by Clancy Nacht
“What happens if I go over time? Are appointments flexible? It may take me longer than I think. I’ve never been, um, under pressure.” Elton didn’t wear the bashful look of a man with performance anxiety, but sometimes people had difficulty relaxing on their first visit to a professional.
Zane did enjoy a newbie.
“I’m afraid I’m a very busy man, Elton. If you think you’ll be glad of two hours, then book two.” Zane studied Elton and then offered a faint smile. “If you have more time than you need, we can discuss the bill you talked about. Name the day, and I’ll try to accommodate you. The client always comes first.”
“All right. Two hours then. One moment.” Elton’s brow furrowed, and his eyes darted back and forth like he was reading the screen. “And I need to book the room.”
He exhaled and his lips formed a straight line. “I have time at ten in two weeks, Wednesday?”
Zane pulled up his own calendar on the laptop. “Assuming you mean ten at night, I’m free. So ten to midnight, two weeks from now, Wednesday.” He smiled. “So that’s a thousand. Please have cash on hand or be ready to transfer digital currency.” Zane started typing into the chat window. “I’m giving you my business number. Text me the address and room number when it’s in order. You’ll want to be waiting when I arrive, showered and ready. Play whatever music you enjoy. Relax. Try to get into the right headspace to appreciate a new experience. Any questions?”
While Elton looked like he had a lot of questions, he shook his head. His hands were up and clasped again, but they covered his mouth. He reached down with one hand and made a couple of clicks. “All right. I’ll see you then.”
He really was kind of cute, in his weird, uptight way. Zane gave him a cheeky wink and waved goodbye. “Sweet dreams, Elton. Next time you see me, I’ll be knocking on your hotel door.”
Zane ended the call himself and then stood and stretched. It was time for a long shower and a little fantasizing of his own.
Chapter 2
Upton had never been a fan of drinking or drugs, but at the moment, a Xanax sounded like a really good idea. When he’d closed Skype, he’d pretty much decided to text Zane the next day to tell him, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Zane was a good-looking guy, but good-looking guys weren’t in short supply. If Upton wanted to explore sexuality with someone, he could hit up Grindr. But with each person Upton met, there was the chance they’d talk to a tabloid. There were no money back guarantees with a sex worker, but Zane would sink his own business by going to the media.
So, Upton had put off cancelling, debating with himself. Finally, the day came, and Upton still hadn’t cancelled.
He’d heard around the watercooler, so to speak, about fairly nice hotels that were known to be discreet, and he made the reservation himself, which was surprisingly easy to do. The money was the least of his worries. He’d always had plenty of that, though he rarely carried that much in cash.
Was it proper to tip? If so, was it like dinner? Was there something standard?
He wished he’d asked, but then it wasn’t cool to ask the recipient, and…
He was overthinking this. Upton’s dad had visited more than one escort in his heyday, but he wasn’t around anymore to ask advice from. Who did that leave? Upton’s mom?
Besides, Zane would probably let Upton know if he underpaid for Zane’s time.
Upton added a few hundred dollars from the ATM, and before he knew it, he’d texted Zane and showered.
He sat in a bathrobe, uncertain whether to dress or not. It didn’t matter, did it?
Zane would be there in a few minutes. Upton needed to focus on new experiences.
Right on the dot, two smart raps at the door echoed through the room. It would be crazy to leave him cooling his heels in the hallway where he might be seen, so despite his lingering uncertainty, Upton headed for the door and peered through the peephole. Then he unlatched the door and opened it, stepping back to usher Zane inside.
Upton wasn’t quite prepared for Zane’s physical reality so close. Seeing him onscreen wasn’t the same as standing beside such a tall, imposing man. Upton closed the door, stepping into Zane’s space enough to smell him—expensive aftershave and something exotic, spicy, woodsy. When he turned around, Zane was watching him intently.
Those big, dark eyes were different in person too, almost black in the fluorescent lighting, ringed by ridiculously long eyelashes. They were almost too pretty for such a sharp-boned face. The artfully messy swoop of dark hair across half his face looked temptingly soft, meant to be touched, and Upton realized with something like surprise that was exactly why Zane was here. To be touched, to touch.
Upton didn’t know where to begin, what to do; it was nothing like a hookup. Sure, they were both here to have sex, but there had to be some etiquette.
Then Zane held out his hand, the gesture reassuringly businesslike, even if his leather jacket and tight jeans suggested the barroom rather than the boardroom.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Zane said when Upton took his hand. His voice was quiet, deep, surprisingly warm, like he meant what he said. Even as trained as Upton was in detecting deception and insincerity, he didn’t perceive anything but genuine interest. Zane smiled and squeezed Upton’s hand before releasing it. “Why don’t we take this to the couch, talk a little about what you desire.”
It wasn’t a question, and Upton was grateful. He spent all day thinking, making decisions. Being led to the couch was blessedly simple.
Zane nudged him to sit and then removed his jacket, folding it across the back of a nearby chair before sinking down beside Upton. He sat close enough that his heat radiated—a stark contrast to the room’s chill—with his body turned to face Upton. Then Zane lifted a hand to gently cradle Upton’s jaw, thumb rubbing across his cheek soothingly.
“Now, why don’t you tell me what kind of mood you’re in tonight?” Zane gazed into Upton’s eyes, searching intently, leaning in, the whole thing surprisingly intimate.
While everyone around Upton was typically aware of his mood; no one asked him. Not that the question was about his state of mind, entirely, and he couldn’t imagine that Zane would want to hear how much he sometimes missed his trainwreck of a dad.
It wouldn’t do to tell him how important his mother’s regard was to him and how mortified she’d be Upton was in a place like this with someone like Zane.
Not that Zane seemed like a bad person, but after what Mom had been through with Dad…
Ugh. Upton needed to push his parents as far from his mind as possible. Whatever he said to Zane, Upton didn’t want to bring up baggage that would likely hurt feelings. As little as Upton thought of what the media had called his father’s “hooker habit,” that was because his dad was married, not because sex workers were bad people. Upton wasn’t in a relationship; his actions were appropriate.
“In my head. Sorry. I think… Maybe I just need to rip off the Band-aid, if you know what I mean?” Upton pressed his lips together and looked at Zane, drinking in how beautiful he really was. “Can I, um, touch your hair?”
Upton winced. Jesus, asking permission was exactly the kind of thing that seemed to turn guys off.
Zane just smiled and tossed his head to flip his glossy, chin-length hair out of his face. Then he shifted forward, sliding one arm around Upton’s shoulders, and tipped his head forward, obviously inviting the touch. Somewhere between flirtatious and amused, he murmured, “I love having my hair played with. Try scritching your nails across my scalp gently if you really want to make me purr.”
“All right.” Upton slid his fingers through the silky hair and gave Zane a little scritch, testing the waters. But then, why was he testing the waters?
Not that Zane wasn’t a human being, but Upton had been invited to touch, and he was paying to do it. Summoning his gumption, he slid both hands through Zane’s hair, raking his nails lightly over his scalp, then pulled them back, fluffing his hair the other way, g
etting used to touching him and playing tentatively.
“You smell really good.”
“Thanks.” Zane’s cheek dimpled with a charming half-smile. It was obvious why he could charge five hundred an hour; he could probably ask for anything with that face and get it. “You have good hands.” The little smile widened, turning something a shade softer than devious. “Why don’t I take off this shirt? You can continue your exploration.”
“Sure.” Upton wasn’t sure why he was going so slowly. He was hardly a virgin, and this man was here for a purpose. Then again, Upton booked two hours, so there wasn’t a point in rushing either.
Upton stopped Zane from unbuttoning his shirt to take over himself, trying to stay in the moment, to really feel the hardness of each button as he pushed it through the material, revealing the tanned, tender skin beneath.
This wasn’t the time for Upton to worry he’d slacked at the gym. He was trim, camera ready, even if not for shirtless shots. “I used to spend a lot of time perfecting my tan. I was one of those wastrel teenagers. Not drunk or obnoxious, but definitely less than interested in the world around me. Now I spray tan or fake bake. No time.”
“Mm, well, you look good to me.” Zane raised a brow and curled his lips. His gaze rested heavy on Upton’s skin as Upton finished unbuttoning the shirt. Zane shrugged out of it, revealing the same perfect body he’d displayed on camera, every inch a tawny brown, etched seemingly from stone.
Zane folded the shirt and set it aside neatly, just as he had with the jacket, and then sat forward, moving deeper into Upton’s space. He slipped his hands inside Upton’s bathrobe at the shoulders, and before Upton could tense, Zane kneaded the stiff muscles. “Why don’t I help you unwind? Do you enjoy music? We could listen, relax, get a little more comfortable with each other.”
This was very different from a Grindr hookup.
“Yes, I like music.” What kind of maniac didn’t? “Hang on.”
Upton went to the little desk where his phone sat on its charger. Normally he had inoffensive classical playing in the office, but he maintained afterhours playlists too. He picked a mellow one labeled “Chillout” and stood next to the desk, wanting to ask if he seemed tense, but he had just leapt from a handsome man’s comfortable massage at the least provocation. Damn it.
Upton exhaled slowly.
Zane remained where he was, sitting shirtless and picturesque with rumpled hair and doe eyes, watching. As the music played through the room, Zane hmm’ed and closed his eyes a moment, seeming to absorb the song. Then he opened his eyes and extended his arm across the back of the couch, making an enticing spot for Upton to return to.
“So I’m moving a little too fast for you. Let’s try again. Come sit beside me, and we’ll just talk for a while. Why don’t you tell me about your day?”
“It’s fine. I’m not… I mean…” Upton blew air out between his lips, his hands on his hips. “I move at the speed of a nervous snail. That’s a real quote, actually. Guys see me filibustering or telling off an alt-right media host to his face on his own show and they think I’m… Or my dad… But that’s not really the same. I’m not that… Anyway, my day was more frustrating than interesting. I spent most of it on the phone begging for money, which is my actual full-time job. The law-making is a hobby.”
Zane smiled like that was charming instead of pitiful and patted the seat beside him. “That sounds exhausting. Maybe you just need to let go of the day before you can think about anything else. I could pour you a drink... Sometimes a glass of bourbon helps when I’m caught up in my head over a frustrating day.”
“I’m not much of a drinker.” Anyone who knew Upton’s dad was shocked by that, though his dad was precisely why Upton never got in the habit. He finally made his way back to the couch and had a seat. “What about your day? What do you do?”
Zane left his arm on the sofa’s back, not trying to get closer. Upton didn’t know whether or not that was disappointing. The charming little half-smile was back, though, and Zane shrugged. “I went to the gym, worked out for a couple hours, rode my bike around the city for a while. I had lunch with some friends, made plans to go to a concert in a few weeks. Thought a lot about tonight, getting to see you.”
Though it sounded convincing enough, the kind of thing you expected from a sexy young man, it didn’t quite sound true.
The trace of dishonesty rubbed Upton the wrong way, though why should it? If Zane was seeing clients, that was really none of Upton’s business. Theoretically he was paying for Zane to ask about his day, not the other way around.
Upton had always been contrary in that regard. “After my dad’s assassination, my mom was desperate to get me into therapy, but talk therapy never really worked for me because truth to me is a two-way street. It was difficult to be candid with someone who turned everything back on me. I know that’s part of the deal, but…”
He looked down. He was being difficult. The idea that he couldn’t even manage a client/sex worker relationship made him emotional.
“Maybe this just isn’t for me.”
Zane’s smile faded, and he sat straighter, folding his hands in his lap as if chastened. “I attend graduate school at Georgetown, studying public policy.” He studied Upton’s face, as if he expected to be called a liar, although he sounded completely honest. “Today I did some volunteer work for an international non-profit. No one there knows what I do. They assume I’m up to my eyes in student debt like everyone else. I updated my website with some new photos when I got home. After dinner, I cleaned my grout before showering to come here. I thought you’d prefer the sexy version. Most do. I’m sorry I lied.”
“No, I’m sorry; it was rude of me to call you out. Thank you for being honest.” Upton took Zane’s hand and squeezed it. “Public policy at Georgetown… That’s impressive. You know, I went through that program too. Rigorous.”
Much of Upton’s tension went out of him, and he relaxed against the couch. “If nothing else, I’ve definitely managed to find the right person to consult with on legislation. And, I guess if I start feeling chatty about my work, it won’t bore you to tears.”
For a moment, Zane looked uncomfortable. Then that expression vanished, replaced with a companionable smile as Zane tightened his fingers around Upton’s. “I want to work on LGBT policy for an NPO, help with the queer lobby. My work history won’t be as much of a problem there, and I can stay behind the scenes, shape things. Put in the research.”
He shifted a little closer to Upton. “Listen, if you’re really not into me, we can just talk about your proposed bill, but I’ve been looking forward to this. If you’re feeling awkward or guilty about it, don’t.”
Zane lifted his other hand to stroke Upton’s hair and the shell of his ear, gentle, teasing. Then he leaned in, slow enough for Upton to stop him, his dark gaze trained on Upton’s lips as he angled for a kiss.
Upton tilted his head to the side and parted his lips. He took the kiss slowly at first, exploring Zane’s mouth, the ridges of his teeth, his cool, minty taste. He wanted to explain that he was into Zane, more now than before, but that hardly seemed necessary.
He pressed his hands to Zane’s chest, feeling his pulse pounding, then explored his skin. Closing thumb to index finger, Upton thrilled at the soft gasp the pinch elicited from Zane.
“That’s it,” Zane whispered against Upton’s lips. “You’re safe with me.” He smiled against the kiss and then licked his way back into Upton’s mouth, lips tender and tongue assertive. He put his hands on Upton, first on his shoulders and then his back, caressing him through the luxe fabric of the bathrobe. With a low hum of approval, he shifted closer, pressing their bodies together, and pushed his chest into Upton’s hands as if demanding more touches.
Upton spread his fingers on Zane’s chest. His smooth skin was like silk but warm, rippling, alive. He traced the definition lines of Zane’s abdomen, appreciating that this body was for him, at least for the next couple of hours. There wasn’t a p
oint in being shy.
Now they’d broken the ice broken, Upton stroked Zane’s body with growing confidence. As they pressed closer together, Upton explored Zane’s back, running his thumb up Zane’s spine to cup the back of his neck. The soft hair brushed Upton’s hand, and strangely, that tickling touch was the one that made Upton’s skin tingle.
Zane shifted under Upton’s hands, moving encouragingly into every touch, kissing him with growing urgency. Then he drew away for breath and kissed along Upton’s jawline, teeth skimming across his skin, nibbling his earlobe, closing gently on his throat. When Zane lowered his head to Upton’s collarbones, it bared his nape, made his messy waves tangle around Upton’s fingers.
Beyond the thunder of Upton’s racing heartbeat, the low, steady thrum of music accompanied their harsh breathing. The sensuous rhythm spurred him on, reminding him of how long it had been since he indulged like this.
Upton allowed himself to slide back on the couch, laying down with his head pressed against the arm. Zane kissed down his body, working Upton’s robe open. Upton ran his hands through Zane’s hair, dragging his nails lightly over his scalp as Zane said he liked.
Relishing the feel of Zane’s lips and tongue on his sensitive nipples, Upton squirmed into the touches, moaning softly. He grinned when Zane’s dark eyes opened and caught Upton watching. Zane’s perfect white teeth caught the pink tip of Upton’s nipple and tugged, making Upton yelp and then groan as the pain dissolved into a luscious rush of sensation that overloaded his circuits and made his already hard cock twitch between them.
Zane smiled and slid a hand down Upton’s body, fingers running over his hip inches from Upton’s straining erection. His forearm brushed against the head as Zane’s blunt nails dug into Upton’s inner thigh. Zane’s cock rubbed against Upton’s leg through his jeans, another tease all its own.