Max smirked, and this time he did shake his head.
Max: Nice. Work it good. I’ll be here for a while.
Scott: Will do. Be safe. Catch you later.
Max tucked his phone away and re-crossed his arms. It’d been awhile since Scott needed to use his playroom. Max would know because he was the reason Scott ever did in the first place. When emergencies came up and Max couldn’t take a client. Scott would stand in for him as a favor. Which wasn’t that often, maybe once every couple months. Hence, the reason it’d been awhile since Scott had been in there.
Max wondered which fraternity was doing the initiation. Now that show might be fun to watch. First timers were always hot, all embarrassed and nervous. And Scott could be such a punk…
Max grinned at the thought.
Although, knowing Scott, he’d probably take pity on the kid. Go way too easy. Barely work him at all. Scott was a brat sometimes, but he was also compassionate. Add his ridiculous good looks and charm to his skills and that frat boy was in for one hell of a night.
* * * * *
Max couldn’t believe it.
Couldn’t fucking believe Sean emailed him for an appointment. And not the one concerning a photo shoot, although he did discuss that one, too. The one granting Max permission to play. With Sean’s body. In wicked ways.
Max stared at his computer screen, utterly bewildered. He’d been positive he scared Sean off the other night with at least one of his dissuading remarks. Especially the first one. He’d thought for sure that that one would’ve nailed the coffin tight. Threatening to make Sean quit cigarettes? Most smokers would’ve balked at his gall. But when Sean hadn’t looked fazed, once again Max was certain that telling the kid he’d have to obey Max’s every command would surely do the trick. What young guy wanted to hear that shit? When not that long ago they’d finally reached adult status, freeing them from their parents’ oppressive rule. Evidently, Sean did.
But geez, Max hadn’t heard from the kid in days. It was Sunday, for fuck’s sake. He’d been sure he was in the clear.
Max shook his head, supposing that he should’ve realized Sean was determined not to be swayed. Hell, Max’s comment about being a kinky motherfucker had only made the kid’s eyes glitter brighter. And the price thing, in retrospect, wouldn’t even be an issue. Sean’s parents obviously had money, willing to send him to Australia for a grad present.
Max sighed and scrubbed his face. Then looked back down at Sean’s email.
Sean Matthews 11:20 AM
to me
Hey, Max.
Just emailing you to set up a date for that photo shoot. It will probably take an hour tops. Tuesdays still work for me. Let me know what works for you.
Thanks,
Sean (aka little slut, cat)
Ps. Looked over your website (Like you told me to. See? Already so obedient.). Colorful place. I enjoyed it. You’re impressively well-rounded. So, if you could, I’d like to set up that appointment.
Max’s lips twitched, something they hadn’t done for the first read through. The first time, they’d fallen open, then pursed irritably tight, before parting again so he could mutter out a curse. Or rather, a whole fucking stream of them. Now, though, as the shock was starting to wear off, Max could appreciate—somewhat—the cheekiness of Sean’s email. Probably because he could totally see Sean’s expression, hear his playful tone, as he read it.
God, how he’d love to put that boy over his knee.
Drawing in a lungful, Max stared at the screen, rubbing his mouth as he contemplated his reply. Part of him wanted to rescind the offer. Say he’d just booked up his very last slot. But that other stupid, idiot part of him was chomping at the bit to make this happen.
Hmm. And then there was the matter of Max’s actual waiting list. Because, in truth, he never really “booked up.” At least not if the prospective client seemed cool. Just added them to the pile of eager beavers so someone was always on deck. That way Max’s income never took a hit in the event of a last-minute cancellation. But that waiting list was long. Really long. Which didn’t work at all for Max’s idiot half. The half where he kept his dumbass dick.
Fuck it, said his dumbass dick. Literally. We only live once.
Muttering another curse, Max opened up a reply box. Short and to the point.
Max Kelley [email protected] 12:24 PM
to Sean
Hello, Sean.
Tuesday’s fine. Same place, same time?
Max (aka Master Tormentor of Little Sluts)
Ps. Would you like your “other” appointment to be on a Tuesday as well?
Send.
Max smirked, closed his eyes, shook his head again, then got busy going through the rest of his mail. After, he opened up another window and made a quick post on his blog. Mainly just a thank you to all who came out to Dom District Friday night.