Riley

Already turning in his chair, Kirk wearily said, “Can I help you, Rebe— oh, uh...”

Rather than his boss as he’d expected, standing in the doorway was Riley—the effeminate marketing specialist who shared the office. Kirk frowned, looking confusedly at the slender twink. He greeted Riley with a quick, “Hey there. What are you doing back here? And… why’d you knock on your own door?”

Riley danced over the threshold—it was the only way to describe the bouncy, flowing way in which he tended to move. He wasn’t wearing his work clothes, instead sporting a t-shirt, and yoga pants which hugged his barely-noticeable bulge. He pushed a strand from his braided blond hair out of his face as he laughingly replied, “In case you were jerking off, of course! Although… actually I’d be pretty happy to walk on in that.”

Wow. That might have been a new record.

There wasn’t anybody Kirk knew who was more blasé with flirtation than Riley. The little blond seemed to thrive off of turning any and every conversation into a minefield of innuendo or outright proposition. Bewilderingly he did this despite being happily married, and while men were almost never expected to stay faithful to a particular partner, femmes who dallied were usually dropped fast. Kirk had trouble understanding why Riley would risk the thing which seemed to be the goal of almost every femboy he’d ever met: reliable access to cock. Maybe Riley's husband found it amusing?

Pushing past Riley’s insinuation, Kirk repeated, “So why are you here after hours? Half the time you aren’t even here when you’re meant to be.”

Riley lifted a faux-reproachful finger, and said, “That’s an exaggeration. Trust me; I keep a very close track of time when it’s spent in the same room as a hunky man”, walking to his desk as he spoke. His perky ass swayed with each step. “Forgot something, that’s all. Was in the area and figured I’d pop in to get it.”

He rummaged around his desk.