“I can cook.”
It sounds a little defensive, and I wonder if I’ve hurt his feelings.
He tosses some bread in the toaster, then slathers it with an aioli sauce before adding bacon and eggs.
“Breakfast sandwich,” he says as he puts one down in front of me, then takes the seat next to mine. His hand roams up my thigh as we dig in, but then he draws it away again.
God, the sandwich is good, and exactly what I needed after last night. I glance at Vincent from the corner of my eye, and he’s focused on the table as he eats. When we’re done, he clears the table in silence, and I wish I knew what to say.
I guess we need to figure out our boundaries.
“I want to keep working at Octavio’s.”
Vincent’s head shoots up where he’s cleaning the bacon pan.
“But you don’t need the money if you’re with me,” he says, perplexed.
I wish he understood that it wasn’t about the money. “I like it. I like… being watched. Being wanted. Being seen.”
He puts down the pan and studies me as I talk. His hand flexes into a fist, but then he releases it and his shoulders droop.
“It would be difficult for me,” he says, turning his head away. “I want to be the only one to touch you that way. If you… if you decided to be mine.”
“I thought so.” I pull my legs up onto the chair so I can hug my knees. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else. I know that. I can give you that.”
He lifts sad eyes to mine. “Even then, I couldn’t stay home knowing what other people might be doing to you. It’s against all my instincts.”
I nod, understanding. Even if he’s not there, he’ll worry.
I wish there was a way through this, because I don’t want to let go of what I’ve found here, or what I learned last night.
“What if… what if no one touched?” I ask. “What if they just looked?”
Vincent cocks his head. “Only performing?” He thinks through this. “I don’t mind if they look. Then they can appreciate and envy what I have.” His pride appears fluffed by this.
Good to know some things haven’t changed.
I could always be a dancer. There are other underground clubs, places I could perform. Places where… Vincent could perform with me, if he wanted.
“What if you were there?” I ask, taking his hand in mine. “What if you showed everyone what you have? What’s yours?”
He stares at me, not understanding. “Showed them?”
“There are clubs where performers, you know, do things on stage. You could, maybe”—I swallow hard—“fuck me there. Where everyone can see.”
His eyes widen. “You would want that?”
The idea is brilliantly exciting. People watching as Vincent claimed me? As his huge cock opened me, as he fondled me and touched me?
“Oh, yes.” That would certainly make up for the lack of touching. “Most definitely.”
He thinks for a time as he sips his coffee. Then, after a few more minutes, he nods.
“All right. I would do that with you. Only with you. And you cannot be with anyone else.”
I expected that much. I lean over to kiss his cheek.
“Yes. Please.”
