Working Stiff (manxboy)

Chapter 1: He Was Simply...Huge

He was simply...huge. Maybe he was on steroids or whatever.

It was as if I had invisible threads on my eyes, something was tugging them down to – Dear God! That butt.

Or rather, what was inside the pockets...behind that butt. Yup.

As the distance between us shrank ever smaller, I swallowed hard and prepared to grab that ass – I mean, whatever was on that ass, then make my swift departure.

It was then a random stranger came bumping into him from the other direction. He mumbled some apology and quickly made his way around him. My target seemed so unsuspecting, it was almost too painful to watch.

He didn't even realise that he had been picked.

And as for the other guy, he picked the wrong target. Did I mention that he was mine?

Almost instantly, I reached out to grab at him. The man flailed for a bit before turning aggressive on me. Unfortunately for him, I was bigger. And badder. Pinning him down didn't take much effort at all as I relieved him of his ill-gotten gains.

"I believe this is yours," I said, handing his wallet back to him. I knew I had struck it rich this time, judging from how firm and big that felt.

The man received it, face flushed with embarrassment. "Thanks mate, you saved me." His genuinely look of appreciation almost made me feel bad for trying to steal from him later. How could someone his size look so...utterly gullible? 

He wore a loose shirt, but that did nothing to hide the strong chest that laid beneath it. And those arms...he worked out? Not to mention that drop-dead hunky looks to boot.

Suddenly, I didn't feel so guilty anymore. He definitely deserved to be mugged. That was probably my jealously speaking.

"No problem," I shifted my gaze. "Just be careful around here. Lots of pickpockets, y'know?"

"Sure," came his short reply.

We stood there, staring at the pavement in awkward silence for more than what was comfortable. And I still hadn't stole anything yet! My eyes darted across the street, and spotted Caleb looking at me with a questioning glance.

"Hey," I started.

"Want me to show you around a bit?"

I bit my lips, praying he'd say yes, because that would make my life oh-so-much easier. Caleb was already moving through the crowd like a shadow. The man looked thoughtful, then beamed a smile at me with an outstretched hand.

"Sounds like a great idea! Call me Joseph."

"Likewise. I'm Hector, my friends call me Hec," I responded with a handshake. "Wanna grab a drink?"

It wasn't long before we started moving off and I grinned stupidly to myself. Plan B was officially in action! 

It was time to pick things up for a bit.

And he didn't even notice that he was missing his Montblanc as I slipped it into my pocket. How could that even happen? 

Not that I was complaining.

After all, nothing screams tourists like a person walking around in sneakers and a fanny pack and snapping pictures every two seconds.

Joseph

Standing along the sidewalk with a camera hanging around my neck and an overloaded bag pack behind me was not what I had in mind for a day off. Especially not under the sweltering heat that threatened to drain me of my essential electrolytes in mere seconds.

I lifted my camera and snapped a few shots at the St Paul's Cathedral for like...the hundredth time this afternoon, wondering if that sent a good enough signal to people that I was fully-loaded tourist just begging to be snitched.

The camera screen flickered with an error message, requesting that I clear up some memory space for something more useful than a few hundreds of the same images.

An unexpected gathering of people attracted my attention. Turning around, I resisted the impulse to run over and sock the young perv – ahem, gentleman with an unhealthy obsession over women lingerie in broad daylight.

Shame that he had a hoodie pulled over his face. Otherwise I would have committed it to memory and hunt him down later once I was back at the workplace.

However, psychopathic perverts weren't on my hit list today.

It was supposed to be one of the few days where I should be sitting in the comfort of my new couch, catching up on NetFlix episodes of Elementary that I had been too busy to watch for the past half a year. Preferably along with tacos, coffee liquor and other unhealthy assortments of deep fried wonders.

Don't judge. I work out.

Why the hell had I even agreed into accepting that challenge from my good friend and co-worker, Jennifer Harris? No...that wasn't me. That was the alcohol talking.

We decided to make a bet following that drinking session on whoever could nab the most pickpockets by posing as tourists in our increasingly pickpocket-friendly streets of London. 

I squinted beneath the unforgiving sun of high noon, putting back my shades where they belonged as I made my way down the busy walkway, muttering curses at no one in particular, or perhaps at Jennifer.

I don't know.

Two unfortunate felons were already locked up behind bars in the waiting cell, but I was willing to bet that my bitch-friend Jennifer probably had better luck than me in drawing unwanted attention to herself.

First, she was a bitc – no, lady, and I'm not. Second, she had boobs; I don't. And last but not least, Jennifer had the knack for looking stupidly gullible even though everyone who knew her well enough would stay ten yards away from her if they possibly could.

On the other hand, my towering stature alone would probably ward off any and all attempts at me. Unless they were big or dumb enough; or perhaps both, like the two who were busy twiddling their thumbs in the waiting cell at the moment, thieves wouldn't even dare step within three feet of me.

Or at least, that was what I thought.

An incoming man made sure to collide, quite painfully, into my shoulders as he mumbled an apology and quickly moved on, unaware that I was fully aware of what he just took from my side pocket.

Amatuer.

I reached for my other pocket, ready to pull out what I needed to restrain him when another man appeared out of nowhere behind me, grabbing and relieving the unfortunate thief of his ill-gotten gains before handing it back to me.

I blinked in surprise, unhappy that I lost my target but trying not to show it in front of the upstanding gentleman standing before me.

"I believe this is yours," he said with a smile.

I accepted it gratefully, pretending to check through the contents of my wallet even thought I knew that there was nothing of value inside it. The thickness that made it so was just a lure.

"Thanks mate, you saved me," I replied. It was then I noticed something about him that looked familiar, though I couldn't put a finger on it. We talked small talks, and he mentioned something about the streets here being filled with pickpockets and all.

Interesting, why was he so knowledgeable?

"Want me to show you around a bit?" he offered, his emerald-green eyes pleading silently. I had to admit, those were some beautiful eyes. And he wasn't bad looking either. That chiselled jawline and broad shoulders, along with that hippie brown hoodie that – wait, what?

Ah hah.

"Sounds like a great idea!" I beamed, reaching out my hand. "Call me Joseph."

"Likewise. I'm Hector, my friends call me Hec," he responded in kind. "Wanna grab a drink?"

I followed as he led the way to his recommended coffee house, smirking criminally to myself as I pretended not to see him slip away my watch into his pocket. 

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