“I can’t say art has ever been my priority,” I said with a frown. “At least not the physical medium.”
“What, you sing or something?”
“I play piano decently, but that’s about the extent of my artistic abilities.”
He laughed, reaching out with a paint-stained hand. “I’m Clay, and don’t worry, it’s dry paint. I spend a lot of time in here.”
“So it seems,” I said, cringing at the thought of touching his clearly dirty hand. I even made a point of not checking my hand or wiping it when I drew it back. “Rowan.”
“I’ve seen you around,” he said as he dabbed at his painting. “You’ve got the new guy, Luka, as your Guide, right?”
“I do,” I said, reaching up to fix a line, only to realize I shouldn’t have worried about the dry paint on his hand because I had dust smeared all over my right hand from my abysmal attempts at sketching. Whoever said art was therapeutic was delusional or outright lying. Nothing was soothing about it, and I really needed to consider just how long it had been since the last time I’d taken care of my sexual needs before putting myself in a room full of naked men.
What was with this place and its unusually high population of attractive men? It had to be a coincidence, because being intentional would suggest several unnerving things I didn’t want to accuse the resort’s founders of. It was still strange—arousing, but strange.
“Alright, everyone,” the man leading the workshop called out, clapping his hands. “We’ve been at this for over an hour. Almost two, actually. So why don’t we all step back, take a breath, and give our arms a rest? Now, if you want to end here, you may, but please sign your work before leaving. We like to collect it.”
“No need to waste the effort on mine,” I muttered, but I was glad of the break. Despite having found a tall enough chair instead of a stool so I could lean back whenever I wanted, my back was still aching and gnawing its way toward downright painful. The activity was going to cost me, and I was glad I still had plenty of my stash tucked away in my room.
“So,” Clay said, twisting around and leaning forward, hands on his stool in front of his groin, legs spread as he watched me. “How is he?”
“Who?” I wondered, covering my drawing after signing it. They might want to keep them for whatever reason, but I saw no point in displaying them.
He snorted. “Luka. He’s excitable from what I’ve seen. And some of us long timers like to take bets on how well a new Guide is going to do, or how long they’ll last.”
A flash of irritation broke through my mood. “I don’t think I’m qualified to judge how effective he is at his job.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re his first, so you’ve got to have some idea how he’s doing.”
“If I were good at evaluating whether people were good at their jobs in the mental health capacity, I probably wouldn’t be here in the first place,” I told him stiffly. Yes, I had doubtedLuka’s abilities at first, and I still wasn’t sold on them, but he wasmyGuide. I didn’t like someone from outside deciding he needed an evaluation. “I’ll leave that to those who know better than me. I’m aware that he is in constant communication with the Operations Manager, so if there is a problem or an area that needs to be addressed, Luka will be the first to know.”
“Oh, you’re one ofthose,” he said, arms flexing as he hopped off the stool. I envied his ability to move so gracefully without fear of pain, and I couldn’t help but be distracted by his muscles shifting under his tanned skin. “All serious, no play.”
“I play,” I said, and inwardly cringed at the suggestion. “But I don’t gossip.”
“Hmm, alright,” he said, slinking closer. “What do you do to...play?”
“I...” I looked at him, watching me intently, the thumb of one hand resting at the waistband of his small shortsjustenough to push them down and display the barest wisp of hair. “I’m not going to presume, but this is coming off as suggestive.”
“Oh, good,” he said with a smirk. “I was hoping it was. See, I have noticed you’re a little distracted by the guys.”
“Are you asking me if I’m interested in men?” I wondered, impressed by his bluntness.
“No, no. I’m as sure as I can be that you’re into dick.” Which made me look around to make sure we weren’t overheard. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’re in good company. See, when I first saw you with Luka, I thought to myself, now there’s a tall drink of sexy. And then when you came in here, I thought maybe, just maybe. But ever since we started talking, you keep trying not to look at my dick and failing.”
“You haven’t done much to conceal it,” I pointed out.
“Right, but what straight guy would pay that much attention?” he asked, leaning closer.
He wasn’t close enough, but I bet if he leaned in any closer, I’d feel his body heat. As it was, he was close enough that I could smell the soap he had used recently, and it wouldn’t have taken much to reach out and touch him, which I wouldn’t do because there were definitely far too many eyes around.
Now, if we were alone? That might have been a temptation I would struggle to restrain. Despite how reserved I appeared to others, I was not without needs and desires, which could be addressed privately with others or on my own. The former was something I hadn’t attempted to find in the resort, and the latter was something I had been nervous about doing again after being seen by Luka. Which meant my restraint was sorely tested because it only took a few days of being pent up before I struggled, and it had been almost six.
“Oh, hey, Rowan!” Reggie’s voice pierced through the diatribe of my thoughts, and I swiveled in my seat to see the Operations Manager heading my way. When he reached us, he pointed at Clay. “You, Casanova, go take a cold shower. I need this one.”
“I’ll see you around,” Clay said, winking as he walked off, and I made a point not to watch his ass because his shorts at the back left less to the imagination than the front.
“What can I do for you?” I asked Reggie in a tight voice.
