Notes:
Most important note: There's some mention of non-con near the end, but it's only few lines and only vaguely described. It will be super obvious when it's coming, so just skip a few paragraphs and you're good to go.
Slightly less important note: In real life, I absolutely positively 100% wouldn't approve of a relationship between a boss and an employee. It's unethical and an all-around horrible idea that often ends poorly for everyone. However, this is fantasy, not real life.
Not at all important note: This story was originally based on the summary of the romance novel "Shaken and Stirred" by Kathleen O'Reilly, but as I wrote, the story morphed enough that I had to make some changes. I'll add the original summary at the end, in case you're interested.
Well, son, I'll tell you:
Life for me ain't been no crystal stair.
It's had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I'se been a-climbin' on...
—from "Mother and Son," by Langston HughesType sighed, looking at the pathetic pile of bags and boxes that constituted his earthly possessions. He leaned gingerly on the nearest box, searching the street for Techno and his beat-up car.
Techno arrived a few minutes later, double-parking in front of the building, his expression saying he was coming with bad news.
"Sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My parents said no to storing your stuff. You can sleep on the couch for a night or two, but..."
"Fuck." Type rubbed his face. "What am I going to do now that my damn roommate got us kicked out?"
"Is there anyone who has space?"
Type shrugged. "Not that I've been able to find."
"What about at the bar?"
"Huh?"
"Maybe they have some space to store your stuff," Techno said. "They probably won't fire you for asking."
Type had to agree. "I guess I can ask. Can you take me there? Maybe Thanya will be working. She's the least intimidating member of the family."
"That's the spirit!' Techno clapped him on the back. "Let's load up and see what happens."
They each grabbed a box and started the process of cramming everything in the car.
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The closest parking space to Prime, the bar Type worked at, was less than three blocks away, which was pretty damn lucky for a late Thursday afternoon in Manhattan. Type just hoped it was a good omen.
Looking at the things in the backseat, Techno said, "Maybe I should stay with your stuff while you talk."
His stuff was pathetic but Type had to admit that thieves weren't likely to care if they felt like breaking into the car. He nodded. "I'll let you know what they say."
"Good luck, man." Techno pulled out his phone and settled in.
Type strode toward the bar, determined.
Ben looked up from restocking glasses when Type came in. "Are you working tonight?"
"Nah." He hesitated. "Are any of the bosses here?" Please be Thanya. Or Thorn. Please.
"Yeah, Tharn's upstairs. You can go up, he's alone."
"Great, thanks." Type wanted to curse, but he conjured up a smile for his coworker.
YOU ARE READING
Places With No Carpet
RomanceAs a part-time student and bartender in Manhattan, Type has found that roommates and cramped apartments are necessary evils. Until he's out on the street and Tharn, his boss and certified hunk, steps in. Anyone else would die to share his apartment...