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I had no doubt I would enjoy what he wanted to do to me, but I had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the restrictions I wanted to place on him. I didn’t have anal sex with customers. I knew other rent boys who didn’t either, but my reason wasn’t exactly the same as theirs. I’d never had anal, and I didn’t want my first time to be with some asshole I couldn’t wait to escape. I’d also not wanted it with any of the randos I’d hooked up with before my mom got sick. Since then… all my sexual encounters had been professional.
I was trying to work up the nerve to tell him when the tow truck arrived.
The man stepped out of the car and signaled to the SUV with his employees in it. Were they like bodyguards? A moment later, they pulled up alongside us. He opened the door, held out his hand to me, then tucked me into the back seat of the SUV.
The man who’d been in the passenger seat had gotten out to talk to the tow truck driver.
A few moments later, my client—kidnapper? Maybe he’d give me his name eventually—was satisfied the car was being taken care of and he ordered the driver to take us to his house.
The man who’d been in the passenger seat rejoined us, and we took off. I didn’t say anything during the drive that led us into the French Quarter.
My client/kidnapper gave some directions to the other two men, things about people they need to keep an eye on and more instructions I didn’t really understand and probably didn’t want to. I was more certain than ever that the man was as dangerous as I’d guessed. I shouldn’t be going home with him, but I shouldn’t be soliciting on the street at all. Every encounter was a potential death trap. How the hell had I ended up there?
We turned off Canal onto Dauphine and entered the Quarter. I’d only been there a few times and not at all since I’d moved in with my friends. I didn’t have money for partying, and city tours weren’t exactly part of a working boy’s life. I forgot my nerves for a moment and tried to take in everything—the ironwork balconies, the mix of seediness and old-world luxury, crowds spilling out from bars and strip clubs next to restaurants where dinner cost more than I made in a week.
What kind of house did the man own here? It must have cost him a fortune. As we neared St. Ann street, I recognized a restaurant I’d eaten at on my one trip to the Quarter with my mom years ago. A block later, the driver took a right onto Dumaine and stopped in front of a gorgeous house with a gate and a small front courtyard.
The man clicked a button on his key fob, and the tall iron gate retracted. The driver pulled through. The man thanked him, reminded him what he should do next, then he took my hand and tugged, expecting me to follow him from the vehicle.
Wordlessly, I did. I don’t know if I could have spoken if I had to. I was too mesmerized by the house and everything around me.
“You’re not from here, are you, cher?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve only been here a few months.”
“I bought this house a few years ago. I’ve had most of the interior redone, but I kept the original look and feel and much of the period woodwork and flooring.”
My captor was hot as hell when he was being all demanding. I was intrigued by the power he seemed to hold, but hearing him talk passionately about historical restoration was somehow even more attractive, maybe because it made him seem real for the first time. If he were real, I might actually survive the encounter.
He unlocked the front door with a code, and we stepped inside.
“After you.” He gestured toward the stairs.
“Um… I need to tell you something first.”
“What is that?” Curiosity sparkled in his eyes when I’d been expecting anger.
“I don’t do penetration with clients.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied me. “I’m hardly just any client.”
I expected him to push me on the issue, and part of me wanted to just give in because when was I going to find someone better than him for my first time?
“That’s true, but it’s still my policy.”
“If this is about payment…”
I shook my head. “No, it’s… personal.”
His eyes widened, and I was sure he’d guessed my secret. Embarrassment made my cheeks burn. Who the hell takes a job as a rent boy when he’s still a virgin by most people’s standards?
“Is it just clients you don’t do penetration with or everyone?”
What the hell? Why not just tell the truth? “I haven’t… ever done that before.”
