Read Online Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) by T. Baggins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T. Baggins
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hand began its familiar, inexorable rhythm.
“Would you do that for me, Andrew? I promise not to touch you. I just want you to strip for me. Spread your legs for me. Lube yourself up for me. Slowly, using your own fingers, working in circles….”
Andrew gasped, imagining it all too easily: himself, nude and open for Paresh as intimately as possible. His grip tightened, hand working faster.
“… and then slide it up,” Paresh continued. “Slowly. All of it. You can take your own virginity. I just want to watch.”
“Slide… what?” Andrew barely managed to choke the words out.
“A toy, of course. I don’t have quite the right item, but I’ll get one. Nine inches long. An inch and a half thick. Shaped precisely like the real thing. I can’t wait to see you push it in. To watch it disappear—”
“ Oh !” Andrew let go. He wasn’t surprised to hear Paresh laughing softly in his ear. He was only surprised he hadn’t splattered the ceiling.
“If you enjoyed that, think how much better it will be in my bed. With an appreciative audience,” Paresh said.
Andrew panted, fighting to get his breath back. He wanted to say no. Vaguely he knew it could be dangerous, putting himself in a virtual stranger’s house without anyone, even Wasserman, keeping tabs on his whereabouts. But instead of saying no, he gasped, “When?”
“Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Can I expect you?”
“Sure. Wait. H-how much?”
“I rather had the idea you’d do it for free. But since you bring up filthy lucre ….” Sounding more smug than ever, Paresh named a sum.
Andrew sat up straight. He didn’t know if he really wanted to physically attempt what Paresh had just described. But with that kind of money, he could pay off his maxed-out credit card and stop receiving debt mediation phone calls every other day.
“I’ll be there.” Not wanting to hear Paresh laugh again, Andrew disconnected. Afraid to think about what he’d just done or how it made him feel, he headed directly to the shower, to make himself presentable for his date with Cormac.
Chapter 5
Between getting dressed and taking the train to Madison Square Garden, Andrew fired up his laptop and tried adding a new segment to his expanding gay-for-pay narrative. Describing the fledgling fashionista’s party and the “erotic housecleaning” service was easy. Another two sentences about Cormac’s return to New York with Rangers tickets, no problem. But transcribing Paresh’s phone call or his own physical response? He couldn’t make himself type a single word.
Frustrated, Andrew snapped the laptop shut. Despite all those As in English composition, most of them awarded, ironically, by his father’s then-secret lover, Andrew wondered if the manuscript was dead. He’d described the pool boy experience only up to the moment when he’d been forced to shuck his swim trunks, telling himself he’d add the bath tub encounter with Paresh at some later date.
Much later. Thank goodness for Cormac.
With nothing else to occupy him, Andrew arrived at the arena’s box office twenty minutes early, dressed in black jeans, a button-down shirt and a pinstripe blazer. Instead of athletic shoes he’d chosen Oxfords, newly polished. It seemed best not to wear anything too casual, in case Cormac wanted to hit a private club like the Blairmont after the game.
Andrew expected to mill around, scope out the souvenir stand, maybe pick up a keychain or pennant for Marie. Instead, he spied Cormac right away, leaning against a concrete pillar and eating a foot-long chili dog. Picking him out of the crowd wasn’t difficult. In a gray suit and trench coat, Cormac was easily the best-dressed, best-looking man in a hundred-yard radius.
“Hey!” Their eyes met. Andrew grinned as Cormac struggled to smile and chew a mouthful at the same time. “Jeez, don’t they feed senators in California?”
“You Googled me,” Cormac said as soon as he was able.
“Doesn’t everyone
“Would you do that for me, Andrew? I promise not to touch you. I just want you to strip for me. Spread your legs for me. Lube yourself up for me. Slowly, using your own fingers, working in circles….”
Andrew gasped, imagining it all too easily: himself, nude and open for Paresh as intimately as possible. His grip tightened, hand working faster.
“… and then slide it up,” Paresh continued. “Slowly. All of it. You can take your own virginity. I just want to watch.”
“Slide… what?” Andrew barely managed to choke the words out.
“A toy, of course. I don’t have quite the right item, but I’ll get one. Nine inches long. An inch and a half thick. Shaped precisely like the real thing. I can’t wait to see you push it in. To watch it disappear—”
“ Oh !” Andrew let go. He wasn’t surprised to hear Paresh laughing softly in his ear. He was only surprised he hadn’t splattered the ceiling.
“If you enjoyed that, think how much better it will be in my bed. With an appreciative audience,” Paresh said.
Andrew panted, fighting to get his breath back. He wanted to say no. Vaguely he knew it could be dangerous, putting himself in a virtual stranger’s house without anyone, even Wasserman, keeping tabs on his whereabouts. But instead of saying no, he gasped, “When?”
“Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. Can I expect you?”
“Sure. Wait. H-how much?”
“I rather had the idea you’d do it for free. But since you bring up filthy lucre ….” Sounding more smug than ever, Paresh named a sum.
Andrew sat up straight. He didn’t know if he really wanted to physically attempt what Paresh had just described. But with that kind of money, he could pay off his maxed-out credit card and stop receiving debt mediation phone calls every other day.
“I’ll be there.” Not wanting to hear Paresh laugh again, Andrew disconnected. Afraid to think about what he’d just done or how it made him feel, he headed directly to the shower, to make himself presentable for his date with Cormac.
Chapter 5
Between getting dressed and taking the train to Madison Square Garden, Andrew fired up his laptop and tried adding a new segment to his expanding gay-for-pay narrative. Describing the fledgling fashionista’s party and the “erotic housecleaning” service was easy. Another two sentences about Cormac’s return to New York with Rangers tickets, no problem. But transcribing Paresh’s phone call or his own physical response? He couldn’t make himself type a single word.
Frustrated, Andrew snapped the laptop shut. Despite all those As in English composition, most of them awarded, ironically, by his father’s then-secret lover, Andrew wondered if the manuscript was dead. He’d described the pool boy experience only up to the moment when he’d been forced to shuck his swim trunks, telling himself he’d add the bath tub encounter with Paresh at some later date.
Much later. Thank goodness for Cormac.
With nothing else to occupy him, Andrew arrived at the arena’s box office twenty minutes early, dressed in black jeans, a button-down shirt and a pinstripe blazer. Instead of athletic shoes he’d chosen Oxfords, newly polished. It seemed best not to wear anything too casual, in case Cormac wanted to hit a private club like the Blairmont after the game.
Andrew expected to mill around, scope out the souvenir stand, maybe pick up a keychain or pennant for Marie. Instead, he spied Cormac right away, leaning against a concrete pillar and eating a foot-long chili dog. Picking him out of the crowd wasn’t difficult. In a gray suit and trench coat, Cormac was easily the best-dressed, best-looking man in a hundred-yard radius.
“Hey!” Their eyes met. Andrew grinned as Cormac struggled to smile and chew a mouthful at the same time. “Jeez, don’t they feed senators in California?”
“You Googled me,” Cormac said as soon as he was able.
“Doesn’t everyone
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