Say My Name: A Niall Horan Daddy Kink

Whom Is He?

I walk into my office and I see a new face. A man stood off to the side with an employee at Tate & Barnaby, Co, where we published text books for schools. The company shipped a lot of them overseas to disadvantaged children in poor countries.

I worked in the field where I had to create the many pages of the textbooks, editing them and fixating pictures to the pages so that the book would be more interesting. My boss, Douglas Tate (whom also happened to be the owner,) came over to see how I was doing. He did this quite often and was well aware of how his employees were doing on the projects throughout the day.

He wasn't like other bosses, whom sat on their asses in front of computers all day, blankly staring into a computer screen. He was hands-on.

Tate was in his 50's and quite a large man. He stood 5' 8", brown hair and brownish-hazel eyes. His short hair was cut into a rather bowl shape, but it was rather choppy. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt. His beard was kept well-groomed and his teeth shined bright like diamonds.

Tate always wore the same watch and his wedding ring was a simple gold band. I'd seen his wife a few times. She was a curvy woman, also in her 50's. She had short, brunette hair and blue eyes. Her green eyes lit up everytime she smiled. I met her once, at our employee Christmas party. She was quite nice and her chest was always distracting to my coworkers.

I wonder how she's doing? I thought. Tate had to be on leave for a few months once because his wife, Esther, had a hysterectomy. They had four grown children and nine grandchildren. They didn't look like they had grandchildren, but they felt it in their bodies. Tate sometimes used a cane because his knee always hurt.

Tate went back to his office to consult with the quite cute looking man that was outisde his office. I looked over my cubicle to spy. I was curious. You can't blame a girl for looking? The man was about 5' 7", blonde with brunette roots and had an accent.

Whoa....wait a minute. An accent? Oh lord, my mind couldn't pinpoint where, but I had to find out. I got up, fixed my knee length skirt and walked to get some water. I had my hair up in a bun with chopsticks. I wore a brown and black skirt with a cream blouse with a pink undershirt. I had a pair of heels on that weren't that high.

They were about an inch off the ground. The day lagged on and Tate brought the man to his cubicle. Right next to mine. Oh, this ought to be interesting. I was typing away on my computer when the man came over and had to borrow something. I was daydreaming when he stood in the opening and cleared his throat. I turned my chair around and all the angel in heaven were singing.

The man was gorgeous. He had on a cream shirt with a blue undershirt. Slacks that were tan and they fit him well. Brown dress shoes to top it off. His name tag read 'Niall.' I was immediately drawn to him more. Then he spoke.

"Oh, miss. You have anymore staples? I've seem to have run out of mine," he said, messing with his stapler. I opened my drawer with all my office supplies, fished for a box of staples and got out of my seat to give them to him. He grabbed them and said,"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"You're Ni-all. The new guy Tate hired?" I ask, curiously.