“I’ll get back to you on the briefing…” Zeke Baxter was on the phone at his desk at his law firm; Baxter, Griffin, and Associates. “I want to sue them, Zeke.” “Believe me…I have plenty of case law from these kinds of filings. Let me handle it. I will get it quashed.” “Okay. Keep me up to date.” Zeke hung up his phone and used his intercom to call his assistant into his office. “Luther…see if you can find me anything on Tyler versus Conrad. There’s a case I can recall about medical staff being held responsible for voluntary surgery, even when the physician has stated in writing it was elective.” “Yes, sir.” Zeke took off his glasses and threw them on his desk. A light rap at his door made him look up. His partner at the law firm, Albert Griffin poked his head in. “Anything I should be concerned about?” “No. I’ve got it.” “Is this the lawsuit about the cosmetic surgery?” “Yes. Luther is looking up a case I recall about it.” Zeke loosened his tie and leaned on the desk. “Anything I should know about on your end?” “Well, other than thank heavens it’s Friday. No.” “Won’t matter. I’ll be on my computer working all weekend.” Zeke glanced at the computer screen. “You want to come by for dinner? Maybe Kim could get a babysitter and we could actually have a grown up meal.” Zeke smiled. “Thanks for the offer. I’ll pass on this one. I’m exhausted, Albert.” “You look it.” Albert shut Zeke’s office door and sat in front of his desk. The office was designed so the senior partners had large rooms, but they had glass interior walls, so everyone could see anyone, coming or going. “Are you feeling all right?” Zeke gestured for Albert to stop worrying. “I’m fine. Just, I let shit get to me. Little shit.” “I would think after working in law for so many years, you’d develop a thick skin.” “You would think.” Zeke’s intercom buzzed. He looked up at Albert in feigned agony. Albert stood. “I’ll let you get to it.” Zeke picked up the line. “What did you find, Luther?” “I’m sending it to your computer. You’re right. There is a case setting precedence.” “Okay. Thanks for being so quick.” “No problem, Mr Baxter.” Zeke put his glasses back on and read the legal brief, making notes and highlighting on the computer screen, then printing it out.
Two hours later, the lights of the office began to dim. Zeke removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes since he’d been working since six that morning, and now…it was nearing seven at night. Albert poked his head in and said, “Go home.” “I will. I’m almost through.” “Have a good one. See you Monday.” “Bye, Albert. Send Kim and the kids my best.” Albert waved and Zeke was the last man in the office, which was normal. He was the senior partner and put in sixty hours a week, a least. He had a gorgeous home on North Beverly Drive, but sadly he wasn’t there much. Although coming in early and leaving late had benefits. In LA you missed the traffic if you drove off peak. Zeke shut off his computer after printing everything he needed for his client’s appointment on Monday. He rocked in his leather chair and chewed the temple end of his eyeglasses, trying to think, which was useless when he was overtired. He shook himself out of the stupor and pocketed his glasses, then made sure he had his cell phone and put his suit jacket on, which was hanging on the back of his chair. Before he headed home, he stopped at the restroom and washed his hands, splashing his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror above the basin. He was nearing forty and even though he had a full head of brown hair, his hard work was beginning to appear as lines on his face. He ran his damp fingers over his hair, trying to look neat, and then glanced at his blue eyes. They were slightly bloodshot from reading for nearly twelve hours, but he was always told they were one of his best features. Zeke relieved himself, then after he rinsed his hands again, he took off his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his starched shirt.
Underneath the downtown LA office tower, Zeke’s leather shoes echoed in the underground parking area. He had a reserved space, as did all his employees, and as he drove his black Mercedes out of the lot, a magnetic sticker on his window immediately opened the gates of the pay parking area. Since it was nearing eight, the streets had cleared out. The downtown core was mostly commercially owned, with a few rundown tenement houses. Zeke checked his rearview mirror and then drove down one of the littered, graffiti-covered streets. There were places in LA that seemed to be neglected, so much so, the garbage piles were like landmarks they had been there for so long. No glitz, no glamour, there were streets in the City of Angels were police feared to tread. Zeke slowed his sedan down and opened his window, hearing the usual sale’s pitches. “Hello, handsome…what can we do for you?” “Hey, good looking…I’m what you’re lookin’ for…” No, you’re not. Zeke knew exactly who he was looking for. He pulled up near a curb, the gutter cluttered with trash; bottles, cans, paper bags from fast food restaurants, needles, and condoms… Zeke made eye contact with a young man. The young man smirked and sauntered over. Zeke said, “Get in.” The pretty young man walked to the passenger’s side. When the door closed, Zeke pulled away from the other individuals who were out for what they could get. He parked under the highway overpass, shutting off his lights. Zeke turned in this seat and smiled. “Hi.” “Hi.” Zeke reached out to touch Ashley’s hair. “I like it long.” “I know. You told me.” Ashley scooted closer. Zeke opened his belt and zipper, shifting on the seat. “Money first?” Almost forgetting, Zeke took his wallet out, giving Ashley fifty dollars. Ashley counted it. “You’re my best customer.” He tucked the money into his shirt. Zeke grabbed Ashley by the back of his head, through his thick black hair and urged him to his lap. Ashley took Zeke’s cock into his mouth and yanked Zeke’s trousers lower so he could get his hand between Zeke’s legs. Zeke rested his head on the driver’s side window and watched this pretty androgynous young man suck his dick. Ashley moaned, either liking it or pretending he did. Already on the verge of a climax, Zeke wanted his money’s worth so he edged it, trying not to come too quickly. But Ashley knew all of Zeke’s hot spots, or ‘cum buttons’ as Ashley referred to them. The minute Ashley went for Zeke’s ass, he couldn’t stop the climax. He arched his back and gripped Ashley’s head, holding it in place, making Ashley wait until he was ready to stop. Once his cock began to soften, Zeke released Ashley’s head. Ashley sat up, wiping his mouth. He flipped the visor down and in the sparse light, checked his face, wiping at the guy-liner under his eyes. Zeke tucked his dick into his pants and straightened his clothing. Ashley flipped up the visor and smiled at him. “Another satisfied customer?” “Yes.” Zeke turned his headlights on and started driving. He heard Ashley sigh and looked over at him. “You hungry?” Zeke asked. “I’m fine.” “I can stop at a sub shop.” Ashley glanced at him, giving him a wary look. “I don’t need a dad.” Zeke shut up. He returned Ashley to the corner where he had picked him up. A few of the other street workers were still there, leaning into cars. Ashley batted his long eyelashes at Zeke. “See you again?” “Of course.” That made Ashley smile. He opened the car door and leaned down to wave before he closed it. Zeke drove off, looking in his rearview mirror as Ashley approached another ‘customer’. As the pleasure of the climax wore off, Zeke’s decent mood did as well. He headed to Beverly Hills, driving on Wilshire Boulevard. Zeke hated himself. In reality, he hated everyone. Two years from the big four-oh, and every man he met, either in a bar, a club, or through a friend, was a douche. All they saw were dollar signs. Half the men he had dated didn’t even listen to him when he talked. They thought of what they were going to say instead. Self-absorbed, narcissistic bastards. Maybe it was him. Maybe he attracted the type. He was tired of the ‘scene’ in LA. But had no intention of moving. At least his career was going well. They had more work than they could handle, and clients on million dollar retainers. Zeke used his garage door opener and pulled into the space beside his home. A home he had mortgage debt on, not paid for in cash. But he was ahead on the payments. Three-bedrooms, four-bathrooms, over seven thousand square feet, and just over two million dollars. And…this fucking place didn’t even have a view. His balcony overlooked…trees. Trees acting as a blind for the next home. He entered his unoccupied home, growing angry, frustrated… Standing by his bed, he undressed, throwing things, he was pissed off and struggling to understand why. But he knew why. By forty he should be settled down, be in a committed relationship, planning vacations, retirement… Wearing only his briefs, Zeke sat down and rubbed his face, leaning his arms on his lap. He was miserable. At work he hid it, or so he hoped. But he was. As he felt isolated in this grand home, he knew why. He was unloved. No one was left of his family and the distant relatives? He didn’t contact. The few relationships he had attempted had infuriated him. He ended every one of them until he had given up, given up on love, on finding a companion. He didn’t even look any longer. He was finished. After sulking, not having eaten anything since noon, Zeke forced himself to get the hell up, shower, and try to eat. But even that was an effort. I really don’t know how much more of this I can take.
