—
Hey, send me a dick pic for science.
Nolan sighed as the elevator doors slid shut. Science?
Yeah, it’s that thing where you learn stuff, Niall texted back. No, this was definitely Russ using Niall’s phone. Nolan was getting better at telling them apart. Come on, I need one for comparative purposes.
You have several, Nolan reminded them. He’d send more than enough pictures of his dick to Russ and Niall over the last few months, ever since they’d taken over his life.
Yeah, but I want a new one for science! Russ complained. They attached a picture of their own, of their dick pointed at the camera while a dildo disappeared into their ass in the background. I mean if you don’t want to send one that’s fine, I can just send the old ones to Daddy.
Nolan rolled his eyes, glanced at the lights on the elevator. He was going to the sixth floor. Quickly, he put his briefcase down and pulled his hardening cock out of his suit pants and snapped a picture of it, tucking it away and sending the photo to Russ. Here.
Thanks! We’re going to borrow your credit card. I said something wrong about champagne? So now Niall is upset and he wants to go to France.
Nolan just sighed, putting his phone in his pocket as the elevator dinged. Those boys would do their best to bankrupt him, honestly. Though maybe this meeting he was about to walk into would help with that.
The elevator opened onto a short hallway, and Nolan turned left, finding the office he was looking for readily enough. He went inside, found a warm room with abstract artwork on the walls, where a young man in a bowtie and vest with no shirt underneath was sitting at a desk. He looked up. “Hello,” he said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Yes,” said Nolan. “Mr. ven Sancte asked me to come in to discuss a position.” Nolan had gotten a phone call from someone yesterday morning insisting that he come in for a job interview at this clothing company. A new company, which tempered the excitement of the offer, but still. When the secretary just kind of looked cutely at him, Nolan sighed. No accounting for some people’s experience. “I’m Nolan Mindt.”
“Oh, yes!” the young man stood up, brushing a hand idly over the stuffed bunny on his desk and going over to open the office door. He was wearing incredibly short shorts with a puffball tail sewn on the back. Nolan wondered if he was wearing Cheeky’s brand. It looked like it, from what he’d researched last night. “Mr. ven Sancte, Mr. Mindt is here for you.”
He turned back, and smiled at Nolan. “You can come inside, sir.”
Nolan went right in, taking the chance to get a close look at the stitching on the secretary’s clothes before the door was pulled shut behind him. The office inside was wide, with tall windows on one wall, more artwork in here, slightly less abstract. Flanking the door were two life-sized line drawings of nude boys from behind.
Behind a cherry desk was Gavin ven Sancte, working on a tablet. Nolan knew who he was, of course. Everyone knew the ven Sancte family. Their industries didn’t intersect much with Nolan’s family’s, so they rarely saw each other except at society parties. Gavin was wearing a purple suit with no tie, leaning back in his chair. He looked up from a tablet. “Thanks for coming in, Nolan.” He gestured him to the chair in front of the desk, putting the tablet down. It had what looked like concept sketches of boys in different sports uniforms on it.
“Of course,” Nolan said, taking the chair, which was more comfortable than a visitor’s chair should be. “Your job offer was mysterious enough that I couldn’t help but come see what it was all about.”
Gavin nodded. “It wasn’t an offer so much as an invitation. I saw A Midsummer Night’s Dream with my husband and son the other night and it was all-around excellent, but I couldn’t help but notice the costuming especially. You were in charge of that, right?”
“I was,” Nolan said. He’d done good work on that—not just on Niall’s costume, but on all of them. A Midsummer Night’s Dream was a very sexual play and that deserved to be shown in the costuming. “I was very proud of the work I did.”
“Right. I got to meet some of the actors after and see their costumes up close, and the detail work was very impressive. I only just started Cheeky not long ago, and I’m looking to expand our product line considerably. I just landed a big contract with a bunch of local sports teams. I’m looking for a head designer, not just for that project but for everything. Tell me why that’s you.”
This wasn’t how a job interview at this level was supposed to go. No wonder Gavin had called his company Cheeky; he was just describing himself. “I have experience working with a large staff in a big company,” Nolan said, shrugging. “So that’s not a problem, especially as you grow. I’ve been designing clothes for a number of years. I’m sure you know my nephew Niall is somewhat famous for being very fashionable—I make most of his clothes.”
“Still?” Gavin asked, tapping on his tablet. “Did you make all these?” He showed Nolan three pictures of Niall. One when he was much younger, wearing a blazer and tight shorts. One from last year, wearing a silk suit designed to show off everything. And one that Nolan didn’t recognize but that looked more recent, wearing a long silver coat, thigh-high leggings and a belt, and seemingly nothing else.
“Yes,” Nolan said, nodding. “He was supposed to wear shorts with that look.” He hadn’t been, but he also hadn’t been supposed to be photographed in it. Looking closer, though, it was possible that was actually Russ in the photo.
“I think he made the right call not wearing them, personally,” Gavin said, considering the picture. “Anyway, that’s some range.”
“Thank you. As Niall’s gotten older he’s asked me to start dressing him more…maturely,” Nolan said, neutrally.
Gavin snorted, shifting in his chair. There was a little peek of a hem as he moved. His pants had no back. “You mean as he’s gotten older you’ve gotten less afraid of making him look like a slut. Nobody dresses a child like in that first picture unless they expect someone to look at his ass.”
Nolan resisted the urge to scowl. “Whatever you’re implying…”
“Nolan, please,” Gavin said, putting the tablet down. “I run a company that sells slutty clothes for boys. I don’t need you to be sanctimonious about wanting to fuck your nephew, especially since the background check I did on you proves that you didn’t until recently. Tell me about your dream project.”
How the fuck was Nolan to respond to any of that? He shook himself, took a breath. He was a professional. And if Gavin truly didn’t care about his…interests, then this was a good place for Nolan to work. “I have an idea for a clothing line called Free the Backside,” Nolan said, opening his briefcase and pulling out some of his sketches. “Which would centre around backless pants that expose the rear end.”
Gavin nodded. “Okay. I’ve seen that before.”
“I know, I can see you’re wearing it,” Nolan said. Gavin smiled a little. “I’m betting those pants of yours are completely backless, right?” When Gavin nodded, Nolan went on. “This line wouldn’t do that. If I’d designed those pants, the fabric in the back would come at least partway up the thigh. I have no doubt you have great calves, but fashion isn’t just about showing off, it’s about wanting to make people see more. This way, people can focus on your ass, which is what matters, and be left wanting to see more.”
Gavin nodded through the explanation, making an impressed face. “Okay. That’s interesting. So you’d do what, casual wear?”
“All kinds of bottomwear,” Nolan said. “Slacks, shorts, jeans, swimwear. There’s no occasion when it’s necessary to cover your ass.”
“That’s a good slogan,” Gavin muttered, taking notes. “Needs a little refining. Don’t cover your ass. We’ve got your back. Or something.”
“Sure,” Nolan offered. “I had also thought with the advertising campaign, we could incorporate NFTs of the models…”
“No. Next.”
Nolan blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said no. We’re not doing NFTs. I know your family are tech people but we’re not douchebags here.” Gavin smiled. “I like the rest of the idea. What’s this?” He lifted a sketch out from the pile Nolan had on the desk. “I like this.”
“I don’t have a name for it yet,” Nolan said, pulling out the sketches that went with it as he tried to recover from the rejection. Gavin was looking at a sketch of a boy—it was Niall from a few years ago—standing with his back to the viewer, wearing shorts that were loosely laced in the back, showing off half his crack, and a shirt that was the same. “But the concept is that the boy wearing it can’t easily do it up on his own. He needs someone to do it for him.”
“And that person gets to decide how much he does or doesn’t show off,” Gavin muttered. “Yeah, I like that. No zipper, which is good, too. Lots of our bottoms emphasize not wearing underwear.”
“Unless it’s your brand, yes,” Nolan agreed with a nod. “I’ve got some creative ideas about zipper placement here somewhere…”
This was clearly no longer a job interview. That worked just fine for Nolan—Gavin might be a pain in the ass, but it was clear they had similar visions. They’d work together just fine.
—
How Best to Use a Sword 