Sliding my hands under his mattress turns up nothing, but my hands hit something hard under his pillow.Lube.And a fairly large dildo.Christ.
Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself running my shaking fingers along the silicone, tracing over the veins and down to the base.Which has a suction cup.
Fuck me.
Clearing my throat, I fight to wipe away the instant mental image of himusingthese things.I drop the pillow like it’s a live grenade, hastily scooting the stuffed bear Ravi’s mother gave him back into its place on top.
“One more thing,” I say at last, deciding to let Sal off the hook.“Get me Brennan Doyle’s current location.Immediately.”
“Understood.You want me to send backup, sir?”
Fuck, no.The last thing I need is my entire team finding out that the kid whose welfare I’m fucking responsible for is the one out there selling off first dibs at his ass.
“Not this time.”
Chapter Five
Ravi
“Doyou think I need to tell Brennan?About all of Liam’s questions?”
My fellow escort, Dean, is behind me, pretending to grind while I lean my head back against his chest.Or sort of more like his stomach?He’s at least a foot taller than me.It’s awkward.
The party we’re performing at tonight is quiet enough for us to talk.Unlike some of the parties rich college kids and twenty-somethings throw, there’s no pounding music or flashing lights.
It’s strange.Gleaming hardwood floors and a baby grand piano.Lots of drinks and cigars and low lighting.It’s what I imagine a stuffy cocktail party would be like, only someone decided to toss in some go-go dancers.
Oh, and the attendees are all men.So are all the catering staff, as far as I can tell.
Dean chews his lip as he considers my question.“When in doubt, always talk to Brennan.If you even think a little bit that something might be an issue, it’s better if he knows first.Trust me.”
“Got it.You’re right.That makes sense.”The thing is, I don’t want to start a fight.Brennan Doyle is a criminal, and Liam hunts criminals.That could be bad.
Dean makes a good point, though, and I trust his opinion.A lot of the other escorts think he’s not the brightest star in the sky, but he’s wise in a way a lot of people aren’t.Probably because he’s got a kid, so all of his decisions are based on what’s safest or most practical.
Liam would probably disagree, but I’m actually good with doing the safe thing so long as it’s practical.Liam, on the other hand, likes safe and impractical.
Speaking of impractical… Usually these parties have some kind of a stage or something.A platform for us to dance on.This one is different.We’re in some rich guy’s condo; the music is sensual and drum-based but fairly quiet.Reminds me of the “chill-out room” they had once when I went to a rave.But the lack of a designated space for us means sometimes the customers creep in a little too close.
Adam and Troy are a few feet away, dancing on the other side of the piano.They move almost like they’re one person.
It’s a small crowd, with all the attendees in business attire.Which makes it feel weirder that I’m over here dancing in nothing but a pair of skintight shorts.
In front of us is a cluster of older, wealthy men drinking cocktails and studying us all with naked interest in their eyes.They all speak too quietly for me to hear what they’re saying, but I know it’s about us based on the way they nod and stare.
They’re sizing us up.Appraising.
“Try not to think too hard about it,” Dean murmurs from behind me.“We’re basically here to be art.Furniture.Like that weird carved table over in the corner.”
Occasionally the group of men will edge closer, one at a time or gathered in clusters.Brennan made it clear to the party host that there’s no touching allowed, but occasionally one will stuff some cash into our shorts and use that as an opportunity to cop a feel.So far tonight I’ve had five guys “accidentally” brush their hands against my dick while they were tipping me.
The good news?I haven’t seen anything smaller than a fifty.It’s all going into my travel fund.
“What lovely specimens,” one guy says as he comes forward.At first I assume he’s talking to himself.Most of the guys don’t address us directly.We’re performance art, as Dean said.
Then he says, “I’d love to see the two of you kiss.”He holds up some cash.“A hundred for each of you.”
At first, the idea feels weird.Dean’s kind of a friend.Sort of older-brother-ish.But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this group, it’s that the boundaries can get sort of incestuous, especially if we’re getting paid for stuff.
