“Unless you have some cute kitten twink licking milk from your belly button, stop calling,” he said. “And yeah, my car is usually always here. Ugh. You want me to come pick you up again? Are you at least going to get laid if I do?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll try. Come over later. I’ve got some more grading to do.”
“Ciao.”
Excitement rumbled through me like I was a giddy teenager again. I knew it was wrong to be excited about this, but I knew what to expect now. And from the hours of Googling last night, I picked up on a couple things.
Gabriel’s words continued to thunder through me about how I needed to stop dressing like I was going to choir recital as a section leader. I was already prepared for him when he arrived, in the leather jacket, a white t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Just how he’d styled me yesterday. “It’ll do,” he said in a sigh. “You know, outfit repeating is a crime.”
I didn’t know that, but I knew that tonight, I was potentially about to commit a crime. Less of a fashion crime and more of an I’m his teacher crime—which probably wasn’t a crime since he was an adult.
Tonight, the idea of seeing all those boys in their pretty dress up didn’t scare me as much as it had yesterday. Scared by the sensation of an erection that wouldn’t go. This time, I was prepared to explore it a little further.
“If you don’t find someone, you can’t be hovering around me,” Gabriel said as we pulled up into the line of cars. “We’re such good friends, but I don’t want to be watched, and frankly, you scared one of my kittens away. And he was working on the left nipple,” he said. “Do you know how erogenous the nipples are?” He sighed.
“Don’t be so dramatic, I was only near you for like ten-twenty minutes max. I was talking to this one kid.”
“Kitten,” he corrected me.
“I was talking to this one kitten about his studies,” I said. “So, I had fun.”
Gabriel pretended to shoot himself with finger guns cocked to the side of his head. “You know, that doesn’t count as fun, right? And I hope you tipped him. They’re here for the pleasure, that’s what we’re all here for. Paradise.”
In another world, maybe this was paradise, but for now, this was satisfying my cock’s curiosities. The one area of my body currently in control of all the actions throughout my body.
Almost waiting for me at the door, Asher was sat on a stool, running his fingers up and down the lace stocking.
“Hi,” I said.
“I saw your car from upstairs,” he said. “I knew you’d come.”
“So—”
“Enjoy,” Gabriel said, before leaving me to fend for myself.
“I—I—I only came because I was interested in what you had to say,” I said. I was genuinely curious about what he enjoyed about the play, and I was equally curious about how this was making me hot in all my zones.
“We can go upstairs,” he said, linking his arm around mine. His entire posture and attitude were different. He held my hand, squeezing it tight. “You know, so I can show you about all the things you don’t see.”
“Yes.”
Asher led the way, holding my hands, we walked to the third floor and down a hallway of doors. There was an open door, which I gathered to mean it was empty. He led me inside, closing the door and locked it shut.
I stood across the room from him, in the center, looking around the fancy room with the four-post bed and the real wood flooring.
“You can touch me,” he said, lowering himself to his knees. The skirt of the outfit raised to reveal a bulge he hadn’t hidden, or he was showing me on purpose. On his hands and knees, he came closer. “I like to be stroked, petted, and I like to lick.”
Holding a hand out, he came over and rubbing his head up against it. “You—” I was trying to recall any texts I’d read about this. “You like to be called kitten?”
“You can call me kitten, good kitten, bad kitten, as long as you call me,” he said.
“I—I actually wanted to talk to you about—about—” my throat clenched. “How this makes you feel?” I asked.
“Why?”
Because whatever he was feeling, I felt it too. A trigger of a tingle up my spine. I was never usually this far out of my comfort zone, and suddenly, here I was, thrown into the deep end of combing my fingers through the back of a boy’s hand.