Hardcore Bathroom Sex

A few weeks back at work, the building manager and I arrived right on time, around 5:00 AM. We both like to arrive to work under cover of darkness. It cuts back on the questions when the witness count is low.

Naturally, we were both still a little out of it. He had had his excitement the night before and I had had mine. We both needed a pick me up.

As he cut lines on his desktop, I rolled last weeks project reports into a tube that would make sushi feel inadequate. I could tell right off that both of us were going for volume today.

I cut the straw in half and handed him his. As he poised himself over a line about the size of a bread knife, he looked up. “The towels in the men’s room aren’t rolling properly. Take care of it.”

Ignoring what sounded like a “Shop-Vac” in turbo mode, I thought of the towelboy who had let the situation get so out of hand. He would have to be punished, to send a message to towelboys everywhere.

A few hours later, as the sun began to rise, the laundry truck pulled up in front of my building. From my office window, I could see him hop off the back. His blonde hair glistened in the morning light. His shorts revealing everything I needed to know and more. This was going to be fun.

Half an hour later, he was in the men’s room, approaching to the unrolled towels piled on the floor. He hadn’t heard me enter. As he scooped up the piles on the floor, I ran a finger down his spine, from his neck to his waistline. He dropped the towels and spun around with a gasp.

“Morning.” I said, sternly. “I want to show you something.” I pulled open the towel dispenser with one practiced move. I was ready. “I see you noticed that we’ve been having a little trouble with the quality of your service lately. Do you see this?” I gestured at the rolling mechanism. The grit roller was visibly warn at the edges. “When we’re having trouble with our towel service…” I rolled a finger across the worn roller, “It usually means that things need to get a little more… rough.”

His eyes widened. He could tell where this was going.

“So how are you going to fix this?”

He shivered slightly. I made my move.

I pushed him back slightly over the sink and pushed my finger into the base of his neck, just firmly enough to register pressure. “Obviously, we need to come up with a solution that will work for all parties. Don’t we?” I hooked my finger under his top button and gave a fast tug. The button flew into the uniform racks behind me. “There. Progress.”

An hour later, the towelboy hurried out of the building towards his truck. Only someone watching could tell that his shirt was held closed by no more than his subtle grip and the pile of towels in his arms. Because he had so quickly taken care of the problem, I’d rewarded him with a quick breakfast after his service work. Now I needed a line.

As I left for my office, I had a thought. I’d wait another week, then put the old roller back on.

It’s a good life.