JONAH

I’d arrived at Kent Village Outlet Mall earlier than expected. My meeting with Vera Kingsley wasn’t for another half an hour, so I’d decided to pass the time by wandering around the outdoor shopping village, just to get a feel for the place. I hadn’t yet been to this particular mall, my first in the UK, so was intrigued to see how it compared to my many locations in the States. It was chilly and I wished I’d brought a coat; that was my first thought. However, the steady flow of people among the tastefully decorated shop exteriors quickly warmed my heart. I was glad this place was a success. It would pave the way for further British ventures.

Peals of laughter caught my attention. The sound was rich and carefree, something I had long since lost in my busy executive entrepreneurial existence. I always got a little melancholy around Christmas time. I cared little for my family members who despised the fact that I was gay and had cast me out for it. I left England for America and had lived there for many years. Once I had established myself and become exceedingly rich and successful in my own right, Mummy and Daddy reached out. We were on talking terms, but that was it. I had no desire to spend any time with them, which often left me lonely around the holidays. I was never short of an invitation because I had friends I would die for, but it wasn’t the same as spending it with someone special. I yearned to find love and to eventually fill a home with a husband and children; all of which had eluded me so far.

My thoughts had left me wistful until there it was again, the laughter – a sound so full of joy I found myself drawn to it. I looked up and read the shop sign: Zapato. I narrowed my eyes and peered through the glass window, and what I found there had an immediate and profound effect. Admittedly, mostly in my pants, but nevertheless, I was intrigued. A tall, blue haired lad dressed in paint on jeans, had thrown his head back in laughter at something one of his pretty little colleagues had said to him. I was entranced. His body was lithe with an arse encased in soft black denim that had my mouth watering. High, tight cheeks filled out the jeans to perfection. His tight glitzy shirt hugged every inch of his lean torso leading up to a face that was surely created by the gods.

“Look up, look up, look up.” I needed to see his eyes. As if he could hear me, the young man glanced over to the doorway. “Fucking hell.” I cursed under my breath. A set of ice blue eyes had my cock stirring in my suit pants. “Is that eye liner?” I craned my neck forward just as ‘blue eyes’ turned away to serve a customer. “Only thing you should be serving is me,” I muttered. I could have stood and watched him all day. Sadly, my phone vibrated in my inside pocket alerting me it was time for my meeting.

“Mr Kent.” A smart, officious looking woman came around from her desk to greet me. “Welcome to our little piece of Oxford.”

“Thank you, Mrs Kingsley, I’m fairly familiar with the area, just not my part of it. Shall we get started with the tour?”

“Oh, I arranged for coffee and biscuits.” The poor woman looked somewhat flustered at my direct approach, however she was unaware of my burning need to get back to ‘blue eyes’.

“I’m particularly keen to look around. I have a project in mind for a charity drive and I wish to choose some stores to assist me in my mission.”

“Of course, Mr Kent, or may I call you Jonah?” Vera’s sickly-sweet smile did little to ingratiate her with me.

“Mr Kent is fine.” I was feeling prickly. So, sue me.

Mrs Kingsley walked me through the back-office area and out into the ‘village’. She took me to the mall’s most prestigious stores where I met some wonderfully hard-working managers and staff, however, I was itching to get back to the shoe shop where a particularly sexy young man was filling my head.

“This is Zapato, but I doubt you’ll find what you’re looking for in here. In fact, I wanted to talk to you. Their lease is up for renewal, and honestly, I’m inclined to give them notice.”

I snapped my head around to look at her. “And why might that be?” The store looked busy enough to me. It was bright and trendy with a palpable vibe. I couldn’t see a problem.

“Well Mr Kent, let me put this delicately. It’s perhaps better suited to a high street rather than a designer outlet.” She fiddled with the pearls around her throat. I was visualising strangling her with them. I may sound like a posh snob, but I most definitely was not. “And the manager…” I narrowed my eyes at her, but she was not to be deterred. “He’s a little bit, shall we say, flamboyant in his style and manner.”

“This is a fashion mall, Vera. Are we not to expect some individuality among the staff?” I suspected she was holding back on her true reason for wanting ‘blue eyes’ gone.

“Some people need not to be quite so individual if they want to fit our image.” The look she gave me was as if we were conspiring together to reach a common goal. I made the decision right there and then that the first day back after Christmas would be her last. I wasn’t an utter cunt, I wouldn’t sack her just before the holidays, but whoever had decided she’d be a good Mall Manager, was deluded. Individuality promoted creativity. Subsequently, an engaged workforce who made their stores inviting, were building a loyal customer base for future sales.

“Quite Mrs Kingsley, nevertheless, I’d like to meet the manager please.”

Vera called over to ‘blue eyes’. “Mr Smith, please…”

“Elvis,” he insisted. “I’ve asked you many times to call me Elvis.”

“Because?” I blurted, before Vera could interject.

“It’s my name?” he huffed, arching an eyebrow at me. It seemed like a practiced move, which was really quite comical.

“Your name is Elvis?” He had to be taking the piss.

“It’s not a complicated concept. Mum had a baby boy; me, and named me Elvis. Just like your mum named you…?”

I smirked. “Jonah.”

“Jonah?” Elvis snorted. “As in whale?”

Oh, so the boy thought he was funny. Time to put him in his place. “As in Kent,” I answered deadpan.

What happened next was hysterical, although I managed to keep a poker face. It suddenly dawned on Elvis who I was, and after several sputtered attempts to imitate a goldfish, he managed to pull it together and show me around. I wasn’t really interested in what he was telling me; I was far too invested in the way his mouth moved and how he filled out his jeans. It was a long time since I’d experienced such an instant attraction to anyone, and never this powerful. Something stirred deep inside of me. It was nearly Christmas; time to gift myself a present.

“I have a charity Christmas Gift Drive on this week. Several of the stores here at the mall are involved, and I’d really love it if you would join in.”

I held my breath until Elvis agreed, and when he did, I did a little happy dance in my head. We’d agreed to meet Sunday, when I’d return with my friend Izzy and the residents of his LGBTQ+ home. Elvis seemed genuinely excited to be asked to help. I could tell he was a good person.

After the store visit, Mrs Kingsley and I spent several hours thrashing out the details of the Charity Drive. She agreed to everything I suggested, but it was clear she had no taste for it. I wished I could replace her depressing reluctance with Elvis’s refreshing enthusiasm, and lamented the decision to handle the arrangements personally, rather than have my personal assistant do it.

“The mall is about to close, Mr Kent. May I invite you to dinner?”

There was no fucking way that was happening. Besides, I had already decided Sunday was too far away for my Elvis fix. “Regrettably, I am otherwise engaged, Mrs Kingsley. I’ll see you later in the week. Nico will be in touch to finalise details.”

“The gentleman who organised your visit today?”

“Yes, he’s my personal assistant.”

Mrs Kingsley giggled. The noise was grating. “A little unconventional, isn’t it, having a male secretary?”

I frowned. She was starting to seriously rile me. “Firstly, he’s not my secretary, he’s an executive assistant. For all intents and purposes that makes him my right-hand man. I fail to see the relevance of his gender, I’m afraid.”

“Aren’t you worried people may talk?” Her tone implied something distasteful about Nico and my dynamic. I was not amused.

“No, Mrs Kingsley. I am not.” Before she had a chance to respond, I presented her with my back and marched out of her office. Any goodwill I had felt toward her earlier, dissipated in the wake of her latent homophobic connotations towards Nico.

“Nico speaking.”

“Hey,” I spoke into my phone.

“Boss, what’s up?” He could read me like a book.

“I want Vera Kingsley relieved of her position.”

“Whoa, Joe. That’s bit harsh just before Crimbo, mate.”

“She’s a hideous bigot,” I growled.

“Perhaps, but still…”

“Nope. Not going to sway me. Give her a ridiculous exit payment if necessary but I want her gone tomorrow.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And Nico?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fucking call me Joe. How many times do I have to tell you?”

Nico squealed. “Love you. Gotta go; boss is a freaking nightmare slave lord.” The line went dead. I smiled to myself in spite of Nico’s sass. He kept my life in order and was a damn good PA. I was about to pocket my phone when it rang. I recognised the number as an important client and spent the next hour in conference with her from the back of my car. When the meeting ended I realised it was dark and my car was one of the few left in the car park. I cursed, hoping I hadn’t missed Elvis going home.

“Pete, I’m going back on to the main street of the village, I’ll be gone a few minutes. Keep the car warm.”

My driver nodded to me as I got out the vehicle. “Will do, Mr Kent.”

I walked along the row of shops until I spotted Zapato on the other side of the street. It was one of the only ones still lit up. I leant up against a lamp post to watch Elvis close the business down for the night. He flitted around the shop checking the displays and straightening the furniture. It looked perfect already to me, but I was pleased to note Elvis was a conscientious worker. I hated flakes.

“Dear God,” I hissed as the young man bent from the waist to pick up a pop sock that had gotten caught under a chair leg. I was faced with an arse shaped to perfection in soft black denim which made my mouth water and my cock plump. I imagined him presenting like that naked for me, giving me access to what I knew would be a tight, pink hole. I pushed down on my groin and moaned. Elvis had me completely mesmerised, and I was suddenly, extremely clear as to what I wanted Santa to bring me for Christmas. A long, tall, sexy, weaver of magic.

I remained still and silent as Elvis locked up his shop. Predictably, he jumped a mile when he noticed me stalking him. I enjoyed watching two bright red spots appear on his face as he attempted not to come across as flustered. I tried to persuade him to come to dinner, and when he finally agreed, I was elated. Now, sitting in the back of my car, I gave him no space, sitting as close to him as possible without making it seem like I had done so on purpose. I was determined to seduce him over the course of the evening.

“Tell me, Elvis, did you always want to work in fashion retail?” I had to clasp my hands together to stop from touching him. The last thing I wanted was to come across as a dirty old man. Not that I was old, per se, but compared to Elvis; I suspected I had a good few years on him.

Elvis began to answer, but his voice came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that.” He waved his hand in the air. “Umm, not especially fashion, even though I know I give off that vibe.” He winked at me, the little tease. He was being very brave. I cocked my head so that he should continue. “I need to gain experience from the ground up, as I intend to one day be in competition with you, Mr Kent.” Elvis blushed a deep red, but continued to look me in the eye.

“Well, that’s a bold statement indeed, Elvis. I must say, I admire your ambition.”

“Really?” He bounced a little in his seat.

“Really,” I confirmed. “So, where do you recommend for dinner? Not McDonalds,” I added hastily.

“You mean you haven’t got a hankering for a Big Mac and fries?” Elvis teased. “With twenty chicken nuggets on the side?”

“I do not. No.” I was amused, but I hid it well.

“Uh, ok, then.” Elvis squirmed in his seat; his cheeks flamed beautifully once again. “I, er, don’t really eat at posh places.”

“Doesn’t need to be posh – just make sure the food is good. And plentiful; I’m starving.”

Elvis bounced once again. “I know the perfect place then, Mr Kent.” He leaned forward and gave Pete directions to somewhere called ‘Mama Rosa’. “The best Italian food in the world,” he told me.

“Aren’t you full of bold statements tonight, young man!”

“Yeah, well, just you wait until you taste the dough balls; they’re to die for.” He licked his lips leaving them wet and shiny. My cock jerked and my mind went to places it shouldn’t on a first date.

Dinner went well. The restaurant was a family run affair with exceedingly great food. I tried to stay away from anything too garlicky, but Elvis didn’t seem to have the same concerns. I winced slightly, as he devoured his sixth slice of garlic bread.

“Do you mind me asking how old you are?” I waited while Elvis sucked up a long, long line of spaghetti. Bolognaise sauce gathered at the corners of his mouth until he took a swipe at it with his tongue. I was mesmerised. I found everything about him incredibly arousing.

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-five what?” I was confused; all my attention was on a spot of sauce stuck to Elvis’s chin.

“Years old?” he replied, frowning at me. ”Oh, have I…” He dabbed at his chin with his napkin.

“Right. Yes. Twenty-five.” I couldn’t believe the effect Elvis was having on my normally cool and collected demeanour. I was behaving like a fool and mentally berated myself for failing to treat Elvis as he deserved. I determined to do better. “Tell me your plan to conquer the retail world.”

Elvis’s eyes lit up. The ice blue of his irises became a richer shade as he launched into an enthusiastic answer. “Before I go global, I intend to gain as much experience as I can, both on the shop floor and behind the scenes. I also need to further my management training. As soon as I’ve done that, I’m going to open my first store, hopefully in London. I’ve been saving hard and have my eye on some aspiring designers. I want to open a boutique that carries exclusive, exquisite lines, but my usp - that’s unique selling point,” Elvis paused for an explanation that wasn’t required, however, it was cute of him to do so, “will be how customer centric the experience is. No snooty nosed sales assistants at Elvis’s, thank you very much.” His words flowed with passion and enthusiasm and a surprisingly good business plan. His ideas were original and certainly refreshing. I suddenly had a brilliant idea.

“How about I make that happen?”

Elvis showered the table and my tie with Diet Coke. It sprayed from his mouth at the same time he hiccupped causing bubbles to go up his nose, resulting in a fit of coughing, spluttering and sneezing. He’d turned puce and was panting for breath. “Oh my God, Jonah. What the fuck!” He grabbed his napkin and began to wipe at my tie. “You can’t go around buying people.”

“Excuse me?” I was genuinely perplexed at his response. He hadn’t even heard what I was going to propose, and he was questioning me?

“Fuck, oh bloody hell.” Elvis was focussing rather intently on my tie. I looked down. A huge blob of bolognaise sauce now painted the front of it. “I’m so sorry. Shit – I’ll buy you a new one.”

I tugged it off. “I doubt you could afford it.”

Elvis gasped. He threw the napkin on the table and slid out of the booth. “Fuck you, Jonah.” He threw his leather jacket on and stormed out, slamming the door as he left. I sat frozen in my seat. The door opened again and to my relief Elvis came back in, but it was short lived. I saw him give the maître d’ a £50 note; then he was out the door again in a flash.

“Fuck!” I stood up so fast the table wobbled. Elvis’s glass of Diet Coke tipped over, spilling ice-cold liquid down my trousers. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” I was beginning to get really pissed off. I had screwed up epically. Nico would say my brain to mouth filter was particularly off-kilter tonight, and he’d be right. I quickly ran after Elvis. I had to apologise if I had any chance in salvaging what was left of the evening.

The cold December air hit me with an icy blast as the restaurant door closed behind me. The pavement was slick with the first fall of light snow. I groaned; my leather brogues were not really cut out for the weather. “Elvis!” I yelled at his retreating form. “Stop!” I ran towards him, yelling all the way. When he finally decided to face me, I was too close. I skidded trying to stop, but I slipped and landed in a puddle at his feet. Elvis reached for me, but only succeeded in an epically spectacular Bambi impression culminating in his legs giving way. He landed heavily on my chest.

“Oomph.” He winded me.

Elvis’s arms and legs were everywhere. I received a knee to the groin and an elbow in my throat. The more he wriggled trying to get off me, the more he wound up wrapped around me. It was probably the most hysterical moment of my life. My £3000 suit was wrecked. My brogues were ruined, and I was frozen to the bone, yet I was having the best time. I began to laugh, unable to contain the hilarity of the moment any longer. Elvis, however, did not seem amused.

“You’re a weird one,” he stated. We lay on the street; me on my back and him on his front, on top of me. He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? This is turning you on?” The evidence was poking him in the groin.

“You turn me on, Elvis.” I lifted my head and chased his lips. “Kiss me.” He thought about it for a few seconds, then he shrugged as he lowered his mouth to mine. I may have growled. His lips were soft and plump. He did indeed taste of garlic, but it was mixed with the intoxicating flavour of something unique to Elvis. I was immediately addicted. I licked the seam of his lips and he opened just enough for me to slip my tongue into his mouth. It was his turn to moan. I felt the moment he was unable to resist me, when his body relaxed into mine and he returned my kiss with a passion of his own. What he lacked in experience, he more than made up for with enthusiasm. This was the single most erotic moment of my life…until the heavens opened and the snow turned to rain.

I was a big guy and strong from many hours in the gym. It took no effort to haul my arse up of the ground while holding tight to Elvis. “Come on. I’m taking you home.” I grabbed his hand and we raced through the slush, to the sanctuary of my waiting car.