weren’t one of them.” Why was I still talking? I really needed to shut up.
“Can I walk with you?” He nodded toward the stairs.
“I guess. I mean, I can’t stop you from taking the stairs. Do you plan on walking all the way to the forty-second floor?” I thought of his ass taking all those stairs and how tight it would be afterward. Not that he needed to, he filled out his suits perfectly, front and back. Oh, God, I was drooling again. I picked up my tongue and headed up the stairs, Mr. Perfect close behind.
“No, I was hoping to walk you to your office, then catch the elevator from there.”
“You want to walk me to my office?”
“Yes—are you always this difficult?”
“Yes, especially when I’m confused.”
“Why are you confused?”
“Why are you talking to me?” My toe caught the top step and I stumbled. Mr. Too-hot-for-his-own-good grabbed my waist and steadied me, preventing me from making a bigger fool of myself and falling flat on my face. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
His hands still on my waist, he spun me around to face him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” I headed for the next flight of stairs and his hands dropped away, leaving a tingling sensation that made its way to my dick.
He picked up the conversation again. “I’m talking to you because I wanted to ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.”
I couldn’t answer him. I tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as I sucked in large gulps of air. I couldn’t get enough, and my head spun from lack of oxygen.
“I have tickets to
Wicked
tomorrow night, and I know you like musicals. At least I think you do, judging by the magazine you always carry.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and spun to face him. He stood two steps below me and I was taller than him for once. I still couldn’t speak, my brain had short-circuited. Was he asking me on a date, or offering the tickets to me because no one else wanted them? Was I his good deed for the week? My heart plummeted.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans.” I turned around and took the stairs two at a time, leaving him staring after me.
WAITING IN line for my drink during intermission, I felt a hand on the small of my back. “I never thought I’d see you here. Are you with someone?” I turned around and came face to face with Mr. I’ll-give-him-tickets-because-he’s-a-sad-loser. Why did I have to run into him in my favorite place in the entire city? Wasn’t the city big enough for the two of us?
Musicals were my escape, my happy ending. After being thrown out of home for being “perverted, unnatural, and against God,” I escaped to the theater. There were always happy endings in musicals and for only a couple of hours, I could believe there was a happy ending waiting for me too.
“I’m Paul.” He stuck his hand out and it was only because I was brought up to be polite that I shook it. He didn’t release his hold.
“Jason.”
“Jason, it’s nice to finally know your name. You didn’t answer my question, Jason.” He said my name like he was rolling it around on his tongue, savoring it.
Paul didn’t let go of my hand until I tugged it hard enough he had to release me, or look like an idiot trying to arm wrestle while standing in a crowded theater.
“No, I’m not here with anyone.” I moved forward in the line a bit. I really needed that drink.
“Do you always come to the theater by yourself?”
“Yes.” I looked around. “Do you?” I tried for smug but I don’t think it worked.
He chuckled. “I have a spare seat next to me that was supposed to be yours. You ran off yesterday morning before I had a chance to ask you to join me.”
“You were going to ask me to join you? Like a date?” I was gobsmacked.
“Exactly like a date. What did you think I was going to ask you?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Would you like to join me? I’m near the front, excellent view.”
I had a cheap seat with restricted
“Can I walk with you?” He nodded toward the stairs.
“I guess. I mean, I can’t stop you from taking the stairs. Do you plan on walking all the way to the forty-second floor?” I thought of his ass taking all those stairs and how tight it would be afterward. Not that he needed to, he filled out his suits perfectly, front and back. Oh, God, I was drooling again. I picked up my tongue and headed up the stairs, Mr. Perfect close behind.
“No, I was hoping to walk you to your office, then catch the elevator from there.”
“You want to walk me to my office?”
“Yes—are you always this difficult?”
“Yes, especially when I’m confused.”
“Why are you confused?”
“Why are you talking to me?” My toe caught the top step and I stumbled. Mr. Too-hot-for-his-own-good grabbed my waist and steadied me, preventing me from making a bigger fool of myself and falling flat on my face. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.
His hands still on my waist, he spun me around to face him. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.” I headed for the next flight of stairs and his hands dropped away, leaving a tingling sensation that made its way to my dick.
He picked up the conversation again. “I’m talking to you because I wanted to ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.”
I couldn’t answer him. I tried to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other as I sucked in large gulps of air. I couldn’t get enough, and my head spun from lack of oxygen.
“I have tickets to
Wicked
tomorrow night, and I know you like musicals. At least I think you do, judging by the magazine you always carry.”
I stopped dead in my tracks and spun to face him. He stood two steps below me and I was taller than him for once. I still couldn’t speak, my brain had short-circuited. Was he asking me on a date, or offering the tickets to me because no one else wanted them? Was I his good deed for the week? My heart plummeted.
“Sorry, I’ve got plans.” I turned around and took the stairs two at a time, leaving him staring after me.
WAITING IN line for my drink during intermission, I felt a hand on the small of my back. “I never thought I’d see you here. Are you with someone?” I turned around and came face to face with Mr. I’ll-give-him-tickets-because-he’s-a-sad-loser. Why did I have to run into him in my favorite place in the entire city? Wasn’t the city big enough for the two of us?
Musicals were my escape, my happy ending. After being thrown out of home for being “perverted, unnatural, and against God,” I escaped to the theater. There were always happy endings in musicals and for only a couple of hours, I could believe there was a happy ending waiting for me too.
“I’m Paul.” He stuck his hand out and it was only because I was brought up to be polite that I shook it. He didn’t release his hold.
“Jason.”
“Jason, it’s nice to finally know your name. You didn’t answer my question, Jason.” He said my name like he was rolling it around on his tongue, savoring it.
Paul didn’t let go of my hand until I tugged it hard enough he had to release me, or look like an idiot trying to arm wrestle while standing in a crowded theater.
“No, I’m not here with anyone.” I moved forward in the line a bit. I really needed that drink.
“Do you always come to the theater by yourself?”
“Yes.” I looked around. “Do you?” I tried for smug but I don’t think it worked.
He chuckled. “I have a spare seat next to me that was supposed to be yours. You ran off yesterday morning before I had a chance to ask you to join me.”
“You were going to ask me to join you? Like a date?” I was gobsmacked.
“Exactly like a date. What did you think I was going to ask you?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Would you like to join me? I’m near the front, excellent view.”
I had a cheap seat with restricted
Similar Books
