All Work and No Play
#1 of All Work and No Play
I apologise first for how long my other story, Love Thy Enemies, is taking, but unfortunately things have been difficult on my end and I'm struggling to set it off. Perhaps I'm trying to be too realistic in the romance, which certainly makes it harder to get a pairing between Ros and Arel. Regardless, I've decided to take a quick break and write something else, namely a story about a bull questioning his sexuality (yeah, get used to seeing bulls in my stories. I know, I'm unoriginal).
It's a two parter and I hope to finish it before I finish LTE just so I have a complete story on here. Anyway...hope you like it and sorry if you didn't. I'll try harder next time.
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Work had been slow that day at the office, paper piled up in Gary's in-tray and no matter how hard he tried to finish it the mountain grew ever higher until finally the Longhorn began to wonder whether the stuff might have been breeding. Even at the best of times, when Gary was bubbling with energy and high spirits, he hated paperwork with a passion. He could be doing so many other things, such as trying to push for a promotion or exchanging small talk with the others in the office and earning a little respect for himself. But no; the black hole of an in-tray didn't seem to like that idea, so it kept it him firmly in his swivel chair until it was time to go home. The clatter of pens, the ringing of phones and varying volume of his co-workers speaking to each other and to clients distracted him though, often leaving him in situations where he'd be reading the same line on a paper several times in a row. And unfortunately time seemed to have a grudge against the bovine as well, often stretching out to ridiculous lengths when he was working and becoming even more ridiculously short when he was on a break. It seemed as though he had barely had time to get his coffee and let it cool a little before it was a quarter to one once more and he had to get back to his stuffy, claustrophobic cubicle for another three or four hours. With great reluctance, Gary forced himself back into the world of contracts, clauses, sub-paragraph fives, section A's, part IV's, as he had done for the past five years now. God, had it really been that long? It made Gary almost feel giddy. Three or four days later, at least within the bovine's mind, soft murmurs and the sounds of coats being pulled onto weary limbs filled his drooping ears and Gary packed his things together, placed his papers onto the out-tray before putting on his coat and walking to the crowded elevator and from there, out to the even more crowded streets of New Tranberg.
He didn't feel like catching the bus to his flat however, it was a fairly nice day and he wanted to spend a moment or two just enjoying himself and recovering from a shit load of paper signing, so he crossed the busy road, the honking and roar of traffic and the clamour of people walking the streets surrounding him, as he reached the inner city park and made for a small pub that he and some of the others in the office tended to frequent. Walking beneath the sign, proudly bearing a Tudor-style portrait of a young woman and the words The Queen Jane, Gary headed at once to the bar and ordered a pint of Fosters before removing his coat, hanging it on the back of his stool and making himself comfortable. Around him a large number of people were arrayed, all of varying species since the city was rather metropolitan in nature, none of whom the bull immediately recognised. He'd wanted to perhaps a buy a round if some of his workmates were here; try to get in their good books, but he guessed it'd be kinder on his wallet this way. Leaning back a little on his stool, Gary fixed his attention onto the TV and tried to look as though he was interested in what was being showed, which was a rather cheesy game show in which luckless contestants had to answer a series of questions in a minute whilst someone twatted them around the head with a flyswatter. A Japanese export, perhaps unsurprisingly and soon Gary had his eyes back on the pint of bitter before him.
Perhaps he should take a holiday or something, perhaps visit his parents in Hatherdshire or take a small stint in the Bahamas or southern France for a week and soak up the sun. He had some vacation days pending and was expecting a paycheque to come in soon, so it might not be that distant. The bull closed his eyes and rubbed his temples; a holiday would be great right about now. Gary spent some time in that position, just picturing himself on a warm, sandy beach on a lounger, perhaps with those drinks you get in a coconut with a little umbrella in one hand and the other draped lazily on the floor as the bovine watched a rather nice sunset over a gold-soaked sea. He liked the image. He liked it a lot.
It was then that Gary felt a brush of cold wind, disturbing his day dream and making him look to see who the newcomer was, miffed at him for disrupting such a pleasant fantasy. He was just getting to the point where a nice heifer was taking her towel off as well. To his surprise he saw someone he thought he recognised from work, another bull with reddish brown fur with white patches across his muzzle and hands, whose name he couldn't quite remember at that moment. Paul? Peter? Percy? He was sure it began with a P... Regardless the other bovine smiled at him and nodded his head as he sat down, grinning broadly at Gary; apparently recognising him at least. Plenty of times within the office Gary had watched him chatting to various others at work, telling jokes and informing them of developments upstairs. He was well-liked amongst the office staff, rarely saying a bad word towards anyone and always helping out if help was needed. The sort of person Gary would have liked to have been, had he been a little more confident talking to people. Himself, the bull had never said more than a few words to him; the other bull seemed a little too popular to want to talk to Gary. Giving a half-hearted smile in return, Gary finished his lager before ordering another, turning his thoughts back to the beach. Now, what was that heifer's bust size again?
"Gary isn't it? Gary Stevenson?" came the rumbling voice of the other bull. Gary suppressed a sigh and nodded his head in reply, deciding that he could return to the day dream later. Maybe with a paper towel and a dirty magazine.
"Yeah, it is," he said, turning his attention to Paul/Peter/Percy. "And you're...?"
"Tony."
"Ah. Thought so."
Tony grinned and leaned forward against the bar, seeming to look for whoever was working the pumps at the moment. Gary tried to remember any occasions when he and Tony have actually spoken, or even actually stood within five feet of each other. At work, he often didn't spend much time with the others, which was something he did regret to a degree...perhaps he should try and work on actually talking with other living beings once or twice. It's something to work at, in any case. After a while Tony slid back into his seat, frowning slightly and rubbing the underside of his muzzle. In a certain light, it was quite easy for Gary to see that the bull certainly wouldn't have had any trouble getting the ladies; his body was muscular but at the same time slim, his face was cheery and handsome and he carried himself with the sort of attitude that made it seem as if he's been your best friend since you were still in nappies.
"So Gary, how are you? I don't think we've spoken much in the office," Tony said conversationally. Gary recalled someone saying that Tony was probably one of the most sociable of the office lot.
"Can't complain," the bull said, perhaps dishonestly. "And I know I don't talk much at work; there's always so much paperwork to do that I rarely have a chance to just talk to people."
"Heheh, I know what you mean," Tony said, before leaning back on his seat a little. "Still, you could probably try chatting to people during your lunch break instead of slipping off back to your cubicle. You'd be surprised what you can do in three quarters of an hour."
"I could." Not that he meant to be rude, but Gary didn't really feel like a conversation right now. His mind was still mushy from having to read through and sign papers all day and he wanted to get back home and do some exercises before a day of sitting in the same spot for eight hours made him flabby. Tony seemed undeterred though, and Gary was uncertain whether to be thankful or not; at least he was communicating with someone for a change. That is, someone who wasn't on the other end of a phone, an intercom or an e-mail and who wasn't a figment of his imagination (which tended to occur on Fridays).
"Well you know what they say " all work and no play make Jack a dull boy. And you seem too nice to turn into a blood-thirsty, axe-wielding lunatic to me, mate."
Gary smiled a little at this, although personally he didn't find the movie reference that funny. It felt good to smile regardless. "Heh, I suppose. I forget; which cubicle do you work in again? I don't think I see you that often..."
Tony nodded. "Yeah, I actually work on the floor below you. You know, in the accountants and numbering department? I have the thankless job of calculating the company's budget from dawn until dusk." The bull rested his head on a hand, raising a fist in a rather half-hearted celebration. "Fun."
At least Gary wasn't the only one dissatisfied with his job. "That does sound boring; I was never one for numbers myself. Hated math."
"I liked it, dork that I am," Tony admitted with a shrug. "But not like this; it actually makes me wish I took my father's advice and took an engineering course instead."
"Mine wanted me to join the Army, but I didn't fancy getting shouted or shot at, really. Fathers eh?"
"Yeah," the bull chuckled. "Who'd want ‘em?"
Gary grinned slightly. "So, why do you like maths? Most people I know avoid it like the plague."
"Basically because it's actually quite easy once you know the formulae and how numbers work," Tony explained. "I mean, one plus one is always going to be two, right? No matter what language you speak or how thick you are with everything else. Not like English or philosophy, where you can have any damn answer you please provided you can back it up." That made sense, Gary supposed.
He returned to his Fosters, glancing back up to the TV for a second. The Japanese-like game show had finished and now a teen soap was playing. The sound was muted, so he couldn't follow the dialogue but from what he could tell from body language and other signs, teen #1 was pissed off at teen #2, probably because he slept with his best friend's hairdresser's sister's teacher's twin brother's gardener. Or something like that. Tony was silent for a moment, finally getting himself a chance to order his drink and asking for a cider. Gary didn't know why exactly, but he seemed to like Tony; he had that general attitude and he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy, from what little Gary could tell from their brief exchange. Once Tony received his cider he took a long drink of the brown liquid and smacked his lips, ears raised and tail cracking like a whip with contentment, before returning his focus to Gary.
"So Gary, how did you start working at Jenkins and Son's?" he asked, leaning against the bar. It actually took a little thought to answer that one.
"Hmmm. I don't know, I think it was just one of the few jobs available to me and at the time it seemed to be good work. There's little else out there that I could do, not with my grades. How about you?"
"My uncle worked there and got me in," Tony said. "I know, I'm a sneaky bastard who had strings pulled for his benefit, but I've been told I work just as good as any other schnook who could have gotten the job."
"What department is your uncle in?"
"He was a junior executive, really high up. He's dead now though; lung cancer." Tony gave Gary a slightly sad smile and his ears drooped a little. "He really liked his Cuban cigars."
Gary winced. "Shit, sorry to hear that, Tony."
The other bull shrugged. "Meh, old news. Besides, as he would have told me, there's only the here and now: the past is dead, and tomorrow never comes."
"Very philosophical."
"Yeah, he was something of a walking proverb book. Anyway, that's how I got into sorting out numbers and budget and, whilst I love my uncle, I sort of wish I could have gotten a job that got me out of the office more."
"Amen to that," Gary said. Tony smiled again and, for some reason, it caused a slight fluttering sensation in the pit of Gary's stomach. He nearly blinked in surprise, but since that would have been a little suspicious he turned it into a feigned Oh, I've got something in my eye. What was all that about? "So..." Gary said, pushing that thought to one side for now and trying vainly to find a new conversational topic. "What do you do when you're not at work?"
"I tend to my garden, mostly," Tony said, seeming a little self-conscious about it. "I have a small back garden that I grow flowers and herbs and stuff in. I have a small Zen rock garden too that I like, complete with miniature waterfall and pond. Otherwise, it's mostly TV, cycling and hanging out with friends. Same question back at you, Gaz."
"Meh, mostly working on my car and stuff; I don't have many hobbies myself." Tony chuckled again.
"What did I tell you about all work and no play? Tell you what; I'm going for a meal with some old university friends, why don't you come with me? It'll give you a chance to at least get out of the house."
Normally Gary would have refused; he felt uncomfortable just going out and meeting new people, especially by the invitation of someone he vaguely knows. Plus he was never one for eating out; it tended to be expensive and there was little a restaurant could cook that Gary couldn't just try and cook himself. But he found his head nodded of its own accord and his mouth said,
"Sure, sounds fun. What time and what place?"
"It's this Thursday at six o'clock at Giovanni's Italian restaurant on 67th Avenue. I'll come and pick you up if you like; it's no problem."
Gary nodded and again and wondered just why he did that. He turned his eyes over to Tony and once again felt that not-unpleasant flutter; it was a feeling he hadn't felt for a while and it troubled the bull. Deciding that a stiff drink would perhaps solve the problem, he drained his glass and ordered another Fosters. Tony was silent again for a while, his attention fixed on the teen soap opera playing on the TV, a look of mirth on his muzzle. The bull found he liked the smile; it made Tony's face light up and encouraged him to smile also, something he quite liked. He smiled of course, but rarely in the company of others. He wasn't an emo, nor was he someone who enjoyed being rather sober or dull company, but simply because in the rare instance he was with others they were usually strangers or people he didn't really know. Gary had retreated from the world a little, seeking instead to try and save money so he could pay for a bigger HD TV, new parts for his car or even some kind of pet. He'd like a cat, something he could chat to during the evenings whilst it sat on his knee, the TV burbling in the background. That's if his apartment block allowed pets; he'd have to check that. It had to be said; the bull appreciated Tony coming over to talk to him. He'd never had the courage yet to talk to others within the workspace, usually only talking with his immediate neighbours and the staff who worked in his apartment complex.
"Do I need to wear anything formal or is it just a casual get together?" Gary asked.
"You should look nice," Tony suggested distantly, his eyes still on the TV. "But not overly formal. Jeans are okay, I think. That reminds me, I'll probably need your address and phone number, otherwise you're not going anywhere."
Gary nodded; of course. Finding a slip of paper he usually kept on his person in case he needed to jot down something important and a pen, he scribbled his address and phone number down and handed it to the other bull. During the exchange his hand briefly brushed against Tony's, his fur felt soft and warm and again Gary felt that strange feeling once. It was...odd. It worried him as well. He began to notice other things now as well, the fact that his eyes were starting to wander about the other bovine's body slowly, examining his frame and his appearance in general. Plus strange images and curiosities were starting to filter into his conscious line of thought, confusing him slightly and making him nervous. What was going on? His eyes went back to Tony, a slow realisation coming forth and making him gulp quickly.
Standing and reaching for his coat, Gary cleared his throat and nodded towards Tony briefly, quickly finishing off his Fosters and pushing the empty glass away from him. The other looked away from the TV towards him, a slight surprised look on his face.
"Everything all right, mate?" he asked.
"Uh...yeah, just remembered that I need to be back at the flat...next door neighbour needs help with something...Idunnowot. Uh...see you Thursday then?"
Tony nodded slowly, his ears perked in confusion and his eyes seemingly worried. "If I don't see you at work...sure. See you soon, Gaz."
Gary nodded his head and walked off quickly, sidling through the door as a bulldog walked through and heading off towards the bus stop, intending to get home as quickly as he could. As he walked, weaving through the inner-city crowds almost without thinking, his mind drew up what had just happened in the pub. He had found Tony attractive. He was actually eyeing up the other bull and mentally undressing him! What was wrong? He wasn't gay, he was sure of it. He'd had plenty of girlfriends as recently as a year or two ago before he finally dropped off the grid entirely when work became difficult.
Wait... a voice that Gary didn't want to hear said in his head, were you really attracted to them or were you simply doing it because you felt you had to?
No! He was attracted to them, he'd slept with them, he enjoyed it, and he'd do it again if he wanted to.
Really? Well how come none of those relationships worked out?
Few relationships really work out; he's known plenty of other guys who've had a different girlfriend every other month. Besides, a lot of them were casual sex-things, no attachment at all.
Do you believe that?
Yes! He did...he had to. Gary sighed and reached the bus stop, slipping onto the bench beneath the shelter and holding his head in his hands. He didn't know...what happened back there? His mind went back to Tony and something, hidden and deep inside, stirred like a beast roused from a long winter of hibernation. He didn't know why he thought that way about the other bull or even where the hell it came from, it was literally 'Oh, this guy is nice' one minute and then 'Wow, this guy is hot' the next. Worse still was the fact it happened to a guy he'd only just met and who he actually got on with and had a good chance with establishing something that might resemble the beginnings of a good friendship too. He'd spent too many nights now playing dominoes and Monopoly with the middle-aged couple next door and helping Mrs. Henderson with her groceries every Tuesday. He wanted to go out of the razz and get pissed, wake up in the friend, of a friend of a friend's house with the taste of vindaloo and vomit in his mouth. No way was he going to let some confused moment of sexuality spoil it either.
Down the road he could see the bright blue single-decker bus he wanted to catch, the return to reality from his angry, confused inner battle being a welcome relief. It was simply a heterosexual man-crush, he decided. Tony embodied certain aspects that Gary wished he had, and was thus looking up to him as a result and had absolutely no feelings for him other than that. It had to be that. Had to be.
He was not gay.
***
Giving Mrs Henderson a quick smile and hello as he passed her on the stairs, Gary clumsily slotted his key into the front door of this flat and slipped inside, closing it behind him and locking it once more. With a sigh, he turned round and leaned against the door, staring up at the ceiling for a moment or two with his ears flat against his head. It was getting dark outside, a road accident had held up traffic so Gary had gotten home several hours later than he otherwise would have liked. Fortunately there was a small sandwich bar not two buildings down, so he lingered in there with a cup of coffee, a cheese and ham sub sandwich and a muffin until it looked like everything had cleared. It was polite of the bus driver to let him on again as he quickly left the bar and tried to catch the bus before it took off without him. After a moment of staying in that position, the hum of his fridge, the murmur of a television and conversation next door and the muted sounds of the city six floors down being the only noises he could hear, Gary stood and took his coat off, hanging it on the coat rack and walking into the kitchen, keeping the lights off for now. His hooves clacked and clattered against the tile floor and upon opening the fridge, he pulled out some leftovers from the meal eaten the night before, spare ribs with noodles, and munched on them for a while, thinking. He headed over to the window overlooking the city, the bright lights shining through the clear glass as he peered at countless cars, street lights and lit windows as New Tranberg breathed and lived. Gary had always been a city person, even after spending all his summers on his grandparents' farm, playing with his sister and childhood friends in cornfields and old farm buildings. There was something about the rush, the lights and the sheer life of it that enchanted him in a way that the country didn't, which was boring, quiet and lazy in comparison. If there was anything Gary would thank his job for, it was for being to afford him this flat, located right above Main Street and overlooking the Memorial Gardens. Normally it would have been wallet-bustingly expensive, but there was a murder in the apartment not long before Gary started house hunting and that brought the price right down. The bull was unconcerned with the fact that a young skunk was brutally murdered in this very kitchen; the culprit got the injection years ago.
Biting into another spare rib, Gary found his mind once again turning to Tony and the bar. Removed from the city and having had several hours to mull things through he had calmed down about it somewhat so he could try to think clearly about the subject. He was still pissed off, of all the things in all the world, it had to be him who suddenly started to wonder whether he liked girls or guys. It was fucking typical. It couldn't have been something that wouldn't effect his already fragile reputation, like finding out he was adopted or his sister marrying a human. Oh no, he had to become a shirt-lifter instead and bat for the other team. Gary closed his eyes and covered his face, resetting his thoughts.
No. He'd already established this. He was not gay. He liked girls. He had always liked girls...
It's okay to like guys, said the traitor voice in his head again. It's not like you're living in the Middle Ages, no one will judge you for it.
Fuck you. Gary turned his attention away from the city, finally switching on the light and sitting down on the sofa, picking up the remote and turning on the TV. The clock on the wall said that it was getting just after ten past seven, so he decided to watch TV for a while before making himself something to eat, before getting a shower and sorting through what work he had decided to laden himself with at home. The TV hypnotised him with the latest soap, a drama Gary had long since stopped paying attention to and thus could not follow. He tried anyway, as when he let his mind wander he always found Tony there waiting for him, with that smile Gary hated because he liked it. Fucking Tony. It was his fault. He could have ignored Gary; he could have walked past and sat on another fucking table and left him alone. Then Gary could have left without having this fucking identity crisis. He hated Tony for what he'd done, Tony with his charming personality, chiselled good looks, contagious smile, a body only a bull could have...
Gary snapped out of that line of thought, snorting and snarling at the same time. God dammit! Get your flipping life sorted, Gary! The twitter of the TV was soon shut off and Gary stormed to his bathroom, hoping that the daily rituals of cleanliness and hygiene would keep He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Thought-Of out of his mind and fantasies. Unbuckling his belt, kicking off his pants, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping off his boxers, Gary caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. The brown bull stared back, his eyes burning with suppressed rage and frustration and his stance haggard. The fur that covered his muscled body was short and ended in silvery highlights, a gift from his mother. Stretching proudly towards the ceiling, his ivory-white horns were perhaps the only thing Gary allowed himself to be proud of; one of the main reasons he always managed to get a girl into his dorm at university. Gary closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
There, I'm straight. I've had sex with girls and I loved it, I must be straight!
Then why didn't he seem to believe it? Why was there this part of his mind that remained unconvinced? A sigh passed Gary's lips and he thought back to uni, stepping into the shower and turning the knob...tap! Turning the tap, so that lukewarm water sprayed over his body and flattened his fur, the water quickly warmed and soon Gary began to half-heartedly wash himself. There were dozens of girls, dozens of them. Small girls, big girls, girls with big breasts, girls with big arses, cows, vixens, bitches, ewes, mares...and there was Joan. Didn't she count for anything? Gary's lip curled as he winced, not wanting to remember Joan. Still too soon to start moping about her again.
Someone in his mind must have gave up, since soon he started to wonder whether this was something he'd always had, but never really acted upon. Perhaps he did just get with girls because everyone else did, because he felt he had to. It was always the expected plan wasn't it? Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, girl and boy get together, girl and boy get married, girl and boy have little girls and boys of their own... Perhaps he had always been gay and just never admitted it to himself...
Joan. No, he stilled loved her. Didn't he? Perhaps it was just attachment...perhaps. Uninvited yet no longer entirely unwelcome, Tony re-entered his thoughts, this time as naked as Gary was. The bull cursed. He tried to push the image away, tried to remember nights he'd spent making a girl moan in his bedroom...but they were drowned out by Tony and his smile. Much to his dismay, he felt a faint stirring in his loins. It was just the water...please let it just be the water... Soon his sheath began to grow warm and swell, but then it would. He'd been thinking about nights with girls. That would certainly get him excited. It wasn't the fact that his fantasy, starring Tony as himself, had just added an extra X to its rating because the other bull was now sporting a massive erection and was fondling with his bulging, bovine ball sack. It wasn't that he could see the veins pulsing blood into his erect member, the churning of his testicles as they were prodded by his fingers and the gleam of pre that could be seen on the tip. Certainly it wasn't because Tony had now found a voice and was now speaking to Gary, the smile on his lips growing a little.
"Come on, Gaz," he said. "I'm not going to blow by myself, you know."
Gary groaned a little. Fuck his imagination. He opened his eyes, greeted by the quivering bullcock that had grown between his legs and immediately shut them again. Okay, that was enough. Shutting off the shower, grabbing a towel and leaving his usual rituals uncompleted for today, Gary headed over to his bedroom and dried off, before changing into a clean pair of boxers and a white vest. He spared only enough time to clean his hooves out, but wasted no time in starting up his PC and loosing himself in a mindless video game. Tony was left ignored, but that was okay. It seemed he was kidding earlier. Gary cursed. Fuck his imagination.