Oliver's Online (5 page)

Ha! Served her right for talking him into this gig in the first place. Oliver couldn’t wait to tell her about it. Although, knowing her, she’d probably get a kick out of it. Twisted little thing that she was.

“I like that name. I’m going to say it when I come,” the caller said.

“Okay,” Oliver replied.

After all, it was no skin off his back, since it wasn’t really his name. For all he cared, the guy could get it tattooed on his ass. Just so long as he didn’t show up in person and expect Oliver to kiss it. ‘Cause this guy sounded kind of scary.

“What are you wearing, Becker?” the caller asked.

Looking down at himself, Oliver was about to describe his outfit, then he remembered his conversation from the night before. “Boy shorts.”

“
Boy shorts?”
the caller echoed, his voice a bit off.

Not wanting to blow things, Oliver kept going. “Yup, bright pink ones. They're really tight, too. You can see everything.”

“Okay.”

Sensing he had really blown things, Oliver decided to pull out the big guns. “That’s not all I’m wearing, though.”

“It’s not?”

“Oh, no. You want to know what else I have on?”

“Sure.”

“A dog collar and a leash,” Oliver exclaimed.

There was a long, heavy pause over the line.

“Hello?” Oliver finally said.

“You’re weird,” the caller replied.

Offended, Oliver fired back, “You’re weird!”

“You’re new at this, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much so. You’re my first caller.”

The caller let out a heavy sigh. “You have a long way to go, kid. If I were you, I would just go into straight porn.”

Click.

Oliver opened and closed his mouth several times. Did that creep just hang up on him? How dare he?

Oliver pulled off the headset as he wondered where he had gone wrong. He closed his eyes and let out a groan. Shoot! He was supposed to ask them what they
wanted
him to be wearing? It was supposed to be their fantasy.

Shit! Damn! Fudge! His first call and already he’d messed up. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he weren’t fired by lunch. His first job was going to turn out to be a total bust.

Before Oliver even had time to gather his wits, his line began to ring again. Great! Just what he needed, another chance to mess up. Letting out a sigh, he put his headset back on and hit the button.

“Hello,” he said, this time trying to make his voice sound sexier.

“Don’t talk, just sing,” the new caller ordered.

Taken aback, Oliver asked, “But, what do you want me to sing?”

“I don’t care. I just want to hear a real voice while I jackoff.”

Okay, this was something Oliver could handle…or he hoped he could. He scrambled his mind to think of a song…any song that he knew all the words to. But, all he could think off was
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
Left with no other option, he took a deep breath and went with it.

The caller didn’t complain, and although, Oliver had to sing it at least fifty times before the guy was finished, he seemed happy enough when he hung up. So Oliver considered himself batting fifty/fifty at that point.

Oliver took off his headset. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to listen to that song again in his life without getting a creepy sensation going up his spine. He grabbed a drink from the bottled water they had supplied at every station and then his line was ringing again.

Putting his headset on again, Oliver cleared his throat then pressed the button. “Hello.”

“Hello, what little sexy morsel am I talking to?” a male voice cooed.

“Becker, who are you?”

“I’m the Stetson Man.”

Oooookay, that was a new one. But Oliver could go with it. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Stetson Man.”

“What are you wearing?” the caller asked.

Having learned his lesson from before, Oliver said, “What do you want me to be wearing?”

“I want you to be dressed up like a little cowboy for me.”

“Well, lucky you, because that’s exactly what I have on,” Oliver said.

If he could have, he would have patted himself on the back. The phone call was going so well. He only wished Lane was there to hear it. Although, on second thought, the idea of Lane hearing him get some guy off didn’t set too well with Oliver for some odd reason.

“Are you wearing a cowboy hat?” the caller asked.

“Yes, a nice red one with a yellow star on it,” Oliver said.

“How about a vest?”

“Ah-huh, it even has fringe,” Oliver purred.

“Ass-less chaps?”

“Black leather ones.”

“How about boots?”

By now the caller was panting, and Oliver could tell that he had him by the tips of his fingers.

“Yes, they even have spurs on them.”

The caller let out a loud gasp. “Well, damn it! Why did you have to say that? I have a waterbed. Now you done gone and ruined it. My bed is full of holes!”

Click!

“But it’s just pretend!” Oliver yelled into the now dead phone line.

He let out a groan and laid his head down on the desk. Could things possibly get any worse? All that was missing was a pile of doggie doo and his morning would be complete.

“You seem to be winning the customers over just perfectly,” a snide voice called.

Oliver knew without even looking up that it belonged to Eddie. Since he didn’t feel like talking, he just lifted his hand and gave Eddie the one finger salute.

“Well, that’s real mature,” Eddie snipped.

“So is leaving your desk when you have calls coming in,” Lane said.

Shit! The boss! Oliver sat straight up and tried to look like he hadn’t been making a mess out of his first day as Eddie scampered back to his desk.

Lane gazed down at Oliver, his face an unreadable mask. Oliver’s heart beat so hard it was a wonder it didn’t pop out of his chest and land on his desk. Was he in trouble? Was he going to be written up? Yelled at? Or worse, fired?

“Come to my office, we need to talk,” Lane finally said.

Well, that wasn’t good. No conversation with a boss ever started off well with those words. Taking a deep breath, Oliver got to his feet and followed Lane to his office, all the while aware of how more pathetic his limp made him appear. He even heard a stifled laugh from Eddie. God, how Oliver hated that guy.

Once they got there, Lane instructed, “Shut the door, please.”

Oliver did as instructed and leaned against it, awaiting further orders. He didn’t take a seat until Lane motioned to one of the visitor chairs. Only then did Oliver make his way to the seat and sink down into it.

Lane put both hands on the desk and let out a deep sigh. “I think we can both agree that this isn’t working out.”

“I can do it,” Oliver protested. “I just need a little more practice.”

Lane gave him an indulgent smile. “Oliver, let’s be honest with each other. You turn red whenever someone even says the word cock in front of you.”

Damned if Oliver didn’t blush again. He cursed his body for betraying him. Why did he have to be so shy? One would think that having a best friend like Becca would knock the bashfulness out of him, but nope, it was there to stay.

Oliver ducked his head and began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “So, does this mean that I’m fired?”

“No, I’m just going to reassign you to someplace else.”

Oliver looked up. “Where? You’re not going to have me do one of the camera shows are you? ‘Cause I don’t know if I could show my goods off to strangers.”

“I wouldn’t make you do that, don’t worry. I need some help in the office. You told me you’re really good at numbers. Is it true?”

“Yes. Like I said, I was going to go to school to be an accountant before the accident messed everything up.” Hope blossomed in Oliver’s chest.

“Well, I’m terrible at math, and I could use your help in that area.”

Suddenly, Oliver felt a bit uneasy. “I don’t know. It sounds like a pity job to me.”

Lane cocked a brow. “What do you mean by a
pity job
?”

“Something that you throw at me because you feel sorry for me because you know I can’t get a job anywhere else.
Poor little Oliver, better toss him a bone. No one else will,”
Oliver spat out bitterly.

Lane sat there for a moment before finally saying, “Are you done with your little hissy fit?”

Oliver blinked a few times. “What?”

“Look, I’m not like your friends or Becca. I don’t run a charity here. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly rolling in money. So, if I offer somebody a position, it’s because I need them, and I’m able to afford them, not on a whim. Do you want the damn job or not?”

Nobody had ever been that blunt with Oliver before. It was kind of…refreshing. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before slowly nodding his head. “What would the pay be?”

Lane named a salary Oliver thought more than fair before asking, “Do you still want it?”

“Yes, show me where to start, and I’ll get to work right away.”

Lane pointed to a pile of invoices and said, “You can start there. I tried to make my way through them, but they just gave me a headache. You can stay in here and use the other desk, so the phones don’t distract you.”

Yeah, but your hot body sure as hell will
. Oliver grabbed the invoices, a couple pencils, and a calculator then went to work. Before he knew it, he was lost in the numbers and humming happily.

Oliver got so caught up that he didn’t even realize it was time for lunch until Lance came over and tapped him on the shoulder. “You do get a break, you know.”

Oliver laughed. “Sorry, I lost track of time. You weren’t kidding when you said that you don’t do numbers. You haven’t been keeping track at all, have you?”

“I’ve been trying,” Lane shrugged. “But like I said, I suck. So now do you believe me when I said that I really needed you?”

“
Needed me
? You should have hired me weeks ago,” Oliver exclaimed. “You’re lucky you didn’t go bankrupt before you even started. But you don’t need to worry, you have me to watch over you now.”

They both got out their lunches and ate in easy silence. Oliver ate quickly, eager to get back to the paperwork. He had forgotten how much he’d missed the smooth order of mathematics. Now that he was deep into them again, he couldn’t get enough of them.

“Slow down, the work can wait,” Lane told him with a smile.

“I know, but there is just so much to do.”

“So, I take it that you like this better than the other job?”

Oliver chuckled. “Much better. I think I’m better suited for it, too.”

“I have to say that I agree.”

“You’re not going to fire me then?”

Lane gave him an appraising stare. “No, not at all.”

The rest of the day went by without any issues, and before long, it was time to pack up to leave. He stood up and rubbed his leg, working out the aches from it being in one position for so long.

“Do you have a ride home?” Lane asked.

“I’ll call Ronnie. He can swing by and pick me up on his way home from work.”

“Why don’t you let me take you? I haven’t seen the guys in a while.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It won’t be a bother at all. Like I said, I wanted to say hello to the gang.”

“Becca may be there,” Oliver warned with a chuckle.

“All the more fun.”

Lane grabbed his keys and led the way out. Oliver was glad to see that Eddie had already left. The last thing he wanted was to run into that creep. He’d had more than enough of him for one day.

They walked outside, the bright sunlight almost blinding after the false lighting from inside. Oliver blinked several times until his eyes adjusted and breathed in the fresh air.

Just as they reached the car, Lane reached over and grabbed Oliver into a tender embrace. “You did a great job today. Thank you.”

He placed a gentle kiss on Oliver’s lips. It was almost over before Oliver could register that it had happened. Then Lane went over to the driver's side of the car and got in.

Left with no other option, Oliver got in the car, but he was more confused than ever. Was Lane really actually attracted to him? And if so, how did Oliver feel about that?

Chapter Six

Oliver watched Lane as he masterfully weaved in and out of traffic, heading to Oliver’s apartment. He didn’t know what to say. His attraction to Lane made guilty butterflies flap dizzily in his stomach until he didn’t know whether he should clutch his aching heart or puke on the floorboards.

“Hey, it’ll be all right,” Lane murmured in a soothing tone. Oliver wondered if Lane could sense his impending mental breakdown. Maybe he was sending psychic waves of panic across the cab.

“What will be?”

“Everything.” Lane’s complete confidence calmed Oliver a bit. After all, Lane wouldn’t lie to him, right?

“I don’t know how much of my past you know about,” Oliver began. Frankly, he didn’t know how to continue. Silence stretched out between them for a few minutes.

“I know you were in a car accident that damaged your leg,” Lane offered. He let the silence fall between them again. This time the quiet almost held a waiting presence as if by the lack of conversation the reality would be revealed.

“I also lost my lover, Dave,” Oliver said, ripping off the protective bandage of silence.

Lane’s took one hand off the wheel to squeeze Oliver’s hand. He returned his fingers to their proper placement before Oliver’s panic attack set in.

“Please don’t do that,” Oliver pleaded.

“Do what?” Lane dared a glance in Oliver’s direction.

Oliver let out a squeak. “Take your eyes off the road or your hand off the wheel. I’ve been in one bad accident in my life, and I’d sort of like to make that my last one.”

“Oh, sorry.” Lane sounded sincerely apologetic, easing some of Oliver’s fears. “I didn’t think of that. Are you nervous riding in cars now?”

Oliver nodded. “Which is why I usually take the bus.”

Buses were safer in Oliver’s mind. If a bus collided with a car, the odds of the bus being damaged were minimal.