:
Hey. When Justin says he's straight, do you believe a word of it?
Chris glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye. Justin, engrossed in trying to find somebody's booking, didn't notice. He hit Reply before he even knew what he was going to write in response. His fingers, seemed to, though.
Sure. You think there's some reason not to?
He glanced over at Alecia who, true to form, was talking into her headset. She'd dyed her hair bubblegum-pink over the weekend. He hit Facebook for a few minutes and kicked Joey's zombie ass until new email appeared from Alecia.
Just wanted to make sure I wasn't treading on your toes, old dude. :)
Chris glanced up, ready to make a rude face at her, but she was still talking, totally focused on her screen. Damn that girl and her ability to multi-task. He thought for a minute before typing:
Go for it, Pink.
Okay. Even if it felt bad, it made sense: if Justin was going to go on a date, it might as well be with Alecia, who was hot and smart and would show him a good time.
Justin was still on the phone. Chris sat back in his chair, sighed, and willed his own phone to ring.
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
