when the call ended. So Rock really wanted to pay for another night with him? Casual this time. He circled the name of the bar Hank had given him then looked it up on his tablet. It was a sports bar in St. Paul near the stadium where the Glaciers played. Very public and popular.
It was a completely different setup from their first date, which spiked his curiosity even more. Rock was not an out-and-proud gay man, even to himself. Hell, Carter doubted Rock had even crossed the boundary of admitting he was a closeted gay man.
Whatever. He downed the last of his protein drink and scooped up the Sunday papers that were spread across the table. The papers hit the recycling bin and the empty glass went in the dishwasher before he picked up his tablet and plopped down on the cozy comfort of his couch.
He hissed at the sharp pinch of pain that flashed across his ass. It was a quick reminder that his club regular was getting more aggressive and sadistic than he cared for. The usual bondage, teasing and anal play had progressed to the use of a flogger last night. It hadn’t been super rough but they’d definitely be talking before he played that game again.
Carter eased back and propped his feet on the coffee table, careful to keep his wiggling to a minimum. The marks on his ass better be gone before his date with Rock. Most men didn’t like marks and bruises that reminded them of what he was, even though they forked out the money for his services. A clean canvas provided the illusion that he was exclusively theirs and allowed their exchange to rise above the dirty stage. At least in the client’s mind.
He finished scanning the online national papers then jumped over to the regional news before doing a quick read of the headlines on some political sites. He wrapped up his daily ritual by reading through the scores and news on the sports websites. Staying up on current events provided conversation points his clients expected. He wasn’t a meathead hunk with a nice body. They paid for more than that, and he ensured he provided it.
Work done, he flipped over to his list of photography sites. He’d been digging into the possibilities of making his hobby his living ever since he’d voiced the idea to Cali. It still seemed like a dream, but maybe it was time to give it a chance. Maybe.
If it wasn’t for the one-year noncompete clause with the escort agency, he’d forget the photography and go out on his own, no question. But he had no doubt Hank would enforce the clause, using the meaty fists of his thugs if he discovered Carter poaching his old clients once he left.
It wasn’t like he had the real skills to do anything else and still have the financial security he did now. But the thought of another five years—even one year—working under Hank had his balls shriveling up in disgust.
His gaze traveled to the line of black-and-white photos that hung down the hallway leading to the front door. They were some of his favorites. Would other people agree? The few people who had been in his condo had said they liked them. They were probably just being nice.
He slapped the cover down on his tablet and stood. Nothing ever got better by stewing on it. Maybe he could help Rock see that. Admitting he was attracted to men would be a huge step forward.
Not that Carter was anyone’s therapist. That didn’t stop many of his clients from purging their souls to him. Telling johns what they wanted to hear boosted their confidence, and there was nothing wrong with that.
He gave them everything they wanted because after all, he was nothing more than the illusion they wanted him to be.
Chapter Six
The wind barreled down the street, beating on Rock’s chest and skimming over his cheeks and scalp in an icy blast of winter. He tucked his chin into his collar and hunched his shoulders against the cold. His fingers were curled into tight fists in his coat pockets, but that was to keep them still more than warm. It’d be smarter to wait
It was a completely different setup from their first date, which spiked his curiosity even more. Rock was not an out-and-proud gay man, even to himself. Hell, Carter doubted Rock had even crossed the boundary of admitting he was a closeted gay man.
Whatever. He downed the last of his protein drink and scooped up the Sunday papers that were spread across the table. The papers hit the recycling bin and the empty glass went in the dishwasher before he picked up his tablet and plopped down on the cozy comfort of his couch.
He hissed at the sharp pinch of pain that flashed across his ass. It was a quick reminder that his club regular was getting more aggressive and sadistic than he cared for. The usual bondage, teasing and anal play had progressed to the use of a flogger last night. It hadn’t been super rough but they’d definitely be talking before he played that game again.
Carter eased back and propped his feet on the coffee table, careful to keep his wiggling to a minimum. The marks on his ass better be gone before his date with Rock. Most men didn’t like marks and bruises that reminded them of what he was, even though they forked out the money for his services. A clean canvas provided the illusion that he was exclusively theirs and allowed their exchange to rise above the dirty stage. At least in the client’s mind.
He finished scanning the online national papers then jumped over to the regional news before doing a quick read of the headlines on some political sites. He wrapped up his daily ritual by reading through the scores and news on the sports websites. Staying up on current events provided conversation points his clients expected. He wasn’t a meathead hunk with a nice body. They paid for more than that, and he ensured he provided it.
Work done, he flipped over to his list of photography sites. He’d been digging into the possibilities of making his hobby his living ever since he’d voiced the idea to Cali. It still seemed like a dream, but maybe it was time to give it a chance. Maybe.
If it wasn’t for the one-year noncompete clause with the escort agency, he’d forget the photography and go out on his own, no question. But he had no doubt Hank would enforce the clause, using the meaty fists of his thugs if he discovered Carter poaching his old clients once he left.
It wasn’t like he had the real skills to do anything else and still have the financial security he did now. But the thought of another five years—even one year—working under Hank had his balls shriveling up in disgust.
His gaze traveled to the line of black-and-white photos that hung down the hallway leading to the front door. They were some of his favorites. Would other people agree? The few people who had been in his condo had said they liked them. They were probably just being nice.
He slapped the cover down on his tablet and stood. Nothing ever got better by stewing on it. Maybe he could help Rock see that. Admitting he was attracted to men would be a huge step forward.
Not that Carter was anyone’s therapist. That didn’t stop many of his clients from purging their souls to him. Telling johns what they wanted to hear boosted their confidence, and there was nothing wrong with that.
He gave them everything they wanted because after all, he was nothing more than the illusion they wanted him to be.
Chapter Six
The wind barreled down the street, beating on Rock’s chest and skimming over his cheeks and scalp in an icy blast of winter. He tucked his chin into his collar and hunched his shoulders against the cold. His fingers were curled into tight fists in his coat pockets, but that was to keep them still more than warm. It’d be smarter to wait
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