Kept Man: Firsts and Forever Stories

“We’d make a mountain of potato salad and grill hot dogs, and she’d always bake a huge sheet cake and top it with Cool Whip, strawberries, and blueberries, to make it look like a flag. Everyone stayed late, and we’d all watch the fireworks from our front yard. The city would put on a big show, and we could see it perfectly from where we lived. That’s why Mom always hosted the parties. We had the best view in town.”

He said softly, “That sounds like a wonderful memory.”

What the hell was I doing? I never opened up to clients like that. I sat up and said, “I’m sorry. It’s your birthday, and I’m going on and on about myself.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me that story.”

After a pause, I said, “Is it okay to ask about your dad and brother?”

“You can ask me anything you want. My dad died about eight years ago, after a short battle with cancer. As for Arlen, he married a British pop star named Monica Farris, they have three cute kids, and they live in London. They looked very happy in the photos I saw in People Magazine.”

“So, you and your brother still aren’t on speaking terms?”

“No, and we never will be,” he said. “Arlen wants absolutely nothing to do with me. I read an interview not that long ago where he was asked about the possibility of us working things out. He said he’d rather cut off his arm than let me back into his life. Overdramatic as ever.”

“People are still asking about you two reconciling?”

“All the time. Whenever my publicist fields a request for a quote or an interview, it’s almost always about that. You’d think no one would care after all this time, but she gets a few requests every month.”

I said, “I just thought of something. Why haven’t you asked me to sign a nondisclosure agreement? Aren’t you worried I’ll run to the tabloids with all of this?”

“My lawyer would be horrified if he knew I skipped that step. I have a whole stack of generic nondisclosure agreements in my office downstairs, but what’s the point, really? My last assistant signed one, and then he turned right around and sold his story to a gossip columnist. If I tried to sue him for violating the agreement, it wouldn’t do any good. His story is already all over the internet, and I’d just look like an asshole for going after him. I can’t win.”

I settled back onto the blanket and murmured, “That sucks.”

“That’s just my life. When I say I have to trust you, I think you get what I’m saying now. You’re going to do whatever you want, regardless of what you and I agree to. I don’t have any control over that, so all I can do is hope for the best.”

“For what it’s worth, I’d never betray you like that.”

“I believe you.” It wasn’t that he was the most trusting person ever. But his only choices were to put his faith in me, or to be all alone. That had to be difficult.

After a pause, I said, “Help me understand what I’ll be agreeing to if I take you up on your proposition. What are you into?”

“Sexually?” When I nodded, he said, “I need someone who’s able to give up control. It’s not just about me taking charge, it’s about my partner willingly surrendering and putting his trust in me. I don’t expect that to happen overnight, but I’d love to get there with you eventually.”

Again, that told me he had very little experience with prostitutes. The client was always in charge. Meanwhile, he was describing two people building a relationship.

I tried again with, “Let’s say you could do anything you want to me right now. Anything at all. What would you do?” This was important. I didn’t think I could spend every day of the next six months forcing myself to do things that made me uncomfortable, not even for the fortune he was offering me.

“This is embarrassing. I’ve never been all that comfortable talking about sex.”

“Just be honest,” I said. “I promise I won’t judge.”

“Okay.” He thought about it before saying, “If I could do anything I wanted, I’d strip you naked and edge you until you begged for release. Then I’d make you come so hard that you forgot your own name.”

Wow. That was actually extremely hot, and not at all what I’d been expecting. That couldn’t really be it though, so I asked, “What else do you want?”

He held my gaze as he reached out and gently brushed my hair from my eyes. “I want to kiss you, hold you, and caress every inch of you. I want to pin you down, not to see you helpless, but to see you surrender to me. I want you to totally put yourself in my hands and let go of your inhibitions. I want to learn what gives you the most pleasure, and I want to make you feel absolutely wonderful, better than you ever have before.”