The guy rolled his eyes. “Do you have a big cock?”
Tag was fairly sure he was blushing. He hadn’t been hunting for compliments. This guy wasn’t his type.Shit, he wants an answer.Tag’s cock wasn’t huge, but it definitely wasn’t small.Oh fuck it.“Why do you want to know?”
“I’d like to invite you to a party. If you’d walked away in a huff after that question, then you wouldn’t have been suitable…a suitable guest. I’m looking for a good-looking young man with an open mind, a big cock and—a lovely arse— who’d like to make some money.”
“Too late with the arse comment.”
That did get him a laugh. Tag’s thoughts flashed onto exactly what this party would entail. Sex, probably drugs and…more sex.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong.”
Tag was pretty sure he was right. Sex in some form or another. Young guys for older rich guys to fuck. Although he was flattered to be called good-looking, he wasn’t flattered to think that he looked like someone who’d fuck for money.Not going to happen.But he was still standing there, wasn’t he? He hadn’t flounced off feeling insulted.
“How would you like to earn a guaranteed thousand pounds for a night’s work? Cash. Quite probably it will be a few hundred more than that.”
Fucking hell.That was a lot of money, especially to someone who worked for minimum wage. Tag had never been paid for sex, never been forced to sink that low.But more than a thousand pounds!He didn’t feel bad about wavering. “Is it legal?”
“Yes. Assuming you declare your earnings to the Inland Revenue.” The guy smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Dangerous?”
“No.”
But you are.Tag’s instincts told him that.
“Drugs?” Tag asked quietly.
“Entirely your choice.”
Not illegal. Not dangerous. There must be something else Tag should be asking. Why him? Well, that had sort of been answered. He looked suitable. What was this party really about? What would he have to do? What if it was something he wasn’t prepared to do?
Thoughts of a thousand pounds began to swamp his concerns. That amount of money would make a significant difference to his life. He could buy a contract for three months at Our Pottery Barn Cooperative and have enough left over to buy clay and more tools. It could be the start of the life he wanted, making a living doing something he loved. His brain started to fizz with excitement.
So much for not stooping to sell himself for sex. All he’d needed to be persuaded was to be offered enough money. A one-off. What could it hurt? No one would know.Only me.Tag was good at keeping secrets.
“Nothing without a condom,” Tag whispered.
“Agreed.”
“Okay then.” His heart jumped into his throat.
“What size shoes do you take?”
Another weird question.“Ten and a half.”
“What’s your name?”
“Tag.”
“Write your address down, Tag.”
Tag carefully wrote his address on the piece of paper put in front of him.
“A black Lexus will be waiting outside your place at six on Saturday. You’ll be given your money on Sunday. Don’t tell anyone, or else.”
The guy might have smiled, crinkling up his eyes and wagging his finger, but Tag wasn’t sure he liked thator else.Or the smile that still wasn’t right.I can sense he’s dangerous and I still said yes. I’m a fool.
By the time he was back in the kitchen, he’d almost convinced himself he’d imagined the whole thing. But when he came back out with another order, the man was still there, tucking into his meal. Tag felt stupid. He shouldn’t have said yes. He shouldn’t have given his address to a stranger. He had no idea what he was letting himself in for.
