Page 361 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 10
“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” Rob said. “You think she would have mentioned that.” He peered into the bag that Mason was holding. “Oh. Shit.”
“What?” I asked and looked into the bag. I plucked out a big fig leaf. “What the hell is this?”
“What the hell is anything?” Matt said with a big sigh.
Rob laughed. “Now that I think about it, she did mention something about posing. And needing four guys to do it.”
“Posing for…what?” I asked.
“For art, man. What else would we be posing for?”
“You didn’t think this was important to mention?”
“I forgot. I’m high.”
I laughed. “This isn’t an outfit though.”
“It must be a tasteful nude painting,” Rob said. “I’m guessing we put the fig leaves over our junk.”
“I’m not doing this,” I said.
“Ready,” Mason said. He’d already stripped out of his clothes and was holding a fig leaf in front of his dick. “What?” he said when he noticed I was staring. “Being naked is one step closer to getting that pussy. I bet there are some hot girls in there.”
I turned back to Rob. “Are they going to be selling this painting or something? Where is it going to wind up? And how many people are out there?”
“Eh.” Rob shrugged. “Who cares. Matt, stop stroking the wall and take your clothes off.”
“Okay,” Matt said and pulled off his shirt.
“This is a really weird thing to do on a Friday night,” I said.
“It’s a soiree,” Rob said, as if that made it not weird. “You’re just not getting it.” He started to strip.
“Yeah, get on our level, James,” Mason said, dead serious.
I laughed. “Fine. Whatever. But one of us is buying this painting when the night is over.” I pulled my shirt off over my head.
“I’ll buy it,” Matt said. “I like art.”
It didn’t seem like he liked art based on the frown on his face. And I was wondering if this had anything to do with all the portraits he’d painted that were locked in his bedroom closet. I cleared my throat. We weren’t talking about that tonight. Or ever. I’d given Matt my word. “Just as long as this painting doesn’t end up in a museum somewhere.”
“I’d look good in a museum,” Mason said. “Maybe we can sell the photo of me owning the John Harvard statue.”
That is not how I would have described what happened. I pushed off my jeans and boxers, grabbed a leaf, and put it over my junk.
“Let’s do this,” Mason said. He grabbed the doorknob. “Ah, it’s locked!”
Rob walked to his side and easily opened the door. “You’re so high, man.”
“No, I’m sober. For the game.”
The rest of us looked at each other. Did Mason actually think he was sober right now?
Rob cleared his throat. “Sure. Whatever you say. Arts and crafts time!”
The four of us left the room, and for some reason we walked in a single file line down the hallway.
“Wait, where did Mr. Beret say to go?” Rob asked.
