Just Some Guy With A Mustache Novels & Stories

“Boss won’t like mistakes.” Ethan listened carefully his curiosity mixing with growing unease. Boss? Who exactly were these people working for? The answer arrived moments later. Another figure stepped into the room. Silence fell instantly. Even the guards straightened their posture. The man who entered last walked slowly, his movements confident. He wore a tailored black suit that fit his tall frame effortlessly. His dark hair was neatly combed. His expression remained composed as his sharp eyes scanned the underground prison. Ethan felt a strange chill crawl up his spine.

"Yeah, whoever wants to do this menial work can have it. I'm free from the grind." With a teasing grin, I added, "Oh, right—you're still a corporate lackey at that big firm, aren't you?" Jason immediately jumped, holding the flowers in one hand and reaching to tap my head with the other. "You don't get it! I'm Giselle's husband, and that's what matters. Being a lackey outside for a while doesn't take away an ounce of my dignity!" My playful grin froze for an instant. Realizing my lapse, I looked down, then back up with a mischievous smirk. "You're getting married? So soon?"

the young man spoke to himself. He continued to shake his head and then stood up from his seat. He planned to go to the old man and talk to him. As soon as his staff saw him approach the table, they respectfully gave way, and they quickly followed when he gestured to release the elderly man who was still acting up. "Sir Ashton-" "Who are you? Who gave you the right to make a fuss and scream like an idiot in my casino?" Ashton sternly asked the old man. "I-I am Danilo, D-Danino Vergara..." the old man stuttered in his response, his eyes glinting as if he remembered something.

My nostrils are slapped by the strong stench of marijuana and cheap cigarettes. A guy with beautiful blue eyes and long dark hair tied in a ponytail leans on the door. He looks down at me with a cocky grin stuck on his face. The speaker might be annoying but this guy is hot! Attractive! I bet he's been called handsome his entire life. He digs his hands in the pockets of his faded ripped jeans and leans on the door, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. He keeps smiling and giggling. I bet he's high on weed.

“If you want to see a beach bum, then I’ll take you to the beach sometime. But my sweet Tyger, I’m not a beach bum.” She giggled and slapped at his hands, but he refused to stop. Being fun with her like this was nice. “Actually,” she said between laughs, “it’s just your long hair and your beard and mustache that makes me think that you’re a beach bum.” “Oh, really?” Monte wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. He dropped his face to her neck and rubbed his well-groomed facial hair on her skin. “This, my sweet Tyger, is called a goatee. A lot of men have them.”

He dresses pretty casual for a smuggler. Jannik, on the other hand, is forty-four with greasy dark blonde hair that reaches below his ears. Does he ever wash his hair? It sure doesn’t look like it. He has dark blue eyes, a thick blonde moustache, is 6’1” and he likes to dress semi-casual. He’s wearing a deep plumb pinstripe long-sleeve button down, light blue skinny jeans and black sneakers. He has the first couple buttons undone to show off his silver chain necklace, which isn’t at all impressive.

“So, you imbeciles think pointing a gun to my head should frighten me?” Getting out of the car, Joshua stares the guy in the face. His light complexion with blue jeans and a golf T-shirt. He looks frightened as Joshua's eyes darken, and he grins, “so, gents, are we doing a staring contest, or are you naive?” “Hey, shut up,” said the second guy. He looks in his fifties; he got bearded and tanned blue eyes and is a bit overweight, wearing black pants and a white T-shirt.

the guy threatened, whom I named Moustache. Since we arrived, they haven't bothered to conceal their identities. Either they were incredibly stupid, or they weren't planning on letting me out alive. The one guy had an angry face with a contrasting thick black moustache to his bald head. I named him Moustache. The other had a scar across the left side of his face. I called him Scar. He looked even more frightening than the one in The Lion King. Scar walked down to the window. The window was just one big open rectangle. The glass hadn't been installed yet. Scar looked down as he smiled at himself.

"Well, there were times I noticed that you looked girly. You know, with your face and height, I realized you look way more girly than I am." "What!?" "You look girly." "What in the world made you see me that way?" Like hell that I'm girly! "Hmm… let's try thinking about it, shall we?" He asked with a smirk. "Okay?" "To start, let's talk about your face. How were you able to maintain such smooth skin? How do you shave your mustache or beard?" This guy is utterly ridiculous. "Uh, I don't… my face never grew a mustache nor a beard."

"Okay, now I really believe it. There's no way a woman could have pecs like that." My shirt was torn to shreds. It made me look like some kind of homeless person, so I just took it off. I stood there shirtless. Finally, no one doubted my gender anymore. Dr. Stevens screamed in despair. "Why would a man grow his hair this long? Are you a pervert? Why did you use a pad? You freak! You tricked me!" I spread my hands. "I already told you my hemorrhoids ruptured. If I showed up at the hospital bleeding everywhere, that'd be terrifying. Putting on a pad is better for everyone, right?"