Page 72 of Back Room Host

“Oh yes,” he agreed. “So damn good.”

I kissed him again, then sat back up. “I need to lie down,” I said wearily. The position had been strenuous for my broken leg.

Luca made room for me, and I collapsed onto the pillow, feeling utterly exhausted. He chuckled and stroked my head. I closed my eyes and relished the moment of relief. As Luca yanked the blanket over us, he moved closer and placed his hand on the back of my neck.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m scratching you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know it feels good.”

Luca moved his hand higher and massaged the back of my head. I completely succumbed to these touches.

“Lie on your shoulder.” With a gesture, he indicated which one.

Finally, I lay there facing him, and a sudden sense of strangeness washed over me. I felt the urge to check my phone to see the time. My gut told me that an hour had passed bynow. But unlike with a client, where each minute counts toward payment, here, time wasn’t ticking away for money. There was no client who would refuse to pay for an extra hour because there was no action.

Luca’s hand wandered over my shoulders. He barely touched me as he stroked my back with his warm fingertips, making his way back to my neck. “Does that feel good?”

“Mhm …” I involuntarily admitted.

Yet somehow, I couldn’t shake off this inner nervousness.Calm down, I told myself.You don’t have to go anywhere. There’s no other client waiting. Relax.But that was easier said than done.

When Luca scratched my head again, my brain shut down. My nerves sparked, and I melted into the sensation of warmth and cold. I heard Luca chuckle from afar.

“That’s nice,” I murmured.

“I know. How does it feel that I’m not a client?” he asked.

“Weird,” I confessed with my eyes closed.

“Why’s that?”

“The hour’s up.”

That prompted Luca to reach for his phone and check the time. “Wow, you really have a sense for it.”

I missed his hand, the one that was scratching me, even if the impulses these touches triggered in me were new territory. It bothered me that I lay motionless beside Luca and almost fell asleep. I was about to sit up, but then he continued to stroke my back, and I surrendered to him.

“But you’re not working,” he said. “We’re here to enjoy this.”

“It sounds like that’s part of it for you.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “That’s how I always did it with my last muse.”

“Your last muse?” I murmured. The words somehow left a bitter taste, reminding me to remember not to be more than a tool to Luca.

“Matteo,” Luca continued. “He was my last muse. We spent a lot of time together and had a lot of fun. Hard to believe it’s been a year already.”

“So long?” I murmured against his shoulder. “You’ve done well.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Well, except for the fact that we could have done this a week ago.”

“Maybe.”

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