Chapter 5
Chapter Five
DYLAN
I’ve been taking people’s pictures since I was twelve. I began boudoir photography when I was twenty. In more than a decade of photographing people, I’ve never been tempted to send one to my phone and keep it for myself.
There’s editing software, though primitive, on my phone. Arguably, while I could totally send one to myself and claim it’s work-related, I have better morals than that. Barely, but I do.
The entire shoot yesterday still runs through my head on repeat. Everything. Every moment. Every time I touched him to change his position. Every angle of his dick, his face, his sexy hole. Tying him up. Seeing him absolutely panting for me.
One photo in particular had him tied awkwardly, but I wanted it for a single image idea, where he’s almost rolled into a ball, but bent backward.
I have the rope over him, though it’s a trick of the angle to make it look actually tied and secure.
He has amazing strength to keep himself in that position as long as he did, but I didn’t want to hurt him.
I got the picture, though. His body is sleek and curled backward with his hard dick sticking up like a flag on a mountain. There’s a bead of precum at the very tip in one shot. In another, that same bead is beginning to drip down his cock.
“What’s wrong with me?” I mutter. I can’t be lusting after someone else’s man! That’s not something I do.
Frustrated with myself, I grab my phone and head into my den to call my mom. She’ll talk me down. I know she will. That’s what moms do.
I do a quick calculation in my head to determine what time it is there. Yep, still early enough. She answers almost right away.
“Dylan.”
“Hi, Mama.”
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
“I’m good. When are you coming to visit?”
Mom hums. “I was thinking this spring. You can show me around the islands.”
I grin. “Yes, please.” She hasn’t been here since I moved here. I usually go visit her. On my last visit, I decided it was time for her to visit me on Kala.
“I’ll start looking at airfare.”
“You can stay with me.”
“Sounds good, baby. How’s the studio? Still thriving?”
“Definitely. Everyone loves to see themselves beautiful.”
“It’s today’s version of Glamour Shots,” she muses, not for the first time.
“Mom…”
“What’s wrong, Dylan?”
I sigh. “There’s this guy,” I begin, and then chew the inside of my lip. “He’s here as a guest, and he’s come into my studio twice.”
“Once with his boyfriend,” Mom guesses.
“Yeah,” my shoulders sag.
“You don’t go after someone else’s man, baby. I raised you better than that.”
“I didn’t. I haven’t.”
“But you’re thinking about it.”
“Mom…”
“This one’s different, is he?”
I close my eyes and think about him. “I don’t know him,” I admit. “We’ve talked a little, but I don’t know him. Still, I can’t stop thinking about him. Everything inside me feels that he’s the one for me.”
Mom clucks her tongue. “If he left tomorrow, and you never saw him again, how would you feel? Would you get over him in time—this man you don’t know?”
My chest tightens, and my stomach churns. The idea is awful, but Mom’s right. I don’t even know when he’s leaving. He could already be gone. Oh god.
“I wish you could feel what I feel right now,” I whisper, curling in on myself and closing my eyes.
“Yes, I’d have to get over him, right? What choice would I have?
But I’ll compare everyone to how I feel about this stranger.
I think I’ll miss him every day. How do you miss someone you don’t know and never had, Mom? What do I do?”
Mom doesn’t answer right away, and I know she’s wavering. As my mom, she wants me to have what I want. As a person with a good moral character, she doesn’t want me to split up a couple.
“Does he feel the same way?”
“I don’t know how he feels, but every encounter we’ve had makes me believe he feels it too.” The way he stares at me! He came back to the studio alone and did a naked shoot, and he was hard for me the entire time. We flirted.
Then he left hard and horny to return to his man. The thought makes me green.
“Listen,” Mom says. “Sometimes we’re dealt a difficult set of cards, and we need to determine how to play them. Perhaps you need to shoot your shot, Dylan.”
Chills trickle down my spine. “I do?”
“I think you do. If you feel this strongly about him and you think he feels something similar, then perhaps this is how the universe has arranged it so you two meet when you otherwise never would.”
That’s true. How else would I ever meet a hockey player?
“What about his boyfriend?”
“That’s something you’re going to have to live with, baby.
It’s time to weigh your options. Either you put it out there to this man that your heart is his and see how he responds, living with the knowledge that perhaps you broke up an otherwise happy relationship—assuming they’re happy.
Or you don’t and spend the rest of your life knowing that the man who might have been yours is somewhere else, with someone else. It’s up to you and only you.”
I sigh. “Both sound like awful ideas,” I mutter. “I’m either a shitty person or potentially miserable for the rest of my life. I can’t be a diva and miserable. No one will work for me!”
Mom laughs. She was the first one to call me a diva. I was four and demanded to wear her lipstick to pre-k so I could make a good first impression. The same lipstick she always wore when she had to make a good first impression.
“I think you have some things to think about, baby.”
“Yeah,” I say, pouting. “How’s Becca?”
She hums again. “Doing okay. I think she’s finally understanding that she’s safe here. I’m not going to return her.”
I smile, closing my eyes. Mom went through all the steps to become a foster parent just after I left home.
She’s the best mom, and I’m glad she decided to be a mom for those who don’t have one anymore for whatever reason.
She’s had three foster kids, always choosing to take the older ones because no one takes a chance on the older ones.
Becca is the third and the youngest she took in at fourteen.
I don’t know Becca’s story, but I know she’s been through it.
In and out of foster homes since she was six, she’s been classified as a ‘difficult child,’ but Mom says, “Of course, she’s difficult.
She feels abandoned over and over again. Unwanted. How would you feel?”
Becca’s been with my mom for almost eighteen months, and yeah, she was…
rough. Constantly acting out and getting in trouble.
Mom doesn’t punish in the usual grounding and taking away of shit.
She hugs and assures you that she still loves you.
You’re not a bad person just because you made a bad decision or a mistake.
I have no doubt that she’s slowly breaking down Becca’s walls.
When you feel unloved for so long, I’m guessing that suddenly having someone there who loves you without question or dependent on your behavior is overwhelming.
I think I’d be even more afraid of losing it.
Leaving before I get used to feeling that love feels like the action I’d go with, too.
“Good. Have her call me after school tomorrow. I haven’t talked to her in weeks.”
“She’ll like that. Thank you.”
“I’ve always wanted a sister.” I keep in touch with the two boys my mom took in, too.
Jordan and Kyle. One is twenty-one, and the other is nineteen and in college.
Both call my mom ‘Mom,’ and I love that she was able to bring them to eighteen in a happy, healthy, and loving home.
A home that they still come back to all the time. I bet seeing that helps Becca, too.
“I know. Okay, baby, I’m beat. Talk soon. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mama. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, baby.”
Okay, I don’t need to think about this. First, I’m going to head to Anapos and see what I can do to find out where Larson is today.
After I’ve somehow gotten him alone and ‘shot my shot,’ as Mom said, I’m going to find a few little trinkets to send to Becca to let her know I’m thinking about her.
Maybe a hockey puck. Will she know what that is?
The idea makes me laugh.
Every guest island has an office where you can sign up for excursions, but the office on Anapos is the primary one. The headquarters, if you will. It’s also the office where Calvin works. He’s my neighbor and wingman when we head to the bar for a good time.
I’m truly testing our friendship today, though.
I wave at the familiar faces when I step into the office and weave my way around the different stations until I’m standing in front of Calvin’s door. He looks up with a smile. “Hey. Come in.”
Smiling, I shut the door behind me.
“Uh-oh. What’s that look?” he asks, frowning.
“I’m about to ask you to break the rules for me,” I say. “I swear to you, I’ll never ask again outside of concerning this one person.”
He sighs. “What do you need?”
“Access to your computer with you logged into the booking system for like, five minutes. Seven tops.”
Calvin looks at me shrewdly. I appreciate that he doesn’t ask questions. He gets to his feet and gestures to his chair.
I’ve used the system a couple times. It’s pretty cool. One is used for the entire chain to book excursions, appointments, and whatever, and then that one feeds everything into different branches of the same system that others have access to.
Places like my studio have a minimal look when someone checks in.
We see their first name and their appointment with us.
Otherwise, we can message the person through the system, and it emails their invisible email address, which they can only check at the tech huts.
There’s a button for a more urgent message that’s sent to someone somewhere, and they’ll track down the person to relay it if needed.
There are other features too. Like we’re able to report them to the management if they’re unsafe or we see something at our place of work. That kind of thing.
Otherwise, it’s still all about anonymity. Even from appointments like my studio. Which is why I need access that Calvin has.
I type his name in—Larson Faulkner III. A profile shows up, and yep, that’s his face.
All kinds of identifying information, including home address, phone number/s, email, emergency contact, allergies, etc.
, fill the screen, but I bypass it all. It doesn’t matter.
I don’t want to do that kind of snooping.
I tap the tab that brings me to the excursions and appointments he’s booked.
Boat tour at eleven. There’s a little blue square with Tomy’s name in it, telling me that the tickets were bought together and linked.
There’s also the option that says he’s bought multiple tickets, but the extras aren’t linked to other accounts.
That’s how you’re able to keep anonymity and still take someone out on Kala.
“Boat,” I murmur. He doesn’t have anything else scheduled for the day, so I glance at the time. I have an hour to get to the docks and see if they have space on that same tour.
Tomorrow has a couple things scheduled, and I take a minute to try to commit them to memory.
The only other thing I check on is his checkout date. How long do I have to make this man mine? January 4. Fuck, that’s soon.
I close out of Larson’s profile and get to his feet. “Thanks,” I tell Calvin. “I swear to you, I’ll never ask about anyone else but this one guy.”
He gives me a demure look as he retakes his seat. “Want me to add you to his boat tour?”
Grinning, I nod. “Yes, please.”
Calvin rolls his eyes. “Go. I’ll make sure you’re on it.”