Man Without Ties Novels & Stories

The question scrapped against the air so abruptly that, while it was not loud, it pounded and reverberated across the hall. Everyone heard it. All at once, wandering eyes pooled over the source of the voice where a young man in a suit stood. His first button was undone and his tie was absent—a combination of fashion choices that made him appear charmingly cavalier and nonconformist. He had eschewed styling his hair, contrasting everyone else in the room, and let his mane assume its natural form. He did not bear the most handsome features in the room, but he had something else to him—an air of alternative duende—that made it hard to tear one’s attention away from him.

My body floods with emotions and I sense Leia pacing in my head with anticipation. The door opens and there he is. His suit looks like it has been painted on. It is all black on black and he looks absolutely delicious. Leia purrs in my head her approval of our mate, and I feel my heart speed up. Of course, he decided to go without a tie. Instead, as always, he left the top two buttons undone. The top of his chiseled chest is on full display. Along with part of one of his tattoos, which goes from his peck all the way down his arm, to his wrist. His hair is lightly gelled, tousled up and combed over to the side. I can feel my thong becoming damp, so I bite my lip and squeeze my thighs together

The room was dim, lit by a single mood lamp behind him. The man kneeled on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, chest pushed forward. A black lace blindfold covered most of his face, leaving only the sharp line of his jaw…and lips barely holding onto a loosened tie. The red silk shirt stretched tight across his chest like the buttons were fighting for their lives. Lower down, defined abs faded in and out beneath the shadows, his waist tense like a drawn bow. The whole thing radiated restrained power, like he might snap the ropes at any second.

After I told him everything that had happened over the past few days, he asked calmly, "Can I see the tie?" I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo. He nodded and showed no reaction. Still, I was terrified. I reminded myself not to mention that I bought it for my son, in case he turned on me too. He handed my phone back and asked, "You bought this tie for your son, didn’t you?" I clamped my mouth shut. He suddenly smiled. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. "Besides, even if you don't say it, I already know. The root of the problem is you telling people you bought this tie for your son.

It seems his mood would be worse if he had. In the growing light of the spacious workspace, the man's sharp features become more noticeable. He is in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven, with piercing eyes, and stands several inches over six feet tall. He is impeccably groomed, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt with a high collar, a neat blood-red Jacquard puff tie, and a charcoal gray tweed single-breasted vest, exuding an aura of old-money style. A silver chain from a pocket watch glints in his front right pocket.

She couldn’t bring herself to buy very expensive clothing, knowing that the more affordable clothing is good enough. The man has loosened his tie and it hangs loosely around his neck. His jacket that matches his pants is carefully draped over on of the arm rests of the chair. Ally notices the golden watch the man is wearing. She can tell by looking at it that it costs more than her car. On his other hand, there is a golden wedding band on his ring finger. Ally frowns at the man. Why would a married man be here in her room, sleeping in a chair as if he is keeping watch over her, and fell asleep while doing so?

But this woman does. In spite of my personal pep talk, I struggle to pick out a suit as I rub the ache in my chest that won't go away. I'm clearly aware of the fact that I'm a fucked-up piece of shit who appears to have it all going on. But I don't, not by a longshot. I'm going tieless because I don't want her to feel under-dressed or uncomfortable if she didn't pick out a fancy cocktail dress. And I can't even imagine she did that since she didn't have the resources for such luxuries.

What was going on in this room, with broken bottles of wine strewn about and the smell of alcohol tickling the nose? A man dressed neatly, he was wearing a black tuxedo with a crimson tie, his feet made a step, and he sighed heavily while loosening the tie around his neck. He didn't realize this room was still the same as previously. "What's wrong with you, Sarah? What are you doing, are you making a scene, you look ridiculous and sad!" He said this with no pity on his face.

Reyona raised her eyebrows at him. “What am I doing in my home?” “You…you have lost the right to be here. Ain’t you shameless?” Thomas blurted out as a sheen of sweat showed on his powdered forehead. His fitting, stylish coat seemed too tight for him at that point as he reached for the tie at his neck and tried to loosen it. Only that his hand came away empty because he didn’t have any tie on after all. He had on an open-necked cream-coloured shirt under the coat.

Hank Mancini bowed to no one, get the fuck outta here. I threw on my Armani gear. Today was businessman suave. Crisp white shirt, opened at the collar, under a steel grey suit, no tie, I hate those shits. I think the fuck who invented them had some type of auto erotic asphyxiation fetish, and found the perfect way to hang the fuck out of himself all day, getting his jollies, while fooling the world that his creation was the next best thing in fashion. I barely passed a comb through my unruly black curls, because the shit did its own thing anyway, no matter what I did, so why bother? Opening my watch safe, I perused my collection, before settling on a Breitling.