Chapter 12

“Yeah, tonight. I want to take you out for a drink and some conversation. We can dance, if you want.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Maybe I can show you.”

I continued to shake my head.

He…he stared at my hard and wet pecs, studying everything about them. Then his view dropped to my navel and wet strings of blond hair beneath it. He pointed to the towel and playfully said, “Maybe you can show me what’s under that towel someday.”

“Maybe I’m a gentleman and won’t,” I told him, wondering how many fruit baskets he had given out in the last week to ever Tom, Dick, and Harry.

What I didn’t tell him: I had just dreamed that morning about having unbelievable sex with him on his office desk.

What I wanted to tell him: the dream had given me the hardest morning wood I had probably ever sported.

“Suit yourself, Mark. I’ll still like you if you won’t.”

I don’t know why I thanked him for the fruit basket, but did.

“Did you like it?” he asked.