Working Men 2 Box Set

Blurring the Lines-6

The evening passes quickly. If we really are on a date, it’s one of the best I’ve ever had in my life. Ryan is witty and charming, and so damn handsome. Throughout dinner, I notice others watching him—mostly women, but a few men try to catch his eye. But he doesn’t notice anyone but me. If I were gay, I’d be head over heels for him, I know.

Hell, I’m straight and half in love already.

Part of me hopes he invites me back to his house for a nightcap. Whether that means a drink or fooling around, I don’t know, and to be honest, I don’t care. I’m up for anything at the moment, and I’m feeling so damn generous, I wouldn’t even charge him. I almost say it out loud. Hey, let’s go back to your place and bust a nut, how’s that sound? This one’s on me. After all, he picked up the check for the restaurant.

But he said upfront nothing s****l would happen tonight, and until he suggests something, I don’t want to push my luck. We have another appointment next week. Though it will be the third time we get together, I’m only counting it as number two because, damn it, I want to see him again. There’s just something about him that makes me want more.

When the wine is gone and the check is paid, we head outside. He keeps his distance—no arm around my shoulders, not even an elbow nudging my side. I thrust my fists into the pockets of my pants and remind myself this isn’t a date. It’s a night out with a gorgeous man who happens to be gay and, yeah, who gave me the best d**k-licking of my life a few days earlier, but we’re not like that. We aren’t even really friends. And I’m not into guys. I’m not gay.

I’m not. Though—and this might be the wine talking, but maybe I’m not as straight as I’d like to think.

He walks me to my car and we stand beside the driver’s side, me leaning back against the door, him almost right up on me so he’s out of the way of the traffic zooming by. He gives me a sexy half-grin, and his eyes sparkle in the light from a street lamp overhead. “I’d ask for a goodnight kiss but I know better,” he jokes.

I press my lips together and keep my mouth shut. I try not to stare at his lips, which turned a bright red while he ate. The color hasn’t faded yet, and for the first time in my life, I wonder what it’d be like to kiss another guy. To kiss him.

I wish he would ask. We both might be surprised what I’d say. Even I’m not quite sure what the answer would be.

But the moment draws out too long and grows awkward between us. Ryan shrugs. “I’ll see you Tuesday, then.”

I jump at that, relieved. “Yeah, that sounds good. Tuesday. At two?”

“See you then.” He leans closer and, before I can stop him, wraps both arms around me in a tight hug.

His embrace is warm and strong, and suddenly I don’t want him to let go. I don’t want to get into my car alone; I don’t want to go home by myself. Cautiously, I raise my arms up around his waist and pat his back, but it feels inadequate. I’ve seen him naked already. Why can’t we get back to that?

Tuesday, I remind myself. I have other appointments between now and then, other guys to please. Work to do. He’s just one more gay man in a long line of clients I’ve had over the years. When his three appointments are up, he’ll fade into the past like all the rest.

Though none of the others ever hugged me before. I know I’m going to remember this—this moment, this dinner, our date—for the rest of my life.

* * * *

I’ve been thinking about Ryan all weekend, and the thought of seeing him again has me on edge. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in forever—the last girl I geeked out about was Amber Munday back in high school, a cheerleader who, for some reason I could never figure out, agreed to go to the senior prom with me. I felt the same way before our big date: hands shaky all the time, heart fluttering erratically, alternating waves of chills and sweats washing over me.

But Amber was a nubile young beauty at seventeen and, in my memory, already on her way to a lifetime career as a top supermodel. I don’t know what ever happened to her, and I actually spend one sleepless night Googling her to see if I can find out, but either she fell off the face of the Earth or she got married and changed her name, because I can’t seem to locate her. And the memory of our one lackluster date does little to distract me from my thoughts of Ryan.

I don’t get this worked up over guys. I don’t. So why is Ryan different?

I can’t put my finger on it. He’s well off, which appeals to me because I’m a broke-ass bastard. He’s handsome in a way men rarely are in real life, but he almost doesn’t seem to notice. He’s kind and generous and knows his way around a c**k, let me tell you. Before we even went out Friday night, I knew he wasn’t like any of the other guys I’ve met before.

Most treat me like a s*x doll, only there to help them get off. They suck my d**k and wank their own while doing it, but they don’t look me in the eye and they don’t say much of anything before they’re done. The moment they come, they disappear to clean up, even if I’m not finished yet. Some show me to the door, but more likely they hide out in the bathroom, waiting for me to collect my cash, get dressed, and leave.

Ryan was as concerned about bringing me to release as he was his own orgasm. He was an attentive partner, and the handful of appointments I have over the weekend only remind me how good he was. I’m looking forward to Tuesday, but the anticipation is setting my teeth on edge. I just want to see him again already and get it over with.