Well, I couldn’t blame anyone. A one-night stand was still better than not being touched at all, and if Theo wasn’t anoption, because I shied away, then a random stranger would have to do.
I flopped around, pressing my face into the pillow and my dick into my palm. I needed to get fucked, stat. I could still imagine it was Theo. That was better than nothing.
Half an hour later, a faceless profile had agreed to meet with me, and I had freshened up for the occasion. The guy coming over was thirty-four, supposedly fit and tall, just like Theo, and that was all I needed to know. Neither of us had asked for pictures, which made it more than clear what we were in for.
I skipped the underwear when I put on my jeans and a button-down shirt. That way, I would be ready for anything yet still look decent when I went downstairs to pick him up, since there wasn’t a bell, thanks to my uncommon living situation.
Not waiting for a message, I shuffled out of my apartment. The sounds of the bar that I owned and lived above echoed through the hallway. I made my way to the mezzanine, which we usually used only to store drinks and bar supplies. It was currently occupied by one of my employees who had had a rather rough few months and needed a place to stay with his bulldog puppy. I briefly paused at the staircase to check if anyone was around. Besides the muffled mixture of chatter and laughter, none of the wooden floor tiles creaked, letting me know that the coast was clear.
The stairs led directly to the back door, which was shielded from the hallway connecting the bar to the bathrooms by a room divider we had put up to keep drunken patrons out of the private space.
I pushed it open and stared into the dark back alley that no one ever notices or walks through because it only led to this door. A small awning offered me shelter from the drizzle that had been pouring down ever since I left the arts center. Staring at my phone for any updates, I waited for only two minutesbefore the silhouette of a man in a long, heavy coat appeared on the sidewalk. He paused and stared at the neon bar sign reading “Hops & Dreams” that was mounted to the wall, and then at me. He raised his hand as if trying to figure out if I was the person he was meeting.
“Are you—?” he asked, but I cut him off right away.
“Yeah.”
A chuckle followed as he stepped into the alley. The closer he got, the better I could make out his features, only now realizing that the face I stared at was all too familiar. The random guy I had chatted up to fuck me was none other than the one I wanted to fantasize about while being fucked: Theo, the skilled photographer.
FRAME TWO
THE FORBIDDEN PICTURES
“Fate can be a bitch,” Theo said once he towered over me. His hair, damp from the drizzle, clung to his forehead, allowing me to clearly see the once-over he gave me, even in the dark. His lips curled into a grin. “Or is it karma?”
My chest stopped moving for a second as I held my breath, my heart pounding as if it were trying to break out of my body. In all the years I’ve used these apps for casual encounters, not once has someone shown up whom I even remotely knew. But this time, truly, must’ve been fate, karma, or some sort of cosmic joke.
“At least now I have an answer whether you were checking me out earlier or not.” Theo chuckled. “You still wanna do this?”
“Do you?” I grumbled.
He tilted his head, letting his eyes wander over my body once more. “Very much so.”
There he was, not backing down—and neither was I. Backing down wasn’t even an option after fantasizing about him for hours. This wasn’t a cosmic joke; it was a gift.
On autopilot, I fumbled the keys out of my pocket. I unlocked the door and walked in backward, keeping my eyes on him thewhole time. Now that I had been given this opportunity, I didn’t want to miss another second of his beautiful face. As he stepped through the doorway, he craned his neck and looked upstairs, scrutinizing everything with curiosity.
“You—”
“Shh,” I said, bringing my index finger to my mouth to stop him right away.
He pressed his lips together and nodded. I stepped onto the stairs first, leading the way. He stayed close behind me, brushing his hand along the railing as his eyes darted everywhere as if he were taking mental snapshots of everything. Our footsteps creaked on the floorboards, but within half a minute, they fell into sync enough to sound like only one person was climbing the stairs.
When we reached the third floor, I opened the door to my apartment and gestured for him to go in first. He bowed his head, and keeping his eyes fixed on me, stepped inside backward, just as I had a minute earlier.
I pulled the door shut behind me and turned the lock. “Sorry. Not everyone needs to know my personal business.”
“Understandable.” He lifted his head just enough to show off his neck, as if to show me the spot where he wanted my mouth to go first. “You said in the interview that you run a bar. I wouldn’t have guessed it would beHops & Dreams. Or that you lived above it.”
As he stood there in the middle of my entrance nook, blocking the way, I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander down to his crotch. I leaned against the door, hiding my hands behind my back.
He shifted his weight from one leg to the other and glanced over his shoulder, taking in my living room that was glowing orange under all the lights. (I have a thing about lamps changing color depending on the time of day. At night, it can only everbe orange, because it reminds me of the good old streetlamps I grew up with before they switched most of them to that ugly white.) His gaze swept over the empty walls to the nook on the right, with my desk, the shelf holding my camera, and the eight lenses I had bought over the years.
“I can’t deny that I’m a little intrigued to geek out about photography, but that’s not why we’re here.” He turned back to me, now smirking. “This is even better.”
Our eyes locked. He took one step closer, leaving barely a foot between us. His right hand rose to my face. His eyes followed the movement of his hand. There it was again, that soul-seeing gaze of his, only this time not hiding behind a lens. His index finger brushed over my temple, catching a strand of hair and tucking it behind my ear before his palm settled against my cheek.
“Have you done this before?” I asked. “Slept with someone you photographed?”
