bed. It gets a little harder
every day, but today I'm meeting a client. A friend of mine, as a
matter of fact. I'm a freelance graphic designer, so I work from
home. Normally, I wouldn't schedule any appointments before a decent
hour--noon, say--but Drew is a morning person. It's annoying. Drove
me crazy when we were roommates and still does now, but hey, he's a
friend and I owe him a favor or two. It would be nice not to wake up
hard and lonely beforehand, but I just have to deal with it.
It's 6 a.m. Who gets
up this early? I grab some coffee, then go for a run, hoping exercise
will improve my current state of mind. It doesn't, though, and when I
get back I still have some time to kill. At least I have a few
minutes to pretend my dream lover is around while I jack off in the
shower. The brief moment of satisfaction doesn't last, though. Rarely
does, unfortunately.
I hear a car pull up
as I get dressed. Drew? I take a quick peek out the window as I pull
my jeans on. I don't recognize the grey car in the driveway, but I'd
know that face anywhere. Trust Drew to be early--I still have fifteen
minutes, damn it. All the same, I shove my irritation away as I get
ready for the appointment. I like him. We were good friends back in
college, but I haven't seen him in oh, a year or two I'd guess. He
moved to California after we got out of school and hasn't been around
in a while. I'm looking forward to seeing him again, especially since
he hinted that he might be moving back to North Carolina. Some part
of me hopes it'll be like old times, I suppose.
When he doesn't come
inside right away, I walk outside to meet him. He's in the car
fiddling with the radio or something, his hair falling down over his
eyes. Dark and shaggy the way I like it. Not many men can pull it off
the way he does, though. Content to watch for a moment, I wait to see
if he'll look up. He's ignoring me for some reason, though. Strange.
I rap on the window to get his attention and he looks up, flushed, a
guilty look in his green eyes. He's hiding something from me. What?
Be there in a
minute, he mouths at
me. I nod, frowning, and go back inside to wait for him. Ah, well.
Drew's not a very good liar, so if he's hiding something, I'll find
out what it is soon. One way or another.
I don't have room
for a dedicated office, so I've got everything set up in the kitchen.
Yeah, it's kind of unofficial, but I don't meet most of my clients in
person. These days, a few phone calls and e-mails are about all the
contact I have with people outside the pack. As I sort through my
files, fire up my laptop, and go over my notes, I wonder what the
hell's wrong with my old college friend. After a while, I look at the
time. Fifteen minutes have passed while I've been sitting here
waiting. Where's Drew? He wanted to meet at the crack of dawn, after
all--and yes, I think 7 a.m. qualifies as the crack of dawn. Sue me.
Leaning on the
table, I drum my fingertips on the surface in irritation. When the
door finally opens, though, it catches me off guard.
It's not the man who
stands so awkwardly in front of the door that catches my attention,
though the sudden kick of arousal I feel when he comes in is a
surprise. No, what really startles me is the scent that fills my
nostrils when he walks in. It's a familiar smell: slightly musky,
masculine, but with notes of cinnamon and an exotic spice I can't
name. That's the scent that haunts my dreams every night. Smelling it
here, now, can only mean one thing.
I lift my eyes to
meet the gaze of the man I've been dreaming about. Green eyes, wide
with apprehension. Does he realize that I know? Or is he nervous
about something else? With a groan, I lower my eyes. I want to be
angry, and I am, but at the same time I can't deny the desire that
surges through me. For nearly a year, I've fantasized about what I'd
do when my mate walked back into my life, but now that he's here I'm
paralyzed. I don't know what to say, and so for a long moment I
every day, but today I'm meeting a client. A friend of mine, as a
matter of fact. I'm a freelance graphic designer, so I work from
home. Normally, I wouldn't schedule any appointments before a decent
hour--noon, say--but Drew is a morning person. It's annoying. Drove
me crazy when we were roommates and still does now, but hey, he's a
friend and I owe him a favor or two. It would be nice not to wake up
hard and lonely beforehand, but I just have to deal with it.
It's 6 a.m. Who gets
up this early? I grab some coffee, then go for a run, hoping exercise
will improve my current state of mind. It doesn't, though, and when I
get back I still have some time to kill. At least I have a few
minutes to pretend my dream lover is around while I jack off in the
shower. The brief moment of satisfaction doesn't last, though. Rarely
does, unfortunately.
I hear a car pull up
as I get dressed. Drew? I take a quick peek out the window as I pull
my jeans on. I don't recognize the grey car in the driveway, but I'd
know that face anywhere. Trust Drew to be early--I still have fifteen
minutes, damn it. All the same, I shove my irritation away as I get
ready for the appointment. I like him. We were good friends back in
college, but I haven't seen him in oh, a year or two I'd guess. He
moved to California after we got out of school and hasn't been around
in a while. I'm looking forward to seeing him again, especially since
he hinted that he might be moving back to North Carolina. Some part
of me hopes it'll be like old times, I suppose.
When he doesn't come
inside right away, I walk outside to meet him. He's in the car
fiddling with the radio or something, his hair falling down over his
eyes. Dark and shaggy the way I like it. Not many men can pull it off
the way he does, though. Content to watch for a moment, I wait to see
if he'll look up. He's ignoring me for some reason, though. Strange.
I rap on the window to get his attention and he looks up, flushed, a
guilty look in his green eyes. He's hiding something from me. What?
Be there in a
minute, he mouths at
me. I nod, frowning, and go back inside to wait for him. Ah, well.
Drew's not a very good liar, so if he's hiding something, I'll find
out what it is soon. One way or another.
I don't have room
for a dedicated office, so I've got everything set up in the kitchen.
Yeah, it's kind of unofficial, but I don't meet most of my clients in
person. These days, a few phone calls and e-mails are about all the
contact I have with people outside the pack. As I sort through my
files, fire up my laptop, and go over my notes, I wonder what the
hell's wrong with my old college friend. After a while, I look at the
time. Fifteen minutes have passed while I've been sitting here
waiting. Where's Drew? He wanted to meet at the crack of dawn, after
all--and yes, I think 7 a.m. qualifies as the crack of dawn. Sue me.
Leaning on the
table, I drum my fingertips on the surface in irritation. When the
door finally opens, though, it catches me off guard.
It's not the man who
stands so awkwardly in front of the door that catches my attention,
though the sudden kick of arousal I feel when he comes in is a
surprise. No, what really startles me is the scent that fills my
nostrils when he walks in. It's a familiar smell: slightly musky,
masculine, but with notes of cinnamon and an exotic spice I can't
name. That's the scent that haunts my dreams every night. Smelling it
here, now, can only mean one thing.
I lift my eyes to
meet the gaze of the man I've been dreaming about. Green eyes, wide
with apprehension. Does he realize that I know? Or is he nervous
about something else? With a groan, I lower my eyes. I want to be
angry, and I am, but at the same time I can't deny the desire that
surges through me. For nearly a year, I've fantasized about what I'd
do when my mate walked back into my life, but now that he's here I'm
paralyzed. I don't know what to say, and so for a long moment I
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