Chapter 49
To his surprise, he felt the muscles in Mitch’s ass clench around his finger, and Mitch’s eyes slipped shut in surrender. “Oh God, yes,” Mitch breathed.
Daryl’s heart and cock swelled in response. Their first date wasn’t even over yet, and already he was in love.
* * * *
When Daryl moved in with Mitch, he started looking for a job closer to the townhouse Mitch owned in Short Pump. Something that wouldn’t require a daily commute; the interstate could be a bear, as Mitch complained when he spoke of work. After a few months, a new spa opened nearby, and Daryl was offered a position as a massage therapist. The pay was slightly less than what he earned as a physical therapist with the rehabilitation facility, but he wouldn’t have to spend so much time and money traveling. Plus, the average masseuse earned ten or twenty bucks more in gratuity for an hour’s worth of work. Not bad, considering.
The physical therapy position Mitch hadn’t minded. He’d been to the rehabilitation facility himself—it was where they met—and he knew first hand that nothing suggestive or lewd went on in the large, open room where everyone underwent treatment. But the thought of a massage parlor called up in his mind a dark room where naked men rubbed oil onto each other’s bodies. A combination bath house and sweat lodge, where a simple massage could easily delve into sex. He’d never had a professional massage, but being with Daryl, he didn’t need one—many evenings when he came home tense from work, Daryl was there with warm, lubricated hands, ready to knead the muscles in his shoulders and back. Usually one thing led to another, and the two of them wound up in bed together, Mitch pressed against the mattress moaning with delight as his lover’s cock filled his ass.
Daryl insisted all massages didn’t end like that. “Seriously, hon, think about it,” he said, cuddling into Mitch’s embrace as their bodies and previous ardor cooled. “Ninety percent of my clients are women. You know I’m not into that.”
“They’re not the ones I’m worried about,” Mitch admitted. “It’s the ten percent who are men that bother me.”
Daryl hugged him tighter. “Please. An hour massage is only eighty bucks. You yourself told me the hustlers downtown get twice that for half the time.”
“So maybe you should be working the corner instead, is that what you’re telling me?” The thought amused Mitch, but he tried to keep a straight look on his face. “You’d make more money.”
“I’m telling you book a massage yourself. You’ll see.” Daryl strummed a hand through the hair on Mitch’s abs. “Chelsea has an opening tomorrow. You could come on in, see what it’s all about.”
“Chelsea?” Mitch wrinkled his nose. “If anyone’s going to rub me down, it’s going to be you.”
Propping his chin on Mitch’s chest, Daryl leered up at him. “Sounds like one of us is ready for round two.”
Daryl rolled Mitch over and straddled his hips to begin massaging his shoulders. As his lover’s hands worked their magic, Mitch found his cock stiffening again, and he savored the hard length of Daryl’s dick pressing into his lower back. His sphincter clenched in anticipation. Every massage he received at home devolved into lovemaking, so he knew how much of a turn-on it was to feel another’s hands so intimately all over his body. He trusted Daryl, he did, but it always seemed so easy to go from massaging one minute to fucking the next.
How could he not be worried?
* * * *
Daryl knew Mitch had cause for worry. Even when he’d been in training for his certification as a massage therapist, he’d been hit on and propositioned by people who misread his careful ministrations on their muscles as something more. At the spa where he worked, there were three male masseuses, but he was the only one who was athletically trim and handsome. Brad was overweight by over a hundred pounds, a heavy man with a gentle touch but visually nothing to get worked up about, and Manny was a swarthy Latino man who looked like he spent his weekends cruising singles bars hoping to score.
The clients who called and requested Daryl specifically fell into two groups—married, middle-aged women who thought he was sexy, and young gay men who thought he was hot. Surprisingly, it was the women Daryl had to watch out for. The male clients always asked if he was available, and when he said no, they resigned themselves to closing their eyes and savoring the hour or ninety minutes he spent on their massage. The women, though. Jeez, if Mitch knew about them,he’d force Daryl to quit.