Chapter eight Trey
Chapter eight
Trey
Iflick on my blender the next morning, trying to drown out my tumultuous thoughts.
I can't help replaying last night's events over and over in my head on a loop.
I barely slept last night. But I can't figure out why a single night with Gareth has thrown off my normally calm and controlled mind.
I work hard to manage my mind, my emotions, and my body.
My body and my mind are how I put food on the table.
My ability to emotionally regulate myself helps me regulate my clients.
Some of my clients just want a connection, the intimacy that comes from being completely open and honest with another human being.
Whether that's with their stories or their bodies.
The human connection that we all crave. A friend with a shoulder to lean on, to feel vulnerable with, a safe person to share one's deepest secrets.
Some of my clients just want to get in, get off, and leave again. But I've been blessed enough to be able to be picky with my client list and have politely fired those clients who don't value human connection and intimacy.
And then there's Gareth.
Fuck! Why has he thrown me off so much? He's physically attractive, but then so are a lot of my clients. My clients are all shapes, sizes, and colors, and I can find something attractive about all body types and facial features. Honestly, I'm more attracted to someone's personality than their body.
Maybe that's why images of Gareth have been filtering through my brain on repeat.
The shy look on his face when he came out of the shower.
The way he trapped his lower lip in his teeth.
The way he looked when he came. The way he went down on me.
How eager he was for my praise. Flashes of last night have been ruminating in my brain all night and into the morning.
I need to go for a long run to be able to clear these thoughts.
I have a photoshoot this evening and another client three days from now. I need to find my center again before then. I can't have images or memories of Gareth interrupting a session. Every client deserves me to be one hundred percent present and in tune with their needs and desires.
I flick my blender off with a little more force than necessary.
I chug my protein smoothie and tie my shoes on for a run.
I shouldn't run after eating so much, but I'll take a stomach ache over the fear that's creeping in that maybe Gareth isn't like my other clients.
That our night together was different. It wasn't. He needed a safe space and a safe person to explore his sexuality, and I was able to give him that.
Pretty damn well, if you ask me.
Pride made my chest swell last night, that he greenlit every step of the way. That I made him feel comfortable enough, safe enough, to push his boundaries. Before I left, he was already talking about another session. I'm expecting a new deposit any day now.
A flash of how eagerly he wrapped his lips around my cock nearly steals my breath away as I open my front door.
I close my door behind me, jogging down my front stairs and hitting the pavement. I regulate my breathing, my foot falls, my arms swinging. In complete control. I should be able to put in five miles if I keep this pace.
As I run, I get a grip on my mind. Gareth's not different.
He's just another client. It was just his trust and vulnerability that I found so attractive.
He should have no reason to trust me. I decided to trust him at the dinner we shared.
Everyone deserves a chance to remake themselves and not be burdened by past mistakes.
But he doesn't know that. He shouldn't have trusted me the way he did.
Bottoming is the most vulnerable position a man can take.
Trusting your partner not to rush you, not to hurt you, to put your needs first. It couldn't possibly be more vulnerable.
And I could see how nervous he was. He was terrified, but he trusted me not to hurt him anyway.
I wonder why.
Why would he trust me with this?
It's not just sex. It's not just his body. It's his identity as a human being. As a gay man. Why would he trust me to take care of him?
I shake my head. It doesn't matter why. It's the fact that he did, I'm sure, that had me tossing and turning all night.
He should have expected me to take my revenge - to get him back or embarrass him for what he did to me in high school.
I certainly wouldn't have had the balls to bottom someone I bullied, even if it was a decade ago.
I wouldn't have the balls to even ask them to.
He may have been nervous, but he's a braver man than I am. Being able to make a mistake, apologize for it, ask for forgiveness, and then hand your body over to that person takes real guts. I'm impressed.
And then to want to reciprocate. He paid for my time and still cared enough to make sure I got off. Why would he do that? Just for the experience? So he can practice for another man.
Ew. A sick, gross feeling lands in my stomach at the idea of him going down on another man. Must be the smoothie. For sure, it's not jealousy. I can't be jealous. He's not mine. I don't date. And if I did, I'm not sure it would be with someone like Gareth Brockman.
But would it be? What type of man would I want to date if I decided to give up escorting?
Gareth's hopeful blue eyes slam forefront into my mind again. Fuck!
I'd want someone softer than me. Someone I could take care of. Someone sweet. Someone smart. Someone kind. Someone I'd want to fall asleep next to every night and wake up with every morning.
Damnit. The ache in my lungs isn't from running, now, it's from imagining a life I'm not sure I could ever have.
Would a man like that want to settle down with a man like me?
Am I not finding that man because I'm busy escorting?
What's the saying? That you need to make space in your life for the things you want?
Otherwise, the universe won't provide?
Is that something I'm willing to do? To give up escorting and helping people in order to have a partner in life?
I do envy what Jamie and Eve have, but I'm not sure I want to put the work in to a relationship right now. And they take work. And sacrifice. Eve gave up escorting most of her clients for Jamie. Because he deserves a partner who is committed sexually as well as mentally and emotionally.
I could shift my effort to my photography business and be able to support a partner.
The miles tick by as sweat slicks my skin, but after mile five, when I'm stomping back up my stairs, my mind is no more settled than it was when I left.
Now the questions rolling around my head aren't 'why can't I stop thinking about him?
'. They're bigger, more existential questions.
They're now 'am I in the right place in my life to prioritize a partner?
' and 'do I even know how to love someone the way that they deserve?
' and 'why, in my mind, does that future partner look a lot like Gareth Brockman? "