"Benji! Get your fuckin' ass in here," Mr. Boothe shouted from his office.
Mr. Booth was yelling for me again.
My name is Ben, short for Benjamin. Benjamin Carter. I'm 24 years old. I have blond hair and hazel eyes. I'm pretty short at only 5'7" and a little bit too skinny. I don't think I'm anything special to look at. I'm painfully shy and I'm not the most manly of guys, and being gay doesn't help, especially given my work environment.
I've worked at Ace's Trucking and Storage Company for the past five years. I started out as a shipping clerk on the dock, then got promoted to dispatcher two years ago. Because there was already a Big Ben and a Little Ben working here when I started, I got the unfortunate luck of being called Benji.
We have a huge storage warehouse that companies rent for overflow inventory. We have a group of drivers that make those transfers throughout the day, plus a handful of warehouse workers that drive pallet jacks and load and unload trucks. Most of our routes are local to the surrounding counties, but we do have the occasional long haul. As a dispatcher, I help plan the transfers and routes for the truck drivers.
One of the truckers that used to work here knew my dad. Dad was not the most supportive of me, to put it mildly. Unfortunately, he told my co-worker I was a 'fag'. It did not take long for it spread all over the company.
All of my co-workers ignore me for the most part. I don't mind it too much, since I have always been a loner.
Upon hearing Mr. Boothe yelling for me, the other dispatcher, Mona, looked at me and shrugged. Mona was a 40-something single lady who dressed like she was in her twenties. Not that she wasn't good looking. She had a nice figure and was pretty, but she gave off that cougar vibe. She was dating one of the young truckers, a guy in his late twenties.
I got up from my desk and walked into Mr. Boothe's office.
Mr. Boothe was a handsome man in his forties. I've always had a little bit on an attraction to older guys, and Mr. Booth was undeniably hot. He had hazel eyes, brown thinning hair with a goatee and moustache. He was built big, with a little bit of a pot belly. Unfortunately, his personality was so repulsive that it negated any hotness or attraction that I could have felt for him. He was mean and homophobic and he scared the crap out of me.
"Y-y-yes, sir?" I stammered as I stepped in front of his desk.
"You fucked up Chuck's route," he groused.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Yeah, you're sorry. Now apologize. Christ, you are fucking worthless. Get the fuck out of my office!"
Mr. Boothe threw the route sheets at me. I picked them up and returned to my desk. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to figure out what I did wrong on Chuck's route.
I knew I wasn't the smartest guy, but I thought I did a good job. The manager before Mr. Boothe always told me I did a great job. He said I was the best dispatcher he knew and that I knew the business and the routes like the back of my hand. He was always kind and supportive. Unfortunately, he quit for a better job out of state and they promoted Boothe. Boothe was always so mean to me and I couldn't help but get nervous and flustered around him, which only made it worse.
I looked over the route papers and I found the mistake and corrected it in the computer system. It was a minor mistake and it only took him off route by a few miles. I don't think it deserved the treatment I got.
As lunch time came around, I picked up my brown lunchbag and the paperback book I was reading and walked to the break room.
"Don't let him get to you, Benji," Mona said as we walked down the hall. "But you know he's going through a divorce, so maybe cut him some slack."
'Yeah, sure. He doesn't cuss YOU out on a daily basis,' I thought.
I simply sighed. "I guess..."
Mona joined her boyfriend and the two of them sat next to each other and snuggled up together.
I sat at my customary table in the back corner, by myself. As always.
As I pulled out my peanut butter sandwich and slowly ate, a handful of drivers and warehouse guys came in for their lunch break. I listened to their loud conversations as I ate my sandwich. I was still a little hungry when I finished. Maybe I would get something from the machine. I looked in my wallet to see how much I had left for the week. Eight dollars. I decided to save my money. It was only Tuesday and I had to make it last until Friday.
I folded up my paper bag and put it in my back pocket to reuse. I picked up my book and started reading where I left off.
I was lost in my book when I heard the clunk of cowboy boots entering the room. I looked up to see Big Ben strutting in. He sat down by himself as usual and pulled out his lunch from a plastic grocery store bag and quickly dug in.
Even though Little Ben quit long ago, everyone still called him Big Ben, at least they did so behind his back. Ben's nickname was well deserved. He was indeed big. He was like an ogre. He was 6'6" tall and muscular, but not muscular like a body builder, but built big and thick and brawny. I'd guess he was in his early thirties. Ben was rugged and not what I would call handsome. Okay, he was downright ugly. He had big bullish neck, a squarish jaw and a crooked nose that must have been broken more than once. His bottom teeth were pretty crooked as well. He had a scar in his left eyebrow. He had dark auburn red hair cut into a 'high and tight' military fashion. He usually had a few days of beard growth because he didn't shave regularly. Ben also had a sweat problem when it was hot. The armpits of his shirts would always be stained with sweat and I could smell his BO when he'd come near. It was kind of gross, but I actually felt bad for him. He was quiet and kept to himself. He almost seemed shy. He always had a scowl on his ugly mug that made him look scary and unapproachable.
I always did his routes, so I would see him at my desk nearly every day. Unlike all of the other macho assholes that worked here, and despite his scowling appearance, he was actually kind of nice to me. The scowl would disappear when we made small talk at my desk and his voice would be quieter, though still deep and rumbling. I sometimes wondered if his gruff demeanor was an act to keep people away.
I glanced over at him and he was lost in thought, chewing his sub sandwich. I smiled to myself and tried not to giggle when I saw the blob of mustard on his chin. He was a messy eater. I returned to my book with a smile on my face.
***
A couple of days later, Mr. Boothe asked me to work late. I didn't have anything better to do, other than sit in my cold apartment alone. And I sure could use the overtime.
Everyone had gone by 5:00 and I was sitting at my desk working on new customer data when Mr. Boothe yelled for me to get him a cup of coffee. I went to the break room and grabbed a styrofoam cup. The coffee seemed really old, so I dumped it and made a new pot.
I brought the cup to Mr. Boothe and set it on his desk. Mr. Boothe had pulled off his tie and unbuttoned a couple of his shirt buttons. The thick brown hair on his chest was on display and I couldn't help but look.
It reminded me of the only guy I had ever gone all the way with, Dan. Dan was one of Dad's poker buddies. He seduced me and became my first (and only) lover. I believed him when he said he cared about me. After several months, I discovered that I was not his only 'boy toy' as he called me. When I confronted him, I was in tears. He laughed at me. He was cruel and selfish. I was devastated and vowed never to see him ever again.
"What the fuck took you so long?" Mr. Boothe snapped, waking me from my day dream.
"S-s-sorry," I stammered. "I had to make a fresh pot."
"I don't fuckin' care. Quit making excuses. You're as bad as my god damned soon-to-be ex-wife."
"I'm doing the best that I can, Mr. Boothe," I whimpered.
Mr. Boothe stood up and slapped me across the face. I gasped and stepped back in shock, tears falling from my face.
"Don't back talk me, boy. You're gonna start crying now? Fucking faggot."
"I-I-I... I'm trying. Honest."
"I am so fucking sick of you. You can't fucking do anything right. But I'll bet you know how to suck cock, don't you? Yeah. You're gonna suck my cock right now, bitch."
Mr. Boothe grabbed the back of my hair and pulled. I yelped in pain, trying to grab at his arm. He yanked me down to my knees, holding me in place while he undid his pants with the other hand.
"Mr. Boothe, please," I begged and cried. "You're hurting me!"
He pulled out his hard dick. He was about 5 inches long and pretty thick. I gasped and tried to back away.
"No, I don't want to!" I cried.
"You'll fucking do it if you want to keep your job," he spat.
An evil grin spread across his face and he added in quiet menacing voice, "And don't even think of telling anyone. No one will believe you if you try to tell."
He gripped my head tight and rubbed his dripping cock all over my face. I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip on my hair and I cried out. He shoved his cock into my mouth and grabbed my head with both of his hands and mercilessly pumped in and out of my mouth.
"Suck it, bitch!"
Tears ran down my cheeks as I did as he asked. I steadied myself with my hands on his thighs and I sucked him. A few minutes later he was grunting and groaning.
"I'm gonna fucking come in your mouth, cocksucker! Ah, fuck!"
He grabbed my head and held tight as he spurt a huge load of come into my mouth. I choked and had no choice but to swallow it, though some of it dripped down onto my chin.
When he finished, he roughly pushed me away, knocking me flat onto my back. He looked down at me with a smirk as he put himself away and zipped up his pants.
"Well, at least now I know you're actually good at something. But I don't think I can put that on your performance review," he chuckled. "Now get the fuck out of here."
I choked back a sob and got up and ran out of the office to the bathroom. I washed my face and then grabbed my jacket and hurried down to the bus stop. It was a cold spring day in April and it was raining of course. I stood in the cold rain, huddling my arms around myself. At least with the rain pouring down on my head, it would disguise the tears that poured from my eyes.
When the bus arrived at my stop, I quickly walked down the block to my tiny apartment. I lived in the old downtown area. My apartment was one of the two small apartments above an old Italian deli. The deli owner was also my landlord. He didn't seem to like me very much. Or maybe he was just crabby. I don't know. I didn't care. It was about the only place I could afford on what I made at work and it was close to the bus route.
***
If I was scared and nervous around Mr. Boothe before, I was absolutely terrified of him now. I would scurry out of his way when he came near. When he spoke, I would practically jump out of my skin.
I kept to myself even more after that, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.
He seemed to be ignoring me for the most part, and I was glad for that. He would still yell and berate me daily, but he didn't make any physical moves towards me.
Until about a week later. He had been on the phone all morning arguing loudly with his wife and lawyers about the divorce.
