Day 1: Evening

The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed overhead as Darryl leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. It had been a grueling 14-hour day, and he was barely keeping his head above water. The warehouse was a labyrinth of processes and procedures, and he was still trying to wrap his head around it all. As he reviewed Travon’s personnel file, he couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of frustration. The man was clearly talented, but his lack of cooperation was becoming a problem.

Darryl jotted down a few critical notes, intending to add them to Travon’s HR file. But as he scanned the document, something caught his eye. The high school listed was the same one he had attended, and the graduation year matched his own. A wave of realization washed over him—he and Travon had been classmates, albeit in different social orbits.

The revelation left Darryl feeling unsettled. He remembered the high school days vividly, the cliques and the hierarchies, the way people were either part of the in-crowd or perpetually on the outside. He wondered what Travon’s high school experience had been like, and how it had shaped the man he had become.

As the evening wore on, Darryl found himself unable to concentrate. The stress of the day, combined with the unexpected discovery about Travon, left him feeling overwhelmed. He needed a moment of peace, a quiet place to collect his thoughts.

On a whim, he decided to explore the rarely used locker room, a space he had only passed by during his tour with Travon. The room was surprisingly clean, with rows of empty lockers and a few scattered benches. The showers at the far end were tiled in a dull gray, the water droplets on the floor glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

As he wandered deeper into the room, Darryl’s eye caught a duffel bag sitting on a bench. The initials “TW” were embroidered on the side, and a jolt of curiosity shot through him. Before he could stop himself, he was walking towards the showers, his heart pounding in his chest.

He peeked around the corner, and there, in full view, was Travon. The man was standing under the spray of the shower, his back to Darryl, the water cascading down his muscular, hairy chest and broad shoulders. Darryl froze, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of Travon’s uncircumcised, 9-inch penis, a stark contrast to the man’s rugged, working-class appearance.

An intense, inexplicable attraction surged through Darryl, a mix of awe and desire that left him feeling both exhilarated and ashamed. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, his breath caught in his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from the raw, primal sight before him.

Finally, with a jolt of reality, Darryl forced himself to look away. He backed out of the room silently, his heart racing, his mind reeling from the unexpected voyeuristic encounter. As he made his way back to his office, he couldn’t shake the image of Travon from his mind, or the strange, intense attraction that had taken hold of him. It was a moment of vulnerability, a secret he would carry with him, a hidden truth that would color his interactions with Travon from that day forward.

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