Bro-Forma Statements: Senior VP Grant Part 1

This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.

There’s a certain kind of man that makes everyone in the room shut up without saying a word. That’s Grant Whitaker.

Senior VP in our firm. Early 40s. Always clean-shaven, always composed, the kind of guy who could wear the same navy suit five days in a row and still look like a god. Tall, broad-chested, tie always cinched tight like it was part of his body. He never raised his voice in meetings, never cracked a joke in group chat, but everyone still listened when he spoke. That’s power. Real, quiet, grown-man power. The kind that makes junior analysts straighten their backs and check their spelling before hitting send.

He’s not friendly, not cold either. He just… exists above the fray. No banter, no locker-room talk. Nothing even remotely homoerotic. He’s the type that makes you stand straighter when you’re around him. That said, I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t looked. Not just because he’s hot, which he is. Not just because of the way his tailored pants hug his glutes like they were poured on. But because there’s something about restraint. When a man looks like that and doesn’t give anything away, it makes you want to be the one to break him.

And yeah, he’s married. Thick silver band on his left hand. I don’t know shit about his home life, and I never cared to. But I’d be lying again if I told you I hadn’t thought about it. What it’d be like to unzip that belt. To see if he’s the same calm, composed man with a cock in his mouth. Or bent over a desk.

I never planned to find out. Not really.

That changed the weekend after Bryce.

It was Monday, around 7 PM. Most of the office had cleared out. I stayed late because I was behind on a few deliverables for our hedge fund book and yeah, maybe because part of me didn’t want to go home just yet. The floor was quiet. Just the hum of monitors and the occasional email ping. I stretched out at my desk, cracked my neck, and figured I’d take a piss before powering through the rest.

Men’s room on our floor is always freezing. Tiles cold under dress shoes, bright-ass lighting. I walked in, unzipped, and stepped up to the second urinal. A second later, the door creaked open again. I didn’t have to look; I recognized his gait. Grant. Of course. He stepped up to the one right next to mine, despite there being three others open.

That alone made me pause. He never does that. The man follows the unspoken rules of corporate urinal etiquette like scripture.

But here he was. Right next to me.

Neither of us said anything at first. I kept my eyes forward. Heard his fly unzip. Silence.

Then ... and I swear I’m not making this up; I heard it. A moan. Not a porn-style grunt. Just a soft, involuntary noise as he started to piss. One of those low exhales that feels almost too intimate for a man like him. I thought maybe I imagined it, until I turned just slightly and caught him glancing at me.

Quick. Controlled. But it was there.

He didn’t look away. Just kept pissing.

I zipped up, stepped back, and hit the sink. When I turned toward the mirror, he was beside me again. Washing his hands like nothing happened. Water running hot.

Then he looked at me in the mirror and said, real calm, like he was talking about a trade that went bad. “I saw the footage, Dan.”

He dried his hands slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Facilities flagged the CCTV footage,” he said. “Apparently some poor guy in Ops was reviewing the weekend HVAC logs and saw movement after hours. Thought someone broke in. Pulled the camera feed, found you… working late with Bryce.”

My stomach dipped.

Of course. Friday night. Bryce and I were supposed to head out for drinks, but we ended up alone in the office, half-drunk, half-joking, and then I was on my knees, tying my shoes, and his cock was right there in my face. I dared him to whip it out. He did. And I sucked him off. Right there. On camera, apparently.

I opened my mouth; maybe to deny it, maybe to joke but he held up a hand. “You swallow cock like you’ve done it before.”

Just like that. Calm as ever.

I blinked. “Look....”

But he kept going. “Impressive, really. Not what I expected from you. But I respect a man who knows how to keep his team happy.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t. I just stood there while he folded the paper towel in half and tossed it in the bin.

He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough to let me feel it.

“You’ve got initiative, Dan. That’s valuable here. Especially at your level.” He said it like we were talking about deal flow, not a secret office blowjob I gave a teammate. “Swing by my office before you log out. ”

And then he left. Just walked out, crisp and clean and unbothered. I stood there another full minute, staring at the mirror, trying to get the color back in my face.

My hands were shaking. My cock? Semi-hard. So yeah. That’s how it started.

Not with a look. Not with a joke. Not with a slow burn or flirtation.

It started at the urinal. With a moan. With a calm, quiet voice saying, I saw the footage, Dan.

And I didn’t know what the hell to expect next.

But I was already walking toward his office.

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Since I’ve already written two parts of Grant’s story, I’ll be finishing and publishing it as planned. Part 2 will mark the end of the “Bro Forma Statements” mini-series.

Read Part 2 here