Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 283(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I looked down quickly as Jeremy turned my way. This was a disaster waiting to happen. I’d been right. A man I wanted had come through the door, but I damn well wasn’t going home with Jeremy.
Are you so sure he wouldn’t say yes?
He’s already with someone.
Who might be a friend. It’s not like they’re obviously that kind of together.
More importantly, he’s a client.
So? It’s not like you have a boss to answer to.
He’s not my type. He looks like a strong breeze would snap him in two.
Um… according to your dick he actually is your type.
I had really wanted a rough, nasty fuck, but now that I was in danger of being recognized any second, it wasn’t looking like I would go home with anyone.
Jeremy and his friend headed toward the back. Jeremy was the one laughing now and rather than grating on my nerves, the sound made my cock stir. Longing, harsh and deep, like the thirst I felt under the desert sun, took hold of me. I did not need this.
Hyena Boy led Jeremy to a table. Fortunately, Jeremy took a seat facing away from me. As I watched them talk and laugh together, I had the urge to grab his friend, drag him to the door, and toss him to the curb. I did not want that bastard anywhere close to Jeremy.
Jeremy hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, not that there had been any reason for him to. The man with him looked familiar, but where would I know him from? He was fairly nondescript: medium build, brown hair, dressed in black pants and a button-down like he might have come from an office job. Then he crossed his legs, and his pants rode up enough to show his socks. Neon stripes. Was this the friend who’d given Jeremy his outrageous socks? If so, were they really just friends?
I drained my beer and clinked the pint glass down. Jeremy’s love life, or lack of it, was none of my business. As I paid for my beer, I suddenly remembered where I’d seen Jeremy’s friend. Rita, one of my longest-standing clients, had recommended Spit Shine Clean to Jeremy. Hyena Boy lived next door to Rita. I often saw him leaving for work when I showed up to clean Rita’s house.
I’d never seen Jeremy there, though. And I would’ve remembered him, since apparently poets were my new thing. I realized I didn’t actually know if Jeremy was a poet himself or if he just taught people about poetry, but it didn’t matter. I’d never understood poems when I’d tried to read them in school, and if Jeremy tried to teach me anything I wouldn’t hear a word because I’d be too busy thinking about how much I wanted to push him up against the wall, rip his pants down, and fuck him until he begged for more.
I continued to observe the two men, waiting to see if they kissed or did anything else that would indicate they were lovers, not just friends. But other than Hyena Boy’s casual arm around Jeremy’s shoulders, I saw no physical contact. A noisy group of four men and two women walked in a few seconds later. The men struck up a game of pool while the women settled on stools to observe, looking rather bored.
I watched as Jeremy prodded his friend’s shoulder. His friend started to laugh and then covered his mouth, which made both of them lose it. When they finally settled down, Hyena Boy stood and walked over to lean against the wall next to where the women were perched. One of them, a redhead with enormous breasts, smiled at him and they started what looked like a serious flirtation. Except that didn’t make sense. Wasn’t Jeremy’s friend gay?
Jeremy didn’t look the least bit confused, though. He smiled at his friend with what looked like encouragement.
Get up and go talk to him.
No.
You want to.
I want a lot of things I’m not going to get.
Don’t you remember how he was eating you up with his eyes this morning?
Going over to him is the same as outing myself.
Who’s going to care?
Me.
Why?
I don’t fucking know, all right? I’m used to hiding. It’s…
Fucking stupid.
I don’t need everyone making a big fucking deal about who I like to fuck.
Who’s everyone?
He’s a client. I don’t fuck clients.
You’re a housecleaner, not a lawyer. What difference does it make if you fuck him and clean his house?
What would that make me? His rent boy?
That could be a fun game.
No, it couldn’t.
Seriously? You wouldn’t enjoy that at all?
Fucking hell. I wanted to bang my head on the bar.
Just go talk to him.
I seriously considered it. I watched Jeremy as he watched his friend. His expression changed from amused to wistful. What was he longing for? Did he want his friend to join him again, or did he want something else?