Chapter 2

“I hate that. Can’t you be more original?”

“I’m not a writer like you, but I can be direct?”

“Yes, that works.”

Blake whispered what he wanted in Stan’s ear. Then he went back to kissing and tugging on one of Stan’s earlobes with his teeth.

“Oh, God, no. I never do that. Haven’t done it and won’t do it. Ever.”

“Really? Never?” Blake propped himself up on his elbows, his ardor apparently cooled by the softening of his erection.

“Come here.” Stan reached out and pulled him back. “But I’ll definitely do this.” He slid down and rested his head on Blake’s groin. “Prepare to be thrilled.” Then, unfortunately for both of them, he fell into a deep sleep.

* * * *

The morning sun filtered its rays through the Venetian blinds. Stan woke to an empty bed. He slipped on his robe and padded down the hall and into the kitchen.

Blake was cooking breakfast.

“I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t the best it could be. Last night. I mean Iwasn’t the best—”