Date: Tue, 27 Jun 2000 04:57:19 BST From: ardveche - <ardveche@hotmail.com> Subject: The Copier Guy (Part 3&4) Thank You! ========== Thanks to everyone who wrote to me after the first instalment was posted, your support is greatly appreciated. I only hope that the next couple of instalments live up to your high expectations of me! Now, I've already managed to tie myself in knots with the numbering. This is Part 3, but only the second posting, I think I should just allow Nifty to number each file as it sees fit. All comment continues to be welcome, and although my responses may (read will) be short, I will try to answer them all - I just had no idea there would be so many! I love you guys <sniff>. Disclaimer ========== This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2000 - ardveche@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between consenting adult males: - if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON. Now, if everyone who is still here is meant to be here, let's get on with it. This is the first story I've posted so all comments are welcome (email them to ardveche@hotmail.com), but be gentle with me! The Copier Guy ============== Part 3: Indecision We stayed up drinking, talking and joking for hours and Dale and Eileen kept going back to the subject of the vision that was Scott, the copier repair guy. Finally I glanced at my watch and realized it was almost 2 am and I was in no fit state to drive home. This is not the first time I've stayed at Dale's, I told you I spent a lot of time unburdening myself and shriving my soul with them, right? So anyway, when I stayed the first time I borrowed a shirt from Dale the next day and Eileen washed mine. That sort of turned into a rolling program and now I have several complete changes of clothing there and even my own toothbrush! "S'okay if I stay here tonight, guys?" I managed to ask. "Sure it is, but on one condition..." "Jeez, Eileen, give me a break, I'll call him. Now, good night!" And with that I left the room, crawled to the guest bedroom and passed out for six (count 'em) undisturbed hours of near coma. I woke the next morning with my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth and the kids yelling outside my room. Sorry, Dale's guest room. Oops. I felt pretty rough, but I had been much more hungover than this in the past. Nothing a shower, shave and a gallon of coffee wouldn't sort out. By the time I made it downstairs Dale had already left, no doubt all bright and breezy (he has a tolerance for alcohol that borders on uncanny). Eileen was just finishing up packing the kids lunches in the kitchen. "Good morning, sunshine!" "Funny, Eileen. Gimme coffee, woman." She obliged with good grace, considering how rude I was, but that's the kind of relationship we've always had. What can I say? "You know you should eat something. You have a big day ahead of you, and there's nothing like a good breakfast to prepare you for it. And a cigarette does not count as breakfast, Mike. You should take better care of yourself." "I take great care of myself, and anyway I quit, you know that. And I've been going to the gym a lot more recently." "Which counts for nothing if you don't eat properly. Living in that apartment by yourself, I know you just microwave old takeout." "Eileen, you sound like my mother!" "Well if you will behave like a six year old!" "Touch‚. So make me some toast or something and I'll eat it, but it'll have to be quick or I'll be late and Corporate America would collapse without me. I may only be a cog, but I'm a vital one." Eileen snorted, but to her great credit quickly rustled up some scrambled eggs and toast and despite my hangover I wolfed it down. "So you're still going to call him, or was that the booze talking last night? You know, if you really don't think it's a good idea, Mike, you shouldn't do it. I know Dale and I both want to see you happy, but if its not time, if its not right, well, I know you'll do the right thing." She patted my hand somewhat absently and then went back to fussing over the girls. I didn't reply, there was nothing to say. When I finally made it to work I was feeling vaguely human, but I was late, by almost fifteen minutes. It was going to be a long day, meetings and more meetings, one of which I had to give a presentation at - what joy! So the day dragged by and the whole time my mind was on whether or not to phone Scott (having strategically vandalized the company's copier, of course) and if so, what I should say to him. Some of my co-workers noticed that I wasn't my usual ebullient self and even asked if I was feeling okay. Like they cared. I even worked right through lunch but I was so obviously not going to finish everything I had to do, it was just one of those days. Around four I found myself standing in front of the copier, for the umpteenth time that day, holding a pile of cash flow statements and contemplating my fate. I must have stood there staring at the thing forever because I was jerked from my reverie by a hand on my shoulder. "Broken again?" I spun round, startled, half my brain thinking it must be Scott the other half telling me just how dumb that was. That part was right. It was Clive, one of my deeply annoying 'colleagues'. I'm sure he was in his mid twenties, but he looked like he was just out of high school and already he was at my grade and earning the same salary as me, a real fast-tracker, and not afraid to let you know it. "No. Sorry, I was miles away." Dumb, dumb, dumb. Should've said yes and he might have gone away. "Hey, you've only got one, why don't you go first?" "Thanks, buddy. Very neighborly of you." He slapped my back as he stepped round me to the copier, "Course I am making a few hundred copies of this!" I must have looked pissed because he through his hands up and said, "hey kidding! Don't kill me, sport." Why are there some people who just cannot use my given name? Grrr. "Knock yourself out, Clive, let me know when you're done, yeah?" "Sure thing." I ambled back to my cubicle to wait, pulling Scott's card from my pocket as I sat down and turning it over and over in my hand. Fuck it, I thought, time to call. I picked up the phone and dialed his cell number before my rational mind could kick in and stop me. It rang. And kept ringing. Oh God, what am doing? This is such a stupid idea. "Hello?" "Um, Scott?" "Yup." "Hi, this is Mike Robins, at DML, you fixed our copier on yesterday?" "Oh yeah, the duplexing unit, huh?" He snorted, "Let me guess, some muppet jammed it again?" This was going to be easier than I thought. "I'm afraid so, I wouldn't call at," I checked my watch, "half past four, but I have a really important presentation tomorrow..." I trailed off. "No problem, Mike, I'm on a job right now, but I should be done pretty soon, it'll take me a while to get over there can you hang about after five?" "Um, yes, sure, I could do that." Could Dale and Eileen be right? Or was he just a really nice, helpful sort of guy? Oh, please, let Dale be right! Normally I would never ask for that, but this once, I think I could live with him I told you so-ing. "Great, well, I'll see you about half past five then, 'kay?" "I'll be waiting." "If its real urgent, you could call the office and they might be able to send somebody round sooner." Here was a way out if I wanted it. It was now or never, I could either go forward with this lunacy or withdraw gracefully while my dignity and self-respect were still more than 50% intact. Part 4: Decision "No that's fine, I have some stuff to finish up anyway, I can wait." It was done, there was no going back. Now I had an hour to wait and sometime during that I had to break the copier. At that moment Clive stuck his head into my cubicle and seeing that I was on the phone mimed that he was done copying and that the machine was all mine. I rubbed my mental hands with glee, still slightly stunned that I had gone this far. "Okay, well gotta go, the glamorous world of copier repair calls. See you soon, Mike." Said a voice in my ear. I gave Clive the thumbs up and returned my attention to the phone. "Okay, thanks for this, Scott, you're a life saver." "All part of the service. See ya." The line went dead but I sat holding the phone against my ear for easily another five minutes, concentrating on getting my breathing back to a more regular speed. All right copier, prepare to meet your doom. I picked up my bundle of cash flow statements and went to face the enemy. It was astonishingly easy to break. I can almost see how someone could mistake the vent for a single feed slot, almost, but not quite. You'd have to be pretty dumb to make that mistake - which meant it could be pretty much any of the six hundred people who work in this building. Ha! There was an unpleasant charred smell, but other than that the patient showed no alarming symptoms. Which was just as well, it was only after I shoved the paper in that I remembered Scott saying they could burst into flames. As another of my colleagues rounded the corner I aimed a kick at the side of the thing and cursed quietly for dramatic effect. "I'll phone the service center," I said resignedly to her and did a convincing impression of a broken man as I sloped back to my cubicle to kill time, I sure as hell couldn't concentrate on work now. Time dragged by, two or three people tried to use the machine and discovered it was broken and subjected me to the usual questions about it and I was about as forthcoming as usual so they went off to find another machine elsewhere in the department. Finally five o'clock came and people started to drift out. I worked late from time to time, so nobody remarked on my staying behind, its so much easier to work when you don't have people distracting you every five minutes. I was sitting with my eyes closed, rehearsing possible conversations to have with Scott, casual banter while he fixed the machine when a voice returned me to the here and now, a voice I recognized at once. "Do you ever do any work?" He asked in an amused tone. I opened my eyes to see him standing in my doorway sort of leaning against one side with his arm along the top of the divider. He looked as good as I remembered. Better. He'd taken his tie off and undone the top button of his shirt and his short blond hair was slightly mussed which gave him a really relaxed look. "I was resting my eyes." I smiled back at him. I was suddenly very calm, this was a situation of my own making and I knew I could handle it. "Sure you were." "Its been a really long day! Listen, thanks so much for coming out to fix this. I can't believe the people in this office at times." "Hey my pleasure." He grinned at me again and I found myself grinning back although nothing even remotely funny had been said. His smile was just infectious, did I mention his perfect teeth? I think so, but I didn't mention the way his whole face lit up when he smiled. This was one seriously handsome young man, and he was draped over the wall of MY cubicle! "Well, the sooner I get started the sooner we both get finished, right?" And with that he picked up his case and walked over to the machine - giving me another back view! Once again, he squatted in front of the machine and opened it up. He must have known I'd follow him over because he started talking to me while he fiddled around inside. "You know, I fixed the same problem on a machine across town a couple of weeks ago. They went with option one, the warning notice?" He turned to see if I knew what he was talking about, and I nodded that I did, "guess where they put the notice." "I don't know." "Over the vent! Damn thing overheated and had to be completely replaced." I laughed with him as he extracted the charred remnants of my cash flow statement from the workings of the copier. "This isn't the best designed machine in the world is it?" "No, the next model up is far better, you've got three of them in this department." Oh God! Should I deny all knowledge of the other machines? Should I laugh and feign a deep affinity for this one? How do I handle this, he clearly knows that this was not an urgent repair. "There, that's it, all operational." He stood up and smoothed out the legs of his pants. "Great, um, thanks. Listen, Scott, can I maybe buy you a drink or something, you know, as a thank you?" As I heard myself speak, I realized how lame I sounded. "Sure, I could use a drink." "Great, I'll just get my coat." I started towards my cubicle. "Shouldn't you copy that presentation first?" He was definitely smirking at me now, "or can it wait?" Busted. I flushed bright red and looked down at my shoes. "Um, I guess it can probably wait." I faltered out as I turned to face him again. I tensed, waiting to see if he would yell at me, hit me, or just laugh and walk away. "I thought so. Tell you what, I skipped lunch, so why don't you buy me dinner instead of that drink, and you can explain your company's cash flow to me. Huh?" He handed me the papers he'd just removed from the copier, my cash flow statements with my name at the top of each page! Clearly I am not cut out to be a secret agent, I flushed even more red - which shouldn't have been possible. "Oh God! I'm so sorry, Scott, I don't know what to say, I..." I couldn't meet his gaze. He put his hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, Mike. Just next time you want to see me, please just call me, huh? Try not to destroy the machine. If nothing else I look bad if I have to come back and fix it every day!" His voice was very soft and he seemed genuinely amused by the whole thing. "You don't mind that I tried to set you up?" "No, forget about it. Where are we going to go for dinner?" To Be Continued... ================== Like I said at the start, any comments or suggestions should be emailed to me at ardveche@hotmail.com and I'll try to reply to them, but be nice!