“No,” he says carefully. “But it would make sense to do the shoot and make the video, since we can get it all done on the same day.”
“But if it’s a BTL video, I can’t put it up on my website for my fans,” I say, which is something I would want to do. He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly add in my solution. “Meaning we will have to make two.”
“What?” he asks, shaking his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is about the project, nothing more.”
I get up. “Look, I can respect your privacy and not get into your business, but what I won’t do is keep good shit from my fans. I’ll do this if you make the second video with me so I can put something onmysite too. Won’t even take any extra for the BTL video or calendar or whatever. I’ll do all that for free.”
He narrows his eyes and just stares at me. After a moment, he still hasn’t said anything.
“Think about it,” I say as I walk toward the door. Pulling a business card from my pocket, I drop it on the table by the door before leaving the house, feeling him watching me the whole time.
Now all I have to do is wait for him to reach out. Ball is in his court. I gave him my terms. He’s desperate for money, that much is clear, but is he desperate enough to let me fuck him twice? Guess we’ll find out.
The club music pounds in my ears, vibrating from my toes all the way through my chest. I fucking love loud music. I hold my hand up to the bartender, letting him know I need another drink.
“You ever get sick of coming here?” he asks with a smirk.
“Not when you’re working.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs a glass to get me a new beer.
Emmet is my brother and though he acts like he can’t stand me, he loves me. Looks up to me. I’m the best big brother he’s ever had, not to mention the only one—sort of. He’s only a year younger than me and my foster brother, so we didn’t meet until we were teenagers. But we’ve stayed close all these years later. His parents still foster, and I love them for it. Takes a special kind of person to do that shit.
“Guy at the end of the bar stares every time you’re up here,” he says, sliding me my beer. “Pink shirt.”
Oh, I love a man in pink. I bring my beer to my lips, taking a sip as I seek the guy out. There’s no shame in my game. I don’t need to hide the fact I’m checking him out. And when I find him, I definitely like what I see and don’t want to hide a damn thing. I want him to know I’m looking.
“Send him a drink for me,” I tell Emmet.
“One of these days, you’re going to have one thrown in your face.”
“Until then,” I say, holding my beer up in salute. I lean against the bar, turning my attention to the dance floor. I was there earlier but needed a break and a new beer. Crowd is slow tonight, but it’s a Thursday, so it usually is. It’s a bar that rides the line of club. Some nights it’s more of a club; other nights it’s the biggest dive bar you’ll ever go to. Still a good place to find a hook up though. My job doesn’t make me sick of sex. I think it only makes me want it more.
It doesn’t take long for Pink Shirt Guy to come find me. He slips in right in front of me, our cocks nearly brushing.
“Thanks for the drink,” he says, tilting his head in a cute manner.
He’s a few inches shorter than me, some years younger, too. Dirty blonde hair with a boyish face. I’d guess a college kid, if I had to. He’s old enough to be here, so he’s old enough for me.
“You’re very welcome. What’s your name?” I ask, taking another mouthful of beer.
“Charlie. You?”
“Dominic.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says, biting his bottom lip and making a show of looking me over. “You want to get out of here?”
I chuckle. “Didn’t have to work too hard for that.”
“I know what I like, and you’re it. So, what do you say? I suck a mean cock.”
I laugh again, then finish off my beer. “Let me close my tab and you can follow me to my place.”
Emmet is already slapping down the receipt when I turn around, giving me another exaggerated eye roll.