Chapter 8
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 cock, 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 sex doll, only there to help them get off. They suck my dick 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’mnot 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.
* * * *
I cancel the client I had scheduled for Monday and give myself the day off. I don’t have anyone but Ryan lined up for Tuesday, and I’m hesitant to schedule anyone after him. I need the money, I do, but I just can’t rouse my enthusiasm for anyone else.
The moment I realize this, I know it’s a bad thing. I’m not falling for him. I don’t like guys. Quickly I fill my calendar for the rest of the week, sometimes booking two appointments in one day. I’ll have to avoid masturbating in the shower to ensure I can accommodate them all, because while I know the guys just use me to get off, they really do like it when I come, too. It makes them feel manly, I guess. Underscores their ability in the bedroom. Something about getting a straight guy off makes them feel…I don’t know, more gay, maybe.
The day of our appointment, I arrive at Ryan’s early. A half hour early, which won’t do, so I drive around the neighborhood staring at luxurious homes I’ll never be able to afford to live in while the minutes tick away. I consider stopping for something to eat or drink, maybe—there’s a Starbucks not far from his place—but coffee makes my spunk smell bad and I don’t want to ruin our appointment. Just thinking about Ryan has me half-hard. Part of me wants to get this over with, and part of me wants to draw it out for the rest of the night.
I should get that coffee. Prove to myself that I’m not into him, I don’t care what he thinks about me, I don’t care if he’s so disappointed after today’s appointment that he never calls again.
But I drive past the Starbucks without stopping and head back for his house. By the time I pull into the back driveway, I’m only ten minutes early. I can live with that.
This time he’s waiting for me in the kitchen. When I knock on the screen door, his head pops around the corner and, a second later, that sunshine grin of his lights up his face. “Hey, Greg. Right on time. Come in.”
Like we’re old buddies now. I see he’s taking dishes out of the dishwasher and putting them away, and suddenly I feel sad. This is so homey, so real, an intimate glimpse into Ryan’s life, and I want to be a part of it. Not just the boy toy he hires for a booty call, but a friend, a partner. Hell, who knows? Maybe a lover.
I want in, I’m lying if I say otherwise, and the fact that this is our third meeting bothers me more than it should. Though technically this is only our second appointment, and I might have gotten a free meal out of him on Friday, but I didn’t leave with cash in my pocket. So I’m not going to count that. This is only number two.