Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) by T. Baggins Read Free Book Online

impulsively, Andrew was startled to discover they were warm.
    It’s a towel warmer . He’d heard of such things from other actors, those who’d known brief success before plummeting back to the bottom again. The sunken tub before him seemed equally dreamlike, decorated by dozens of creamy pillar candles, some tall and some short, all awaiting the flame.
    The toilet cover was down. Andrew sat on it, conscious of his nudity but not planning to linger for more than a moment or two. He had to pull himself together, then return to the party. What had any of those guests done to him, worse than the most fleeting of caresses? Once in a seedy club a girl had caught him from behind, cupping his butt with both hands while her friend knelt to kiss him through his trousers. Andrew hadn’t asked for the attention, hadn’t found either woman attractive or their caresses the least bit erotic. But he hadn’t gone to pieces because two drunken women had taken liberties. He’d simply disentangled himself and located a woman more to his taste.
    That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? My tastes.
    Andrew thought back to the last time he’d been with his occasional bed buddy, Monica. Emotionally, they weren’t compatible. Monica was moody, strident, and more than a little mean. But physically, their connection was as potent as matter and anti-matter. He adored her body, her curves, taking every chance to bury his face between her legs. He was brilliant at that sort of thing, every woman he’d ever been with had said as much. An artist with his tongue, savoring the smell, taste, sight….
    I love going down on them. I’ve never faked it, not with even one girl , Andrew thought, knowing it to be true. So why am I so scared of turning out to be a closet case?
    “Stage fright?” a resonant male voice asked.
    Andrew looked up. A man stood in the doorway. Somewhere between thirty and forty, the man had glossy black hair, deep brown skin and black eyes. His chin was firm, his lips red and sensuous.
    “Um… yeah.” Andrew resisted the impulse to cover himself with his hands. At least the man had a white towel tucked around his hips. “Is this your party?”
    The man smiled. “How could you tell?”
    “I’m an actor. When I’m not a party favor,” Andrew corrected, forcing a chuckle. “Anyway. You have the aura of a leading man. To me that says you own this house.”
    “I do. Paresh Choudhari,” the man said, offering Andrew his hand. “I throw these parties once a month. Tremendous networking. Men do things here they can’t quite recall later. Creates a bond between us, strange as that may sound.”
    “Andrew Reynolds.” Standing, Andrew accepted the other man’s hand, ridiculous as he felt while utterly on display. “Sorry I don’t have pants on.”
    “Don’t be. Call me Paresh. May I call you Andrew?”
    Andrew nodded.
    “I may as well confess. I’ve been watching you, Andrew,” Paresh said, wide eyes and fine white teeth mitigating what might otherwise have been a sinister admission. “I told Mr. Manuel to choose you for the example. You lived up to my suspicions. Then you fled the party.” He smiled again. “This is all new to you, isn’t it?”
    Andrew nodded again, wondering if he were insane to admit as much. At least when he’d spilled his guts to Cormac, he’d been drunk. Now he was taking his future into his own hands while stone cold sober.
    “There’s a phrase that may apply. Gay for pay.” Paresh stared hard into Andrew’s eyes. “Is that you? A straight boy at my party, stripping for money, trying to fool die-hard queers like me?”
    Andrew sighed. “Yeah.”
    Instead of looking angry, Paresh seemed all the more pleased. “Ah. I must admit. I have a delicious fantasy about a gay for pay boy like you.”
    It was on Andrew’s lips to ask what fantasy, but he didn’t dare.
    “Tell me. What is it about those men that disgusts you so much? That made you flee all the way back here?”
    Andrew