When I finished my story of woe, he said, “Wow, that sucks.” Then he licked his lips.
I focused enough to say, “Yeah, it does.”
There was an awkward silence. I remembered to maintain eye contact. His eyes were a pretty blue. A pretty blue distracting enough that I couldn’t think of a single question to ask him. Finally, he said, “You’re staring.”
“Oh sorry,” I said, looking away.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
I did. But not yet. I changed the subject by asking the first question that popped into my head. “So, why did you call me? Honestly.”
“Necessity,” he said. “Sometimes I need to see someone who’s not going to pay me. It keeps me honest.” Then he smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t go all Glenn Close on you.”
I laughed at his joke, something the Internet had recommended. My laugh was a little strangled, though. I hadn’t been worried about him getting stalker-ish until he’d said that. Should I worry? Oh, God, I should worry. To cover my discomfort, I went into what remained of the kitchen and sent our dinners for their final spin round the microwave. Eddie followed me like I had him on a tether.
“Sixty more seconds,” I said as I hit start on the microwave.
“What can we do for sixty seconds?” he asked. “Oh, I know.”
He pulled me into a kiss. It was a sweet kiss, made sexy by the stubble roughing up my face. I was hard by the time the microwave beeped. We took our plates over to the table and sat down. He sat next to me and rested his left hand on my thigh.
As we ate, we chatted about the food, which wasn’t great, but Eddie pretended it was. I tried to find out more about him, but he wouldn’t say much. Grew up in the valley. Left home early, possibly under less than ideal circumstances. When I tried to get specifics, he turned the conversation back to me and my life.
Over the course of the evening, he found out a lot about me.
“What made you become a masseur?” I asked, after I took the dishes into the kitchen and set them on the standing butcher’s block that was my only counter. I’d leave them there until I got around to washing them in the bathroom sink.
He answered with a question. “What made you become an accountant?”
“I like numbers.”
Eddie flashed his pretty eyes at me and said, “I like men.” He’d been making that obvious since I answered the door.
“I’ll bet there’s more to it than that.”
“There is,” he said simply, but didn’t elaborate. He changed the subject slightly by saying, “I see all sorts of men. Important men. Successful men. Rich men. But when they climb on my table they’re all the same. Naked. Vulnerable. Needing the...relief I have to offer.”
“So you’re a humanitarian?” I suggested.
“Something like that,” he said.
“You must have your share of bad experiences.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled and kissed me again. “Let’s go play.”
I followed Eddie into Jeremy’s office and watched him set up the table. I assumed we were going to do pretty much what we’d done before. It had been fun, but since I was basically a vanilla kind of guy, I would have been happy with everyday sex in my bed.
When he finished setting up, he walked over to the door and stood there for a moment. With a playful look, he said, “Hi, my name is Eddie. I’m a little nervous.” He bit his lip to make the point.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly. I had no idea what was up. “I’m M--”
He shook his head, then whispered, “Make up a name.”
I almost giggled, but decided to play along. “Hi Eddie. My name’s Dirk.”
He smiled, seeming to like my choice in names. “Hi, Dirk. This is my first time getting an erotic massage. I don’t know what to do.” He looked away shyly.
Okay, now I got it. “Take your clothes off and get on the table face down,” I told him.
Without looking at me, he pulled his turtleneck over his head. He kept his head down and turned away, almost as though hiding. Part of his sudden, shy persona, I figured. Tossing the sweater onto the floor, he kicked off his shoes. Then he eased down the zipper on his jeans. Tucking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, he pushed them down over his thighs. He wore a pair of tight, white, store brand briefs -- somehow they looked a whole lot hotter than any of the designer pairs I owned. He let his jeans fall to the floor and stepped out of them. Looking up at me, he gave me an anxious look, as though he was reluctant to pull down his briefs. “Everything?” he asked.
“Yes. Everything.”
He was good. I might have even bought it if I hadn’t paid him to jerk me off. With a demure smile, he slipped out of his underwear. His cock was half-hard, bouncing in front of him. Obviously, he liked play-acting, or he liked me. But I wasn’t doing much of anything, so it had to be the play-acting.
Eddie climbed onto the table and lay face down. I hadn’t seen much of him at this angle the first time we hooked up, so I took a moment to study him. His body was square and solid from this angle. His ass round, and covered halfway up with a light coating of soft black hair. My prick sprang to life.
“Is this right?” he asked.
“You’re doing just fine.”
I took my clothes off quickly, then walked around the table to the jar of cream he’d left on the floor. I unscrewed the top and scooped out two fingers’ worth. I rubbed my hands together to get the cream warm, as he’d done for me.
Beginning with the middle of his back, I pressed my fingers into him. Even through the cream, his skin felt incredibly smooth. I
