You Get What You Paid For Ch. 03

Adam holds the die in his hands, shaking them repeatedly as he closes his eyes. "C'mon, baby, gimme a five," he begs before tossing them on the board. He looks distraught, and I just laugh at the snake eye's he just rolled. "Are you fucking kidding?"

"Maybe this just isn't your game," I tease, scooping up the dice to take my turn.

"This is rigged," he suggests, grinning as he watches me. "Those are loaded."

"I think you're just unlucky," I say with a smile, and I burst out laughing when I roll the five he has so desperately needed for the past seven turns. He playfully curses me out as I move my pieces. We've been playing a couple rounds of Backgammon in my bed, both still naked after a long, much-needed fuck. After we finished, he asked if he could stay a little longer since he has to see another client that lives nearby. There was an awkward amount of time between the end of my session and the beginning of his next encounter -- too much time to head over early, and not enough time to go back to his apartment and then come back in this direction. Of course I let him stay. Anything to spend more time with him. We whipped out the Backgammon board on a whim, and though I'm not exactly amazing at this game, Adam has somehow managed to be stuck in jail for quite some time.

"Can I just forfeit?" he asks.

I laugh. "You're giving up?" I ask, and when he just gives me a look while gesturing to the board, I see that it's clear that I'm going to win. I just bite my lip a bit. "I see your point."

"Bastard," he mutters with a grin. "Remind me to never play board games with you ever again," he adds as he shifts onto his back, giving me ample opportunity to study his naked form. I feel my mouth get wet again, still finding myself as attracted to him as I was the first night I saw him. Somehow he looks so sensually elegant wearing nothing but that thin gold chain of his.

"Don't be like that," I say, still sitting Indian-style in front of the board, smiling at him. Then, I ask a question that has suddenly crossed my mind. "Do you ever take that thing off?"

He glances at me before he realizes what I'm referring to. "This?" he asks, tugging on his chain. Then he laughs a little. "Nah, not really."

"Is it special?"

"Sort of." He smiles slightly. "It's kind of all I have left of my mom."

I feel something get caught in my throat, and I freeze a bit. Not more tragedy. "Adam..."

"Don't you dare go all sad on me," he says, smiling. "It happened a long, long time ago."

I try not to feel down, but my heart goes out to him. "How old were you?"

"Five," he says. "Took me a bit to understand really what happened."

"What happened?" I ask tentatively.

He looks at me. "Car accident," he says. "My brother and I became orphans" -- here, he snaps his fingers -- "just like that."

I wince. "You mean... your dad--?"

"Yep," he says, nodding. "Lost them both."

"Fucking Christ," I mutter, looking away. This poor kid. I can't even imagine having your parents taken from you at such a young age. It makes me question whether or not I'm allowed to say that I don't really have parents either, a phrase I so cavalierly toss around whenever the subject of moms and dads come up. Being estranged is not the same as being orphaned.

I see Adam's hand reach over to touch my knee. "It's okay, Teddy. Really." When I look at him, I see that he's smiling slightly.

"It's just... tragic," I say.

"I made it out okay, though," he says. "It was hard on my brother, but... we had each other. And my grandparents raised us pretty well."

I bite my lip. "Do you miss them?"

"I don't really remember them, to be honest," he admits softly, glancing at me as he tugs on his chain. "Is that bad?"

"I mean, you were so young," I say.

"True," he says with a nod before shrugging. "Still." Then, all of a sudden, he sits up quickly, craning his neck to check the clock on my nightstand. "Shit, I'm gonna be late."

I glance at the time and nod. He's pushing it, but I don't say anything because I don't want him to regret hanging out with me for a little bit longer. Off the clock, no less. "Need anything?" I ask as he swings himself off the bed, looking for his clothes.

"I think I'm good," he says, pulling on his shirt first before picking up his pants and scanning the floor curiously. "Where the hell is my underwear?"

"Check the living room," I suggest, smiling slightly. That's where things started, though I can't exactly remember how we got undressed. It was all a blur. A sexy, passionate blur.

"But my pants were right here," he says, looking confused before he shakes his head. "Whatever." He pulls on his tight-fitting jeans, stuffing his cock in before zipping up. "If you find them..." Then he laughs, probably thinking I'll do something pervy with them. Which he's right about. "Just let me know."

I blush but smile. "I will," I say, meaning it. They're a nice pair of underwear, that's for sure. Probably expensive. Maybe I'll wash them for him when I find them... after I jerk off with them, of course.

"Thanks." He smiles and then comes around to the side of the bed before reaching over to grab me. He gives me a quick half-hug and then kisses my cheek. "Bye, Teddy Bear," he teases, chuckling to himself as he leaves my bedroom.

"Bye," I call out, feeling the smile stretch across my lips as I listen to him pull on his boots and head out the front door. Once that door closes, though, there's silence. It's a heavy silence that screams about loneliness, and it slaps the smile right off my face. I sigh heavily. Watching him go and knowing where he's going makes my stomach turn a little, and as I fall back onto the bed, I try my best not to cry.

~ ~ ~

"You look down."

I glance up at Clark, who, while scrubbing one of my dirty plates, is staring at me curiously. "Do I?" I ask stupidly.

"Up, down, sideways." Clark smiles gently before placing the plate in the drying rack next to all the other dishes of mine that he's so graciously done for me. And what am I doing? Sitting opposite the island sink and resting my face moodily against my fist. "What's going on, Cub?" he asks, using his nickname for me to soften me up.

I've been dying to tell Clark about Adam for a while now. I've seen Adam multiple times a week for the past month, and every time I see him, I get both happier and more depressed. It's like I'm stretching myself in two different directions. Negatives aside, we've really gotten to know each other. In general, when we're together, we act kind of like old friends. But the sex feels hopelessly romantic to me, which makes our encounters feel like dates where I can pretend we're lovers. Then, as soon as he's gone, I know he's off to fuck someone else, to make someone else feel wanted, and try as I might to think about it rationally, it still hurts.

It's killing me, honestly. There's always that part of me that foolishly believes things will work out for me. For us. And it doesn't help that I feel this weird shame about it. It's not something I really want to talk about out loud since it's taboo enough for me to look weird and stupid enough for me to look dumb. But Clark is perceptive. He's noticed how up and down I've been lately. I guess, in the end, I'm not necessarily afraid that he'll judge me. I'm more afraid of him telling me what I need to hear: that it has to end.

I sigh heavily. Fuck it. I have to tell him eventually, don't I? "I have a confession," I say, biting my lip a bit.

Clark looks intrigued before he laughs. "This isn't church."

"You sure, Father?" I ask with a slight grin.

He chuckles before doing the sign of the cross over me. "Three Hail Marys, and a young boy of your choosing," he jokes.

Both of us burst out into laughter before I shake my head. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

"Just tryin' to lighten the mood," he says, grabbing one of the bigger pots at the bottom of the sink and pouring some dish soap into it. "Now tell me. What's going on?"

I look down at my hands for a moment before I speak. "I... um... I paid someone."

"Paid someone?"

I clear my throat. "For sex." His eyes shoot right to mine, and I can tell he's surprised. Then, I start rambling. "Well, technically for time, since he's an escort, not really a prostitute, so I paid him to like, be with me, I guess, but sex was part of the deal, and... we had sex. A lot." I say this all very fast, as if I'm making excuses. Really, I'm just ashamed to say it out loud.

Thankfully, he doesn't say anything judgmental. "Okay." He pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. "So, what, you're ashamed you hired a hooker? Is that it?"

I take a quick cooling breath before shaking my head. "No." That's not all. I have to clear my throat again before I can keep speaking. "He... um... I think I'm in love with him," I admit.

Clark's initial reaction is to be excited for me. He's been dying for me to date and explore and fall in love again, so those words are probably music to his ears. But then I think he realizes the context and how compromising this situation can be, and his smile falters. "Oh."

I can't help but laugh shortly. "Yeah. And," I add, holding my finger up, "he's straight."

Clark frowns, slumping slightly. "Teddy..."

"I know, I know," I say, running my fingers through my hair.

"You're digging yourself a grave," he says, giving me a stern look. "You know how escorting works."

"I know, Clark," I say bitterly, sighing. "I just kept seeing him and... I got caught up in it." I start to ramble a bit about Adam: how we met, how sweet he is, how I feel when we have sex, how often we've seen each other...

Clark cuts me off eventually though. "He's just doing his job, Cub."

"Yeah, but..." I don't really have a response for that, because he's right. Adam's just doing his job. "I just wish..."

"I know," he says. "He sounds great, really, but... Well, you know what I'm going to say," he says with a slight smile.

"That I should stop seeing him."

"Bingo." He sighs, glancing at the pot in his hand before he starts to scrub. "You have to forget about him, sport. It's best for both of you."

"But what if I just told him how I feel?"

"No," Clark says sharply, looking at me hard. He seems more serious this time because he's giving me his undivided attention. "Don't do that."

"Why n--?"

"You might be a treasured client, but don't kid yourself in thinking that you're emotionally significant to him. This is his job. And you can't ask him to give that up." It hurts to hear those words, especially with the paternal way he's saying them. But Clark is just looking out for me. He's always my voice of reason, even if reason isn't what I want. "Plus, it's not safe," he adds, continuing to scrub. "What if he exploits your feelings? He could take advantage of you financially, socially, morally--"

"He wouldn't do that," I say, quick to jump to his defense. I believe it, though. Adam already made severe adjustments to my bill. I can't imagine it's all part of this elaborate scheme to rob me.

But Clark is understandably not convinced. "Do you know that for sure?" he asks, squinting slightly, and when I don't respond, he just sighs, softening a bit. "I'm just looking out for you."

"I know, Pop," I say, and he smiles gently.

"C'mere," he says, rinsing the soap off his hands before beckoning me over.

"What?"

"C'mere," he insists. I sigh but hop off my chair and go around the island, and I smile when he opens his arms to me. I walk into them without hesitation, closing my eyes as he holds me. I feel so comfortable in his arms. Safe. "You deserve so much joy, Teddy."

He's going to make me cry if he doesn't shut up. I just shift my head so that the front of my face is pressed firmly against his chest, taken back to all those times when I was a teenager strung out on heroin, aimless and homeless. The only positive constant in my life were Clark's hugs. "It just sucks. I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid," he says, rubbing my back and my hair. "You're hurting."

He's right. That's probably why I was so quick to let myself get swept up in all that is Adam. "I don't want to give him up," I admit.

"It might be best for you in the long run," Clark says gently before we pull back. He starts fixing my hair for me. "Ultimately it's your choice. But just think about it long and hard for me, okay?"

I sniffle a bit. "Okay."

He smiles a little before leaning against the island a bit as he looks at me. "At least we know you're ready to get back out there."

I don't know if he's exactly right about that, but I just shrug. "I guess."

"What if you just jump into something new? Something real?" he asks, emphasizing the word "real." Then he slaps my chest as a sudden thought comes to mind. "You should finally go out with my nephew!"

I roll my eyes again. "Not this again," I say, groaning. He's been saying this for almost a year.

"What? You guys get along fine."

"Isn't he like, twelve?" I joke.

"He's nineteen, dumbass."

"Still too young for me," I say, shaking my head.

Clark sighs through his nose, giving in. "Fine. But let me set you up with someone."

"Who?"

He seems to think for a moment before he smiles a little secretively. "I know the perfect guy."

"Who?" I repeat, more firmly this time.

"His name is Jackson," he says. "That's all I'm gonna tell you."

I blink. "Seriously?"

He sees how skeptical I look and he takes my arms in his hands. "You'll like him. Trust me."

Clark has never really been wrong, nor has he ever not had my best interests in mind. So I'm inclined to trust him, even if I don't love the idea of a blind date. "Whatever," I mumble. "I'll meet him. But no promises."

He chuckles. "You say that now..."

~ ~ ~

Waiting outside the restaurant just makes me think back to the first time I took Adam out. I stood there as awkwardly as I'm currently standing, wearing the same blazer. This time, though, I'm not as fussy about my outfit as I was when I was meeting up with Adam since I've kept everything casual underneath: simple t-shirt, classic jeans, and comfy shoes. That being said, I'm still a little bit nervous about meeting this stranger. What am I in for?

It doesn't help that I have no idea who to expect. I don't even know what this guy looks like. Clark didn't give me even the vaguest detail, so every time a guy passes by me, I make mildly-uncomfortable eye contact with him in the hopes that he'll say "Teddy?" and smile. But I've looked into over a dozen sets of eyes so far, and none have been inviting. Did this guy stand me up? Did Clark show this Jackson character a picture of me, causing him to run a mile in the opposite direction? Am I that undesirable?

"Ted?"

I spin around a little too fast, almost completely losing my footing, and a tall form of a man quickly grabs hold of my arms to keep me from falling. I say form because I can't see his face -- not until I crane my neck to look up.

"Careful there," he says with a deep laugh.

I feel my eyebrows raising as I look at him. I'm surprised that he's so handsome. In fairness, it seems like all of Clark's associates are attractive in their own right, but I didn't expect Jackson to be THIS good-looking. He has dark hair tied up in a topknot, striking hazel eyes, a full, groomed beard, and a dazzling set of teeth. Damn, Clark. Not bad.

"Sorry," I say, laughing out of embarrassment.

"All good." He looks me up and down with a smile when I step back.

"Jackson, is it?" I ask.

"Jackson it is," he says with a grin.

I don't know if we should hug or shake hands. I opt on the latter, and immediately regret it, but I have to roll with it. "Have you, uh, been here before?" I ask.

"Never," he says, glancing up at the sign. "Though it's been on my list for a while."

"Right," I say, swallowing thickly. I hate feeling so nervous. He looks so calm and collected, but I guess it's easy to feel secure when you look that good. "Let's go in."

The host grabs menus for us both and then escorts us to a table right by the window. Once seated, a young waitress swoops in with clean glasses and pours water for each of us. "Would you like anything else to drink?" she asks sweetly.

Jackson looks at me as if to tell me I should go first. "I'm good with water," I tell her. Jackson nods and smiles and says the same thing, and she takes her leave to let us check out the menus. Whenever I'm at a Vietnamese restaurant, I always gravitate towards bok choy. With that in mind, I open the menu and nearly knock over my water in the process. Then, just a few seconds later, I nearly knock the glass over again just reaching for it to take a sip. I have to sit back and take a breath, laughing at myself. "Sorry. I'm really nervous."

He chuckles amicably. "First blind date?"

I wince. "How could you tell?" I say sarcastically before laughing. "I don't do this much."

"I'm with you there," he says. "But Clark said some pretty nice things about you, so I had to check you out for myself."

I snort. "Disappointed yet?"

"Not in the slightest," he says, smiling. "I was actually pretty nervous until I saw you."

I bite my lip a bit. "Well, I'm not exactly intimidating, so I get that."

He grins a little wider. "It's not that," he says. "I was just afraid you weren't going to be attractive." I blush a little, my face getting warm, so I busy myself with my drink for a moment. It requires intense focus so that I don't embarrass myself for a third time with this damn drink. "So tell me about you, Teddy," he says, leaning in a bit.

"Apparently you already know stuff about me."

"All I know is that you're a sweet, smart, sensual guy who's been out of the dating pool for a while."

I blink. "Clark said 'sensual'?"

"He might have said 'sensitive'," he says, correcting himself. Both of us laugh. "Something with an 's'."

I smile, looking down at my hands for a moment before shrugging. "Well, he's right. I... don't really get out much."

"Any particular reason?"

I shrug. "The dating scene is kinda terrifying."

Jackson laughs bitterly. "God, I wish that weren't true," he says, shaking his head. "It's ugly out there. It's like there are a bunch of civil wars going on. Tops fight tops, bottoms fight bottoms..."

I can't help but chuckle a little, envisioning a bunch of hungry bottoms fighting to the death for the conquest. "More people should be versatile."

He smiles. "I agree," he says, and his tone takes such a sexy shift that I feel myself tensing a bit. Frankly, his voice is turning me on.

"You strike me as a more dominant person, though," I point out.

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a feeling."

"Good lookin' out," he says with a slight grin before nodding. "Yeah, I'd say I'm pretty dominant in most situations. Even if I'm, uh, giving it up."

I have to take a sip of water to distract myself from the image of him power bottoming. Is it hot in here? I'm hot in here. "So, what do you do for work?" I ask, changing the subject.

Conversation flows pretty smoothly between us. I learn that he's somewhat of an artist who works in production for plays ("NOT musicals. Fuck musicals. I'm probably way too snobby for musicals."), and when he's not doing theater, he volunteers at churches. He was big into his faith when he was younger, and that was of course thrown into question when he realized he was gay. But he went back as a supporter of sorts. "I mean, there are kids and adults who go to church every day still that need the right sort of guidance," he says, "not to be shamed and driven away." I smile when he speaks about his work with the church and "reworking the beast from the inside." I find it exceptionally noble and honest of him. It speaks to his character, which, after a short dinner, I'm already fond of.

I wasn't expecting it, but we sleep together after our first date. Once the bill is paid, he asks me if I'd like to see what he's been working on, since the theater is just half a dozen blocks away. We take a walk together as I feed him small portions of my life to give him a little insight. He's very attentive and asks a lot of non-traditional questions, which I find refreshing.