I couldn’t believe what I was doing.
This was not like me. I didn’t know who I was at that moment. I wasn’t an extrovert. I didn’t make snap decisions. I was not the life of the party, not by any stretch of the imagination. I was…well…me.
I didn’t know what had possessed my body, and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
Yeah. I didn’t like it.
I freaking loved it.
Praise Jesus, hallelujah!
I was being naughty for the first time in my life, and it felt good.
As I stared at the open web browser, I shifted the laptop around on my thighs to get better positioned. I typed a few choice words into the search engine, and bam! There they were.
I shouldn’t have been doing this.
No, you shouldn’t.
But I really wanted to.
Who am I to argue with you? We’re the same person.
Great logic, brain. I liked it.
Curiosity got the better of me. I clicked on the first option and waited. The website loaded and my jaw dropped.
Men. Hundreds of beautiful men smiled back at me, looking at me with unadulterated lust, their smiles whispering, Come hither. Each profile said only a short paragraph about the man. Ben apparently lived to please, while Marcus liked to dominate. Cameron, however, could go either way.
Hmmm. I’d hoped for a little more from my search. Something deviant even. This was, after all, a big deal, for me anyway.
Disappointed, I moved my curser to click out of the screen when suddenly, I found myself hovering over a profile picture. A small box appeared. Click to see more. My giddiness returned as quickly as it had left. Only this time, it had bells on. I shook my head slowly, annoyed at myself.
Of course they wouldn’t show everything on the main screen. I need to dig.
Marcus was rather dashing. He was tall, dark, and handsome. His posture and expression screamed, You want me, and I found myself wanting exactly that. I needed to find out more about him.
My eyes widened a second before my jaw dropped for a second time in five minutes. Blinking, I swallowed hard and stared into the screen. Marcus was gorgeous, no doubt. And here I was staring at photos of both his flaccid and erect penis.
I’d never seen a penis that up close before. I’d done things with men a couple of times, but as per my request, we’d kept the lights off. I stared harder. I’d fondled that? It sure as hell didn’t feel that big. It was a little weird looking, like an angry, thick, inflatable baton. Also, I had thought men had pubic hair like women did.
Opening a second tab, I searched for ‘regular man’s penis.’ Within seconds, the pictures loaded and I looked between the images in front of me. Glancing back and forth, I pursed my lips. Marcus seemed to have an extraordinarily large and pretty dick. And most men definitely had pubic hair.
I bit my lip.
I knew I shouldn’t.
Oh, God. Somebody stop me!
I didn’t think; I just did.
Typing quickly, I covered my eyes before the profile loaded. I peeked through my fingers and as soon as I saw him smiling that crooked, Colgate smile, I slowly lowered my hand. There he was.
His posture far more relaxed than my dear friend Marcus, his body was a mix of smooth and hard, his arms muscled in a way that made a girl wish she’d get wrapped up in them…and lost in a forever happy after. His natural tan gave him a glow that perfectly accompanied his mischievous grin. His dark brown hair was sun-streaked and slightly too long in that perfect way men could pull off, curling behind his ears. It looked as though he’d just run a hand through the flawless chaos. He had no body hair apart from a small trace starting below his belly button, trailing lower than I’d ever been bold enough to look, and a broad chest and shoulders I wished to bite. His hazel eyes smiled into the camera. And I was lost.
Matt Quinn. My brother’s best friend. And I was about to see something I shouldn’t ever have seen.
My mouth dropped open and a strangled, choking noise escaped me.
Oh, my God. Goodbye, Marcus. I’d found something even better than him. Marcus who?
His erection looked different than Marcus’. It looked thicker, manlier, and angrier. And secretly, I wished to taste it. It looked like this cock was made purely for the purpose of pleasing women.
My stomach lurched. Before I could really think about what I was doing, I opened my email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Setting a date.
I have just gone on a tour of the DFT website and came across your profile.
The first thing I noticed about you was your easy smile, something I found very soothing. You see, talking to men makes me anxious. I’m a little socially awkward and your smile puts me at ease.
If you have time, I’d like to talk to you about what I’m looking for, and if we find what I’m looking for in you, we can set a date.
I stared at the message a long while, careful to double check I hadn’t used my real name. I shut my eyes as tight as I could and clicked send. Then I calmly stood, walked into the bathroom, knelt by the toilet, and threw up.
I read the email three times. Every additional time I read it, my smile grew bigger.
I had dealt with a lot of women in my five years as an escort, but the shy ones were always the ones I preferred. Their nervous smiles and sweet pink blushes did it for me. I loved making them come. They always seemed so surprised when they did.
I chuckled to myself and responded to Maya.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Setting a date.
Thank you for your consideration; you seem sweet.
I think you’re right. Why don’t we talk about what you need from me and we’ll go from there?
I like to meet future clients face-to-face. Are you free today or tomorrow?
I set my laptop down, walked into the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee. Yawning, I rubbed a hand down my face. I wouldn’t be working out today. I smirked to myself.
Mrs. Haverbrook gave me a better workout last night than I would have managed by myself anyway. She was quite limber for a fifty-year-old. Truth was, I never even thought about her age when I was with her. Sure, she had grey streaked through her hair, but she had told me she would like to grow old gracefully, and she was. Pilates and yoga kept her body tight, and her dates with me were what kept her mind young. Or so she told me.
She had a thing for having me act as her son’s friend. If there ever was a Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. Haverbrook would’ve given her a run for her money.
Sitting down at the kitchen counter, I absently rubbed my stomach and opened the email. As I read, my brow pulled down in a deep frown.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: RE: Setting a date.
This was a bad idea.
I apologize for the inconvenience.
All the best,
So, meeting beforehand had her worried. Call me crazy, but that just made me want to meet her even more. I didn’t want to think she was an ugly duckling, but the thought had crossed my mind, and in most cases, that was why clients were nervous. Most shy clients had major self-esteem issues.