Page 11 of Pressure

It took me a second to realize that I wasn’t meeting with someone in human resources or recruiting. I was meeting with one of the owners. I flashed back to Frank and Trudy talking about how nice the owners were. I continued to skim the info on Tristen Elliot. Fifty-six years old, earned his MBA from the University of San Diego. I skipped over the large paragraph of awards and accolades and landed at the bottom of the page.

“Fuck,” I mumbled when I saw his picture under the award paragraph. Tristen Elliot was the second of the Silver Fox Daddies. My heart began to pound erratically, and my dick stiffened as I thought of the two Silver Fox Daddies on the deck of the cabin feeding the service tech their cocks.

I glanced in the direction of the info desk—where the hell had they gone? Only the man I’d spoken to earlier at the info desk remained. I took a large gulp of water from the bottle as I looked around. Movement to my right side of caught my attention—six-foot-fuck-me-three Silver Fox Daddy number two, a.k.a. Tristen Elliot, approached. His eyes didn’t look elsewhere but at me. Forcing the mental picture of his muscular torso while sliding his cock in and out of the service tech’s mouth from my mind, I quickly swallowed the water and replaced the lid.

6

TRISTEN

Joel and I stood at the desk in his office and looked over the schedule of candidates for the resort assistant for the rest of the day. We’d been alternating the interviews between us and were down to the last few candidates this afternoon. I was so tired of meeting with the same type of candidate for the past several days and all morning that I could scream. Joel’s thoughts and feelings mirrored mine.

All had degrees in hospitality.

All had experience in some facet of the hotel industry.

All eager to hand over their impressive resume in some paper portfolio.

All answered the interview questions the same way and as perfectly as you’d want them to.

All looking for a chance to work in a five-star resort.

All wearing the same cheap black suit and white shirt with a tie. The ties were the only authentic glimpse at their true personalities and who they were.

All were very capable of the job.

But none of them were exciting or different.

Joel and I had finished lunch in the restaurant and were walking through the atrium toward our offices to prepare for the afternoon interviews.

“Am I kicking it off this afternoon?” Joel asked.

“Yes. You get the first one. I’ll bet you a million bucks he’s wearing a black suit,” I suggested.

“White shirt and a tie that says how lively they are,” Joel said.

“But not too lively.” Instead of continuing to walk toward our offices, I stopped near the sliding door that led to the valet. “I’m going to catch a few minutes of fresh air before the next interview.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.”

Joel went to his office while I headed outside. I briefly walked around and said hello to the valet attendants and waved at Luke. Joel and I like to engage with our employees as much as possible. Then I walked down the sidewalk just past the valet window to enjoy some peace before the next round of interviews. I pulled out my phone to look at some baseball news when a loud car caught my attention. An older Honda with a louder than necessary exhaust had stopped along the curb just before the covered valet.

A young man wearing a gray polo shirt and navy twill pants exited the car. Was he here to check in early for the weekend party? He didn’t look familiar, but Joel mentioned there would be some new faces this weekend. I was very much finally ready for a new face to join the fun. This one was young, and looked like he was probably in his early twenties. From where I stood, it looked like the armband of the polo fit snug on his arms. Good sign that he was a fit guy.

I looked at his hair and decided that there was enough length there to get a handful, if needed. From my experience, dirty, bad boys often needed their hair and head tugged on here and there.Was he a good boy or a bad one? His skin looked like there was good color to it, like it was naturally tanned by the sun and not artificially. Wonder if that tan goes inside those pants?

Before I got too carried away, I pocketed my phone and watched Luke approach him. They spoke briefly and then Luke showed the kid where the entrance was. I silently prayed for the party, but he didn’t have a suitcase or weekend bag. He carried a single piece of paper.

I went over to Luke and asked, “Is he here for the party or here for an interview?” I asked.

“Interview, Mr. Elliot.”

I nodded and headed back to where I’d been standing. This would at least be interesting and different. I quickly opened the app we used to text among employees. I shot off a quick text to Gabe at the info desk.

Tristen: The kid wearing the polo shirt is here for the interview. I think Joel is scheduled to meet with him. Switch the polo kid to me.

Gabe: I moved him to meet with you instead of Mr. Stafford. His name is Cash Jameson. Do you want me to notify Mr. Stafford of the switch?

Tristen: No. I’ll talk to him.