Desperate To Please

"Hold please!"

Gordon rushed through the elevator doors before they slid shut, almost spilling the four coffees in his tray. His hands were already shaking from the espresso he had knocked back on his brisk walk back to the office building.

It was only when he realized who was on the elevator that he regretted his outburst. His Boss, Steve Warner, didn't press the "door open" button for him, and instead watched Gordon struggle to jam himself between the sliding doors.

Steve was a top-floor executive who cut a sharp, rugged figure in his black designer suits. He was twenty years older than Gordon and occupied the top of the ladder that Gordon was only scrabbling at the bottom of. He struck Gordon as exactly the type to play hard-headed boss at the office, and faceless Grindr torso by night, and couldn't help but feel a rush of attraction whenever the older exec took charge in meetings or disappeared plastic-boxed salads or wrapped sandwiches into his office.

Tèa, one of the other interns, had caught him looking once. Gordon had no choice but to appreciate the slight bulge in Steve's slacks while he spoke inaudibly to Tanya, the firm's senior marketing manager. She nodded at him professionally, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, before returning to her own office.

"They're fucking, you know," Tèa said with a sly smile. She was perched on Gordon's desk.

Tèa had told Gordon she was only here until she could land something in design, just to keep her parents happy, and refused to surrender her over-lined eyes or thick choker necklace to the powers that be.

Gordon was the opposite. An obvious try-hard, he'd had his navy blue slacks and blazer tailored to his slim frame, leaving just a hint of checkered socks visible above brown oxfords. With his hair coiffed and his face freshly shaven, he'd become the gopher for tasks the office had long since given up on asking Tèa to handle. As she'd advised him on his first day on the job: the less you give, the less they'll expect of you—which was exactly the way she liked it.

And in all the time she spent reclined on her phone browsing online fashion mags, she was actually quite good at picking up on the office undercurrents.

"Where'd you hear that?" He asked.

Tèa shrugged. "Just look at them." Her eyes followed Steve, who was waiting an excusable amount of time while his gaze trailed after Tanya's pencil-skirted behind. With one hand in his pocket, he glanced around the room, completely skimming over the interns.

"No shit," Gordon laughed, incredulous. "How long?"

"Long as I've been here, at least. Longer, I bet. They've got their little routine down to a science. You know how Steve takes his lunch early and goes out the back way instead of taking the main elevator?"

"You don't think they actually..." Gordon grinned devilishly.

"Always time for a quickie. Maybe they like the thrill of almost getting caught."

Steve turned and headed for the glass doors of the conference room.

"Well," Gordon rolled back in his office chair, "guess that's my cue." He stood to his full, gangly six feet.

Tèa inspected her nails. "Go get 'em, busboy. Don't forget to lick 'em clean."

"Some of us actually want to keep our jobs," he teased back.

She pushed herself off of his desk, taking a box of paper clips with her. "Well don't let me keep you from the hamster wheel."

-

Gordon wished he had remembered that conversation when the elevator slid open the next floor up, and Tanya stepped on. Her eyebrows rose, apparently surprised to see that Steve had company. She recovered, giving him a quick smile and turning to face the door.

Steve gave no outward sign of recognition, aside from a slight stiffening of his posture.

Tèa was definitely going to want to hear about this later.

The three of them stood in awkward silence as the elevator continued to rise—Gordon wished they'd at least play some of that shitty elevator music. Tanya took out her phone, looking at the lock screen, before sliding it back into her purse.

The light above the number seven blinked out. Gordon waited for it to reappear over eight, but it was taking longer than usual. Then, with a lurch, the elevator came to a complete stop.

Gordon caught himself against the elevator wall, managing to only spill a splash of coffee onto his oxfords. Behind him, Steve braced against the impact. Tanya teetered to one side, letting slip a sharp, "Jesus!" before regaining balance.

Tanya jammed her finger into the "door open" button, eyes scanning the elevator wildly. Nothing happened. The overhead lights flickered, went out, and came back on again.

Gordon's nostrils flared with panic. This was something that only happened in the movies, right? He shut his eyes, waiting for the floor to drop out from under them, one mechanical malfunction away from plummeting to his death.

Seconds passed and nothing happened. With each passing breath, Gordon felt more confident that they weren't going anywhere.

"We're stuck!" Tanya whirled toward both of them.

"Out of the way." Steve shoved past Gordon, this time actually splashing coffee all over his shirt.

"Hey!" That was definitely going to stain.

Steve ignored him, pressing the button marked with an alarm bell.

Nothing happened.

"Fuck it." Taking his phone from his pocket, Steve punched a few numbers and held it to his ear. "Hello? Yes, this is Warner. Yes. I'm—

still

speaking." His irritation was palpable. "Elevator's stuck on the seventh floor. I

know

because I'm on it. Yes, elevator three." He glanced up at Tanya, pausing for a moment. "Three of us. Yep." He cleared his throat. "When can you get us out of here?" A pause. "And how long is that going to take?"

He shut the phone off. "Motherfucker."

He'd never heard Steve speak like this before, though it was obvious he had a temper. Let's just say that you didn't want to screw up Steve Warner's coffee order. You didn't even want to look at him funny.

In Gordon's mind, Steve was a heavy-handed daddy, one misplaced "yes, sir" from getting out the belt, and that idea was overwhelmingly hot to him. Even when he was tripping over his words and picking up the crumbs of Steve's approval—usually just a nod or a stoic "you're dismissed"—Gordon stumbled out of his office flushed, exhilarated, and undeniably aroused.

Gordon swallowed. "What did they say?"

Steve glared at him, communicating with the clench of his jaw that Gordon would face the brunt of his infraction later. He turned to Tanya, softening a little. "They said it's going to be forty minutes before maintenance can get it figured out."

"Forty minutes?" Tanya's voice was shrill with panic. "And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"I don't

know,

Tanya." Steve spat the words.

She huffed. She looked at Gordon like she might say something to him, like someone might for once consider that he was an autonomous being with thoughts of his own.

"Well," she said stiffly. "This. Just. Blows."

-

Forty minutes came and went. Steve passed the time growling over the phone, canceling appointments and trying to goad someone in the office into action. It was clear that he hated having so little power over his situation.

For Gordon, it was nothing new. He made himself comfortable on the elevator floor, sipping at one of the coffees in his tray. No one was going to want it anyway now that it was going cold.

After several dramatic sighs—which provoked neither Steve nor Gordon—and some exasperated pacing, Tanya joined him on the floor in the opposite corner of the elevator. She sat sulking, arms crossed.

Steve left a brief and emotionless voicemail for "Kathy." Presumably his wife, from how quickly he seemed to want it over with, and the way he turned away from Tanya to make the call. Before hanging up, he issued a flat, "Bye."

-

By the second hour, Tanya had abandoned all composure, prying off both heels and resting her head back against the elevator paneling.

The coffee Gordon had consumed had soothed his nerves at first, but now was making his heart pound. He was also beginning to feel all the liquid trickling through his system and collecting in his bladder, forming an uncomfortable tightness that tugged at his attention. One of his knees bounced anxiously.

Steve kept up his pacing, his watch-checking, his occasional phone calls, but had reached a moment of stillness.

"How's Darcy?" Tanya asked.

Steve shot her a look. "Fine."

"She graduates this year, doesn't she?" Tanya put on a pained air of niceness, presumably for Gordon's benefit. Steve glared at her.

"Not if she keeps treating her grades like extracurriculars."

"You're awfully hard on her, Steve," she said, quietly.

"You think so, Tanya?"

She said nothing.

"Please, keep telling me how to parent my daughters. Don't let me stop you."

"Don't be like that, Steve. I'm just trying to—"

"Trying to

what

, Tanya?"

She went silent.

Gordon, with nothing else to distract him from the growing fullness in his belly, traded looks between his boss and his side piece. He timed a glance poorly, catching Steve's eye.

"What?"

"Nothing," Gordon said quickly. He brought another sip of coffee to his lips, just to look like he was doing something. He would be fired after this, he was sure of it.

Steve scoffed, hands deep in his pockets. "I bet you're enjoying yourself."

"Steve, don't."

"What, Tanya? I'm just trying to make conversation. We're all stuck in here together, so I suppose we ought to have a nice fucking conversation, right? And you," he gestured at Gordon, "This is probably your wet dream, getting the afternoon off work to do jack-shit in an elevator. Am I wrong?"

Was Steve trying to provoke him? He had to admit, seeing his boss get flustered and red in the face wasn't unenjoyable to watch.

"We all want out of this as much as you do, Steve," Tanya said.

"I'm not

devastated

to be missing the afternoon briefing, if that's what you mean," Gordon ventured, keeping a close eye on his boss. Tanya snickered quietly.

"Un-fucking-believable."

-

By hour three, the coffee was really starting to get to him. He texted Tèa, who would be taking a smoke break right about now.

G: I'm pretty sure I'm going to piss myself if they don't get us out of here soon.

T: praying for you, gordy. bladder of steel, right?

That might have been true if it weren't for the 16 oz drip he'd just downed, and the espresso before that. He wondered what actually

would

happen if no one came to their rescue in the next couple of hours. God, he hoped it would be sooner than that! Would they all be pissing in their own corners of the elevator while the others turned away?

The thought of relieving himself in front of his boss made all of his sphincters clench. Once Steve had come into the bathroom while Gordon was at the urinal and started unzipping his fly next to him. Gordon had seized up, cutting himself off mid-stream, while Steve whipped it out with no apparent shame. Gordon stuffed his still-dripping cock back into his slacks and rushed to wash his hands.

No, he would hold it. He'd have to. He wasn't going to think about the alternatives.

-

By hour four, Tanya wasn't doing so hot. Whatever decaf matcha latte health drink she'd had that morning was catching up with her, though she was trying not to let it show. She'd shifted into a sitting position with her legs tightly crossed, her stockinged toes flicking with agitation. She tried a few more times to start conversation with Steve, a noticeable impatience to her voice, but gave up quickly when he shut her down.

Watching the two of them together, Gordon couldn't understand how they worked in the bedroom. Or the staff bathroom, or the elevator, or the janitor's closet, wherever they got handsy. Maybe it was a hate-fuck kind of thing. Gordon could get on board with that. Steve pounding Tanya from behind, grunting out, "Yeah, tell me I'm a terrible father!" while she spattered him with insults.

He didn't want to be thinking about it, picturing it, but at least it was distracting him from the situation at hand—both his growing claustrophobia and sense of dread, and the growing ache in his bladder. He was past the point he'd usually sprint to the nearest restroom and groan with relief when the pressure eased. Thinking about

that

made it hurt even more.

But his daydreaming had the undesired effect of sending blood down to his groin, sparking the beginnings of an erection. This made all the sensation down there more acute, and he had to keep shifting his pelvis to find temporary respite.

Tanya had her eyes closed, her fingers pressed against her temple. "This is getting ridiculous." As if the situation hadn't been ridiculous four hours ago. She fumbled for her phone. "I'm going to try the office again."

"No use," Steve said, resolute that if he couldn't solve the problem, no one else stood a chance. "Apparently there's only one maintenance guy on call, and he's busy with some kind of plumbing emergency over in finance."

"Maybe we can... God, I don't know. Can't he get here any faster?"

Steve laughed cruelly. "Good luck."

Tanya put on her sweetest customer service voice for the phone. "You know," she said, "it's been a long afternoon. For all of us. We'd all just like to be able to get on with our lives. Can't you do something to help? It's really... I... Yes, I understand, but— Of course, of course. Yes. Thank you. But if— Would you just—? No, I understand. Thank you."

She hung up.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her, arms crossed. He was still intent on standing, maintaining his place above his subordinates, although he'd started to recline against the wall.

She shook her head. "Dammit!" She threw her phone back into her purse so hard Gordon thought she might break the screen. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Steve rolled his shoulders back and closed his eyes. "That's what I thought."

-

Gordon noticed that even though Steve had his eyes shut, his forehead was pinched slightly between his eyebrows. And with his hands buried in his pockets, barely-noticeable shifts in the fabric of his slacks told Gordon he was balancing his weight on one foot, and then the other.

Could it be that his boss was feeling it too? The thought sent an ache through his throbbing bladder and down to his cock. Steve was doing well trying to hide it—you probably wouldn't notice unless you were feeling the same desperation yourself, which Gordon definitely was.

The longer he observed him, the more he was sure of it: his boss, stoic and impenetrable, was struggling against his own physical needs. It was different to see him like this—uncomfortable, shifty, desperate—not a side of himself Steve would ever willingly show to his coworkers, let alone his college-aged intern.

Through the pocket of his slacks, Gordon palmed his penis. Partly he hoped that a hand between his legs would stopper the rising pressure and keep it from spilling over—anything to put some resistance there, to remind his body that he absolutely could not lose control right now. The other reason was that irresistible tug of arousal he felt around his boss, especially in this moment, with Steve's eyes closed in concentration. Gordon thought of hot fluid pouring out of Steve's cock and soaking into the elevator carpet. His boss was a big man, so he must have a bladder to match his stature. It would probably take him several minutes to empty himself.

Gordon winced at a sudden bladder spasm, pressing harder into his hand. His sphincters were working overtime to make sure that none of the immense pressure would break through, and now his cock was getting steadily harder, adding another level of pleasurable agony to his predicament.

He thought about texting Tèa again, but he couldn't quite bring himself to joke about it anymore. His discomfort had reached such a peak that all he could do was sit and sweat, clenching tight, staring down the mounting pain.

Tanya wasn't doing any better. Her legs were quivering, and beads of sweat dripped down her neck and under her starched collar. One of her hands cradled her head while the other gripped the handrail for dear life.

Without looking up, she blurted out, "Steve!" with so much urgency that Gordon jumped.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut harder. "What?" His voice was sharp with annoyance.

"I can't do this anymore." Tanya's voice broke.

Steve's eyes blinked open, examining her. "Do what

,

Tanya?"

"This, Steve! I can't do it anymore, any of it. I can't stand being your—"

"Not here," he growled. He shot a look at Gordon, whose mind was processing at half-speed, the rest focused on holding in what felt like a gallon of piss.

"I don't care who knows anymore, Steve! I just— Ack!" A hand shot between her legs, bunching up her skirt. She sucked in short breaths.

Steve's face betrayed actual concern, maybe because he understood exactly what she was feeling. His voice softened in a way that made Gordon's dick get fully erect. "It'll be alright, baby. We'll make it through."

When he moved toward her, Tanya shot out a hand to stop him. "Don't come over here, Steve! Please, just don't!"

"Let me help you."

"You can't, Steve! You fucking can't!"

"Tanya, baby..."

"Oh God... Fuck!" Tanya lifted herself slightly off the ground as she started to dribble, then flow. She let out a low moan. The bottom of her skirt turned a dark gray, and urine dripped and then poured onto the carpet.

The sight of her bladder bursting made Gordon's spasm. It was unbearable. But he

couldn't,

because his cock was completely hard. He rocked against his hand, letting out a frustrated groan.

Steve had been watching Tanya's accident with wide, glistening eyes. Now he turned sharply to Gordon. "What are you looking at?"

Gordon shook his head. "N-nothing. Nothing, I swear."

"You're touching yourself right now, aren't you?"

"Leave him alone, Steve," Tanya said weakly.

"You don't get to look at her like that. You hear me?"

Gordon nodded.

"You hear me? Speak up!"

"Yes!"

"Stand up."

Gordon just stared at him. Steve's eyes were bright and vengeful, and his face had turned a dark shade of red. Gordon's eyes flitted to the crotch of his slacks. He glanced at Tanya, who was tugging at her skirt, shame-faced. Was something about this situation arousing to Steve? The thought sent a throb of heat through his belly.

"Stand. Up."

He was still Gordon's boss, after all. If he hoped to have a job when all of this was over, he'd have to put his head down and do as he was told.

Standing up was easier said than done. As Gordon unfolded, a bolt of pain shot through his bladder. He squeezed his legs together, waiting for the sudden pang to subside. He was dangerously close to losing control.

"Here." Steve jabbed a finger at the floor in front of him.

Gordon shuffled toward him. He stopped about a foot from where Steve had indicated, but Steve didn't even have to speak to remind him of his role here. He shuffled closer, close enough to smell Steve's cologne and musk.

"Tell me what you were looking at."

"I wasn't—! I wasn't looking at anything."

"Don't lie to me. You were looking at Tanya and touching yourself."

His stomach fluttered. He was aware of his hard cock straining against his briefs, forming a visible tent in his trousers.

"I just... I've really got to piss, Steve."

"Is that why you're hard right now?"

He felt Tanya's eyes burning into him. "I-I'm not!"

Steve scoffed. His lips curled into a smile, which made Gordon's heart pound. "You're not? You won't mind showing me, then. Honesty is always the best policy, Gordon."

Gordon felt his heartbeat in his cock, getting more erect, if that was even possible.