The Mistress Of Mississauga Pt 02

"Well, is he OK?" barked the boss, snapping his napkin into his lap.

"Oh yeah," said Chad, with a flick of his wrist, "He's fine - just running late. He fell asleep."

Chad took his customary seat and picked up his menu, but having been walloped with what he had just witnessed, was unable to focus on the evening's offerings. He wasn't exactly sure what to do about it, but holy fuck, he had stumbled on the mother lode of inside information - this was GOLD! And of all people, Lloyd Danvers? Lloyd fucking DANVERS?! The mildest of mannered men getting a double blowie, and during a company-sponsored vacation with the boss? Had he lost his frickin' mind?!

"And for you, sir?"

Chad peered up at the server and passed the menu to him.

"I'll have what she's having," he said, pointing at his girlfriend, Shenice, "and a Captain Morgan and Diet Coke."

And who were those women, anyway? He wondered. Prostitutes most likely. I mean, who's going to suck Lloyd's dick for free? He'd be lucky to get a B-day BJ from his wife. That's why The Chadster stayed single. When the BJs stopped coming, he just traded up to a new pair of tits. He had to admit, though, he'd never had two babes on the bag.

Fucking Lloyd Danvers.

And thirty minutes later, Fucking Lloyd Danvers appeared - in the day's dirty shorts, a wrinkled teeshirt inside out, mandals, and his gray hair Alfalfa-ed atop his sweaty head.

"Jesus, Lloyd," decried the boss, "You look like a clown's day off."

"LOL Chief," blurted Chad, slapping the table and causing the cutlery to rattle against the empty plates.

"Sorry," said Lloyd, taking his seat, "I didn't have time to clean up. I must have been terribly tired. I fell asleep and slept right through the alarm."

"Yes, I know. Chad told us all about it," said the boss. He raised his arm and waved the server over.

"What can I get for you, sir?" the waiter asked, but Lloyd had been left speechless by the boss's revelation, and after more than a few moments of awkward silence, Chad took the helm.

"He'll have the onion-crusted grouper," he ordered, relishing Lloyd's unease, and Lloyd nodded a weak approval.

"Have you talked to Sharon?" asked Winona, "I hope she registered us for that charity tennis tournament next week. I texted her, but she hasn't confirmed."

Lloyd attempted to carry on a coherent conversation with the boss's wife, when it was obvious his mind was otherwise occupied with the possibly dire consequences of his poolside pole varnishing. Chad, chin in hand, studied the struggle with great pleasure.

"Listen, Lloyd," said the boss, interrupting his wife, "Chad and I have been discussing who will take the lead on the Freedonia proposal. You're the senior engineer on the Hawker II; I'm assuming you want it."

But rather than responding with the perfunctory Yes that everyone expected, Lloyd appeared pensive as he sipped his Chardonnay and carefully considered his answer. He threw a side-eye at Chad, who winked at him on the sly.

"If you want it, Chad, you can have it," he said, matter-of-fact.

The boss drew in his chin and furrowed his brow.

"Are you sure, Lloyd?" he asked, "I know you're busy, but this is a big fucking deal. Regardless of what they say they want now, Freedonia is tripling their military budget. If we can get a foothold, it's likely we can sell them thousands of Hawkers, and it may be possible to up-sell them on the Eagle down the road."

Ho-lee-SHIT! thought Chad. Lloyd knows I know and he's throwing me a bone - a BIG one. Question is, do I want to use my leverage right now? The effort I'd have to put in to get up to speed on the Hawker II would be substantial, and I don't know crap-all about the new Eagle series.

"No, no," said Chad, shaking his head and slapping Lloyd's back, "You're the expert, Lloyd; you earned it. I'm happy being Number 2... for now."

Another surreptitious wink.

"Well, it's our last night here," he added, rubbing his hands together gaily, "Shall we dance the night away, ladies? What do you say, Chief?"

"Sure, why not," said the boss. "Go get yourself cleaned up, Danvers."

Lloyd stood and pushed his chair under the table.

"Thanks boss, I don't think so," he said, quietly.

"Why not, Lloyd?" asked Chad, "It's not like you've got anything going on back at the bungalow." He bit his bottom lip, barely able to contain himself. "Come on, get dressed, and we'll see if we can scare up some girlie action for you."

"Stop it, Chad," said Shenice, playfully punching him in the shoulder.

Winona laughed.

"I don't think we need to worry about straight-laced Lloyd," she said, taking her husband's hand and standing, "His nose is so clean, you could eat off it."

"Thanks for that, Winona," said Lloyd, with a soft smile, "but I'm going to have to decline the invitation. I'm beat. I'll see you all in the morning."

He took three steps back, waved, then waddled away.

"Wait up!" yelled Chad, hop-skipping to catch him, "I want to ask you about a couple things."

Chad expected the brush-off, but Lloyd surprised him.

"Sure," he said, friendly, "Just need to take it slow; my knees are killing me."

"I'll bet," said Chad, with a chuckle.

But as soon as they were out of sight, Lloyd turned on him.

"What else do you want, Chad?" he growled, "I offered you the Freedonia gig; why didn't you take it?"

Lloyd's dour demeanor caught Chad off-guard. He may have been a lot older and physically far worse off than Chad, who was the company pickleball champion, but like a snake cornered and coiled up in the garage, Lloyd was on the defense and poised to strike.

"Relax pal," said Chad, with a lazy grin, "I just wanted you to know your secret's safe with me, that's all."

But Chad's guarantee sounded disingenuous, because it was, so it did little to ease the tension manifested in Lloyd's jaw.

"No really, I mean it," Chad added, putting his arm around Lloyd and walking him towards the bungalow of ill repute, "and even if I told someone, they wouldn't believe it. Hell, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears, I wouldn't have believed it either. Lloyd Danvers - a dirty old man. BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Chad's cheeriness was short-lived. Lloyd grabbed him by his seersucker button-down and balled his fist up under Chad's dimpled chin.

"Don't you ever call me that again, you pompous prick!"

Then Lloyd let go of the would-be blackmailer with a persuasive push, sending Chad ass-over-teakettle down a manicured mound of grass where he came to rest under an Angel Trumpet tree. Covered in mulch, he managed to crawl his way back up to the cart path, relieved to find that Lloyd was long gone.

********

Stay tuned for part 3 of The Mistress of Mississauga!