Steve was having a great day, as he did almost ever Saturday. He had slept in, had a shower with his hot wife, Victoria, which, of course turned into a hot session of wall-pounding sex. Then, after going for a run, he'd settled in for an afternoon of watching sports on television with his son, Sam.
The boy was growing up nicely. Steve had heard from the school that he was picking on the smaller k1ds, pushing them around, intimidating. Just as Steve wanted it. He didn't want his boy growing up to be a sissy, so he'd raised him tough, just like he was.
Steve didn't know how many times he'd regaled his son with stories of how his own office worked, how he would push around anyone who stood in his way. There was this guy Jim, for example, that Steve really enjoyed picking on. On Thursday Steve had locked him in a broom closet after Jim had shown Steve up in a meeting, making him look stupid. Steve made a mental note to tell his Sam about it later.
Stretching his big beefy arms, Steve grabbed the remote and clicked on the sports channel, excited to see that there was a replay of the football game he'd missed the day before. Sam sat next to him with a grin on his face; a chip off the old block. Sometimes life was good.
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As Jim drew on the pad he found that the pencil seemed to have a life of its own. Sure, he was picturing in his mind what he wanted to draw, but he would never have been able to pull of the detail or accuracy that was on the paper before him. He'd started with an image of Steve, the office bully, the jerk who had locked him in the broom closet earlier that week, sitting on the couch with his son. Jim imagined that would be something Steve would be doing right then.
As the image began to take shape, Jim began to make a slight, subtle change, the kind that you would only notice if you looked closely. With a smile, his slow plan of revenge began to take shape.
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Steve sat on the couch next to Sam, watching the football game. Sam was engrossed, staring at the screen, absorbed in every play. He was glad that his boy was growing up like that; tough, rugged, manly. Steve remembered being like that; sometimes he still was. Not that day, however.
His temptation had gotten too great. He'd been able to resist for a long time, hide his secret deep down inside of himself. He pushed people around, he acted with false bravado, all a disguise, all a ruse.
Nobody knew, of course, just him. That was fine by him. The last thing he wanted was for Victoria to find out, for her to see him as less than he was. She was smoking hot, so hot, in fact, that sometimes she intimidated him. Maybe that was what had driven him to his failure. Their shower earlier, followed by the hot sex, maybe it had been too much for him.
Whatever it was, Steve was glad that his boy was so engrossed in the game. With his eyes on the screen, there was no way that he would notice that Steve was wearing a bra and panties beneath his clothes, nor would he notice that Steve had borrowed a pair of his wife's stockings in lieu of socks that day.
Wed Nov 16 17:10:30 2011
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