Page 35 of Mad for Madison

“They hide,” Madison said after a long silence.

“Huh?” I might have dozed off or not. I wasn’t sure.

“The boys,” Madison said. “They hide because they’re ashamed. Or shy. Some are hiding simply because it’s their nature, even when there’s nothing to hide at all.”

“But not me?” I asked.

Madison shook his head. “Bradley, you’re the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d hidden plenty of things in my life, but I had never been much of a liar. After breakingup with Ava, the obvious had become obvious—my father understood where the problems were. “You some kinda queer?” he’d asked tersely, and I’d nodded. “Not in my house, you ain’t.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked Madison.

Madison was quiet for a little while, working. Then he leaned his head from behind the canvas and looked into my eyes. “I keep telling you,” he said. “You’re genuine, Bradley. Nobody else is like you.”

“I’m not that special,” I breathed, more for myself than for Madison’s ears.

“You are special to me.” And those words left me silent. I didn’t know what I could possibly say to those words.

It took another thirty minutes for Madison to let out a satisfied sigh after looking at his canvas. Then, he got up from his round stool, set the pencil on the table nearby, and lifted his arms up, stretching. His body was a work of art. His defined muscles stretched and extended as he rose to the tips of his toes, his torso arching backward, his round ass firming up. He turned around, as naked as I was, and ran his hands down his chest and abs.

He was smooth and tanned, his skin glowing under the lamplight. On light feet, he came to the futon and lay next to me. His long, dark eyelashes batted as he looked at me, his hand sliding along the side of my rib cage. “I never thought I could have something like this, Bradley.”

I swallowed and caressed his face with the back of my index finger. Frowning in thought, I felt comfortable enough to ask him, “What is it like, then?”

“Working?” he asked.

I nodded.

His shoulders moved in a slight shrug. “Dunno. I don’t give it that much thought.”

“But it’s not like this,” I said, wondering if I wanted to hear the answer.

Madison shook his head resolutely. “It’s nothing like this.” We were quiet for a little while, looking into one another’s eyes, feeling each other’s bodies, tracing our curves, and memorizing our shapes. Then, Madison licked his lips. “It’s like any other job you do.” It provoked a smile from me. “Well, not office work, I think,” he clarified. “It’s like doing sports or dancing or something as physical as that. I don’t give it any meaning. I prepare for it, train for it, stay fit for it, and then I show up. It’s only my body. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe,” I said, unsure.

“Having sex in front of a camera is more technical than anything,” Madison said freely. I loved that he didn’t hide that away from me. “It can be pleasurable, but it means nothing.”

“So, it’s fake?” I asked.

Madison gave me a deadpan look. “It’s so fake, Bradley.”

I didn’t know why that offered me relief.

“We shoot a scene for three or four days,” Madison said. “It can be super frustrating because you’re not allowed to, um, finish.” When I frowned, he explained. “The director wants the big finish to be genuine most of the time, so you kind of have to hold back. So you show up, do your hair and makeup, get comfortable, and bring up the walls. You surrender your body to whatever your ultimate goal is. You separate from it.” His hand rested firmly on my bare hip. “Of course, some guys just like the exhibitionism. They get a kick out of doing it. Not me, though. I sometimes wished I was more like them, more attracted to the idea of being watched. But to me, it’s just a way to break that cursed cycle. I’m good at it. I can do a lot that directors like, especially if I’m partnered with someone I get along with.”

“It won’t hurt me if you say you like it,” I said.

Madison laughed. “I know that. I’m just not sure that’s the right word for it.” He leaned closer to me and pressed his lips against mine. His hand slipped from my hip, and he grinned while kissing me. “Does it turn you on?”

“You with other men?” I asked. “No.”

“Your dick disagrees.” His hand tightened gently, making me throb.

“You turn me on,” I said and kissed him again. “Everything about you turns me on.” But it was more than that. Knowing that there was a difference, a separation of sorts, fanned the embers of passion between us. Knowing that Madison did his work with men who were bigger and hotter and more experienced was scary enough, but hearing that he still wanted me turned me on.

His hand moved gently along my length. He stroked me while pressing his lips against mine more fervently with each heartbeat.

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