“Who’s going to pick up Lexi?” Corey asks.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Blake said. “I’ll call Mum and Dad. They’ll love to have some time with Lexi.”
Corey’s shoulders relax a little. “I’ll do it. It should be me who asks.”
Our parents live about an hour’s drive away. Blake’s right—they love spending time with Lexi and us. But I also know that Corey hates imposing on them. It’s probably bad enough that he has to rely on me and Blake a lot. Especially Blake. As the only one of us who doesn’t have a job with regular hours, childcare falls to him more often than not.
“What’s the job?” Corey asks.
"Modelling manties for a photo shoot."
“What on earth are ‘manties’?”
“You know—male lingerie. It’s going to be super sexy. And the best part? I get to keep everything I wear for the shoot.”
“How come?” I ask.
Blake stares at me, one eyebrow quirked, his mouth twisted. “Seriously? Would you want to wear underwear some random guy had been wearing?”
“Uh, no.”
“They can’t sell it. So what else are they gonna do, except throw it away?” He clucks his tongue. “That would be such a waste.”
It’s impossible to live with someone your entire life and not know they enjoy wearing lace. I thought Blake wore women’s underwear. It hasn’t occurred to me for one second that there’s enough of a market for anyone to make lingerie specifically for men. I guess you really do learn something every day.
"You've got a new job," Corey says, touching my knee. "Blake's got a photo shoot, and I have a mountain of marking."
“I thought being an art teacher was meant to be easy?” Blake says in a teasing tone. “Don’t you just tell the kids to draw stick men while you produce masterpieces in the corner?”
Corey sighs. “I wish. I haven’t done any of my own artwork since I started teaching.”
It's his first year teaching after completing his training, which means he's still being regularly observed. He was so excited when he qualified, but we're only halfway through the academic year, and he's already flagging.
“Do you want more help with the marking?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll take it to my room and get it done.”
“You can stay down here,” Blake says. “We’ll be quiet.”
“You shouldn’t have to tiptoe around just because I’m working,” Corey points out. “Besides, I have a desk in my room so I can work.” He gathers up his stuff.
"Don't forget to ring Mum and Dad," I say before he gets out the door.
“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Corey heads upstairs.
Blake and I exchange a look.
“He works too hard,” Blake says.
I debate pointing out that Blake doesn’t work hard enough, but that wouldn’t be fair. I have no clue what Blake does—other than look stunning in photos—but I imagine being a model isn’t anywhere near as glamorous and effortless as I think.
“You still haven’t told me what your Dom looks like,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Nope.” He tosses me the remote control. “Are you seriously telling me you wouldn’t be interested if Hamish Cameron told you to get on your knees and suck his cock?”
A delicious shiver runs through my whole body, making me catch my breath. Blake chuckles as though my body’s reaction is a good enough answer to his question.
