Private Nine
By R.W. Clinger
As expected, the doorbell at my Cape Cod rings. My personal accountant and best pal of forever, Luke Cinders, answers the door. He’s a handsome man with blond hair and a five-ten frame. One can easily see that he’s not afraid to work his muscles and take care of his body at a local gym. Forest green eyes, no facial hair or piercings (he hates both), the man is a total heartthrob. And the business between his legs is the size of the Eiffel tower, which I’ve never played around with because he’s always had a steady boyfriend. There’s more to Luke than just his look. He’s loving and at boyfriend status (almost at husband status) with a chemistry professor at Condore College; the two have been lovers for the last six months. It doesn’t stop me from looking at him
