Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) Read Online Free Page A

tonic. “Whoops. Not supposed to go there, right?”
    “Not unless you want us both to die of boredom. My mom taught dance and piano for thirty years. I was her first student for both. I gave up the piano ages ago, but she insisted I meet her for dance practice once a week. Thought knowing the rumba and the foxtrot would help me land a wife.”
    “Moms.” Andrew chuckled. “Mine tells everyone I’m studying for a real estate license. She doesn’t want folks to know what I actually do.” That anecdote was true, even if it pertained to Mrs. Reynolds’s despair over her son the actor, not her son the purported gay-for-pay escort. “How did your mom take it when you said you weren’t looking for a wife?”
    “I never told her.”
    “Oh. Well. The right moment will come, someday.”
    “Not in this life,” Cormac said. “She died last year.”
    Face growing hot, Andrew mumbled the usual response. Although Cormac accepted the condolences gracefully, something in his light green eyes told Andrew he’d touched a sore spot.
    “Oh, God.” Andrew sighed. “I’m the worst escort ever.”
    Cormac ignored that. “Slow dance,” he said as the band began a new song. “Up for it?”
    “Sure.”
    Soon Andrew found himself pressed close to Cormac, cheek against dark blue lapel as the other man began to lead. They were much too close. At first Andrew quelled his rising panic by forcing himself to breathe slowly.
    In, out. In, out. This is just a job. Just a job….
    Cormac kept their bodies close as they swayed. Rationally, Andrew knew he had no reason to panic or even be repulsed. Cormac smelled good. He was warm, handsome, and a good dancer. He was—
    Hard , Andrew realized, suddenly aware of the bulge in Cormac’s trousers. He couldn’t get away from it; it pressed against his belly no matter how he moved. Well. Maybe I’m not the world’s worst escort, after all.
    But try as he might, Andrew couldn’t feel triumphant. Just slightly nauseous. To endure the rest of the slow dance, he thought about Marie. Tomorrow he’d pick up some of her favorite Chinese takeout and try to coax her into eating….
    “You’re gorgeous,” Cormac murmured in his ear. “I could dance with you all night.”
    “Me, too,” Andrew managed, still uncomfortably aware of the other man’s erection. Jeez. How big is he?
    Another slow dance followed, which clearly suited Cormac just fine. Remembering the grope-a-thons from his high school days, Andrew waited miserably for Cormac’s hands to travel down. But they never moved below his waist.
    “You still seem a little nervous.” Cormac released Andrew as the song ended and the quartet rose to take a break.
    “I’m not. Really, I’m not,” Andrew said too rapidly. “I’m having a great time.” The phrase sounded even lamer aloud than it had in his head.
    Cormac grinned. “Oh, I can see that. Want another drink?”
    Andrew nodded. As Cormac went to the bar, Andrew conducted another inner pep talk, infuriated by his own squeamishness. He’d known he’d have to feign interest in another man, accept some touching, probably some kissing. The only way out was through.
    The third gin and tonic tasted crisper and was possibly even stronger. Andrew knocked half of it back, determined to make better conversation as they waited for the music to resume. Cormac was a good listener, nodding and frequently grinning as Andrew talked and talked. Starting with a funny story from acting class, Andrew segued into a long description of New York City as viewed by a native of Fort Scott, Kansas. Cormac didn’t hide his amusement. Once or twice he touched Andrew’s forearm again, a gesture Andrew began to suspect was more a politician’s habit than a gay pass. Even after the quartet started again, Andrew kept talking. He had another drink—had he asked for it?—and told a very dirty, riotous story about his first real date. There was something indiscreet about it, he wasn’t quite sure what,