My First Client - The First Few Chapters (Patreon)

A long one for you tonight. Get comfortable because it goes places I think you'll have a hard time coming down from so quickly Xx

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I'm one of New York's most in demand masseuses and word of my talent spreads far. Soon it becomes clear I have a client on my hands who desires something more personal...more intimate than the usual service. I'm adamant against doing it, it could sink my business...but she is extremely persistent, standing before me, her voluptuous body and her arrogant attitude are just begging for me to do something about it. Something I've never done with any clint before.

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I loved every little submissive conquest on my table, wet and slippery under my hands as I would guide them exactly how I wanted. I’m Ben Klymerdale, maybe the most in-demand masseuse in New York City, for reasons both job-related and not so job-related.

Soon word spread like wildfire all over the United States. I became the talk of the country, discussed in code in mums’ forums, shared quietly in celebrity circles and renowned even in royalty.

I let the lifestyle take me away completely as things began to steamroll. The sessions on the private jets over to Monaco, the password parties at London mansions and the decadent yacht gatherings of the Bel Air class.

But she would always be my first. The one who drew me in to all of this.

My first client, well, my first non-conventional client. I used to be straight edge, but it was difficult to keep that ruse up when she was on my table, her body writhing and drawing me in to transport her to places she had never been before.

Christina Gomez. A firebrand. A whirlwind of heat, passion and contradiction rolled into one tight and sexy package. The girl I tried my hardest not to mix business and pleasure with and failed miserably.

This story is a little bit about me and her, how we came to meet and who we came to be.

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Masseuse was never the title I expected on my CV.

On graduating high school I had had no idea that that was who I would be. I’d always been good with my hands, fixing things, mending things around the house and the farm where I grew up but I’d never really known where to take it, only that I wanted to be working on something with my hands all day long, day in and day out. Moulding something or sculpting it maybe, it was all a vague dream.

Rural Missouri was a far cry from where I wanted to be, I needed a change, a way to explore a side of myself quashed out in the countryside. I wanted to hit the city and do something completely different.

My friend told me about massage and some of the money to be made working with higher-end and more demanding clientele. I was more than a little intrigued and I became obsessed, studying the art furiously,  reading into the early mornings and practising in the local area, getting my first few paying customers. I’d found a natural talent.

I took a risk and set up my own masseuse business far away in New York City, starting off in a small building and gradually working up to the glitzier neighbourhoods where the city’s wealthy and famous would all congregate.

I was good, very good. Work was slow at first but soon picked up pace as people learned of my skills and my satisfied clients, mostly girls, mostly younger women, models, ballerinas, high-flyers in the city, all manner of girls. I never saw myself as a natural casanova or a lothario but each week working on the aching muscles and sore tendons of beautiful girls, all exposed and almost naked on my table, it lit a fire under me. Of course, I never mixed business and pleasure, a massage was a massage, nothing more.

Everything was going smoothly, business was churning away, our client base was expanding and things were looking up for our most profitable year ever. But one girl changed all that, one girl who booked an appointment on a seemingly innocuous late Tuesday evening.

Her name was Christina Gomez.

“Ben, I’ve got your next client, erm, 6pm? Does that work for you?”

Rinsing my hands in the basin, I shout back to my receptionist. “Six is fine, can’t go much past seven though, dinner in Manhattan with an old friend.”

I’d been thinking about dinner all day, a ribeye, some wine and catching up with Demetrious, one of my best buds from high school who was travelling up from Florida for the week. It was going to be a simple and relaxing evening. No stress, no work, no phone buzzing away, just good old fashioned guy chat.

The minutes ebb by as I work my hands into the last appointment’s trap muscles and knead against her shoulder blades. One of my older clients, Katy, a Wall Street banker, who had been with me since the very beginning, we didn’t talk much but she always left a satisfied customer.

6.12pm. Last client of the day and we’ve gone way over time. I get lost in my work more often than I’d like to admit. I drag my palms against her oily exterior and dive my thumbs deeper against the surface of her skin, eliciting a little murmur and groan of satisfaction from her as I tenderly rub her down, letting her feel each stroke and the softening of each pressure point. She wriggles on her stomach and bucks her hips slightly in the air, reacting to the sensation of my busy hands.

“Miss Trent, I think we’re done here, here’s a towel, there’s refreshments on the counter if you’d like and I’ll leave you in peace to change in the side room.”

She opens her eyes and wraps the towel around her, covering her breasts and wiping down some of the moisture from her tight stomach and back.

“Thank you Ben, amazing as always.” She beams widely at me. “I don’t want to tell you what to do but I think you should clone those hands, make multiple copies of you, the world needs you. I tell my girlfriends down at Citi about you all the time.” Shaking her head, she coils her hair back into a neat ponytail and fastens her bra, adjusting her breasts against the nylon.

“You’re welcome.” I smile back at her and swing through the door back to the reception area to wait on the next client. Looking down at my phone I see a text from Demetrious.

He’s met a new girl, she looked cute, petite, braids, very nice body, good for him. He hadn’t always been a ladies man but he was getting better, much better. Throwing the phone back into my pocket I look around at all of the chairs but no one is there.

“What’s the name?”

My receptionist, Sarah, scrambles away at the keyboard, searching through the CMS database. After a few clicks she brings it up on the screen.

“Christina. Gomez. Christina Gomez.”

I nod and plant my hands on my hips.

The receptionist shrugs and I shrug back equally as perplexed. It was very rare for a client to be more than 5 minutes late in New York, time was at a premium. Nearly 15 minutes was completely unheard of.

“Tell her to come straight through when she arrives. But if she doesn’t arrive in 10 minutes I’ll head off and re-schedule with her. Leave her number on the top.” A few minutes pass and nobody arrives, I check my watch and go back to reception.

Katy walks out from the side room in her smart work dress and pencil skirt and waves goodbye.

“Thanks again Ben. Same time next week?”

It was like dating with this girl, except dating consisted of rubbing her down till she murmured with jolts of pleasure under my thick hands.

“Sure thing, don’t work too hard Katy.”

She smiles and flicks her handbag to her side, easing through the front door and hitting the sidewalk with a determined spark in her step.

I’m distracted by Katy’s swaying hips and a voice calls out from behind me with no warning.

“Sorry Mister Klymerdale. I thought I would let myself in, faster that way.”

I turn around to notice the door swinging freely and the voice going into the room without a face to match it. She hadn’t even bothered to check in, just stealthily slipping past both me and Sarah. My last client has an attitude to her, a strong accent, Mexican maybe, I couldn’t tell. I’d soon find out.

“Hey, Miss Gomez? Please, make yourself at home take a seat on the table. Sarah you can go home if you want, we’ll be finished here soon, go catch a movie or something.” I shake my head at the audacity of my last client and motion pointing a gun to my brain to Sarah.

My receptionist smiles and logs off the system quickly before shoving her chair under the table. It was rare I let her get off work early but I was feeling generous. She grabs her purse and double checks she has her apartment keys before shoving them into the bag.

“Thanks Ben. Have a good evening.”

“Movie night with Ryan?”

“Movie night with Ryan.”

She gathers her handbag and piles out of the front door with her high heels, swinging to the right to head to the subway. The heat is stifling, not insane for New York’s typical Summers but still blasting through the window with an unbelievable consistency. I put my hands on my hips and walk back into the massage room. I’d have to ping Demetrious, looks like I’m going to be late.

Chapter 2

“Miss Gomez.”

I push through the doors, checking over my notes and am greeted with my first glimpse of her perched on the edge of the table, her legs swinging back and forth and her body arching to one side, revealing a well-toned figure.

She is a very cute and petite brunette, bronzed olive skin lit on fire by the steady New York heat. Her hair flows down to her hips, swaying with her body as she balances on the edge of the table. She has beautiful curves in all the right areas, like an hourglass shape, adorned in a light blue floral dress with a waist I want to grab onto firmly and much more.

“Please, you can call me Christina.” Flashing her eyes at me, I catch their deep hazel and brown reflecting under the artificial lights above. A subtle smile at the edges of her lips, completely coy and classy but a hint of menace to her too, venom she could spew if you aggravated her the wrong way. I look back down at my notes to try and provide some distraction.

“Okay, Christina, how are you today?”

“I’m good, hope you’re better though.” I look up from my notes slowly, sensing the flirty tone right away, it wasn’t the first time a client had tried to get flirtatious with me but it still always caught me off guard.

There’s a playfulness to her manners and her movements, she’s a ball of youthful energy. I shake it off with a little laugh and lay the towel down as she stays looking at me from the edge of the table like a hawk surveying the movements of its prey.

“I read through your notes. You want to focus on your upper legs and stomach, you’d been experiencing pain at the gym in certain ranges of motion?”

“That’s just a pointer but you can improvise with me however you want.” Fuck, this girl is exactly the type that makes it hard to keep massages strictly business. I nod and blink a couple of times to stay focused. The words flow out of her like sweet syrup winding into a fine coil. My composure is steady but I sense something different with this girl already. It didn’t matter, this was business and it was going to stay business.

“If you get changed in the room over there.” I point to the side room Katy had just left but Christina shakes her head and dismisses the notion.

“Can I get changed here?” My eyebrow rises involuntarily. Not many requested that. “I find it relaxes me better if I am more present in the room before the massage.”

“Sure, if you’re comfortable with that, I just need to prep the table.”

She shrugs, standing up and sliding away from the table with her hips slinking to both sides.  I try to concentrate on setting the table with more towels but she makes it rather difficult as she peels off her shoulder ruffles, letting them fly loose before stepping out of her dress with ease to just her black lingerie. Jojoba oil flows into one of my dipping trays as she places her dress on the table at the far end of the room. I swill the oil with my hands, letting it glide through my fingers and drip back down in the tray as I keep my gaze on her from behind. My thoughts are completely cloudy, the necessity of hurrying things along falling to the back of my mind as dinner with Demetrious starts to fade.

God damn, I have to find a way to snap out of this. Feeling like a schoolboy enduring a crush on the cheerleader wasn’t the best start of an intimate massage.

She unclips her bra and shrugs her hair. It flows down her back like a waterfall before she grabs a scrunchie to keep it in shape, eventually moulding it into a bun. Snaking over to the table, whilst covering her breasts, she slowly lies down with her pert backside sticking up in the air. It’s the first time I’ve noticed her smell too, a mixture of cinnamon and bergamot, with a dash of pepper in it, totally seductive, a more than ample compliment to her stunning physique.

With no time to lose, I run my hands across her neck and upper trapezius muscles gently at first as she settles into the headrest with a prolonged sigh. Slowly I build up the tension in my fingertips and apply more pressure to her, eliciting little murmurs.

“Wow, I guess people don’t lie.” My fingers dance around her upper shoulders and dig into her back as she shuffles her weight underneath me.

“About what?” I reply.

“I’ve heard things Ben. People talk about you all the time, everywhere I go..”

“Oh yeah, good things I hope?”

She ponders her words. “Mostly, it’s more their reactions I read.”

More fangirls, just what I needed, the business was already booked out for most of the Summer.

“My friend Isabella, she’s at Storm, she came in here two weeks ago, practically wants to marry you, said you worked her over so well.”

I laugh. I knew Izzy well, there was nothing romantic or sexual there, she wasn’t my type in all honesty. Long and skinny blonde girl, completely ditzy but adorable too, a walking stereotype in many ways. She would always complain about some date going awry or some sleazebag agent trying to grab her inappropriately. I chuckle again, thinking just how innocuous our conversations were.

“Well, I’m flattered but there’s nothing special between us.” Christina settles into my hands further, her rippling bronze skin heating up nicely to my touch as she shuffles on her stomach a little more, closing her eyes to enjoy my gentle motions across her back.

“Yes, but it’s got me thinking Ben, what is so special about you? How do you have such talent in your hands?”

“Don’t know, genetics I guess. Always had a farming family, working hard all day with their bodies.” My hands drip with the oil as I apply more to her lower back and sides and rub in long stroking strides down towards the small of her back and the top of her bum, letting more rustles of pleasure leave her.

“Well you're gifted. That’s for sure.

“Thanks.

“I think you could put those hands to better use than just massage.” This girl was completely brazen, I knew what she was implying. I have to change the subject.

“What do you do for work Miss Gomez?”

“I’m a model, on the smaller end of the spectrum, don’t find it all that interesting though, I prefer things a little more intellectually stimulating.” She emphasises the stimulating with a sharp twist of her tongue.

“Really, like what? Particular books?”

“Mmm, that and the right kind of conversation, philosophy, good movies, wine whilst watching the sunset talking business ideas, that kind of thing. I have certain trigger points I guess. What are your triggers Ben?”

I don’t like where this is going, my instincts told me she was trouble from the moment she walked in and these kinds of questions were only confirming it.  Flirty snipes.

“Triggers?”

“Yeah what gets you going?” She purrs.

“Not sure what you mean exactly Miss Gomez.” She was perilously close.

“Something I always fantasised about was a masseuse using his hands on me, exploring more intimate parts of me. Those big strong hands moving across my body, playing with me at his pace. It gets me quite worked up you know”

“Oh, I see. Not hoping to do that at my practice I hope?”

“Well, just maybe there can be a first for everything can’t there Ben?”

I pause, the possibility running rampant in my head for a second as the offer sounds incredibly tempting. A few oil droplets fall onto her sexy back as she further accentuates her backside in the air, letting me see a full arch to her. There was no way I could do this, everything I had worked for, New York, the practice, any chance of a future career, it would be over if this kind of thing got out.

“I’m sorry Miss Gomez but I don’t offer those kinds of services. You will need to go someplace else.” I walk away from the table and don’t look back making my intent loud and clear. There was no way I was going to allow this, it couldn’t go further. I wash my hands in the sink and clear my throat, it was blazing hot in here and my ears were thundering from the insanity of the situation she was putting me in. She gets up from the table and her footsteps trail across the floor.

“Are you really going to kick me out Ben? For what, one little comment? It is a compliment, you should know that.”

“Miss Gomez, soliciting sexual services from me is something I’m not going to tolerate, we are not that kind of business. End of story.” I get the last of the oil off my hands and rinse with the towel as fast as possible before turning around to meet her body halfway across the floor to where I am.

Her breasts are stunning. Firm and voluptuous. She lets the towel from her waist fall to the floor revealing the black panties from before. This woman is absolutely everything I could desire physically. I was beginning to doubt my self control, the seeds of a need to have her sprouting their first shoots in the fire of my stomach.

“What if you were that kind of business for some clients? Special select clients, I’ll pay double for it, triple even.” I stare at her, beginning to lose track of what words are coming out of my mouth to dissuade her. “What fun is life without outliers Ben?” The scent from before hits me like the most potent wild flower, a slick aphrodisiac disarming me almost completely as she slides her index finger into the lining of her panties and starts to stretch them down her leg. Slowly and agonisingly, she lets them fall down her thighs and calves before stepping out of them, leaving them behind on the floor, revealing just how tight she is down there.  It was going to take every ounce of me to try and resist this girl.

She stands before me completely naked. Her hand trails down from my shoulder blade, running the length of my arm as she buries her gaze into me, lust swelling in her expression as

I don’t back down and keep my gaze with hers.

“Miss Gomez, you’re a very attractive woman but the dangers of doing this are far too great. You’re not thinking clearly either.”

“Oh so you do want this, it's just a question of not getting caught is it?” She raises her voice, that fiery Latina blood coursing through her.

“I’d be lying if I said some part of me didn’t want to have you right here and now but it can’t happen.” I was getting lost in a jungle of excuses that were sounding less and less convincing by the minute.

“Just relax Ben, you’re so uptight. No one will have to know, it can be just between us two. Our secret”

She puts her fingers to my lips and strokes her fingernails down my shoulders towards my forearms.

I swat her away. This wasn’t about pleasure, this was me saving my business, I knew what the repercussions were if any of this ever got leaked out to the licensing board. Toast, finished, everything I had built up gone overnight with a moment of weakness. I wasn’t allowing it.

“Miss Gomez. You need to leave right now or I’m going to call the police.”

Giggling. She’s completely unfazed by the threat as her hands go to her hips and her breasts jiggle lightly in place further drawing my attention.

“The police, you think they’re going to believe you? Do you know how ridiculous it sounds.”

She was conniving, willing to play dirty to get me to do her bidding. The first woman who had actually cornered me in my office. She was forcing me to play along.

Chapter 3

“I didn’t expect you to be a pussy about it to be honest.”

“What did you say?” I fire back.

“You heard me. You’re being a pussy.” She snarls. “A naked woman stands before you wanting your touch and you cower away, trying to be moralistic and squirming your way through excuses. I can read you Ben Klymerdale, you want this, I thought you were willing to do anything for your clients.”

Something stirs within me, a deep-seated anger, an overwhelming desire to dominate her and get her back in line. That was what she craved more than anything, she needed to feel submissive with me, it was the only language she was going to understand. Polite Ben was done.

“I know you want me Ben. There’s nothing anyone else can do about that.”

There was no way she was getting away with this, so flagrantly, the mischievous little flicks of rampant desire in her eyes,

I grab her by the throat and pin her against the wall as she smiles even more furtively. Her teeth rip into her bottom lip as she tries to sink them into my lips too.

“What are you going to do with me Ben?”

I lift her up and drag her to the table, hurling my weight on top and keeping her pinned down as my grip digs into her throat, showing her just enough of my power. She laughs as I slap her face hard, leaving a distinct red mark and a gasp of excitement comes from her, stifling the laugh in the middle. I couldn’t hold back, this wasn’t about the license anymore, this was about making her mine, naked and thrashing around on my table as my hands did whatever I pleased to her moist opening.

She’s completely unbridled, flailing under my grip, wet and slippery, her breasts heaving in place as she licks her lips with a delicious flick of her tongue. I pin her arms above her head and clasp them with a towel each side binding them tightly to the table. She thrashes around some more and buckles against me, her hips moving like a snake as she thrusts herself towards me. She even smells good down there, the aroma lining the wet outline of her folds, mixing with the heavy atmosphere and the first beads of sweat emerging on her inner thigh.

To stop her flailing legs I tie them to the legs of the table with two quick knots of my spare towels letting her recognise exactly who was in control now. She stares at me breathlessly as I dab my hand in the oil before running it quickly across her body, letting her wriggle under my hands, helpless to stop what’s coming.

I clamp my hand against her clit and brush down from the top of her strip of pubic hair, letting her get accustomed to my form of touch. She struggles in her restraints trying to grind against my hand as I let the pads of my fingers slide over her vulva, a little trickle of excitement leaving her.

“Fuck that feels good, you don’t have to be so gentle with me, I’m a big girl.” Challenge accepted.

Her eyes shutter and her lips part as my fingers work her tight opening in a circular motion, more aggressively, my other hand gently massaging her throbbing clit. My middle and fourth finger glide inside her, parting her nicely as I curl them upwards inside her,

What the fuck am I doing? I could lose everything over this. My mind races with a thousand thoughts but I’m too far gone, I had to do this, re-establish my control with her.

She starts grimacing even louder, throwing her head back and thrashing wildly in the ties. Drops of anticipation cover my hands as she struggles to contain her wetness down there. Her fragrance intertwines with the smell of her damp arousal in a beautiful mixture.

I’m going to tease her, I’m going to make her wait for her release, teach her some manners.

Her eyes flash towards me as her stomach and chest heave harder with each stroke of my fingers. But I’m far from through with her. She doesn’t deserve it yet.

“You’re not cumming yet, you’ve been far too bad to deserve that.” I slap her with all my might, trying to leave a bruise as her jaw hangs loose, looking up at me with erotic fires dancing in her eyes. I let my fingers slide out of her trailing them around her burning vulva as she tries to settle her breathing down. She gasps like an athlete trying to steal some breath after a marathon.

“Oh my god Ben, that feels so good, your hands are perfect.”

“I’m done with hearing from you for the time being.”

I pick up the small flannel towel from besides the table and place it in her mouth as a temporary gag.

Getting into the rhythm I start to pick up pace again, the oil glistening on her folds as my top fingers go back and forth over her pulsing clit in a swaying motion. I could go as fast as I wanted to and she had to take it.

She is clearly struggling to contain herself as her hips launch towards the ceiling again, hard moans leaving her lungs through the flannel as she shouts and starts pleading for me to give her the climax she desires.

“No, no, no, hold it for me, that’s it, . “

I slap her hard again, mercilessly, she wasn’t in charge here. I was and there was no way she was getting off on this table without my permission. She’s captive, bound, ready to do anything I wanted her to, learning how to be a good girl for me. Her luscious breasts shimmer with the oil as her nipples stand completely on edge. If only I had some clamps to really make her squeal. Her body slithers in place as she tosses and turns with the momentum of my fingers pulling her towards me almost.

Her eyes roll in her head as I speed up my come hither motion inside her and attack her clit with a blistering pace. Her petite body wriggles and writhes in her restraints as she mutters loud whimpers. I can only imagine how hot it would have been if my secretary had still been next door, none the wiser to my brutal assault on my client’s bulging slit. Her hands curl into fists in the restraints and her toes start to curl, I know she can’t take much more. I’m feeling more satisfied with her performance now.

I take the towel out of her mouth temporarily.

“Ben, I can’t, please, oh my god please, I can’t stop this. I can’t. I need to cum.”

“Beg. Beg for me.” My hand pumps in and out of her vigorously, the other rubbing her furiously. I wanted to hear her beg for this.

“Please Ben, please, I’m yours, let me have this.”

I shove the towel back in her mouth, letting her watch me work her down there as her oil-covered body buckles and thrusts in the air. Loud screams come through the towel as I build to a rapid motion, the sound of my fingers moving in and out of her mingling superbly with her cries for release.

Her abs tense all of a sudden, the faint outlines of a six pack showing off her athletic build . Her hands flail helplessly in the towel ties as she erupts, gagging and straining against the flannel in her mouth. Her legs are quivering, shuddering with my touch as a fast stream bursts from her all over my hands. She screams multiple times through the towel, flinging her head back against the support as her legs quiver for what seems like an eternity.

Her stomach bulges over and over, trying to relieve all the pent up pressure. She’s animalistic, as hot liquid continues to spill onto my hands, a mixture of sweat, oil and all of her lust. The inner muscles contract around my fingers as she tries to close her legs, only held back by the towels which are quickly coming undone.

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I take the flannel out of her mouth and let her come down from the high, giving her lungs the much needed relief they need. My fingers withdraw from her and tease around the edge of her labia to avoid her over-sensitive spots.

Her eyelids flutter as I undo the towels binding her arms. She flexes her wrist, keeping her eyes closed whilst, trying to get some of the lactic acid out of her arms.

She searches my eyes for a few seconds, it almost feels romantic, such a naughty massage turned into a spellbinding moment. Her hands grip the sleeves of my arm as I try to lightly brush her away.

“Ben, I don’t quite know what to say.”

“You’ve convinced me Miss Gomez.”

“Of what?”

“You’re the first client on my secret list Miss Gomez.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but maybe she was right, women would pay highly for such services. I was becoming a believer.

“Christina. Please call me Christina.”

“Christina.”

I’m trying to keep this strictly business. But something stirs my heart too, a growing ball of genuine care for this girl, there was a furious passion between us on the table, an intimate connection to each other’s bodies. I try not to let it into my voice but it’s bothering me, I wasn’t the type to let myself get emotionally involved, no matter the stakes.

“Can I make another appointment?” She asks.

Part of me hesitates but I’ve tasted the drug, I want so much more of it. I want to have this control again, to have her at my beck and call on the table, compliant with whatever I tell her to do.

“Here’s my number. Drop me a WhatsApp.”

I hand her my business card. I could keep a secret from the licence board.

I wash my hands in silence facing away from her as she gets changed back into her lingerie. My hands are shaking under the tap, the adrenaline rush consuming me, it was kind of hard to believe what had just happened. I dry them off and turn around to see her almost fully dressed, just re-adjusting her dress one final time and loosening her hair. The same intoxicating scent from earlier comes rushing over me, she smells heavenly. Slipping her heels on she checks herself over in the mirror and tries to clear up some smears of makeup, dabbing herself down with a towel.

Folding my arms I sigh deeply and look her up and down.

“Do you want some water before you go?”

A coy smile and a flick of her hair behind her ears.

“No, I think I’ll survive Ben. I’m feeling good, a little light-headed but I think that’s only natural right?”

“Right.”

She gathers her handbag and puts on some sunglasses flicking her dangling hair behind her again, it goes zipping down her back, shimmering with all the tones of dark brown and brunette.

“Bye Christina.”

“Bye Ben.” That same smile and infectious energy from when she first walked in. She bounds out into the reception area with a spring in her heels, her exquisite brown skin glowing under my lights as her hair slinks down to her shoulders. And just like that, she is gone.

I can’t escape it, that same feeling comes up again. This was supposed to be just business, it had already gone so far and yet something told me it was never going to be just business between me and her. I sigh and strip off my white top. I’d packed something nicer for the dinner, it was time to get ready.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

Fuck. It’s Demetrious.

One ring, two rings, three rings. I had to answer, I was a mess and needed to get changed but there was no way I could leave him hanging.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes, can you hold on? Just order more drinks or something, play something on your phone.”

A delayed reaction as plates clink and a waiter walks by. It was almost half an hour later than we were supposed to meet.

“Yeah I guess so man, but hurry up. God damn, what have you been doing? Jerking it to some of those models you workin’ on?”

Not quite.