Look away. Look away. Look away. I was screaming to myself but my body refused to budge. Swash's naked body was in front of me. Sure, after he had cursed, his hands flew to cover his dick but I had already seen it. I didn't want to stare, but when a wet and sexy man is standing in front of you, with broad shoulders, defined muscles and covered in matted down auburn body hair, there was no way to anticipate your reaction. Finally, my internal screaming caught up with my brain and I looked at the floor.
"I'm sorry. I had no idea you were still at home." I was flushed red and I knew it. Why was he walking around naked anyway? Sure, we were on the seventh floor and there was no way he could have anyone spying, but he didn't exactly live alone. The action had been too reckless. I looked back up. He was gone. I looked out of the room and found him emerging from the guest room with one of the towels I often used.
"I'll assume you took Bradley to school?" He didn't seem the least bit bothered by what just happened. My own heart rate and cock were trying to calm down.
"S-sure," I stammered. I still felt the heat of the moment. Swash didn't seem at all interested in my expression and stood aside from the door as if ordering me to leave. I did and he closed the door. I walked slowly to the couch and sat down. I felt a surge of guilt. Don't think about him, Michael. It's never going to happen. It's never supposed to happen. He's not even interested. I thought about his cold expression. I guessed I was still on probation for walking out on them. Even though Bradley and I had made up, Swash would probably need a lot more time before he could forgive me. I couldn't blame him. He'd had two rough days which I caused by being an insensitive prick. I ran my hands through my hair. Maybe we'll never get past this, maybe we will. But I planned to be a part of Bradley's life. I couldn't bury my emotions for the boy. He didn't even need me, yet he made me feel like the most important person in the world. And I didn't want to let him down. I let out a sigh as Swash emerged from the room.
"You should have woken me up."
"I'm sorry. You looked like you really needed to sleep."
"I also really need to work. Things don't just pay for themselves."
"Sorry. I-"
"Are you picking Bradley up from school today?"
"I guess."
"Have him back by five at the latest. Here's money for the cab." He shoved a hundred dollar bill at me and I took it. His face was expressionless as he looked at me. I couldn't hold his gaze so I looked away. His eyes looked dead. No trace of that glint of excitement I was used to seeing. Maybe he did not consider us friends anymore. I mentally captured the cruel irony of it all. Barely a few weeks ago, I was the angry one and he was the one who needed to apologize. It sucked being on the receiving end. Swash grabbed a leather case and left the house. I was left in the silence. I turned on the TV to distract myself. Discovery was on. I watched it, just so I could have some interesting factoids to talk to Bradley about. I was determined to have at least one person in this house still on speaking terms with me. My phone rang shrilly, interrupting the TV.
"Hello?"
"Hey Venison!"
"What's up Em?"
"We're in the airport. About to head back. I trust you kept the fort running in our absence?"
"I tried. But I couldn't sit there all day. Got boring."
"No matter, we can access it from here. Anyway, how's Swash?"
"He's great," I breathed. I didn't really want this conversation to stay on this topic any longer than it had to.
"What's wrong?"
"Hmm? What are you talking about?"
"Something's wrong Mike. I can hear it in your voice. Trouble in paradise?"
I sighed. The truth was going to come out sooner or later. But I didn't feel the need to talk about the whole Malone-is-my-actual-boyfriend-and-I'm-really-just-chilling-in-Swash's-house-and-wasting-time situation over the phone.
"Tell you what, come back to Chicago and we'll talk about it."
"Okay. Take care of yourself Mike. You know we love you."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Really, we do. You're more than just another employee. You're like family. We actually give a shit what happens to you."
"You know, it's nicer when you put it that way. Thanks."
YOU ARE READING
Whore.
Romance"Meat" has been a call-guy in Chicago's gay district for over a year and seems largely satisfied with his job. Until a peculiar new client makes him question if he should be serving his meat to everyone.
