Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
He went to the wall of bookshelves and pulled out the novel he’d purchased when he’d run into Bishop at Barnes & Noble. He shook his head when he remembered how that encounter had gone. Would there ever be a time that he wasn’t gonna have to pick his face up off the floor when Bishop departed. He was so frustrated he could scream, and that said a lot.
He did a few stretches, then got onto the treadmill, propping his book on the holder. He had a sound system to listen to audiobooks while he exercised, and a television mounted on the wall, but he didn’t feel like bothering with either.
He started with a warm-up but quickly upped the speed to a brisk walk. He added his arms to get his heart-rate up, and his blood to flow to other areas besides below his waist. He tried to concentrate on the book and let the words take him to another place, into another life that was far different from his own. But, no matter how hard he tried or how fast he pumped his legs, he couldn’t outrun the shame. He hit the cool down after forty-two minutes. His balls were still heavy, and his face was sweaty and red, but little of it had to do with the exertion from his exercise. He climbed off the machine and bowed forward, resting his hands on his knees.
Edison marched back to his bedroom. He couldn’t face Bishop tomorrow. Not when he knew all he saw him as was an inept kid that was disguising himself as a mature exec. He’d been so green and stupid that he’d opened his big mouth and not only blurted his secret, but he’d revealed his age as well… which he’d meant to wait on.
There was no way he could do this thing tomorrow. He wasn’t going back on their agreement. He still wanted the beautiful backyard that he’d already fallen in love with. But it didn’t mean they had to start so soon. He’d already put off the task for years… a couple more weeks wouldn’t make a difference. Perhaps by then he could face Bishop without his face turning into a tomato.
He’d showered and did his evening grooming then gotten into his empty bed. He rolled his eyes when he thought of how close he’d been. He squirmed against the cool sheets, his skin still tingling from Bishop’s rough hands. He didn’t dare put his hand inside his sleep pants to satisfy the unfulfilled need, he felt pathetic enough. Edison tried to read some more of his novel but couldn’t. He watched some CNN but even Don Lemon didn’t hold his interest. He shut everything off and laid there staring at his ceiling fan, hoping the rotation of the blades would put him to sleep, but after thirty minutes, no such luck. It was five minutes until eleven when he broke down and texted Bishop.
Edison: Sorry if I’m texting too late. But I was thinking you could start on the yard in a couple of weeks. There’s no reason to overcrowd your schedule. I’ll get back to you with more details after I check my calendar.
Edison felt like the weakest piece of dung there was, but this was about his sanity at this point. He was already kicking the hell out of his own butt for blurting what he did and ruining his one chance he’d had in years to become a man. The moment Edison set his phone on his nightstand and settled under the covers his phone chimed with an incoming message notification.
Oh shoot. He didn’t think Bishop would respond tonight.
Bishop: im call u… not lik txt
Edison frowned as he stared at the screen. Call me? Who does—? He didn’t have a chance to finish his thought before his phone rang so loudly that it startled him and made him drop the heavy device on his forehead. “Ow, crap.” Edison fumbled for the phone but hesitated a few seconds before he swiped the green receiver to the right.
“Hello.” He tried to sound casual, tired, like he’d been resting easily all evening.
“Why?” Bishop’s voice was gravelly as if he hadn’t spoken since he left Edison’s house. “Why are you tanking the project?”
That’s all he cares about is the dang project. Wasn’t Bishop confident enough in his skills to know that he didn’t have to sweeten the pot by sleeping with his customers? Edison was foolish to think he was different. God, he’d been thoughtless, and desperate. Edison pushed the lump down in his throat. He thought maybe he should just hire an escort, one that provided full services and get it the heck over with, then he’d never have to confess that particular fact again.
“I’m not,” Edison said quietly. “I don’t think you have to start immediately, is all I was saying. I’m still going to do it. Definitely.”