“Aw, come on, you know I would never say something like that to a customer.” I was called into the office by my boss to discuss a complaint from an elderly man.

It wasn’t really much of an office. It was more of a mostly empty room with two old upholstered chairs. If the chairs were wood with a ladder back, it would have passed as an interrogation room. Everyone around the store just called it “the chamber.” We thought that made it sound mysterious and creepy.

Al looked at me and said, “I know it didn’t sound like you at all, Lowell, but we have to investigate every serious complaint from a customer.”

The truth about what happened was I was helping an older gentleman, at least at that point I thought he was a gentleman, try on sport jackets. He kept insisting that I was picking out the wrong size, because they were all too small for his body.

The reality was that his belly made his torso bigger in terms of sizes than he thought it was. I even showed him the tags sewn into the jackets, but he still insisted I wasn’t picking out the correct size. Finally, he walked off in a huff, and I said I was sorry as he walked away.

Al told me the man said that I called him fat. He reported that I said, “If you weren’t so fat, these jackets would fit.”

“Al, seriously, I’ve never called a customer fat. I know better than anything like that. He just kept telling me that I was giving him the wrong size. I even showed him the tag sewn into the jacket, but he still didn’t believe me.”

Al nodded and said, “It does get frustrating when you have to confront that middle-aged spread.”

I asked, “So what happens next?”

He said, “Unfortunately, it does go in your file. It’s a report on what he said and what you told me.”

I leaned forward and raised my voice slightly, “Hey, wait a minute. It goes in my personnel file even though it’s all a lie? How is that fair?”

Al said, “I didn’t make the rules, Lowell. I just have to document it all. If the man asked someday what happened, it wouldn’t look good for us to not have any record of speaking with you.”

I grumbled, “Well, keep the damn record then. Just don’t attach it to me and leave it out of my file. The guy lied. This isn’t fair.”

Al reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. “Now, just relax, Lowell. If anybody ever decided to read the report, they would see exactly what you said in response. It’s not like we put the man’s comments in there completely unquestioned.”

I growled, “But it shouldn’t be there at all.”

Al said, “I know it’s rough, Lowell, and you’re frustrated. Why don’t you just check out a little early today and go home. Sleep on it, and then it will look better in the morning.”

I muttered, “Fuck,” under my breath and said, “Yeah, I’m going home.”

When I pulled into the parking garage by my apartment building, I was still pissed off. It was another of those random things that I got caught up in, and it was going to be a black mark against me for who knows how long. I didn’t do anything but end up with the wrong customer. I did make a conscious choice. Usually, the older customers buy more, and that means better commissions. Unfortunately, this one took a hell of a lot of my time and didn’t buy a damned thing.

My apartment was little more than a box divided up into rooms containing scattered pieces of furniture. The walls were all off-white, and the apartment had a beige-colored carpet everywhere but in the kitchen and bathroom. I didn’t hang much on the walls, because I couldn’t afford real art, and I thought a lot of posters looked cheesy.

I did put up some surrealistic art posters from museums that I visited, and I had poster-sized blow-ups of photographs that I took when I was really into photography for a couple of years. Those were my only attempts at personalizing my space.

I opened the freezer and pulled out a pasta dinner. I poured it out into a microwave dish and nuked it. I always cooked a microwave dinner just a little longer than the instructions said, and I stirred it around twice in the process, because I hated having cold spots in my food.

By the time it was finished, it was good and steamy, and I knew that I would have to wait awhile before it was cooled off enough for me to eat it. I poured myself a glass of water, grabbed a fork and then made my way to the old beat-up leather couch in the living room.

I was still running the conversation with the old man through my head and kicking myself for not seeing it coming. He was one of those customers that acted helpless, and I really should have turned him over to Ray, but I needed the extra cash if I could get it. I was trying to pay down old credit card debt, and my landlord raised the rent on me.

I flipped through channels until I found a show about traveling in Patagonia in Argentina. It was a part of the world that fascinated me. I slumped further into the couch and started to eat the pasta. It didn’t taste half bad for a frozen dinner, and the little florets of broccoli almost tasted fresh.

On the screen they were eating their way through huge amounts of meat. That seemed to be the Argentinian and Brazilian way. I liked meat, but I wasn’t sure that I could eat quite that much. The pasta just had chunks of chicken in it. It was nicely balanced.

I wished that I could just quit the job, but I couldn’t think of any other realistic options. I received regular raises, so I was making significantly more than when I started four years back. I wished that I could use my college degree somehow, but a philosophy major didn’t seem to give me too many options.

Money issues always lurked just outside my door. When I thought I was getting ahead of things, I injured my leg. The deductibles I had to pay to the doctors and hospital wiped out any progress I made in the past three years. Now I felt like I was just scraping by again.

I finished the last of my pasta dish and set the plate on the coffee table. Leaning back against the couch, I slowly drifted off into the thoughts running through my head while the show continued. If I fell asleep on the couch, it wouldn’t be the first time.

When I was lodged in that halfway zone between sleeping and waking, my phone rang. It took me a moment to realize what the sound was that I was hearing. Then I pulled the phone out of my pocket and tried to focus on the screen.

It was a video call from Sven. I shuddered wondering what I must look like after nearly falling asleep on the couch. I probably had lines on my face from the cushions. I let the phone just ring until it stopped and then made my way to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror.

I liked the idea of being on a video call with Sven, but I needed to make sure he wouldn’t see something totally embarrassing.

Fortunately, my tightly buzzed hair looked pretty much the same whether I was fresh out of the shower or just waking up in the morning. It was starting to grow out a little, and I realized I was past due for a haircut. I didn’t care if Sven saw that on the video chat. He saw that every time we got together. My eyes looked a little bloodshot, but that was normal from being tired. I really wasn’t in bad shape, so I splashed a little water on my face and went back to the living room.

Calling Sven back, I waited impatiently for him to answer. After the fifth ring, the image popped open on my screen. It was Sven’s smiling face leaning close to the camera. He said, “Hey, Lowell. We’ve never called each other this way. I thought it might be fun to see you and not just talk to you. Did you just get home from work?”

I said, “Yeah, I got home a little while ago. I’m sorry I didn’t answer before.” I tried to think up a quick excuse and used the fallback for almost anything. “I was in the bathroom, so I decided to wait and call you back.”

Sven chuckled and said, “Yep, that was probably a good idea.”

“You look pretty good on here, Sven, but not half as good as in person.”

He scrunched up his face and said, “I think that’s sort of a compliment. How was your day?”

I said, “It really sort of sucked. It was rough at work, and I was just trying to forget about it. Seeing your smiling face was the first step in that direction.”

Sven reached up and scratched his head. Then he gave me a wicked smile, at least it was wicked for Sven. Maybe it was more of a smirk. He said, “I wonder if I could make you feel even better.”

I raised an eyebrow. I asked, “How are you planning to do that.”

“Just a sec.” Then he set the phone down. I was staring at his plain white ceiling for a few seconds before he picked the phone up again. He held it further away from himself and then panned downward. Sven’s shirt was gone.

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s pretty damn nice. Touch one of those nips for me, Sven.”

He blushed and then said, “I’ve never ever done anything like this before.” He took his right nipple between a thumb and index finger and started rubbing at it. It was instantly a hard little nub. “Is that what you mean, Lowell?”

“It’s exactly what I mean.” I hurriedly unbuttoned the dress shirt I wore to work.

When I showed Sven what I’d done, he said, “Take it off completely, Lowell. I wanna see you, too.”

We were both stripped naked to the waist, and Sven asked, “Should we do more?”

I laughed and asked my own question. “Where did my naughty boyfriend come from? I thought he was all straight-laced and innocent.”

Sven grunted, and I could tell his free hand was down south. He said, “Keep talking like that, Lowell, it makes me horny.”

“Like you weren’t already? Get rid of the pants, too, Sven.”

While his phone pointed at the ceiling again, I stripped my shirt the rest of the way off and started rubbing at my hard cock through my dress pants. Sven reappeared on the screen, and he sounded a little breathless. He moved the phone up and down so I could take in his amazing body. He said, “I’m totally naked here in the living room, Lowell, with one serious boner.”

I asked, “What are you gonna do with that, Sven?”

He moaned and then asked, “Oh, fuck, are you gonna make me do that?”

I said, “I’m not gonna make you do anything, Sven, but you want to, don’t you?”

He pointed the camera back up at his face, and it was flushed bright red. He said, “Yeah, I do. I wanna do it for you. Please tell me you’ve got your cock in your hand while I do it.”

I could feel my heart pounding hard in my chest. I said, “Damn, yeah, Sven.” Then I pointed the phone down at my crotch as I unzipped and yanked my rock hard cock out to show him.

Sven was holding the phone pointing directly at his crotch while he stroked with the other hand. I could hear grunting noises while he fought to keep the phone steady. I started to stroke, too. I used big, slow strokes. I didn’t want to hurry it along.

Sven exclaimed, “Lowell! I can’t hold it for very long. I cum so damn fast when I’m horned up like this.”

I started to stroke hard and fast. I couldn’t decide if I’d just unleashed the friendly beast inside Sven, or if I was turning him into a monster. Either way he was incredibly hot.

The phone started to shake in his hand. I watched the hand stroking his cock stop, then stroke several times, then stop again. It was like Sven was edging himself with that cock right in my face. I moaned, “So fuckin’ sexy, Sven.”

Then he howled, and a big wad of cum landed on the screen. It was too much for me, and I shot right after. I echoed Sven’s moans and heavy breathing. I had to put the phone down for a second and try and get my breath back.

I laughed when I heard Sven’s desperate-sounding voice asking, “Lowell, are you okay?”