The Player's Protégé

by CJane Elliott

  “Deal.” Jerry extended his hand, and Eric shook it. If Eric thought he could win this bet, he was seriously underestimating Jerry’s abilities.

  Chapter Two

  JERRY CHECKED his phone again. No texts. He shrugged even though no one was there to note his lack of caring that Arlo—poor, pitiful Arlo—still hadn’t responded to his text of a few days ago. Maybe it had been too snarky and Arlo didn’t believe that Jerry was sincere about being his sex teacher. Entirely possible. He found it and read it again.

  Hello Arlo. Jerry Helstrom here. I’m ready to discuss the little project that Tyrone asked me to help you with. Let me know your availability.

  Hmm. “Little project” did sound a bit mocking. Otherwise it seemed completely straightforward. So what was Arlo’s problem? He called Tyrone.

  “Hey, boo, what’s happening?”

  “Nothing. What’s your boy’s problem?”

  “My—? Who’re you talking about?”

  Jerry tsked. “How soon they forget. Arlo. Your farm boy who wants to learn to be a player. I better not have lost this bet with Eric already.”

  “You haven’t heard from him? Did you text him?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him, and yes, I texted him. A few days ago.”

  Tyrone chuckled. “Well, boo, you probably scared him off the other night. Because he was all for the idea when I told him about it on the drive over.”

  Damn. Now Jerry would need to grovel, and he hated groveling.

  “You want me to talk to him?” Tyrone asked.

  “No, don’t bother. I’ll handle it.”

  Jerry disconnected the call and thought for a moment. Then he composed and sent the following text.

  Hello Arlo. Jerry Helstrom again. I believe I acted rudely toward you at Alekos, and I want to apologize. I can be quite a bitch at times. I promise if I do coach you on getting yourself out there, I will be sweet as a pussycat, or at least civil. If you’ve decided you don’t want to pursue the project, I understand. Do let me know one way or another. Thank you.

  There. A little wordy, but it got his point across. If Arlo wasn’t interested anymore, Jerry would make Eric cancel the bet.

  A few hours later, his phone buzzed and interrupted Jerry’s yoga practice. Usually he let it go to voicemail, but this time he grabbed it. Yes! Arlo was calling.

  “Hello there.”

  “Hi. It’s Arlo.”

  “Thanks for calling.”

  “Yeah, sure. Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. Umm, I’m still interested if it’s not too much of a bother. I mean, I know finals are coming up and—”

  “It’s not a bother at all. You do forgive me for my rudeness the other night?” Jerry knew he was pouring it on a trifle thick, but for some reason, it was important that he close this deal and become Arlo’s teacher. That was ironic, given he’d been adamantly opposed to the idea just days ago.

  “Oh, no problem. You were probably hungry, and our food was taking forever. I know I get crabby when I’m hungry.”

  Jerry almost held the phone out to stare at it. Was this guy for real? No one was that sweet in real life.

  “Too true. Now let’s get down to business. We need to schedule an initial session to clarify your goals. When can we get together and where?”

  JERRY TOOK a quick glance in the mirror, smoothed down his hair, and went to open the door to Arlo. They had the place to themselves. Jerry had bribed his roommates to make themselves scarce for the next few hours.

  Arlo looked amazing, but Jerry was puzzled as to why. He still wore generic, unstylish clothes. He still seemed slightly gawky and blushed when Jerry put a hand on his arm to draw him inside—not really necessary, but ever since finding out Arlo was a third-degree black belt, Jerry had burned to check out his muscles. They did not disappoint. Perhaps it was the steady, honest light that emanated from Arlo’s eyes. Whatever it was, Jerry felt drawn to Arlo—a little too drawn, if he was to maintain his boundaries as a mentor.

  “Hello there,” Jerry lilted with a coquettish tilt to his head. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Cheesy as all get out, but it was the first test—would Arlo flirt back?

  “Uh, hi.” Arlo walked in with a serious air and surveyed the apartment.

  No. Apparently immune or oblivious to flirting.

  “Come in, come in.” Jerry steered him to the living room, where he’d set a bottle of wine, a few beers, and a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to him.

  Arlo sat, rested his forearms on his thighs, and clasped his hands like a prayer boy.

  Farmer boy, prayer boy. Jerry needed to get Arlo to loosen up for the conversation they were about to have. “Have something to drink. Beer or wine?”

  “I’ll take a beer.”

  “Excellent.” Jerry handed him the bottle. “Help yourself to the cheese and crackers.”

  “Thanks.” Arlo sipped his beer and gazed around the room. He seemed reluctant to meet Jerry’s eyes.

  Jerry poured himself a glass of Chardonnay and considered his options. Although quiet, Arlo seemed like a straightforward type. Might as well jump right in. “Tell me about your sexual experience.”

  Arlo started and turned around. “What?”

  Jerry let Arlo’s question linger in the air. He took a leisurely sip of wine and said, “If I’m going to coach you in becoming a sexual stud, I need to know what I’m working with. But wait. Let’s back up. I shouldn’t put words in your mouth. Tell me what exactly you’re looking for and how I can help.”

  “Okay. I want to get out there and… I guess find out what I’ve been missing. I don’t know about becoming a sexual stud.” His lips quirked, and Jerry smiled encouragingly. “Uh, but I want to figure out how to… like, have casual… umm….”

  “You want to figure out how to hook up and have casual sex? Is that it?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I guess.” Arlo studied the furniture again.

  “Well, are you sure? The casual-sex part will be easy. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But are you sure you don’t want to find another long-term relationship instead?”

  Jerry knew he was torpedoing his chances of winning the bet with Eric, but he wasn’t interested in turning Arlo into a player if Arlo didn’t want to be one.

  “Yeah, I do want that eventually. But right now I guess I want to make up for lost time or something.”

  “Okay. Fair enough. So, back to your sexual history. How many sex partners have you had?”

  “One.”

  “Really? No one other than Jake?”

  “No.”

  “And no women, I assume?”

  “Right.”

  “And let me check—is the no women from no attraction or because you’ve never gotten around to it?”

  Arlo looked puzzled.

  “I mean are you bisexual, do you think? Or leaning gay, or totally gay?”

  “Totally gay.” Arlo said it with confidence.

  “Fine. Now, how old are you?”

  “I’m twenty. I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

  “But you’re a senior?”

  “No. Junior.” Arlo seemed to be loosening up. He took a long swig of his beer.

  Jerry was riveted by his Adam’s apple. God, his throat was gorgeous. Concentrate, Helstrom. “How long were you and Jake together?”

  “Almost three years. I met him the beginning of freshman year.” Arlo’s eyes skittered away again, and he took a deep breath.

  “Still hurts, huh?” Jerry asked softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sounds like you’re a one-man guy.” And Jake’s a shithead.

  “I guess.” Arlo set down his beer bottle and helped himself to cheese and crackers.

  “But now you want to make up for lost time. Any other reasons you want to jump into the gay meat market?”

  Arlo winced. “I don’t know. I guess because I haven’t had any other sexual experiences except with Jake. And
he and I did nothing close to, like, what you read in Dan Savage.”

  “So you feel like you’ve missed out on something?”

  Arlo gave the first bitter laugh Jerry had heard from him. “I know I have.”

  “Hmm.” Jerry poured himself more wine. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve only bottomed, never topped.”

  “Oh. So Jake wasn’t into bottoming, eh?”

  “Never. And don’t get me wrong, I like bottoming, but… I want to see what it’s like to top. And do some other stuff that Jake wasn’t into.”

  Jerry tried to ignore the stir of arousal set off by imagining Arlo as a top, with those muscles and those big hands. “Other stuff?”

  “Like, maybe… umm, bondage or… you know, more kinky stuff.”

  Now Jerry was definitely aroused. “I see. Bondage as in you tying someone down or you being the one tied?”

  Arlo reddened. “I’d like to try both ways. But probably tie someone else down first.”

  Jesus God. Arlo was hitting all Jerry’s buttons. He was gorgeous, humble, and wanted to enter a sexual playground. What wouldn’t Jerry give to do some hands-on training. “So did you ask Jake for those things?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  Arlo regarded him silently with his nice eyes and honest farm-boy martial-artist face.

  “It’s a simple question, Arlo,” Jerry said. He was beginning to get irritated. “Why didn’t you ask for what you wanted sexually from your long-term, committed boyfriend? If you read Dan Savage, you know he’s always telling people to talk to their partners about this stuff. People who are in it for the long haul need to be compatible sexually. Or so Dan says.”

  “I… I don’t know. Jake had more experience, and I felt dumb asking after I did once and he shot me down.”

  “Oh, boo hoo. ‘He shot me down.’ What does that even mean? He said no? Once? So what?”

  Arlo began to bristle. “So I didn’t want to rock the boat. In a relationship you have to make compromises.”

  “Probably why I’m not in one. I refuse to sell out who I am and what I want to make someone else happy.”

  “Well, I’m not like that.”

  They glared at each other.

  Jerry tamped down his annoyance to achieve a reasonable tone. “All I’m saying is this niceness of yours, while admirable in many circumstances, may be costing you having the life you really want. I know we’re only talking about sex here, but look at the rest of your life. Where are you letting things slide because you don’t want to ‘rock the boat’, as you said?”

  Arlo shifted on the sofa, put his hand behind his neck like he had a crick in it, and then stood. “Yeah, umm, I need to get going. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”

  Jerry hopped up. “That’s it?” He put his fists on his hips and stared Arlo down. “You’re going to cut and run the minute things get uncomfortable?”

  “I didn’t ask for therapy, man. I just want to get laid!” Arlo widened his eyes at what he’d said, and the tension between them broke.

  They laughed.

  “Okay. Got it. I can certainly help you with that. You still interested?”

  “Yeah, thanks. But I really do have to get going. I have a class to teach.”

  “Sure. Let’s schedule another meeting soon.”

  Chapter Three

  JERRY STRETCHED on his yoga mat, body humming from his morning practice, and let the endorphins fizz. His mind wandered to Arlo. Pondering Arlo was a nice break from his studies, which for an art major like Jerry meant finishing the set design that comprised his senior art project and sewing a few more costumes for the community theater company.

  What to do with Arlo’s situation? If Jerry plunged him into the Grindr world too soon, the game would be over before they’d really begun, and where was the fun in that? No, Jerry was going to let him think there were other necessary steps involved. For instance, a makeover. He planned to take Arlo shopping, get him out of those too-big jeans and generic tees, and bring him to Roberto for a cut.

  And Jerry wanted to boost Arlo’s assertiveness—not because he needed it for Grindr, but because Arlo needed it for his life. Arlo was an interesting mixture of self-deprecation (simple farm boy) and confidence (third-degree black belt). Not asking for what he wanted from his ex-boyfriend was simply not acceptable. And how did that even square with being a black belt? Jerry sat up and toweled his neck. He needed more data. It was time to see martial-artist Arlo in action. He dashed off a text to him, asking about his Tae Kwon Do class schedule and informing him he had a shopping trip and a haircut in his near future.

  “OKAY, KIDS. Let’s go through the form one more time. Line up there. Begin.”

  Arlo stood with easy confidence in front of a class of squirming kids, the eight-and-under students who clearly adored him. They smiled and mugged for his attention, and their parents sat on the sidelines, reading, texting, or talking with one another while Arlo put the white belts through their paces.

  Jerry waved at Arlo and slipped into a seat next to the parents. He tried not to salivate at the sight of him in his martial-arts robe and bare feet, the black belt tied dashingly around his waist. In this world, Arlo possessed nary a trace of gawkiness. He was all grace and power as he demonstrated a kick sequence for the kids, who were openmouthed in their admiration. Jerry’s mouth fell open too. If he could get this Arlo to show up in the rest of his life, Arlo wouldn’t need any help attracting sexual partners. He’d be beating them off with a stick.

  At the end of class, Arlo came over to say hello but was immediately swamped by parents eager to talk to him about their little darlings. He was the picture of patience and politeness as he listened to each parent discuss little Aiden’s round kick or little Madison’s yellow-belt chances.

  “Mr. Jerry!” A young voice jerked Jerry’s attention away from Arlo.

  “Hello, Scarlett. How are you doing?”

  “Good. I still have my costume.”

  Scarlett’s mom grinned. “Once we convinced her she couldn’t wear it twenty-four hours a day. What’re you doing here?”

  “I’m waiting for Arlo.”

  “Oh, we love Arlo. He’s such a great teacher.”

  Arlo, now free of parental attention, cocked his head. “Sorry about the delay. What’s all this about costumes?”

  “I do costume and set design for the local children’s theater.”

  “I looooove my cat costume,” Scarlett declared.

  “That’s cool.” Arlo ruffled her hair. “I bet it looks awesome on you.”

  “It does. Awwwwwsome.”

  Her mom laughed. “Okay, missy, we need to get out of here. Nice to see you, Jerry. See you Thursday, Arlo.”

  They watched them go, and then Jerry said, “Are you ready for our shopping expedition?”

  Arlo made a face. “I don’t see what’s wrong with my regular clothes. But you’re the expert.”

  “Damn straight.”

  “How about making me something instead? Now that I know your talent.”

  Jerry gave Arlo a look. “Don’t push your luck. Whatever I make, you’d need to wear, and my designs are probably way outside your comfort zone… for now.”

  Arlo laughed as he toweled off his sweaty neck. “Let me go change, and I’m all yours.”

  JERRY SAT more or less patiently outside the dressing room of his favorite men’s-clothing store until Arlo emerged wearing the slimmer jeans and casual button-down shirt Jerry had selected.

  “Yes,” Jerry breathed. Then he whistled.

  “Really?” Arlo surveyed himself doubtfully in the mirror on the wall.

  “Oh yes. You look fantastic.” Did he ever.

  “They’re just… tighter than I’m used to. Not very practical, I guess.”

  “No, they’re not meant to be practical, if what you mean is good for working on the farm or bumming around campus. But they showcase your body magnificently—perfect for attra
cting guys and getting laid.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I know so. Now try these on.” Jerry handed him a pile of pants and tops he’d selected while Arlo was in the dressing room.

  Arlo took the clothes and went back in while Jerry tried to tamp down his libido. Lusting after his student was never in the plan, but then neither was giving him a complete makeover when he could have set him up on Grindr at their first meeting.

  Jerry’s mind went blank when Arlo came out in an even tighter pair of pants and a Henley that hugged the muscles on his chest and arms. Jerry eyed him from head to toe and back again. Jesus H. Christ. Arlo was beautiful.

  “Well?” Arlo asked. “Is this okay?”

  Jerry swallowed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth, and croaked, “Yes, Arlo. That’s good. How about you buy those two outfits for now?”

  “Yeah. Sounds good. Because I know I can’t afford to get all the stuff you gave me to try on.”

  “Fine. Get changed and we’ll get out of here. We have an appointment with Roberto at three.”

  “I still don’t get why I need a haircut. But like I said before, you’re the expert.”

  “Exactly.” Jerry followed him to the dressing room. “Hand over the rest of those clothes you haven’t tried on and I’ll put them away.”

  Instead, when Arlo closed the door, Jerry took the stack to the counter and had the clerk ring them up on Jerry’s credit card. What the hell, right? Jerry was a trust-fund baby from a wealthy oil family in Texas. And he wanted to see Arlo in every single one of those outfits… eventually.

  Jerry was accepting the shopping bag from the clerk when Arlo came over with the two shirts and pairs of pants. “Did you get some stuff for yourself?”

  “Mmm, yes. You could say that.”

  ROBERTO STOOD back and surveyed Arlo in the mirror. “Gorgeous, my dear. You have a great head of hair. How do you like the cut?”

  Arlo squinted at himself. “It’s okay, I guess. Shorter than I usually wear it. What do you think, Jerry?”