Page 17 of Freshman

He sighed, then stepped up to Nate’s door.

“So, what are you wearing, Freshman?”

Alfie smirked and looked down at himself. “Why do you need to know?”

“Just curious, that’s all.”

“I wear the same as all the officers on day shift.”

“Describe it to me.”

Alfie snorted and shook his head. “Black work boots.”

Nate hummed as if he was savouring something tasty. “I bet they’re buffed to a mirror shine, and your laces are done in neat little bows.”

Alfie narrowed his eyes at his shoes. They shone in the dull lights, and his laces were indeed tied neatly rather than tucked in like he did with his trainers.

“What else you wearing?”

Alfie sighed. “Black trousers, a white shirt, and a black tie.”

“Slow down. Let’s take one item at a time. Start with the tie.”

“It’s a black tie,” Alfie said, smoothing his hand over the silk.

“Is it tight around your neck? Is it a small tie or a long one?”

Alfie smirked. “It’s not overly tight, and it’s long.”

Nate hummed. “And your shirt, are all your buttons done up?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I can button my shirt.”

“But the top one, is it done up, all neat? I bet it is.”

The shirt suddenly felt restrictive, and Alfie tugged his collar before picking at his top button. “Nope, no top button.”

“Liar. Every time I’ve seen you, it’s been done up. You’ve been all tidy and ordered.”

Alfie shook his head. “You’ve only seen me twice.”

Nate made a sound like a game show buzzer.

“Wrong, I’ve seen you before, through the bars of G-wing. Always so focused on your job you don’t know what’s going on anywhere else. Each time I’ve seen you, I just want to crumple your shirt, loosen your tie, maybe even tie your wrists with your shoelaces, and get a blush growing on your cheeks.”

Alfie’s blush bloomed in full force, and he found he couldn’t speak or walk away. He gawped at the cell door.

“Do you like that idea?” Nate purred.

Alfie shook his head. Like was the wrong word. He was curious, a little aroused, and freaked out. He didn’t know why he was still standing there imagining when he had the option to walk away.

“No, sounds terrible to me,” he croaked, then retreated from the door.

His walk was deliberately slow, to the point he lingered on each step.

Marie and Glen were waiting on the other side of the gate, and in the brighter lobby he could see the frowns on their faces. They were wondering why he was taking so long.

The heat at his crotch was the reason, and he thought of Henry and his phlegm-ridden cough just to scare his curious arousal away. It worked, but Marie and Glen still watched him with frowns on their faces as he stepped through the gate.

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