Page 30 of Kane

But I don’t know him. Not beyond our limited interactions to which might only be because I’m a paying customer. Though something tells me it’s more than that. And that something is what feeds my attraction, my obsession.

Every wink, every smile, every smirk feels deliberate. Like it’s personal, meant for me.

“Yes,” I lie. Because lies are easy to tell. The truth, not so much.

Margie nods, accepting my lie. She has no reason not to. So I continue, carefully choosing my words.

“I scheduled an appointment between our session and therapy.”

“Why would you do that?”

I shift in my chair, my foot bouncing.

“Reschedule. I try to be accommodating.”

“And this client… are they a regular?”

I shake my head. “No. First timer.”

She nods. “I see. And this… client. Are they younger, older? Male, female?”

It’s just details, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not a name or a profile, or anything like that. I could be talking about anyone, so I relent and answer her as casually as I can.

“Younger. Male.” I clear my throat.

“Is that a common occurrence for you?” she asks, spinning in her chair. “Do you often get young men seeking your services?”

I think about her question, chewing my lip. I debate how to answer, but settle on the truth because I could be talking about any one of my clients.

“No.”

“How do you feel about serving a younger man?”

It’s the way she says that one word—serving. Like she can see right through my little act, even though I know that’s impossible.

There’s a pause; an awkward silence as I think about her question.

Do I want to serve Ryder?

I can’t deny that the thought is appealing, and I’ve certainly thought about such things—usually at night, when I can’t sleep. I allow myself the thoughts, but I don’t allow myself to submit to them fully. It doesn’t feel right. Coming to the thought of watching my cock disappear in his mouth, or between his ass cheeks, watching his skin pinken with blush… without his consent feels wrong.

So I let myself feel the lust, but I don’t give in. I can’t.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “He seems like a… nice guy.”

Margie smiles faintly. “And what is wrong with that?”

I blink, but before I can answer her, I see the big hand hit the twelve and I know our time is up.

I’m up faster than a jackrabbit, my coat on in seconds.

“See you next week,” I say, making no point to stay to answer her. Every second counts as I spring towards the building, towards my sanity.

The smell of coffee relaxes me as I make my way to the kiosk, spotting Ryder immediately, cleaning the countertop. The rainy, grey light shines through the windows, casting shadows on him, and I swear he looks almost aetherial.

“Evening, Ryder,” I say politely, though there’s nothing polite about the way I take in the sight of him. His gaze drifts up to mine, those vast blue eyes searching mine in return.

“Hey,” he says, clearing his throat as he stops his wiping. “Kane.”