“Really?” For the first time since we’d begun talking, Dan sounded interested, even surprised. I was used to that; most of my clients had the same reaction. My life beyond them, and theirs beyond me, always came up as we talked. It always irritated me that they assumed I wouldn’t be interested in anything beyond living the good life and sex, but there wasn’t anything patronising now about Dan’s tone. “What is it you study?”
“Oh, I’d like to work my way through most subjects if I can. I finished a certificate in history last year, and this year I’m concentrating on theology. The Open University is a wonderful place, and one day I hope to get a humanities degree.”
Dan laughed. “You’re really not joking, are you?”
“No, I’m not. I never joke about academic matters. They’re far too important.” I put on a mock-serious voice which made Dan laugh again, and I smiled with him. “Anyway, apart from design, what is it that makes you tick?”
I was chancing it, I knew, but he’d relaxed while we were sitting here, so there was no harm in trying. He shook his head and shrugged, though this time there was no rancour in it.
“Not history or theology,” he said. “No way. I couldn’t even begin. No, if anything did it for me, it was how things looked, and how you could change them to make them better. Design. I loved it. I could work on something new for hours and forget when it was time to eat. Used to drive my mother crazy. That, and pubs. Loved the atmosphere. Could watch hockey matches all day too and never get bored. Not just because of the blokes either. It’s way better than football, though that would do at a pinch. Even used to play sometimes. I really loved it.”
He stopped and smiled, as if the activities he’d mentioned were happening to him all over again.
“It seems to me,” I said quietly, “that you haven’t stopped loving those things, even though you talk about them as if they were over. Design, pubs, hockey—they’re all still there, Dan. They’ve not gone away.”
His smile vanished as if it had never been there in the first place.
“But maybe I have,” he said. “Gone away, I mean.”
The silence drifted between us, and I wondered if he’d say more, but he didn’t. Instead he wiped one hand slowly across his cheek and drew in a deep breath. I didn’t want to push too far.
“Come on,” I said, holding out my hand to him. “Let’s continue our walk.”
I didn’t expect him to take my hand, but he did, just for a moment. His fingers felt warm and dry in mine. Then he let go and shrugged.
“I’m fine here,” he said quietly, turning his face away. “We should stay.”
“A walk does no harm,” I said. “If you really dislike the sunshine, we can come back. At least give it a try.”
With that, I turned round and began to walk away. Once again, I could feel his hesitation behind me, as I had at my front door. Maybe he was torn between hiding and having company. In the end, he followed, and this time I slowed my pace so he could catch up. We walked together, side by side.
Being a Sunday afternoon, there were plenty of people in the park, but nobody bothered us. Still, every time we passed someone, Dan hunched up and drew closer to me, turning his face from them until they’d gone.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Nobody can see anything with your hoodie up, so you can relax if you like.”
He snorted a laugh. “And if I took it down, nobody else would be able to relax, would they?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen your face, so I can’t answer you.”
He mumbled something I couldn’t hear and carried on walking, this time a little faster and once again in silence.
It was funny how the park seemed like a place apart from my life. There was a sense of permanence; people had been coming here to relax, to play, to walk for generations and would continue long after I had gone. Despite the occasional revamp by the council, nothing changed much, and I liked that fact, in spite of Dan’s design ideas. Maybe I was more conservative at heart than I’d realised.
“When I was nine or ten,” Dan said, breaking into my reverie, “I used to come here to play football with my cousins. Every Saturday afternoon, we’d be here kicking a ball about. I’d almost forgotten, but the park was a big part of my life back then.”
I thought he might say more, but he stopped abruptly and turned away. Before I could think twice about it, I put my arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a rough hug.
He pulled back, his whole body shaking for a couple of moments before yielding against me. I murmured something soothing against his hoodie and sent a hard stare towards a thin, middle-aged woman who was frowning at us. She moved swiftly on as I continued to hold onto Dan.
He sobbed for a while, his body trembling against mine. This wasn’t what I’d intended when I’d brought him here. I’d hoped to help him relax, not to dredge up memories from the past that made him cry, even if they were happy ones. To my surprise, I found I wanted to stay in the park, hugging Dan. The shape of him in my arms felt right in a way it never had before. I shook my head to focus on what I was supposed to be doing: being an escort to a man in need. Dan was still crying. Perhaps whatever was lodged inside him would ease with tears. Sometimes it helped.
Other things I knew far more about would help too. When he’d stopped shaking and pushed away from me, I touched his arm for a moment.
“Come home,” I said.
He didn’t demur. Once inside, I led the way to the room where I offered sex to clients. It was decorated neutrally, with cream-colored carpet and pale walls. Opposite the bed I’d placed a large and simple mirror, whilst on the remaining walls I’d hung three erotic male paintings. Black and white, nothing too ostentatious. They’d been a present from a friend of mine during what seemed a lifetime ago, but they went with me always. I hadn’t seen the friend for years and for a long time I hadn’t even thought of him. Before today.
My bed was the centrepiece of the room and I loved it. King-sized with a light golden duvet and pillows, it was neither too feminine nor overly masculine, and it matched the two easy chairs in the corner. I liked to think that, once on the bed, clients could be whatever they wanted to be, no holds barred, or at least not many. I had sex toys too, but I kept them out of sight unless they were needed. If people didn’t want them, I respected that choice.
“I really like this,” said Dan, gazing with fascination at his surroundings. “I wouldn’t want to change anything about it.”
I laughed. “I’m honoured, but you sound surprised. What did you expect?”
He might have blushed, but I wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I just thought . . .”
“Thought it would be like something from a French tart’s boudoir and once I had you in my leather-bound clutches, you’d be trapped here whilst I got you to do my evil bidding?”
For a moment he stared at me before he understood I was joking and laughed too, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I sat down on one of the easy chairs and waved him to the other, next to me. I made sure I was on his good side.
“Dan,” I said softly. “I’m not the enemy. I can be a friend if you’ll let me, and certainly a companion at the very least.”
“Even for money?” He didn’t ask the question to confront me, I was sure of it, but rather as if it were something he deeply wanted to know.
“Yes,” I said, catching his gaze with mine and holding it. In my own domain, the professional certainty he’d somehow taken from me in the park was mine again. “Even for money. You pay the person who cuts your hair, your builder, your gardener, your massage therapist, if you have them. It’s their business and sometimes they can become your friends. I’m not so very different. Affection can grow in any circumstances. I enjoy meeting and helping the people who come to me, Dan, and I hope being with me gives them pleasure too. There’s no reason why it can’t be like that between us, given time, if we suit each other.”
Somethi
ng in his gaze softened before he looked away, but he didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t need to.
I got to my feet and gestured towards the bed. As he sat down on the duvet, I drew the curtains and switched on one of the bedside lights. At once the room grew warmer and more welcoming, the pearl bulb casting exotic shadows across the walls.
“You can have music, if you like,” I offered, but he shook his head.
I undressed myself first. Then I knelt at his feet and began to undo his jeans. How many times I’d performed this act, but now my fingers shook slightly and my breath caught in my throat. When I finally touched his briefs, he flinched, and I stopped at once.
“Is it all right if I go on?” I whispered.
“Please,” was his response.
And for a while, those were the only words we spoke.
By the time I removed his trousers and briefs, he was beginning to harden. I kissed his cock gently and stroked his balls—light touches, nothing more. My trembling had stopped but my throat still felt dry. When he didn’t object, I carried on, allowing him to get used to this new level of intimacy. Myself too, perhaps. I found I enjoyed the shape of his penis on my lips so I began to lick him, taking it slow and easing off now and again if his breathing became too rapid. I didn’t want him to come too soon; I liked to help clients last the course. It was something I’d learnt early on from Max, who’d taught me a lot. Using that knowledge on Dan seemed strangely out-of-kilter and almost put me off my rhythm for a moment or two. I told myself it didn’t matter that Dan was a member of Max’s family. What was happening was between Dan and me only, and nobody else. Not even Max.
So I concentrated on pleasing Dan, alert to his signs of excitement and sucking ever harder to draw him on. When I finally relaxed my throat to the full and swallowed him down, he came with a loud shout and a hot burst of salt on the back of my tongue. I kept on swallowing him until I’d sucked him dry and he had nothing left to give. For a long moment after, I held him gently in my mouth, reluctant to let him go, but knowing in the end I would have to.
When we’d both recovered and I’d wiped us clean, I took my seat again. The knowledge of his pleasure in what I’d done made my skin tingle. He remained on the edge of the bed, his wilted cock exposed to the warm air. I liked the way he didn’t put himself away immediately as if there might be something to be ashamed of.
“Coffee?” I asked him, splintering the silence between us.
He shook his head. “No thanks.” Then, “Will there be more?”
I laughed, and I thought he smiled back, although his face was still partially hidden. “I’d like there to be, but perhaps you should rest first. There are other things we can do while we wait.”
I reached out to unzip his top, but he pushed me away. “No.”
His breathing became harsh, but not from desire this time. I let the atmosphere between us ease itself out.
“It’s okay,” I said. “I won’t look at your face if you don’t want me to. I only wanted to play with your chest and nipples. I thought you might like that.”
Dan glanced at me, bit his lip, and nodded. “Thanks. Sorry about being abrupt.”
I brushed it aside. “No need. You’ve not been with an escort before, and I’ve never been intimate with someone from the boss’s family before either. It’s new territory for both of us.”
That was only partly the truth, but I didn’t want to dwell on any other new territory I’d been treading. I didn’t know how. He gave a real laugh and, ensuring his hoodie was in place, lay down on the bed. I made myself comfortable next to him, and we remained quietly like that for a few moments. Then, very carefully, I uncovered his chest and began to stroke him.
He had a decent scattering of brown hairs, not too much and not too little. Though I waxed regularly, I always liked having something to brush my hand through in others, and the sight of it made me smile.
“I love how you look,” I whispered. “You have a beautiful penis and I love the way your chest is. I can’t resist kissing you there.”
With that, I began to kiss and lick his nipples, drawing my tongue through his hair and sucking gently. He hardened at once, and I continued to play with him, easing my way down to his belly and delighting in the sounds he made, the honesty of his physical responses matching the strange honesty of his emotional ones.
I wanted him inside me.
But what he wanted was what counted, not what I wanted, and I’d be a fool to forget that fact. Still, I couldn’t help longing for it. When I came to his cock, it was half erect already, and I wrapped my lips around him with a groan. We rocked together like that, with me taking him almost to the edge and bringing him back again three or four times, and then he pushed me away. I was panting heavily, almost out of control, my arsehole aching with need and my penis stiff and dripping. The last time I’d been this desperate for someone had been a lifetime ago, with the man who’d given me the pictures I treasured, long before I chose to be an escort. Dan was nothing like him though. Nothing at all. Except in one respect, a small voice whispered in my blood. They were both willing to acknowledge whatever was going on inside them in a way I’d never been able to do, and it opened a place within me I rarely visited.
“You can touch me if you like,” I said, my voice so harsh I barely recognised myself. “Anywhere you like, anytime.”
He nodded.
“I’d like to screw you, Adrian,” he said.
“All right,” I said, though what I actually meant was thank you and please do it. “I’m happy with whatever way you’d like to do that, but behind me might be easier.”
“Easier for me, you mean?” He gestured at his concealed face as he spoke, and after a second’s hesitation I nodded, took a small step of courage.
“Yes. And perhaps for me too. I don’t know.”
He blinked and then, unexpectedly, smiled. “Okay.”
I felt my skin grow hot and wondered if I was blushing. A stupid reaction and something I rarely did. I reached for the condoms and tore open the packet. Shuffling nearer, I sheathed him and then eased lubricant over his cock.
He coughed. “What about you?”
I smiled. “I’m already prepared. And I’m clean there too. You don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, sorry. I . . .”
“It’s all right.” I soothed him, running my hands over his legs and balls and belly, feeling the bliss of his skin against my palm. “We’ll both enjoy this.”
When I turned round and got onto all fours, I felt the warmth of his hand soothing my arse cheeks. His fingers fluttered at my hole, and then entered me. I couldn’t help gasping, the strange gentleness of his assault all but unravelling me. I’d assumed he’d penetrate me with his cock and I’d anticipated the delicious stretch and fill I loved so much. But this more guarded encounter somehow stripped away the veneer of professionalism to which I still clung.
He used two fingers and took his time exploring. We might have been new lovers getting to know each other more deeply, and not escort and client at all. But of course that was nonsense.
After a while, I settled down and accepted his attentions, growing quiet, almost relaxed as his fingers went on stimulating and stroking me, soothing my flesh and making it dance too. I mumbled something not even I could understand, perhaps a protest, but he didn’t respond. He just kept on pushing his fingers slowly inside me, as far as he could get, and then withdrawing them a little. It was nearly enough to make me come, but not quite. When he finally pulled out, with a squelching sound as I tried to hang on to him, my muscles working desperately against his exit, he chuckled, and then I felt the warmth of his tongue against my back.
It was good he couldn’t see my face. He might have read too much there.
Before I could decide what, if anything, I should do now and how I might recover from the strangeness of it, I felt his cock at my entrance and pushed back against him with a sigh.
Because he’d taken some of the lubricant away while fi
ngering me, his penetration made my arse sting, but no more than I could handle. Once he was fully inside, he stopped and began to run his fingers over my skin. Back and buttocks, shoulders and legs, he stroked them all.
“Your body feels nice,” he said.
“Thank you,” I stuttered. “This is incredible, Dan.”
“Oh good.” His breath warmed my back as he spoke and made me shake. “I wanted to do this. I wanted to see what you were like inside.”
“And now you know.”
“Yes. Now I know.”
He was silent after that and I was glad. I didn’t know what to say. He didn’t thrust into me anymore but stayed in the same position, filling me up so it seemed like my whole body was centred around his cock. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. His hands continued to stray around my body, touching me in areas that had never seemed this sensitive before. The back of my neck, my elbows, my calves. It was as if he’d never been inside a man and he wanted to take and remember every sensation. He was like water washing over me—he was a storm and I was utterly unprepared for him.
Finally his fingers drifted down from my belly towards my erect and dripping penis. I took a breath.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice catching in the middle of my plea. “Touch me.”
His hand wrapped round my cock and I came at once, great pulses of creamy spunk spilling over his fingers, the duvet, and even the wall. I yelled out, all dignity gone and my words one great falling cry of pleasure. My flesh sparkled and danced in the dimly lit bedroom and something deep inside me slotted wholly into place. I bucked and twisted and felt his stifled groan and sudden thrust as he filled up the condom.
It took several minutes for both of us to stop shaking. Finally he eased out of me and we lay next to each other. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. Not an action I ever took, preferring to leave the level of intimacy after sex up to the client, but he didn’t question it. Later he dealt with the condom too, though it should have been my duty.
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