I’d been watching him for weeks now—not unnoticed, based on the bartender’s comment—and it was just as much a pleasure to look at him this close up as it was from a distance. Until that first night I’d seen him, I’d never thought of myself as having atype. I always paid for my company. Safer that way, for many reasons. But since I’d laid eyes on this guy, I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head.
Apparently Ididhave a type.
My type was ten years younger and a few inches shorter than me, slim and lithe, although occasionally he liked to show off well-defined arms with a muscle shirt. Brown hair, high cheekbones and a generous mouth, and eyes with a color that wouldn’t settle on one shade. But whatever color they were, they were always expressive, curious, thoughtful.
My type also had the kind of ass that caught attention. The kind of ass that made me clench my teeth hard when I thought about getting inside it. Over the past few weeks, every time I’d seen someone turn to watch the view as he walked past, I’d felt a jealous solidarity.
This was a young man who was used to being looked at.Likedto be looked at. I liked looking at him, too, but I’d never fooled myself into thinking he might take any interest in me.
His smile had turned uncertain. “I’m sorry if I misread,” he said. “But we’ve been eye-fucking for weeks. I just thought tonight—”
“You know you’rewayout of my league, right?”
“What?” He gave a confused laugh.
“Okay,” I said, making up my mind. Better find out who was behind this particular honey trap, right? “I’ll watch you drink that thing. I’m sure it’ll be entertaining. But I’m on the job, so I’ll stick to water.”
He moved past me, making sure to brush up against me as he did, and leaned over the bar to show off that ass to its best advantage.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Hey, Tim,” he called. “Plain water for this grouch, and bring that dazzling creation back over here.”
He said nothing to me as we waited for the order, didn’t even look at me—he kept his eyes on the bartender, and I wondered if he was nervous under all that bravado. But when he turned back, cocktail monstrosity in one hand and an ice water with lemon slices in the other, I saw no hesitation. “I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn’t slip you a Mickey,” he said seriously, and then grinned as I blinked. “Come on. Let’s find somewhere quiet.”
The bar was loud and crammed full of hopeful bodies, but somehow this kid managed to find a booth in a dark corner that had a high enough side to shield some of the noise.
“So,” he said, after taking a long suck on one of the straws, “that was a good thing you did tonight.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“That asshole you pulled out of the bathroom? He’s been in there most of the night, trying to intimidate someone into swallowing his dick.” His head gave a quick, bird-like tilt. “Isawyou. Out in the back alley?”
The shadow I’d seen… It wasthisguy? “And what were you doing, creeping around the back alleys of West Hollywood? You got a voyeurism kink?”
He gave a crooked smile. “I was just curious. Wondered exactly how that situation was going to end. You know, I see you coming in here every week, but you never talk to anyone except Tim. You on the down-low?”
“I’m at work,” I told him. “Like I said.”
“But you usually have a drink,” he countered.
“Notthatkind.” I eyed the multicolored cocktail. “You sure that’s even legal?”
He pushed it toward me, the other straw shaking back and forth temptingly. “Try some,” he told me, like we were at a diner and he was asking me to share his chocolate shake. I had a sudden craving for fries, something salty, and imagined running my tongue up his neck.
I wrapped my hand around his on the glass, pulled it closer, and kept my eyes on him while I took a suck on the straw.Hisstraw. I wasn’t dumb enough to taste anything he hadn’t tasted himself. But it was too sweet and too heady, just like him.
If I drank in much more I’d regret it tomorrow.
“You don’t like it,” he laughed. “But that’s okay. You had a new experience, and that’s something you can put in your diary tonight, right?”
I nearly snorted out the half-mouthful I had left through my nose. “Oh, sure. ‘Dear Diary, this super-cute guy bought me a drink tonight.’”
“Super-cute, huh?”
“Pretty sure you know it.” I let him pull the drink back towards himself, and he tongued the straw back into his mouth, making sure I watched.
He took a suck, hollowing his cheeks suggestively, and then said, “Pretty sure men buyyoudrinks all the time.”
