Post-sexed, I showered. StrangerBear had the cleanest bathroom I had ever seen in my entire life. After my shower, I slipped back into my clothes and studied him in semi-sleep on his bed. His eyes were partly closed, as well as his lips, and he had a weak look of pleasure smeared over his bearish face. The cock between his legs was limp and motionless. In his sleep, he murmured, “Alan, your money is on the night stand. Three hundred, right?”
What the fuck was he talking about? Money on the night stand? Three hundred dollars? My attention was drawn to the three hundred dollar bills on the walnut night stand next to a paperback copy of Naked: Musings from a Broken Heartby Willem Schutte. And then it struck me like a wall that StangerBear thought I was a guy by the name of Alan. A hustler of all things, hired to spend some cock-time with him. No wonder he called me that strange name during our heated connection just a half hour before.