Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
“That’d make me your pimp, Seth, and I don’t do that.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of it like that.”
“I don’t want to seem like a hypocrite, and your choices are none of my business. But are you sure this is what you want? There are other ways to make money, ones that don’t chip away at your self-esteem and force you to deal with rich assholes and their giant egos.”
He shrugged and said, “I need the money, and nothing else pays the way this does—no job I’d be qualified for, anyway.”
“Well, then here are my only useful pieces of advice. They’re not about how to set up a website and attract an upscale clientele like I did, because that’s easy enough to figure out. But here’s what you really need to know. First and foremost, always trust your instincts. If you think a guy seems creepy or if he raises red flags, do not go home with him. Also, don’t be afraid to say no. You won’t be comfortable with everything your clients ask for, and it’s up to you to set boundaries and take care of yourself.”
“Okay. I appreciate the advice.”
“I guess that’s it, then,” I said.
“Do you think it’d be okay if we kept in touch?” There were those doe eyes again. “I don’t have any friends here, and you seem like a nice guy. Maybe we could hang out sometime.”
My first inclination was to turn him down. It was never easy for me to let new people into my life, with the exception of Micah, who’d somehow made me feel comfortable from the start. But I could tell Seth needed this, so I said, “Sure. You have my number, so send me a text sometime. I may not have been very helpful today, but I can help in other important ways, like showing you where to find the best dim sum in the city.”
“What’s dim sum?”
I smiled at him and said, “Oh hell, you called me just in time. Let’s get together next Wednesday, and I’ll show you.”
He looked delighted. “Sounds great.” Then he got up and said, “I don’t want to take up any more of your time, but thank you, Jasper. Seriously. This meant a lot to me.”
After he took off, it occurred to me that once I officially retired, I could put my regulars and Seth in touch with one another. But that idea was followed by a huge wave of guilt, and I realized I could never do that to him. Not only did it feel too close to pimping him out, I just really didn’t want to inflict a single one of those men on that sweet, innocent kid.
Okay, so he wasn’t actually a kid. In fact, I was only two years older, although he seemed much younger. Plus, he was already working as a prostitute, and none of my regulars were bad people.
But I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want any part of enabling those men to use him for their own gratification.
What the hell did that say about me, though? I’d let every one of my regulars fuck me repeatedly. Some of them had been clients for years. So, it was okay to let myself get used by them, but not this other guy?
Then again, when I pictured any of them touching me now, it made my flesh crawl.
I asked myself what had changed and realized the answer was Micah. I didn’t want anyone but him touching me, holding me, fucking me—which he hadn’t actually done yet, but hopefully it was just a matter of time.
I thought about trying to seduce him, even if that wasn’t how these things usually worked. There was nothing “usual” about our situation anyway, so maybe I should just go for it. I imagined how incredible it would feel to be pinned under Micah with his cock in my ass—and wow, did I need to stop thinking about this while I was in public.
When I noticed an older woman a few tables away staring at me, I raised my glass in a toast and called, “This is damn good coffee.” Then I moved the cookbook onto my lap to hide my boner.
Chapter 6
At a few minutes before six that afternoon, I showed up at the art gallery where Skye’s class was taking place. But instead of going inside, I stood across the street and chewed my lower lip.
The gallery was sleek and sophisticated, a modern building fronted with two-story-high glass windows. From here, I could see three of Skye’s huge, incredible metal sculptures on display. He was in there too, standing beside one of his masterpieces and having an animated discussion with a group of about eight people.
What the hell was I doing here? I wasn’t an artist. I was just some guy who made what were little more than craft projects. If I went into the gallery and joined that class, I’d only embarrass myself.