Jeremy

Jeremy is pissing away his three beers. He's pleasantly buzzed -- not drunk, but getting there. Maybe the friendly bartender can make him a cup of coffee, or something, cause he's in no state to drive. Well, maybe Andrew will still be a while. He remembers his own first time here at the Cupid's Arrows... Ah, to be eighteen again -- an excess of stamina, but not necessarily longevity...

He's been spacing out; he shakes his head to clear it, and just now notices the guy at the urinal next to him. That's just bad etiquette. Everyone knows you leave one empty urinal, if you can. He glances at the guy: youngish, clean-shaven, dark hair, wearing a dark blue business suit. Kind of looks like a banker, or an investor.

Jeremy can't stand investors. He deals with them sporadically at the construction sites he oversees. Sometimes they're fine, sometimes they want to "get involved". Then they get in the way. They slow things down. They think they know better.

Bunch of jackasses, investors.

He's about to shake off and leave when he notices this particular investor (or banker or whatever) seems to be sneaking glances at his dick.

"'Scuse me buddy," he says. Roughly. Authoritatively. The way he'd talk to an incompetent foreman who bungled something or other and caused a delay. "Help you with something?"

And -- Jeremy's jaw almost drops -- the guy looks him in the eye. Then, very obvious, very deliberate, looks at Jeremy's dick. Then looks him in the eye again. "I sure hope so." He licks his lips and casually saunters to the furthest bathroom stall, goes in, and locks the door.

The stall with the glory hole.

_The hell? _Jeremy is nailed in place, trying to process what just happened and coming up blank. Just as he starts to question whether it really happened at all, the investor guy in the stall clears his throat. Still there. Waiting.

He can't believe this is happening, but... he's getting hard. "Little Jerr" is up for it. It's not even so much that it's another man -- Jeremy has a mental flash of himself stuffing his dick down the man's throat, of making him grovel and beg for it, in his fancy suit, wearing his nice shoes and his expensive cologne... Of holding the man's head in place as he slowly pushes his cock down the man's throat, inch by inch, and holding it in place for the guy to **** on... Of using his years of pent-up aggression and frustration with exactly this kind of person, the kind who thinks their money and fancy clothes make them somehow better or more deserving, well, he'll see how deserving he is when Jeremy's fucking his face, won't he, and...

He snaps out of it. His dick is rock hard. It's almost painful.

A shuffling sound from the bathroom stall. The guy is getting up again, maybe getting ready to leave.

Jeremy makes a decision.

He enters the stall next to the investor guy and closes the door behind him.