Other Mr Bobinsky Novels & Stories

“Fuck, that’s too bad. I was hoping to live vicariously through you.” “She is hot,” I concede with a laugh. “Dude,” he stage-whispers. “I had a meeting with her in my office yesterday, and after she left I jerked off under my desk—right there in my office! Something about her perfume or something, I don’t know. I’m lucky no one walked in.” I force a laugh, and refrain from rolling my eyes. Ten years older than me, Bob is a distinguished, respected architect. Married, two kids, paragon of society. Until you get him behind closed doors. Then Bob is a fucking dog.

Robert was petrified. Bobby suddenly asked, "Did you meet your lousy ex-husband?" Vionny shook her head. "The HRD manager himself said that there is no OB named Stefan!" Bobby immediately glanced at Robert. "You are lying! You said Stefan was the OB there!" Robert couldn't possibly be silent because his eyes and memory couldn't be wrong. "Oath! I saw him with his friend at the guard post. They're sweepers! Obviously it's Stefan!” Robert said, his tone high, like a player refusing a red card.

I could feel the weight of his stare across the room. We exchanged furtive glances, each trying to appear indifferent. Every time each of us made contact, we looked away immediately, like it was a crime we were caught doing. Markos, with his tall, commanding presence and brooding demeanor, was impossible to ignore. He seemed as out of place as I felt, and the sight of him stirred memories I had long tried to bury. “Hazel, you seem distracted,” Mr. Alonzo’s voice pulled me back to the present. His tone was smooth, but there was an edge to it. He was older, with silver hair and a sharp, calculating gaze.

Henshaw was some kind of magician that poured colors in the darkness of the room. “Let’s settle down please, thank you,” Mr Henshaw said and the room grew quiet. “Alright, let’s start with the pressing issue on ground. Bob,” he adjusted his glasses as he signaled at Bob who had a disturbing smile on his face that made everyone question his sanity. “Are you alright, Mr Bob?” Mr. Henshaw threw the young man a sincere look of concern. “Perfectly alright!” Bob smiled. ‘They don’t know what they’re about to hear,’ he chuckled to himself as he motioned towards the platform to share the information with them.

It must hurt a lot. The fumbles on the door knob behind alerted them of someone's presence the door creaked open with the sleepy face of a teen boy with a mole on his nose popped out of the door. "Yess" He drawled trying to blink sleep away from his eyes and Declan sighed seeing the familiar face. "Bobo... Hey its me" He said calmly, unlike his usually authoritative voice, this one held a hint of friendliness. Bob's eyes cleared immediately at the familiar voice that struck his hearing, that voice he would never forget, that voice he had not heard for like a decade.