Eight – Garnet
Sterling’s text came in as I was showering for our date. As soon as I was out and somewhat dry, I read over his message.
Room is reserved in advance. Same as before. I’ll be there when you arrive. ~S
Wow. So had he really gone in and picked up the keys? As shrouded in secrecy as this little business arrangement was, I had trouble imagining that he had. Maybe he’d gone incognito. Shades, hat, scarf over his face. Probably. What the shit was I doing in this kind of insane situation? I had clients now who actually took me out to eat, in public, or to plays and charity galas. So what the hell was it about Sterling Vesco’s deeply closeted ass that made me drop everything and run to him?
I glanced at my face in the steamy mirror. “You’re an asshole, is why,” I said, pulling my sight from my hazy reflection to reply to him.
Cool. See you in an hour. ~ G
I dressed with care, picking out some skinny jeans and a new sweater that Onyx had helped me shop for. Deep blue with small strands of gold. Reportedly, it made my eyes pop and worked perfectly with my hair coloring. Admittedly, it looked good on me. Some mousse in my hair, a few spritzes of cologne, and I was set. My duffel was packed. One of my favorite and most popular role play get-ups inside, along with condoms, lube, some toys, and my credit card scanner. Pulling on my coat, I rushed out of Gems, waving at the guys who were still here lounging in their rooms.
My Uber was waiting out front. Imagine that. Garnet walking out the front door. It felt good. Empowering. Kennedy Parks could fuck right off.
“Hey, how goes it?” I asked the dude behind the wheel. He nodded and we set off. The ride was smooth, the driver quiet, and the car clean. I tossed him a tip and climbed out in front of The Runway Hotel’s office. Ducking my head against the cold wind, I pushed around the side of the building, duffel in hand, and jogged up the stairs. Icy wind ripped at the garland still wound around the railings. Christmas was four days ago. Someone in maintenance was slacking off. Tiny frozen ice balls hit my cheeks, so I doubled my speed.
One brisk knock later the door was opening and Sterling stood in front of me. The reaction to him was immediate and strong. My whole body lit up. Fuck, but he was stunning. Tall, muscular, dressed in gray slacks topped with a black vest and a crisply ironed white shirt. The man was mouthwatering.
“Hi,” I said, rising to my toes to lightly brush a kiss to his smooth cheek.
“Come in,” he replied, standing aside. When I stepped inside, I saw that the table by the window was set up for a meal. Tablecloth, glass plates, flatware, and canning jars of something chilling in an ice bucket. My jaw dropped. I looked back at Sterling. He cocked an eyebrow.
“Chips and cheap wine do not spell dinner to me.” He moved around the table, long legs carrying him with a grace that didn’t fit with his size. I removed my coat, laid it over the back of my seat, and sat down as he fished around inside a cloth tote. “I stopped at Mayberry Park, a favorite place of mine to eat, just a block from my condominium, and asked the chef for a picnic meal. This is what he arranged for us.” I sat there, amazed, as he laid out dish after dish. “This is muffuletta with an olive tapenade,” he explained when the sandwiches were placed on the plates. “It’s from New Orleans, or so I hear.”
“Mm, Onyx would be right at home now. He’s from Louisiana.” I opened my napkin and laid it over my lap.
“That’s one of your fellow employees?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
He said nothing else for a moment. “If there’s some left over, feel free to take it to him.”
I smiled up at him. He seemed to unclench a little. After awkward moment number one, we sailed along nicely. There were tiny little skewers with ham, veggies, and pineapple, some kind of designer potato chips that were tart and spicy but went really well with the sandwiches. Big fat pickles sat in a dish beside dessert, which was a fruit salad packed full of melon, strawberries, cherries and grapes. We washed that all down with a handmade Sangria, also from Mayberry Park. The red wine, brandy, and fruit was delicious, and so sweet it made me shudder.
During the meal, conversation was at a minimum. Sterling ate and stared. I babbled along between bites, talking about hockey and Toronto, the weather, clothes, music, and yet more hockey. I was about to toss up something stupid about Tim Horton’s just to kill time when he covered his plate with his napkin and stood. I blinked up at him, a grape held between my fingers.
“It’s been an hour,” he said. I popped the grape into my mouth. “Should we stop now?”
“Stop eating? Nope.” I smiled around the grape resting in my cheek. His big brown eyes widened. “There’s no time limit we have to adhere to. It’s not like we have to jump up as soon as sixty minutes passes.”
“But I’d like to pay for dinner now.”
I was about to huff, then my eyes moved down his body and found the hard-on caged in his pants. Seeing that made the need for another grape disappear. Obviously, there were tastier things than grapes to stuff my mouth with. I swallowed quickly.
“Well, when you put it like that.” I reached out and ran a finger along the length of him. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me get the card reader out.”
Transaction one was completed with ease and speed. I chucked the tiny reader back into my back, removed the condoms and lube, and then turned in my chair and buried my face into his crotch. His fingers carded into my hair; his grip strong. Eyes closed, I mouthed my way up and down his dick.
“I’d like to see you naked,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.
“Are you sure?” I nipped at his dick, my hands massaging his thick thighs.
“Yes, very sure.” He wet his lips and my dick throbbed. I’d had numerous fantasies about him doing just that, then easing his mouth around my cock. My other clients would be pissed if they knew that I pictured Sterling sucking and fucking me and not them.
“Okay, then.” I threw my napkin over my plate as he had, stood, and moved closer to him, easing my arms around his waist. He grabbed my ass, his eyes closing as he lowered his head to lick at my ear. I sighed in pleasure, rolling my hips until my prick ground against his. The fingers on my ass tightened. A grunt moved past my ear. “There’s way too much material between us.”
“Mm, yes.” We broke apart long enough to undress, my clothes falling where they wanted, his being draped over the back of the wooden chairs by the table. When he was nude, I made a slow circle around him, tickling his flesh with the tips of my fingers. His skin pimpled.
“Is your bodyfat a minus ten or something?” I asked, ogling his perfection.
He chuckled a bit. “I wish. Come here.”
He hooked an arm around my middle, and leveraging his weight to his advantage, he gently tossed me over his hip, then fell on top of me. I wrapped myself around him like the trumpet vine that used to grow in our backyard. His weight on my belly felt good, as did the rutting motion of his cock as he flicked his hips.
“What do you want to do tonight?” I asked, rubbing my fingers along the nape of his neck. He buried his face into my neck, unwilling or perhaps unable to look me in the eye and speak of what it was he desired, one gay man to another.
“Love you,” he murmured into my shoulder. Something important inside me melted like a candle exposed to a flame. Yes, that is what he needed. Loved. Accepted. I could do that. I wanted to do that. So much…
“Tell me,” I panted, rocking up to my heels to ram my dick into his hipbone. “How do you want to make love to me?”
“Every way,” he replied breathlessly, nibbling my neck as he pumped against me, his cock laying against my taint and balls. Each pass of his cockhead over my hole sent a bolt of lust through me. My cock was leaving wet trails over his skin. “I just…” He bit down on my shoulder, hard enough to make me wince but not hard enough to break the skin. I stroked his shoulders and back. “Need to lose myself for a few hours.”
“Then lose yourself in me.” I pulled my leg from around his waist and eased it up over his shoulder, the other foot resting on his tight ass. He lifted up, his elbows locking, and his gaze on me now. “Find yourself in me.”
“Sweet Mary,” he whispered, dropping his head low enough to rest his brow to mine. “Thank you for this.”
I smiled, eyes heavy with desire, and waited there on my back as he rolled a condom on. “Lots of lube. You’re massive.” One side of his mouth ticked upward. He coated his cock with slick, his fingers as well, and then looked at me as if asking for permission. “Shit, yes, hurry. I really want to feel you filling me.”
He touched my hole meekly, as if he were scared of it somehow. I closed my eyes, breathed, and tried to remind myself that this man was probably not as experienced as most men his age.
“Have you ever primed a guy for anal before?” I asked, reaching between my legs to find his wrist. “Or a woman?”
“Not for…no, not for this…”
“It’s fine,” I whispered to erase the tension furrowing his brow. “Let me teach you what I like. Two fingers. Slide them in, it won’t hurt.” I guided him along, canting my ass from the bed, one heel pressed deep into the mattress. His upper lip glistened with sweat. My dick was oozing precum. He pressed in, stalled, then went deeper. “Ah yeah, that’s sweet. Now move in and out, yeah, yeah…”
I set up the motion then let go of his wrist. Cracking my eyes open, I observed him watching his fingers sliding in and out of my hole. Each stroke of those long fingers got me closer and closer to coming. I’d wanted this so much, ever since I’d first spoken to him in that elegant men’s room, I’d dreamed of having him inside me.
“You’re so…” he panted. I gasped when he bumped my prostate. He stalled. I whimpered for more and he pushed deeper still. “Beautiful. God, that sounded gay.”
I sniggered breathlessly. “We are gay, and I think you’re…ah, shit, I need your dick in me!”
His reply was something guttural and impossible to understand. A hard grunt followed by his fingers being replaced by a fat cock. The pressure of his cockhead on my hole pulled a rumbling sort of moan out of me.
“Are you okay?” His question rode on a rush of air. I nodded, clawed at his ass, and arched up when he pushed into me. The burn and stretch was incredible, and I sucked in unsteady breaths as my body acclimated.
“Do not stop,” I huffed, staring up at him now to enjoy the shifting expressions rampaging over his face. Bliss was the one that settled on him when he was finally buried to the hilt. I cupped his cheek, wishing I could somehow feel what he was feeling. That first time you eased your cock into a man’s hot, tight ass. I’d never fucked a woman, never wanted to, so I had no comparison to make between ass and pussy. “I can’t breathe right. Fuck, you’re big.”
A lusty smile claimed his face. If I’d not been fighting for breath on the cusp of a huge orgasm, I might have noticed when my heart swelled with emotion. Instead, I tightened internally around him. His eyes flared and then he went to town. I held on for the short but wild ride. He pounded me hard, his head lowered, his hips pumping wildly. Unable to stop the surge, I let it overtake me. I blew a load over my hand and belly, my cries tangling with his growling grunts. Then he came. His cock kicking inside me, he went so deep it stole my breath. I dug my fingers into his ass cheeks to keep him there. We rode out our releases. I rubbed at his buttocks as I struggled to catch my breath. He lowered himself down, just a few inches, his breath hot on my cheek.
“Thank you,” he panted, pressing a kiss right under my ear. I mewled and cooed, wishing I could twist my head to the side to lap into his mouth, but he didn’t seem interested in such a tender thing as kissing. I generally really dug kissing and making out with the men that I cared about. Some of my buddies back at Gems had different ideas about locking lips with a client. This man here was a kisser. I’d love to spend a few hours just kissing on him. “You’re…that was…incredible.”
He pulled out, kissed my ankle, and then slid from the bed, gathering his clothes then slipping into the bathroom. Shit. I sat up, still damp with sweat and semen, and stared at the fucking door. I’d been hoping…well, what I’d been hoping wasn’t important. This was business. I needed to stop whatever stupid shit was trying to take root in my breast right now. No matter how hot, lost, confused, in need of me he was, Sterling Vesco was a client. A bidder. A john. Dress it up as you wish, he paid me to let him fuck me. There could be nothing more between us.
The door opened and he walked out, face and chest damp, his trousers on but his shirt draped over his shoulder. There I sat, jizz drying on my belly, glowering at the man. His one eyebrow climbed up his forehead.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, I just had a twinge.” I faked a grimace then rolled to my side to pat my ass. “You’ve got some girth.”
He rolled his eyes, then sat down beside me on the bed. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s a good hurt. Are you leaving now?” His gaze darted to the door, then back to me. “No problems if you are, just wondering for the off the clock charge is all.”
“Oh.” He rose, fished out his wallet, and pulled out seven hundred dollar bills. My eyes flared at the cash he then placed beside me. “Is that enough? It seems that you should get paid more for tonight, then what you got last time. I mean, we were more intimate tonight.”
“Thanks, that’s super generous. I might be able to actually get my own place soon if I keep having dinner with you every couple weeks.” I grinned, hoping I sounded light and airy.
“I was wondering about that.” He slid one arm into his shirt, then the other. He looked like a damn GQ model, standing there half-dressed. Lust coursed through me. Fuck, but I wanted him in every single way a man could want another man. “Perhaps we could make it every Tuesday evening? Tuesdays are mandated days off. I can bring dinner and we can, well, we can do after dinner things, when we’re done eating.”
“Sure, yeah, that sounds great. I’ll put you down as my Tuesday lover.” He looked up from buttoning his cuff.
“Do you see other men every night?”
I shrugged, slid off the bed, Benjamins in hand, and eased around him on my way to the bathroom.
“It’s my job, right?” I tossed over my shoulder then closed the bathroom door behind me. I cranked on the hot and cold taps, placed my pay on the counter, and stepped into the shower. There, I dicked around, giving him plenty of time to leave. Towel around my waist, I exited fifteen minutes later to find the room empty, all signs of our meal cleaned up with only one container left behind. Something for Onyx, I assumed. I cussed at myself, dressed, gathered my shit, and went to the bar to knock back a couple raspberry gin and tonics with lime.
“How many drinks does it take to wash away caring for someone more than you should?” I asked the bartender.
“Way more than two, honey.”
Ripping my heart out for these two, week by week.
Cathy Brockman says
Great post. I especially loved the last line!