If not for the promise of a damn good meal, I’d possibly cancel with the potential new benefactor tonight. Not so that I could see Travis, but because I kind of want to just kick back and relax. I could sketch while watching Romeo freak out over his preparations for finals and then help him release his tensions in my bed. I’ve been spending more and more time with him lately which is more incentive to head out for the night. The last thing I want is for either of us to get the wrong idea, me included. I don’t need attachment.

It’s not like I need another client. I’m doing pretty damn well financially; too well in fact. I only accept cash and given that I don’t ‘legally’ have a job, it’s suspicious if too much money is deposited into my account. I don’t need tax evasion charges on top of prostitution charges. The legal ramifications would stack up.

To play it safe, I make a few larger deposits around my birthday and Christmas, but otherwise I live off cash. I also deposit some into mutual funds. A good bit of the perks of doing what I do is that I’m pampered fairly well. A lot of my clothes are purchased for me and tend to be luxury brands. I’m occasionally taken out to nice meals and when playing arm candy, I’m treated to extravagant events and shopping trips and sometimes even travel. I can’t complain and have even considered making a living out of it. But there’s always that vexing notion that I’m not free to do as I please. I have to keep myself available or I risk losing my clients. As I get older, I’ll age out of the game. If anything ever happened to me that cost me my good looks then I’d have nothing to fall back on. I need a career. I need something more certain.

This is a temporary income situation. Even once I secure a job teaching, I can continue doing this for a while to build up a good nest egg. Then I’m done. I’ll have aged out and can do whatever else I choose with my time. I won’t be at Travis’ fingertips and I won’t have my phone on me at all times in case another benefactor wants to claim my time.

As it is, when evening arrives, I find myself walking into Shomer’s Steakhouse a little before eight-thirty. It’s gentleman’s attire and given some of my more expensive gifts of the past, I’m dressed the part.

I look good. I usually do. It’s not a cocky thought as much as the reality of my circumstances. It’s the reason why I’m only good for one thing. No one cares what’s under the surface because my superficial appearance is what catches the eye. It’s what people cling to. It’s the only thing about me that they desire. I’m walking, talking sex at six and a half feet tall, natural tanned skin, light green eyes, and dark brown, almost black, thick hair.

Given that I’m not the one with the reservation, I can’t claim a table. It’s an upscale place which I very much enjoy. I’ve always felt like I fit in at these haughty places simply because these are the people that appreciate external beauty. They are the ones that pay big dollars to have it surround them too.

At the reservation desk is a hostess in a black dress.

“Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?”

Hehe. I hope my ‘date’ does.

“I’m meeting someone. I’m not sure what the name is under. Would it be alright to wait at the bar?”

“Absolutely. Would you like to leave your name so I can let your party know of your location should they arrive looking for you?”

“Ian. I have no doubt they’ll find me. Thank you, Miss …?”

“Samantha.”

“Thank you, Miss Samantha. You’re much appreciated.”

I don’t have to turn around to know her eyes are still on me. I glance back before stepping out of view to confirm my speculation. I’m right. I give her a smile because why the hell not.

At the bar, there are a few other folks. The one closest is a woman in a skirt with heels and red lipstick. I doubt she’s the one seeking me out. People sent my way usually have a confident look about them. She’s beautiful, but not domineering enough to have reached out to someone like me. Don’t get me wrong, I have women sponsors and they are more than authoritative enough to handle me. I saw it in their eyes when we first met. The woman sipping wine that I step up next to this evening is not one of those women.

The bartender is dressed in a white shirt with a black vest and a black tie. It boosts the posh look of the place and isn’t unattractive on him.

“What can I get you, sir?”

I’m still young, so I know he’ll ask for the ID. I have it ready. It’s a fake. I’m still only twenty.

“Lemon drop, please.”

“Thank you. Coming right up.”

The woman beside me smiles invitingly. I’m not getting out of talking to her. If I step away with how deeply she’s leaning into me then I’d be a jerk.

I might as well say hi. “Good evening.”

“Good evening to you. You aren’t here alone perchance are you; a good-looking man like you?”

It’s like this everywhere I go. I sympathize with women that are hit on constantly by men.

“Actually, I’m meeting someone.”

A voice speaks up from beside me. “That he is. Hello, Ian.”

He found me. The man steps close into me and holds out his hand just in front of my body, touching across my abdomen. I shake his hand and take in every facet of his face. His eyes are bold and his body language is authoritative. Even before we begin our conversation, he’s set his dominance over me. This is the kind of man that seeks me out.

He’s sitting at right about six feet tall and is probably in his upper-thirties. A full head of blond hair and blue-grey eyes gaze at me searching for the same things from me that I’m hunting in him. The smile that crosses his face tells me he approves of what he sees. I return it with a bit of a smirk.

Interjecting his body between me and the woman, he gestures with one hand, the other grazing across my back. “Shall we?”

Hmm, I gauge that he’s the type who indicates with hand gestures a lot. It’s his way of commanding others. It’s effective.

My drink is set down by the bartender and I turn out of the new man’s grip to claim it. I also address the woman despite my date’s clear distain of her.

“Have a lovely evening.”

“You too, handsome.”

Returning to his grasp, I notice the tenseness of his jaw. He’s not pleased.

Good. I want him to know the power struggle dynamics of how I work.

I lean down to his ear. “And you are?”

He more glares at me than anything as we take our seats at the table. He’s refusing to give up his name.

I label him. “Possessive I take it?”

“Not usually.”

After a sip of my drink, I make my position clear. “I’m not the type to usually taunt either. Give me a name and who referred you or I walk.”

That settles him down a bit.

“Martin recommended you. My name is Keith.”

Martin is a client with a very odd kink. He likes to be treated like a dog. He’s my favorite benefactor because he refers me to some unique people and his life is a twisted mess of amusement. Plus, he’s a pretty hairy guy and his kink aligns with me petting his chest hair which I find calming. Even if I weren’t getting paid, I’d consider fucking him for the sheer recreation of it. I mean, who doesn’t love doggy style?

Before Keith says anything else, I pull out my phone and send Martin a text.

Ian: Have you recommended me? If so, to whom?

The man across from me folds his arms. “Jesus, it’s like being on a date with a woman who looks at other men and texts her girlfriends the whole time.”

His comment makes me laugh.

“Relax, Alpha. I’m confirming your identity. And the woman was so that I could gauge you a bit. You’re interesting. So far, I like you.”

He’s playfully snotty. “I’m doing my best to hold verdict on you for the time being.”

Ding. I receive Martin’s response.

Martin:                                 I sent Keith your way. It’s worth hearing him out.

I reply.

Ian: Thanks for confirming.

Now I can proceed with a basis of trust with Keith.

I lighten my tone. “With that out of the way, any friend of Martin’s is a friend of mine. You have expressive eyes, Keith. I find it devilishly attractive.”

“Do you use that line on everyone?”

“No. I wouldn’t waste mine or your time with rehearsed lines. I’m simply noting that you have expressive eyes. I share my expression with words … and actions.” My final word is said with a bit of provocation and I let myself enjoy analyzing the rest of his body.

My bet would be that he isn’t cut under there, but he’s not lumpy either. I imagine he falls nowhere near a dad bod, but that he’s soft in a comfortable to lay on kind of way; slightly squishy. Overall, he’s easy on the eyes. Long face, strong jaw … I’d say he’s good looking. I’d even make a premature bet that he’s the sensitive type.

It’s obvious he’s taking the time to assess my attraction as well. I watch as his eyes scan me. When they follow me down and disappear under the table, he slightly bites the inside of his lip. It’s barely noticeable, but I spot these things.

Damn, he has a nice jawline. I want to bite at it. I do hope that’s in the cards with this man. I’m not generally attracted to blonds, but he’s an exception.

Our server interrupts our pre-appetizer snack of one another by sharing the day’s specials.

Keith picks up his menu which neither of us has touched up to this point. I join him, by glancing at it quickly.

He speaks without really skimming the menu at all. “I think we may need more time, but I’ll start with the grilled oysters, and the chef’s recommendation for a wine that pairs well with the veal marsala.”

Hmm. He must be a frequent patron to know the menu with such precision and to trust his wine pallet so freely to the chef.

I smile. “I’ll take the raw oysters in the half shell and be fine with water alongside my lemon drop. Thank you.”

“I’ll get this submitted and give you a few more minutes to decide on your main course.” She walks away.

He grins across the table at me. “Order anything you’d like.”

I’m snarky. “I intend to.”

His laugh is deeper than his voice. “You fit the mold for how Martin described you.”

“How did he describe me?”

“Cheeky. The kind of man that you want to bend over your knee, but still irresistible. I quote, ‘leash him or he’ll run amok’.”

The joke is that Martin is the one who enjoys being leashed.

“Haha. I can behave with the right incentive, unless you’d rather leash me of course.”

I don’t mind speaking plainly or as reserved as my company prefers in public. Some prefer we appear casual, some prefer business, and others would have their hand on my ass from the get go. I’m fine with any of it. I play a part and will act accordingly based on their direction. So far, Keith seems fairly open about this being a date.

Before responding, he glances around to be sure no one is listening in. “What I have in mind is far more restraining.”

So, he’s in to restraints? BDSM isn’t new to me by a long shot.

Our conversation is hushed between the two of us. We both lean in.

I invite further elaboration. “Hmm. Go on.”

“How would you take to being a delight for more than one person?”

It wouldn’t be my first threesome if that’s what he’s asking.

“How many are we talking about?”

“Eight.”

Oh, damn. Keith has a naughty side. He also has playmates.

He continues, “More a main attraction than the singular source of entertainment, but entirely available to all regardless.”

Swingers club? Would I be an added treat to their couples swapping?

“Men and women?”

“All men.”

Ahh, a secret orgy group. Most of the men are probably closet cases.

“Any restrictions on the participants?”

“Nothing injuring, otherwise it’s free reign. Though the attendees are what you might consider tame.”

“What duration of time?”

“Five hours. It’s a themed event. Everything provided of course.”

A nine man orgy, huh? A free for all with me as the main dish?

“Age range?”

“All relatively close to my age.”

“Anything else I should know?”

“You’d be restrained in various positions throughout.”

“Payout?”

“Two grand.”

“Four.”

“Alright. Four.”

Shit. He didn’t even counter. His pockets do run deep.

I give my other demand. “I want to know the names and faces of each of the participants. I don’t do anonymous.”

“Masks are worn so that each person can hide behind it to act as they choose. But I can find a way to accommodate your request.”

I provoke him, “I should have said six.”

“Yes, you probably should have. I would have settled at five.” His grin is one of a man that’s won something.

“I haven’t agreed yet.”

“Neither have I. I’d like to know in more detail what I’m offering to others before I decide.”

I can provide all the detail he’d like in a one-on-one showing. I’m not one to put off until tomorrow what I can do today. “Are you available for the remainder of the night?”

“I could be.”

“Then where to after dinner?”

He considers for a moment. “My place.”

“Are you married?”

“Would it matter?”

“Not in the least. Now, I’m just making conversation.”

That laugh shines through his expressive eyes. “I’m not married.”

“Hm. That makes two of us.” Again, he laughs. “You have a sexy laugh. Are you out?”

“Out of wha … oh. Yes.”

Good. That means we don’t have to tread lightly. My aim is to remind him that I’m his as we solidify our decisions whether to move forward with his proposition or not.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.

That catches him on his toes. With how easily he claimed me at the bar, I’d think him open to public displays of affection.

“Yes.” He’s less sure in this response than any other he’s made thus far. Surely, he’s not all talk but bashful when it comes down to it?

I grab his hand from the table and bring it to my lips. Staring deeply back at him, I place a long-lasting kiss upon his hand. It’s tantalizing enough to let anyone that sees it know that I have every intention of tearing his clothes off of him later, but reserved enough to be intimate and sincere.

It’s not the kiss he expected, but I’m experienced enough to know even a simple gesture speaks volumes.

We still haven’t broken eye contact when he speaks up. “You’re going to cause me trouble, aren’t you?”

“More than you realize. Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Then let’s fi-”

From nearby I hear it; a very familiar, deep voice. “Ian!?”