2- Inappropriate

Gerardo had spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in his office, with the blinds lowered and the city burning behind the large window, going over the morning's scene again and again. He visualized Kenny leaning over the jammed drawer, the suit pants stretched tight, the red line of the thong showing against the fabric. He had done it. He had made Kenny, always so proper and professional, wear a thong to the office.

When the employees began to leave, Gerardo waited for the lights to go out by sections, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and took the black controller out of the center drawer.

He held it with his thumb on the button, feeling the weight of power in the palm of his hand, and spoke slowly, with the unctuous voice of someone who no longer doubts.

"I want that when he leaves work, Kenny goes to a clothing store and buys himself some very short, tight denim shorts. I want him to wear them to work tomorrow."

The blue LED blinked, recording.

Gerardo smiled, drank the whiskey in one gulp, and looked at the city lighting up at his feet.

"I am God," he murmured again.

When they left work, Pablo and Kenny went down to the parking garage together. Pablo was driving, with the window down, one hand on the wheel and the other on the armrest, his tattoos peeking out from his rolled-up cuff. Kenny had his bag on his lap, watching the neon of the shopping centers pass along the avenue through the window.

"Should we eat out or head home?" Pablo asked, without looking away from the road.

"Home, better," Kenny said. "Can you stop for a second? I'd like to go into a store."

"Now? What store?"

"Nothing, a clothing store. I saw some shorts a moment ago."

Pablo raised an eyebrow and let out a laugh.

"Shorts? Since when do you like shorts?"

"I feel like a change. I want to try something new."

Pablo stopped the car at the entrance to the shopping center, leaned back in the seat, and took out his phone.

"I'll wait for you here. Don't take long."

"I won't."

Kenny got out and crossed through the mall entrance. He walked through the stores at a calm pace and stopped in front of the window of a fashion store with mannequins dressed in linen and light denim. He went in with the same calm with which he entered the boardroom.

The sales clerk, a young guy with dyed hair, asked if he was looking for something.

"Denim shorts," Kenny said. "Very short and tight."

The clerk led him to the back, where some cut-off denim pants were hanging. Kenny tried on two sizes, chose the one that marked his thighs and hugged his ass, and paid for them at the register with complete normalcy. Not for a second did it cross his mind that it was strange. On the contrary, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

He returned to the car with the bag in his hand, leaned in, and set it on ...