Niam Smut

» Blackmailing The Homophobe «

As sales cubicle farms went, Randox Industries wasn't that bad. Although any time you described something as 'not that bad' it usually meant it was that bad.

Opportunities when I started seemed limitless as opposed to the day-to-day grind I endured now. All thanks to my supervisor and homophobe, Liam Payne.

Physically, Liam's a man any guy would proudly fuck or get willing fucked by.

With dark brown hair just near the fringe and sideburns, six foot plus thus letting him tower over most guys, and a body that saw plenty of hours at the company gym, he gave me a hard-on the first time I met him. Even his perpetual stubble gave him a dangerous look as opposed to disheveled. Although it's hard to look like a bum in a Brooks Brother's custom suit.

Hell, I even got the vibe he might be gay from the way he was staring me down. Boy was I wrong.

I'm not flamboyant in mannerisms. My voice isn't sing-songy like stereotypical characters you see on television or books. I just have a look or aura that lets everyone know I'm gay.

Believe me, I've stared in the mirror many times, but nothing stands out to me even if the rest of the world picks up on it. Sure my blond hair's styled a bit—one does have to show some fashion. There's the stereotype that we're all in great shape and judging by my muscles, that's another tell. I'm a bit shorter than most men but that shouldn't be a sign. Yet I give off a vibe I love the cock be it in my mouth or in my ass.

For the most part, it's served me well. Guys approach me for sexual experiences and I don't have to look. I enjoy men I'd normally miss out on like that vacation to Cabo. Oh how those brown skin boys could fuck. Just thinking about it makes my cock grow hard. There's just something about different colored bodies overlapping each other in the heat of passion. Hell, you don't even have to speak the same language. Some things don't need the same tongue.

Unfortunately my uncontrollable broadcasting alerts the homophobes. Especially the one I saw coming toward me in my strategically placed mirror.

I swiveled and watched as our supervisor Liam approached the other sales staff with weekly envelopes in hand. "Tracy, Doug, Michael, Jennifer, Peter," he paused at my name. "Horan."

My first name's Niall, you asshole.

He handed everyone their bonus checks. I got mine last as usual. I tore open the end and half-heard the usual motivational buzzword speech. Liam's pep talk and threats of firing under-performers sank into background noise. I looked at my paycheck. One of my commissions wasn't there.

I yelled out louder than intended. "Where is it?"

The flat sound of Liam's voice called out. "Is there a problem Mr. Horan?"

I held up my check. "I don't see all my commissions."

He frowned to the side looking bored. "Which one do you believe is missing?"

"The Peterson account."

His eyes looked up to the ceiling. "Ah, yes. The one you claim you got."

"The one I did get," I said. I made sure to keep my tone calm.

"You didn't log it as yours. It's open and it falls to the head supervisor."

Are you fucking kidding me?

He smiled at me. "Let that be a lesson. Don't be sloppy. Efficiency and procedure, always remember that." He turned away. "Ladies and gentlemen... Horan." He grinned at my name. "Enjoy your commissions. I know I will."

I crumpled the check in my hand before smoothing it out.

Damn it. That was over five hundred dollars in commission. I took in a big lungful of air. The office was cool, but it still felt hot going into my lungs.