Back in Greg’s office, the two men started
mulling over possible uses of their device. Brad
was sitting on top of Greg’s desk, desperately
trying to keep his mind focused on their mission.

“Hmmm...” Greg thought aloud, taking the
glasses from Brad, “Is it possible to.. no, I don’t
think so...” he seemed so determined, Brad
noticed, as he set the huge sunglasses down on
the desk. Greg removed his own black rimmed
spectacles, and wiped them clean on one of the
lapels of the blazer. Sighing in defeat, he replaced
his glasses, and took off his jacket, revealing the
black vest and blue silk shirt he wore underneath.
He collapsed in his chair, deep in thought, a hand
raised to his forehead. With his other hand, he
tamped an earpiece into his ear.

“Captain Giraffe, this is Ocelot Daddy, come
in,” Greg said, and stretched, waiting for Ryan’s
reply.

“Ocelot Daddy, this is Captain Giraffe.
Whaddya need?” Ryan’s voice came in crisply
through the receiver, and even Tony could be
heard faintly in the background.

“Well,” Greg started, as Brad hopped down
from the desk and came around to stand near the
chair Greg was sitting in, “Have you two come up
with any ideas of how to use your prop to stop the
Trinity?”

“Well, Tony, er, Fluffy Donkey has made up
some hilarious innuendo using our prop, but so far,
nothing that we could use against the Whoser
Losers.”

“We’re having just about the same luck,
however Brad for some reason hasn’t made any
innuendo -not even something offbeat- concerning
our prop,” Greg glanced at Brad, and to this Brad
shrugged, only *he* knew the real reason for his
lack of activity.

“Ah, well, the only advice I can offer is to
take some time off,” Ryan replied.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Greg leaned
forward in his chair, “We can clear our minds,
relax, get plastered and pick up chicks! Thanks for
the suggestion, Ry,” with that, Greg switched off
the earpiece, removed it from his ear, and placed
it in a drawer in his desk. He was startled when he
looked up and saw Brad still standing next to him,
simply staring at him.

“What’s up Brad,” Greg pursed his lips,
leaned back in the chair, and clasped his hands
over his stomach, tilting his head upwards to meet
the other man’s gaze.

“Hmm? What? Oh nothing,” Brad shook
his head, blinking his eyes a few times.

“All right... Well, I have good news. We
don’t have to worry about our prop anymore, well
at least not for the rest of the day, anyway. We
can take the night off and--,” Brad interrupted him.

“About that, when you said you wanted to
‘pick up chicks’, did you mean that?” Brad crossed
his arms, and stepped tentatively closer to Greg.

“Oh well, you know, I guess it was just
something funny to quip... Oh! You’re thinking of
my wife, well she’s in San Francisco still anyway,
so--”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Brad, who
had visibly cringed when Greg mentioned his wife,
now broke off the gaze and looked down at the
floor.

“Well, then, what’s going on, Brad?” Greg
was puzzled.

The agitation was building up in Brad’s
body, he could feel it overtaking every part of his
body, unstoppable... unless... But he just couldn’t
bring himself to do it, or could he? He gathered all
his confidence, and assured himself that he
*could* in fact go through with it, just to play it
cool, and everything would be fine. He cleared his
throat, and searched for words that would
express his feelings, as Greg sat, eyeing him from
the chair.

“Uh,” Brad began shakily, “This isn’t going
to be easy for me to say--”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Greg interjected,
understandingly.

“--But I have a question for you, Greg.”

“Shoot.”

“Umm,” Brad stepped closer, and leaned in
on Greg, placing his hands on the arm rests of the
chair, steadying himself, while his face was just
inches away from the bespectacled man’s. “Have
you ever, oh I don’t know, been with another man?”

Greg looked almost shocked, he blinked,
not quite grasping what had been said. However,
before anything had a chance to sink in, Brad
moved in. With the swiftness of a fox, he pressed
his lips softly against Greg’s. He could feel his own
face flushing to a delightful pink, and he closed his
eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment when Greg
would pull away. But he didn’t. The experience
lasted longer than Brad had expected, and finally,
it was *he* who ended the kiss.

Greg coughed. “Well... That doesn’t
happen every day,” he took a deep breath, and
another. Brad stood up, a little confused.

“Are you mad at me?” Brad asked, for lack
of anything else to say.

“Huh?” Greg looked genuinely bewildered,
“Mad? Why?”

“Well,” Brad laughed, “Technically I just
sexually harassed you.”

“Oh, you mean the rape-kiss,” Greg joked,
“No I’m not mad, I mean, I knew I was irresistible to
gay men, so it was only a matter of time before
one came in for the kill,” he chuckled to himself.

“Irresistible to gay men?” Brad questioned.

“It was a joke, studmuffin,” Greg arose
from the chair.

“How do you know I’m gay?” Brad
persisted.

“Well, there was that kiss just a second
ago,” Greg paced the room, “Wait, are you bi?”

“It doesn’t matter, I just wanted to know if it
was *that* obvious, that I, you know, preferred
men,” Brad rubbed the backs of his arms.

“Awww, Sherwood thinks he’s a pansy,”
Greg teased.

“Hey, that’s not what I said,” Brad
defending, a small grin forming on his face.

“Anyway,” Greg said seriously, “I understand
sudden bursts of emotion, and I like to think I’m a
pretty open minded guy. So if you’re worried, you
didn’t offend me.”

“Well,” Brad approached, “That’s not what I
was worried about.”

“Really?” Greg prodded.

“Yeah, um, well, I really like you Greg,” Brad
smiled, shrugging at Greg.

“So this wasn’t a one time sudden burst of
emotion?”

“Um. Nope.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh. Oh no...” Greg turned his
back to the other man, not wanting to believe what
he was hearing, however, some part of him
desired the verboten...

Brad walked up to Greg, and wrapped his
arms around his waist from behind. “Now Greg,”
he nuzzled his nose into the hair on the back of
Greg’s head, “This isn’t so bad.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you in this
position,” Greg halfheartedly cracked.

Brad smirked. “Would you like to try it the
other way around,” he insinuated in a sultry voice.

“God Sherwood, I can’t believe you’re pulling
this kind of shit with me,” Greg shook his head in
mock contempt.

“Who’s pulling anything? Now, just kiss me,
OK?” Brad grabbed Greg by the shoulders and
turned him around so that they were face to face.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Greg purred,
and, letting ardor best him, he placed his hands on
Brad’s face and pulled it to his. The soft, sweet
engagement of lips came next, and quickly
escalated to the passionate intertwining of
tongues.

Brad wrapped his arm around Greg’s neck,
and guided him back, toward the desk. Once
there, Brad -still kissing- made a clean sweep with
his hand and knocked all the papers and knick
knacks to the floor. Brad moved his hands down
to the other man’s chest, grasped the fabric of his
vest, and pushed him down, hard, onto the desk.
Greg reached up to his face to remove his glasses,
but Brad stopped his hand.

“Don’t do that,” he instructed, lustily, “God
those glasses make you look so hot,” Brad
continued pushing on Greg, until he was laying flat
on the desk, only his legs dangling off the end.

Brad hopped up and mounted Greg,
rubbing his groin against his partner’s, leaning
back down to kiss him. Greg, at a loss for what to
do with his hands, followed the contours of Brad’s
back until stopping, of his own will, at his butt. He
cupped Brad’s chubby tush, evoking, strangely
enough, a laugh from Brad.

“What?” Greg asked, breathing heavily.

“Nothing, I don’t know,” Brad still wore an
idiotic grin, “Do you have to squeeze so hard?” he
finally asked, giggling.

“Can’t I show appreciation for your nice
ass?” Greg laughed.

Brad, still on all fours over Greg, ran his
finger down his chest, unbuttoning the vest as he
went down. He ran his hands across Greg’s chest,
feeling the silken shirt and the hot body beneath it.
He moved his head down, kissing Greg’s neck, and
started to undo the buttons on the silk shirt.

“Mmm, Brad,” Greg put a hand on Brad’s
head, running his fingers through the soft brown
hair.

Brad had just gotten Greg’s shirt totally
undone when there was a noise at the door. The
knob turned slightly, a click was heard as the door
was being opened.

“Didn’t you lock it?” Brad asked frantically.

“I guess not, how was I supposed to know
we’d end up in this position?”

The pair stayed in that position, like
frightened bunnies, not moving. They risked
discovery, and they knew it.

After what seemed like hours, the door
opened fully, and the person responsible for it
could now be seen. It was Greg’s secretary, Jan.
Her head was down, and she didn’t see the
situation for what it was until she raised her eyes.

Her mouth dropped to the floor, and Brad
non-chalantly dismounted Greg, smoothing out his
rumpled clothing.

“Oh, I, I, I,” Jan stammered, repositioning
the horn-rimmed glasses on her face, “I’m so
sowry to have waulked in on this, I mean you,
Mistuh Proops” she shook her head, and Greg sat
up, re-buttoning his shirt.

“It’s no problem Jan,” Greg assured,
walking to her and placing a hand on her shoulder,
“You didn’t know anything was going on, we didn’t
even lock the door. I’m sorry to shock you like this,
Jan.” Brad had regained his composure, and was
trying his best to hold back laughter.

“I’m, well I’ll just be going...” She started out
of the room.

“Wait, Jan,” Greg called to the woman,
“What made you come in here in the first place?”

“Oh, roight!” she realized she had forgotten
something, “I tried to get through to you on the
earpiece, but you aren’t wearing it,” she cleared
her throat, “Mistuh Anduhson wanted me to tell
you that tomorruh you start the mission for real,
so make sure you make it to the office before
noine in the morning so you all can go ovuh
briefing.” With that, she left, and the awkward
moment had passed.

Greg made his way back to Brad, and
sighed.

“Well that didn’t go down according to
plan,” Greg slipped his arm around Brad.

“If I recall, there was no going down of any
kind, anyway,” he settled for a cheap laugh, and
snuggled against Greg.

“So we start working on this for real
tomorrow,” Greg said thoughtfully.

“Yeah.”

“We should probably get going home now,
if we want to be rested enough for the briefing,”
Greg remarked as he checked his watch.

“Yeah.”

“You wanna sleep over at my flat tonight?”
Greg played with a piece of Brad’s hair, twisting it
around in his fingers.

“Yeah!” he agreed, this time
enthusiastically.

On to Phase III