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Jogging

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Jogging

 

I would have never met him if I hadn’t forced myself to go jogging that morning. He was sitting on a bench soaking up the sun. I was bending over to get a drink of water and trying to catch my breath. He had one of those faces that look totally innocent. His rich dark tan told me he lived in the sun and that he was probably a lifeguard or a surfer—maybe he had a sailboat. His face lit up as he smiled at a girl running past. After he smiled at her I figured that my chances of an encounter with him had dropped to near zero but that was before he sent one of those dazzling beaming smiles my way.

 

All sorts of things ran through my head. The guy was a hustler. He had to be homeless. He had to be living off the land. I turned my attention to the water fountain and was ready to head back to my car when he approached. He gave me another smile and his teeth were dazzlingly white. Without a word he bent to get a drink. When he was stretched out with his hands behind his head on the bench he looked athletic but up close he was amazingly muscular—like someone who used the gym every day—like a gymnast turned bodybuilder.

 

“Are you going that way?” he pointed in the direction I came. I nodded. “Mind if I join you?” he smiled and I melted. Enthusiasm and sociability seemed to ooze from his pores.

 

“I wouldn’t mind some company,” I said before I took another drink. I sensed that he was looking me over. He fell into step and he slowly picked up the pace forcing me to run above my fitness level. Soon I was anaerobic running and he began to overrun my body’s ability to maintain the pace. He slowed even though he didn’t seem short of breath, yet I, who thought I was fit, was at the edge of collapse.

 

I slowed going up the incline right before the parking lot and he kept with me. I stopped at the stretching station and even though I was extremely winded I began to stretch out my muscles. I stripped off my shirt and wiped my face; he used his hand. The sweat was the only indication that he had run three miles. He stretched with me.

 

“Not many people can do what you did,” he said.

 

“What’s that,” I gasped still trying to oxygenate my body.

 

“Keep up with me,” he flashed a smile. I stopped stretching and looked at him. His body was all muscle like a really buff bodybuilder—very lean—maybe four to six percent body fat. His face told me he was in his early to mid twenties but his physique was that of someone who had been into bodybuilding for twenty or thirty years.

 

“Not bad for a senior citizen, huh,” I teased. I was thirty two and proud of the shape I was in.

 

“Did I say that?” he laughed. “I’m Brad Hass,” he said extending his hand. “You can’t be much more than thirty,” he smiled. “I’m twenty eight so I guess you are more senior than I am,” he chuckled.

 

“Chris Walker,” I replied. “I thought you were about ten years younger than me. I haven’t seen you out here before,” I said to find out more about him.

 

“I just got here last night,” he told me. He didn’t offer any other explanation.

 

“Are you moving here?” I asked to see if he was a potential running partner.

 

“Interviewing for a job this afternoon,” he said. “I caught an early flight.”

 

“Can I give you a lift?” I asked.

 

“I have a rental car.”

 

“I run every morning at seven if you want to join me tomorrow.” I offered.

 

“I might fly home tonight,” he said as we started toward the cars.

 

“It was nice to meet you Brad. Good luck with the interview.” I said when we reached my car. By the time I backed out of the parking space he was gone. At home I showered and was rock hard. I fantasized about being in the shower with Brad rubbing my cock against his. All I could do was stroke my shaft until I climaxed.

 

I logged on to my computer and began to take calls. Even though I worked remotely I usually dressed in slacks and a golf shirt—it made me feel more professional. Today I was in my robe. I was busy but the thoughts of Brad and his great body hovered in the back of my mind. I checked my over the telephone fix rate and I was way above average—even my average. Then the aggravation started. Calls were being shunted to me from the less productive reps. I looked in the mirror at my scowl. I knew I would sound gruff when I answered so I tried to duplicate Brad’s smile.

 

“This is Chris how may I help you today,” I gushed. I heard a string of curse words and a tirade about how unreliable the machine was and how he should have bought our competitors unit.

 

“What is a code 3400? Why can’t you just use plain English?” he demanded.

 

“Humor me and check to see if there is paper in your printer. If it is out of paper all your results will print from the cue when you have paper in the machine,” I explained.

 

“I just filled the dam thing with paper. I am short three people today and…”

 

“Please hit the enter key on the printer keypad,” I interrupted. I could hear it printing. “It isn’t your fault. They should have put an auto reset in the program so that when you shut the door on the printer it starts printing.” I said to take the blame from him. He wasn’t the key operator and it was a quirk of that machine. “I hope they fix that in the next program revision.”

 

“Look, I’m sorry I cursed you out like that,” he began.

 

“It is perfectly understandable,” I smiled. “Do me a favor and put a note on the printer until the key operator gets back. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 

“That’s it,” he said. “Thanks.”

 

Chalk up one more for the phone fix column, I thought as I typed to close out that call.

 

At noon I got dressed and ate lunch. I couldn’t get Brad out of my mind. I thought about the encounter and I should have gotten his cell number or given him mine.

 

At 6:55am the next day I was stretching and preparing to jog. Today was one of those days I wanted to sleep in and I would have except for the fact that Brad might show up. It was 7:08 when I sat on the bench feeling depressed. I kept stretching and he didn’t show. I took a heaving breath and decided to jog back to the car. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Brad putting a note under my windshield wiper.

 

“Hey,” he said softly. “I figured you would be on the trail somewhere.”

 

“I came back to get water,” I lied. “I thought…”

 

“That I wasn’t interested?” he chuckled. “I got the job so I guess I’ll be looking for a place to live.”

 

“It just so happens that I have a three bedroom house,” I smiled. I didn’t tell him one spare bedroom was set up as an official office and the other was so tiny it doubled as my walk in closet. He could always say no thanks when he saw the set up. The point was to get him there. He made a face.

 

“I was hoping you wanted a bedfellow not a roommate,” he said hesitantly. I broke into a huge smile. That morning I worked up a huge sweat before I started work but it wasn’t from jogging.

 

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