Clay #3
“You want a lot more than that,” he said with a knowing smirk, looking me up and down.
Nothing on his face told me he was actively checking me out, but I still felt the familiar flutter of anticipation I always felt whenever I came across someone I suspected was attracted to me and was seriously considering if they wanted to do anything about it.
“But I can forgive you for that; you’re a slave to your desires. ”
“I don’t know about slave,” I grumbled. “I just don’t see the point in denying myself a bit of fun if someone else is down for it too.”
“That depends,” he said, turning to walk away. I followed him.
“What does it depend on?” I asked as we left the session room behind us.
“Why someone would deny themselves in the first place,” he answered easily.
“If they’re going to deny themselves because what they want is wrong, that makes sense.
If they’re denying themselves because it’s neither the time nor the place?
Also good. And maybe if they’re doing it because instant gratification isn’t nearly as gratifying as people think it is, and that they perhaps enjoy the anticipation, the build up before they decide to crest that hill, then why condemn them for it? ”
“Good points, all of them,” I admitted. “But now I’m wondering if that oddly specific final thing was you speaking from personal, maybe even current, experience?”
“Your persistence would be irritating if it weren’t a little endearing,” he chuckled. “But to finish off, if someone is denying themselves as a punishment, or out of a sense of shame? Then they should do some reevaluating to give themselves more freedom.”
“Okay, but seriously, that was oddly specific,” I said as he came to a stop. “Looking for something?”
“I would like something to drink that isn’t a bottle of water,” he said, frowning.
“This way,” I said, nodding toward a new hallway.
He followed me without hesitation, even though it took us away from the main area of the resort. “It might surprise you, but in my line of work—my former line of work, that is—there was a lot of other people’s shame and guilt that I had to contend with.”
I thought about it for a minute and then nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Does it?” he asked as I led him into a small lounge and gestured toward the machines tucked into the corner. The seating was rarely used, but the drink and snack machines were popular.
“I mean, yeah, it does,” I said as I dropped into one of the seats while he looked over the selection the machines offered.
“It’s funny when you think about it. People get obsessed with sex over the years.
Teenagers are either obsessed with getting laid or staying pure, depending on the time period.
Adults like to get laid, but feel they should go about it a certain way.
People always want to get laid, but they don’t always want to admit it.
Marriages crumble because someone doesn’t feel they’re getting enough sex, or someone else feels they’re being used as a sex toy.
It always comes back to sex, but we get so hung up on it, we get all up in our feelings about it. ”
“Not to twist your words,” Isaac said as the drink machine thunked and a drink slid out smoothly. “But that sounds like a specific, and if I might say, personal experience you’re speaking of.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I don’t go around broadcasting it, but I’m not exactly hiding the fact that I wasn’t always into sleeping with guys.”
“No?”
“Nope. I spent my first twenty-four years pretending I was only into women. Didn’t matter that I liked it a lot when another guy noticed me, or that sometimes I wanted to spend time alone with guys I knew were into guys, or really, into me.
I never did anything about it because I was straight, you understand? ”
He chuckled as he took a drink. “I’m familiar with the attitude, yeah.”
“And that’s just how it was,” I said. “Until a few years ago. I finally got my head out of my ass and admitted I wanted to be in other guys’ asses.”
“You know, I love how you can take a defining moment of your life and turn it into a sex joke as if it wasn’t important at all,” he said with a smile, tightening the lid of his drink.
“You really know how to emphasize the scope and depth of that sort of life-altering revelation and self-acceptance.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Is it a gift in the same way that your ‘charm’ is charm?”
“Exactly.”
He chuckled, slipping into a chair and looking around as he ran his fingernails back and forth over his wrist in repetitive motions. “I suppose I can’t even pretend to be surprised that you ended up where you are now through a process that involved soul searching and acceptance.”
“Why’s that?”
“In my experience, people who are so free and open about their sexuality, particularly when their sexual orientation is outside the norm, come in two forms. Those who have gone through a process where they’ve been forced to accept what’s going on with them, what’s really going on with them, that is.
And those who are so far in denial of what’s going on in their hearts that they cover it up with sex and lust.”
I stared at him for a moment, feeling a guilty twinge in my gut. “Oh yeah? So I get a nice little gold star for self-awareness and acceptance then?”
“I never said that,” he said with a snort.
“You’ve obviously done the sort of work that lets you feel comfortable being sexual with other guys.
That doesn’t mean you’re not using that acceptance as a way to keep people away from the real you, or like a lot of people do, keep something from yourself. ”
I decided I no longer liked the conversation, but there was no way to get out of it without alerting him that he was too close to the truth. “Sounds like you know something about keeping things from yourself. That from your experience as an escort, or is that personal experience coming out?”
He gave a small smile. “A little bit of both. If there’s one thing people are good at, it’s lying to themselves. Hell, I bet if you were able to make people comfortable enough, they’d admit there are several things they keep from themselves.”
“Wait, how does that work?” I asked with a laugh. “How can you lie to yourself but be honest at the same time?”
“What, you’ve never told someone you were.
..I don’t know. Say you’ve been through something really terrible.
And it’s been a while since it happened, but you still have bad days.
Say someone you trust, like...Cade, were to ask you how you were feeling on a bad day.
Would you tell him you felt like curling up in a ball and staying there all night?
Or that you felt like crying all day? Or would you tell him it’s not a good day, but you’ll manage, or that tomorrow is a new day, or, this too shall pass, or any number of things that don’t give the full truth of what you’re feeling? ”
Jesus, I knew he was speaking about something general enough to be applied to anyone, but fuck, that felt too close to the truth. He definitely didn’t know he was that close, but it was still weird as hell.
“Alright,” I said. “You’ve got a good point. I wouldn’t tell him something like that. But then again, he and I don’t really need to—”
“Because you’re that close, or because you both have an implicit understanding about things like that?”
I stared at him and scoffed. “Are you going to tell me you’ve somehow come to the conclusion there’s something big in our lives?”
“I mean, if there wasn’t something wrong with either of you, or anyone staying here, me included, we wouldn’t need to be here, would we?
” he asked with a shrug. “I don’t know your past any more than you know mine.
But it’s a reasonably safe bet that either or both of you have been through something significant.
Maybe it was a lifetime of bad things, or maybe one big thing.
But it has to be something. And if you haven’t shared intimate details with him, or him with you, then perhaps it just comes from an understanding between two troubled people. ”
“We’re not troubled,” I scoffed. “I’m just here as a favor. I can get laid because this place has a weird habit of finding guys who like dick, even if they didn’t know it or admit it, that isn’t my fault. I’m just here to take advantage of it.”
There was a flicker of something on his face that made my chest give a guilty squeeze.
The look was gone before I could figure out what it was.
“So, no emotional hang-ups? No traumatic backstory that could be the reason you’re here?
No bad or unhealthy habits that could lead you to needing to be here for the help they offer? Nothing?”
“Nope,” I lied smoothly. Not because I thought there was nothing wrong with me.
He had been absolutely correct in believing that many people lied to themselves and were honest about the kind of things going on in their own heads; I was no exception.
I knew there was plenty wrong in my head, but it was my head, not his.
If anyone had to deal with the demons in my head, it would be me and no one else.
“Then I guess the people who wanted you here, you know, the ones you’re here as a favor to, are just overly cautious about your mental health,” he said with a smile.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone overreacted, right?”
“I suppose it wouldn’t. What a shame though.”
I watched him pick up his drink and make his way toward the door. “What’s a shame?”
“Around here, being horny for the love of the game is boring, don’t you think? But constantly horny and searching for dick because there’s something wrong with your head? That’s—”
“Interesting?” I finished with a snort. “Hoping I’m fucked up is kind of fucked up.”
“Well, I am here, aren’t I? Unlike you, most of us are here because we’re fucked up,” he said as he lingered in the doorway.
“And no, it wouldn’t make you interesting.
Trauma and sad stories don’t make people interesting; they just make them hurt and in need of help.
It would have made you more relatable, though.
If there’s anyone who knows what it’s like to have a complicated relationship with sex, it’s me.
But it seems you’re either in the wrong place, in denial, or refusing to admit there’s something wrong with you and you happen to be incredibly horny.
..so yes, what a shame. At least you have your looks. ”
It wasn’t often someone left me speechless, but Isaac did just that as he stepped out of the room with a little smirk, leaving me to wonder what exactly could be wrong with him.
He didn’t seem that much of a mess, but then again, a lot of the guys around here didn’t think there was anything wrong with me other than my perpetual boner.
And just what was that last look for? Was he trying to make me believe he knew more about me than I’d like? Or he at least suspected it?
No, that was paranoia talking. I didn’t like people knowing too much about me, and he was very good at making it sound like he knew more than he did.
Most likely, that was a trick he had learned from his time as an escort, so I didn’t need to worry excessively.
If anything, it reminded me how ‘psychics’ have been repeatedly busted, using general topics and getting more specific about someone when they were given enough information to keep generating more ‘visions’ or whatever to make it seem like they were all-knowing.
It was a parlor trick, nothing more. Maybe he used it to make people feel special or seen, or whatever.
It probably helped people feel more comfortable around him, or special enough that they paid him well.
And hell, I wasn’t going to hold it against him if that’s where he’d learned it.
If it were that effective, he’d probably made good money.
I was sure having someone as good-looking as him make you feel special was a quick way of getting into some rich client’s good graces.
It also meant I wasn’t going to obsess over what he might know or suspect about me, either.
God knew there was plenty in my head that I thought and obsessed about enough as it was; I didn’t need to add what someone else thought about me into the mix.
I’d done damn good the past few stays here, not fretting over what anyone thought of me, and I wasn’t going to start just because it came from someone who sounded wise and had nice legs.
“Damn, I forgot to see what his ass looked like,” I muttered in irritation.
I had been so distracted by his yoga skills and then talking to him that I’d forgotten to confirm my suspicions about the rest of his body.
Ah, well, it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to be seeing him for the next few weeks; that was plenty of time, and hell, I might get lucky and catch sight of his entire body in the locker room or springs.
Plus, even if he was only pulling some tricks, he was kind of fun to talk to and look at, so it was a nice enough combination that, given the chance, I would take advantage.
But for the present? Well, maybe I would see if Logan was feeling up to a little private time, or perhaps someone else...the day was young, after all.