That evening Cam sat across from Emory in the restaurant Emory had touted. It was crowded, and a pleasant cacophony of voices and laughter surrounded them. Both men had ordered the surf and turf dinner, choosing the prime rib and scallops option. They were enjoying a pre-dinner drink with their soup and salad.
Cam smiled at Emory as he talked. Light from a candle on the table played on Emory’s handsome face. Cam was only half listening to what Emory was saying. Cam was tuned in to the sound of his voice, his face, and the memory of the body now concealed under a blue and white short-sleeve shirt. Truth be told, Cam had a hard-on hidden beneath the tablecloth.
Cam was thoroughly enjoying the experience—the rustic décor, the good food, and Emory’s company, spurred on by the cocktail he had
