Damn! That is my third time to read that sentence and I still don't know what it says. I just can't seem to concentrate when every time I look up from this laptop Dave's nipples are staring into my soul.
I've been working remotely for about a year and spend at least an hour every day here in the shop at the end of the block. It has a mismash of coffee, smoothies, lite fare, and a few staples, but neither a coffee shop nor a C-store per se. My apartment building is in the middle of the block, a quick 2 minutes from door to door. I use the break from the four walls of my home office to catch up on email or setup a report from the CRM data while having a coffee.
It is safe to say most of the other neighborhood residents work from home too, and the 24-hour gym above the shop helps keep the corner lively morning to night now that mask mandates are over. Seems it is mostly young, grad students or newly minted professionals. Lots of singles and lots of pretense. Almost everyone lives in this area to see and be seen. Always the perfect clothes, trendy haircuts, the right tech, and working of the crowd.
I'm not totally out of place here, but I don't feel the need for constant approval either. Evidence of this, my workout habits are sub par. I guess not having a car and walking almost everywhere I need to go, mixed with my genetics keep me looking fit anyway. In the evening at the shop couples of all combinations meet and sometimes share intimate touches as they leave to hook up. I've had my occasional share of those but no one in particular turned my head until a few weeks ago.
There they are again, those nips! Dave is the only guy in five square blocks that doesn't wear the requisite trendy workout gear. Instead he seemingly has an endless supply of old graphic T's that he cuts down the sides to make sleeveless. He is in great shape, good definition in his arms and legs, but not overly bulked up.
I see him around but consistently at the same time on Tuesday and Thursday when I'm at the shop. He stops in after having been to the gym and taking a run through the park afterward. I'm not a stalker, REALLY, it is just that the wall of floor to ceiling glass makes it easy to observe the ground floor entrance to the gym. After the run, he usually stops in to buy a smoothie, which he takes outside to enjoy while he cools down. A few times when he arrives in the shop I've been seated close enough to the order counter to see him stretch as he waits, which tends to make his shirt ride up and reveal the trail just above the running shorts or jogger pants he is wearing on any given day.
Today is different. The sky had threatened rain all morning and now the downpour began, keeping everyone inside the shop. Having received the beverage and nowhere to sit due to the temporarily trapped crowd, Dave plops down on the floor between two tables. I'm at my most usual spot at the long bar height work table that has power outlets.
Mysteriously the otherwise crowded place creates a void directly ahead of me, lighting a clear view directly to where he leans his back against the glass. Having taken a position with crisscrossed legs, he places the drink inside the triangle made by his calves and thighs. No one else is paying him any attention, and not just because he has only been living here only a few weeks.
As strikingly handsome as he is, the major factor to Dave being unseen by the crowd is not only does Dave not adhere to the local dress code, he does not have the latest tech. Where everyone else uses wireless ear buds and chat away on the phone looking like they are talking to themselves, Dave was actually holding the phone to his ear, having an intense conversation. I suspect everyone thinks he is a rando just running through this part of town.
When I first arrived in the neighborhood two years ago after college, I immediately bumped into Harlan Green, an old high school friend. We didn't attend the same university, but did coincidentally chose the same career path and city to start our first post grad jobs. Harlan's place is across the street in a similar apartment building to mine, both managed in common by a local real estate group, and the buildings share the same leasing office and amenities.
When remote work started to become the norm Harlan took the opportunity a few months back to return home and help with his father who recently had a stroke. Harlan has kept the apartment but only until the lease expires, and this is how I met Dave Grey. Harlan roomed with Dave at college, one of the random roommate assignments that actually led to a friendship beyond graduation. Harlan and Dave talked often enough since that Harlan knew Dave was taking a three month assignment in the city. Harlan unofficially sublet his apartment for those three months, that last of his lease, and asked me to show Dave the ropes when he arrived since it was not official with the leasing office.
The second day after Dave arrived we had covered all of the necessities, and with just those short encounters I was smitten, but Dave gave no indication of reciprocal interest. Dave's job was some sort on site engineering role, so he then started working long irregular hours on the project, making mid week at the shop my chance to engage him. He is always polite but I'm certain he is an introvert, takes one to know you see, and usually won't talk long. In my case I learned in college to channel my introvert tendencies to not seem as aloof as Dave does.
He had not acknowledged me this time, but there was some obvious nervous energy about the topic of the phone conversation he was having. His focus was definitely on the other end of the call. Regardless, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him as he absently alternates between revealing his perfect nipples shining on those toned pecs, and covering them again. With the thumb of his free hand he pulls at the cut side of his workout shirt or grabs both sides of the loose material in his fist. These actions cause the material to accordion into a small bunch down the mid-line of his torso. He holds this position for a few seconds, then releases the shirt. Each time he repeats the motion one or both of his nipples are innocently revealed like clouds gliding through the sky reveal then obscure the sun.
As I have previously observed, It is plain that Dave is not a hairy man. Dirty blond and well featured, he does not keep any facial hair. His arms and legs have a very light dusting usually only visible at an angle, and his chest seems to be without any other than the darker trail below his navel. It might be assumed he grooms his body hair, but I think that would be out of character for someone who does not dress to impress while doing a workout.
So those nipples... being covered, then exposed, the material bunched up again and this time held for a full minute. The orbs are mesmerizing on his solid pecs, large enough to easily see from across the room. The flesh of his nipples isn't pink, but cinnamon-sugar brown from exposure to the sun. I finally realize I'm staring too long and return my gaze to the email, but the fourth and fifth reading are no good either, so I signal retreat by closing the lid to my laptop and collect my things.
