The Universe of Discretion: Snowfall

My father’s COO, Arthur, was joining us for dinner. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, as my dad often invited his top employees over for a meal. The twist in the tale was that Arthur and I were sleeping together.

I first met Arthur at the annual winter holiday party hosted by my dad’s company, Whoosh Inc., just three weeks ago. At twenty-six, Arthur was eight years older than me, which made him quite young for his high-ranking position, but also a bit old to be involved with the boss’s son.

Moreover, my dad was oblivious to the fact that his potential successor was gay. He was also unaware that his son was gay. Arthur and I had agreed to keep our relationship a secret until we figured out where it was headed.

I guess the thrill of sneaking around added to our attraction. He would carve out time from his hectic schedule to meet me at his place, while I had become an expert at making up reasons for my absence from home after school.

The sex with Arthur was mind-blowing and intense. He was well endowed, and we had gradually trained my body to accommodate him. I was hooked on him and the pleasure he provided, but we hardly had any time to build a relationship outside his bedroom.

Sometimes, I wished our relationship was out in the open and everyone was okay with it. Then, I could get to know the man who so expertly pleasured me a little better. I was almost tempted to spill the beans at dinner tonight, but that would probably end Arthur’s career and make my life at home extremely uncomfortable.

The snow started falling twenty minutes after Arthur’s arrival. I watched the snowflakes as he was telling my mom about the homemade key lime pie he’d brought. It was his grandmother’s recipe. Honestly, I couldn’t care less.

“How did your math test go?” my dad asked, helping himself to another slice of pie. He had been engrossed in conversation with Arthur throughout dinner and now decided to ask me about his favorite subject, math.

“Fine,” I responded curtly.

“Well, I hope it went better than just fine. You’ve been studying with Ian all week,” he said, watching me closely.

I just nodded. My mind drifted back to my supposed study sessions with my best friend. In reality, I had been with Arthur.

I could still picture his reflection in the wardrobe mirror, his body moving rhythmically as he made love to me against the wall. In the heat of passion, I had bitten his shoulder hard, making him gasp in a mix of pain and pleasure.

As he sat there discussing pie with my mom, my mark was still visible under his neatly ironed shirt.

“Are you okay?” my dad asked. “You seem lost in thought.”

“Yup,” I replied, pushing my chair farther under the table to hide my arousal.

“Who wants to join me for a nightcap in the den?” my dad asked, apparently bored with the current topic.

Arthur glanced at my dad and then out the window before saying, “I should leave before the snow makes the roads impassable.”

My dad stood up and looked outside. He shook his head and said, “You won’t be able to cross the bridge in this weather. Why don’t you stay the night?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Arthur stammered. He accidentally made eye contact with me for a moment. We had agreed to avoid looking at each other, as we couldn’t trust ourselves around each other.

“Nonsense,” my dad said, finishing his wine. “Mary, do you need help preparing the guest room?”

“I changed the sheets just yesterday,” she replied, smiling at Arthur. They seemed to have bonded over their pie conversation.

“Great!” my dad exclaimed. “What will you have, Arthur? I have a fantastic single malt Scotch I’ve been meaning to try. Lagi…something.”

“Lagavulin?” Arthur suggested.

“That’s it!” my dad said, patting him on the back.

Sometimes, I was terrified of what would happen if my dad discovered our secret. He was usually a softie, but when he got angry…

I assumed they would continue discussing work, so I helped my mom clear the table.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. My favorite distraction was downstairs, chatting with my dad.

I often daydreamed about what it would be like to make love in my own home. My friend Ian had been bringing his girlfriends home since he was sixteen, and his parents never objected.

Ian, however, wasn’t gay, and his girlfriends didn’t share an office with his father. Plus, they were all younger than him, not nearly ten years his senior.

Arthur’s response was a muffled echo, wishing my father the same.

By now, he should be settling into the guest room. My mind was a whirlwind of anticipation, a kind of thrill I’d never felt before.

It was probably because I’d already made up my mind to sneak into Arthur’s room once the house was quiet and everyone was asleep.