Wednesday, December 26, 2018

Played For Pay

An older man, a young escort--can they find love against all odds? Coming January -


“I’m paid to be an escort. Nothing more. Anything extra is my choice and if it does happen—they will pay for it.”

Banyon Jameson loves his lifestyle. He likes money, makes lots of it as an escort, and he enjoys time with a variety of men in beautiful places. Ban, twenty-six, prides himself on being manipulative with an ability to talk his way out of most situations, especially those involving sex.

“I’m willing to pay my escort for ‘extra’ services, but it’d be a big mistake to fall for this pretty bastard wearing red silk panties.”

Stanton Kavanaugh, late forties, extremely wealthy, and told he’s handsome. Those very close know he’s gay, Stanton just doesn’t advertise it to the world. None have knowledge of his predilection for young, beautiful men. Single, eligible, he pays for companionship to ease loneliness engulfing his life and it works until Banyon Jameson answers his phone call to Brief Knights.

A young escort, an older man, and a pair of red silk underwear!

MM Romance

       “He is hot,” Hunter uttered as Ban checked out Stanton Kavanaugh. “If you decide no, please tell him you have the ideal match.”
“I’m it, trust me. “Ban sipped brandy slowly taking in the client. His styled, almost black hair with gray touching the temples was longer and slightly curling at the neck. Hard to tell, but he hoped for blue eyes which would grow appreciatively darker when…
He faced Hunt. “Hmm?” A big man but not out of shape large. Maybe a tad taller and heavier than Hunter. “Wish he’d stand and stretch or something.”
“Go meet him already. He’ll rise when you shake hands. I’d like to get going.”
“Let me watch a bit longer, see if he has any idiosyncrasies.”
“I’m fine standing here drooling.”
Soft lighting above the booth’s table showed Stanton Kavanaugh’s suit jacket fit flawlessly. A few shades lighter than navy complimented a sun-kissed tan. Long legs stretched out and a single strap monk shoe peeked from beneath the table. Hard to tell color. God, let them be brown. Blue would be too matchy-matchy, black spelled overdressed when paired with royal blues unless the occasion was formal.
One finger repeatedly tapped a glass in front of him. A nervous tic.
Making his way back to the man’s face, Ban sighed and didn’t care it audibly slipped out. “That face plastered across town on every billboard and gay men, all men, will flock to them as if he’s the messiah.”
“You’re nuts. Get your skinny behind over there. I don’t have all night waiting for you to be comfortable.”
“I’m good, you can scoot.”
Hunt eyed Ban. “You sure?”
“If he kills me, I won’t care if he lets me kiss those breathtaking lips first.”
“Ban, ring me in the morning?”
Something they always did for each other. “Promise.” Escorts led a perilous existence as you never knew what psycho might get his hands on a credit card and order up a hunk to slaughter. Ban liked his body parts where they were. “I’ll be home to pack in the morning. See you then.”
“Take care, man.”
Two rows of tables separated the bar from window booths. Banyon threaded through and stopped a foot from the table. “Stanton Kavanaugh?”
“You and your friend decided I look sane and harmless?”
“I’m Banyon.” No last names. If a client got hooked on an escort, it’d be difficult to locate them without it, though, not impossible. He tilted his head. “Sane? Probably. Harmless? I seriously doubt it.”
“I see.” Finger still tapped. “Have a seat.”
He didn’t get up. Darn!
Goddamn beautiful! Stanton had observed both young men wondering which would walk his way. He’d prayed for the shorter brunette who was slender, not muscular as his friend was, and pretty didn’t quite do justice as a description. His outfit screamed fashionable. Midnight blue trousers, a white V-neck covered by a sedate gray jacket with sleeves effectively pushed up showing just a bit of shirt cuff. Navy wingtip with what looked like gray suede. Damn, I hoped for more flamboyance. Stanton didn’t fear effeminate men, felt no way less of a man because of his attraction.
Still, this fucker is sharper than hell. And I love it! Stanton took pride in his attire and appreciated men who dressed well.
Sooty lashes any woman would covet, blinked over brown eyes the color of barrel aged whiskey.
Magic will happen anywhere he puts those lips.
“I play black jack, maybe catch a show. Generally, I’m not going to do a damn thing. This trip is for me to unwind. Are you interested?”
“At your service.”
“I haggle over contracts for a living and prefer it not be such a drawn-out process in my private life.”
“I get that.”
“Might the likelihood exist for a bonus?”
“That possibility always exists, Stanton.”
The answer he expected. Realizing his fingertip rapped against a glass, Stanton curled and flattened his fist on the table. “I’d send a limo under normal circumstances but I’ll see you at LAX. Nine sharp.” He pulled out his wallet, extracted a card that contained his name and number only. Stanton pushed it across the table. “Contact me when you arrive. Doesn’t matter which gate.”
“Call me Kav.” He stood and stepped to where Banyon sat. “I won’t bet on who is harmless in this equation.” Caressing his escort’s face, running a thumb along pouty lips, Stanton said, “You’re fucking beautiful and I don’t doubt you could hurt a man badly.”
Tall, big, and that voice! Low, calm, and filled with seduction. Goodness, forget talking a nun out of panties, he might convince the devil to turn heat off in Hell. 
Banyon did not fool himself his client would be easy. This man would quietly persuade, smoothly compel whatever he deigned necessary out of any transaction. Ban hadn’t miscalculated. Stanton… Kav, was a force to be reckoned with but he got the right man for the challenge.

Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out. - J. Hali Steele

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