Chapter 10

As he looked around, I showed him into a small bathroom connected to the main bedroom, the en suite where he could shower and shave and masturbate in private, or do whatever a young man does.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He opened the shower curtain, stepped inside, stepped back out, seemed pleased. “It’s better than anything I ever had in the Navy.”

“Good to know. I’m sure you’ve had better in Beverly Hills. You reek of family cash.”

He exited the bathroom area and stepped up to the bed where he would sleep and dream of threesomes and foursomes of naked men, and plopped down on his back: arms and legs wide like a snow angel, bulge in the center of his shorts, mounded and ready for mouth- or hand-use. “Trust me, I’m from the wrong side of the tracks. My parents aren’t loaded.”

“It can’t be so.”