By lthr_jock
Red walked along the street, enjoying the way his newly shaved muscles bunched and slid under his heavy rubber clothing. He got more than a few glances, and he wasn’t sure whether they were more surprised by his freshly shaved head or by his gleaming black clothes. Certainly a few stared long enough to spot the thick rubber collar locked around his neck and he strode along the street leaving a wake of incredulous people behind him.
He knew where he was going – the Boss’s place was a 20 minute walk. But as he walked, he felt that something was wrong. Something was out of place. He didn’t know how he knew where the Boss lived; he couldn’t remember where he had been that morning. All he knew was that he was Red but that just wasn’t enough. His brow furrowed as he continued walking, until he found himself outside the Boss’s door.
As he lifted the heavy knocker the door swung open, and Red walked inside. Shutting the door behind him, he found himself in a dimly lit corridor. As he waited for his eyes to acclimatise to the gloom, the Boss walked into view. His cycling gear had been discarded in favour of black rubber. But unlike Red’s gear, this rubber was thin and moulded to Boss’s lithe body. He was wearing a one-piece suit with an attached cod-piece that already bulged. On his feet were high, well glossed DM’s, ladder laced with clean white laces. His hands were in tight, thin black rubber gloves.
“Nice timing, boi. Come on through.”
