“Of course…whatever you want.”
Jay let out a sigh. “Good. I didn’t want to think my horniness had spoiled things.”
Hunter touched Jay’s face. “You could never spoil things.”
* * * *
As he drove south on Lake Shore Drive, Jay Blackstock laughed, turned up the music, and signaled to get off at the Belmont exit. Over the pulsing Crystal Method CD blaring in his car, he shouted, “I need to get laid!”
He turned right on Halsted, heading toward Steamworks, which Jay thought of as Chicago’s finest bathhouse. 5