It was only then that Joe turned his attention to freeing Scott’s hands. As he released each wrist, Joe checked that Scott’s skin hadn’t suffered too much. Scott automatically studied the same strip of skin. There wasn’t a mark on him.
He was fine. The same couldn’t be said for the tie-back.
“We’d best get this as another souvenir,” Joe said, with an easy grin. “A man can never have too many…” His eyes narrowed as he studied it. His expression remained completely blank.
“Curtain tie-backs,” Scott finished for him.
Joe nodded, apparently willing to take his word for it. He let go of Scott’s wrists. “You’re allowed to get up.”
Joe made no effort to help Scott, he just leaned against the counter alongside him and watched as Scott wriggled his way off the countertop and squirmed back into his boxers. Scott’s stomach and his cock were both tacky with the residue of his cum, but there was nowhere for him to clean up. All he could do was try to straighten out his trousers and shirt so they’d hide the worst of his embarrassment.
Scott picked up the cushion that had fallen to the floor when he’d levered himself off the counter. Joe had been right about them needing to buy it.
“Does the security guard know what we’re doing up here?” Joe asked, as Scott dutifully left some money and a, not entirely accurate, explanatory note next to the till before sliding his purchases in to a carrier bag.
“He p-probably guessed,” Scott said. “But he won’t tell anyone. I c-covered for him lots of times when I worked here.”
“Are you going to blush when we walk past him on the way out?”
A touch of colour rose to Scott’s cheeks just at the idea. “P-probably,” he admitted.
Joe grinned as he pushed himself away from the counter and headed toward the elevator.
“But it was w-worth it,” Scott blurted out.
Joe glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“It was worth a b-bit of embarrassment,” Scott repeated.
Joe smiled and held out an arm toward Scott. “Come on.”
Scott stepped forward.
Joe slid his arm around his waist and pulled him close as they walked toward the lifts. “You can hide your face in my shoulder if you get too embarrassed,” he offered.
As they rode down in the elevator, Scott felt an envelope being pushed into the back pocket of his trousers. Smiling to himself, he leaned into Joe’s side a little more confidently. To hell with a bit of embarrassment, the knowledge they’d be going on another date was worth it— it was worth damn near anything!
Part Six: For His Eyes Only
Scott stood on the pavement outside a very fashionable hair-dressers—the kind that charged more for a quick trim than he made in a month. He’d read the note Joe had slipped into his pocket at the end of their last date a dozen times. He’d been sure he’d known the address where he was supposed to meet Joe off by heart, but apparently not. And, of course, sod’s law, he’d already sent his taxi away.
Frowning at the darkness behind the shop window, glad it was closed so that he didn’t have an audience to his stupidity, Scott dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the latest envelope from Joe. Hopefully, the right address was close by, so he’d be able to run there and not be late. Carefully extracting the note, Scott re-read the address. He looked at the number on the building, and then at the street sign on the corner. Everything seemed to match.
The sudden roar of a motorbike turning into the street made Scott smile. Even if the hair-dressers didn’t look like Joe’s type of place, that definitely sounded like Joe’s kind of ride.
The physical memory of the vibrations that had danced through his body when he’d been permitted to ride pillion behind Joe, rushed straight to Scott’s cock. He immediately began to harden. Scott couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. Everything about Joe had the same effect on him. The guy was super-strength, leather-clad Viagra.
A hulking mass of silvered chrome and shining black metal rolled to a stop alongside Scott.
Hastily pushing the note into his pocket, Scott did his best to force his features into something resembling a sensible smile, rather than an idiotic grin. He had as much control over his face as he had over his cock.
Joe pulled his helmet off and shoved his hand through his hair, shaking out the dark strands. “Turn around.”
Scott obediently turned through three–hundred-and-sixty degrees. He did his best to remain calm, but his mind was racing like a stallion being whipped by the most sadistic of jockeys.
Joe hadn’t mentioned anything about needing to dress up for their date. Maybe if he—
“No,” Joe corrected, patiently. “Turn to face the shop window, then stop.”
