Back in the Game by R.W. Clinger

Author:R.W. Clinger [Clinger, R.W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2015-10-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17: If You Change Your Mind

August 18–22, 20—

Tommy attempted to woo me. Every time I looked at him, he wore a rather boyish smile: U-shaped, wrinkleless, and plumpish red lips. A certain twinkle in his dirty-blue eyes told me that he thought me attractive as he tried to seduce me, which I thought juvenile, sweet, and attractive.

Strange but heartwarming events had happened in those few days after his Coffler bashing. I woke to a hot breakfast almost every morning. The apartment was spotless, and nothing was out of place. My dirty laundry was washed, and the floors were freshly waxed. The mail was brought in, and the windows were vinegar-fresh. Tommy did the grocery shopping, paid a few bills (with money that he had probably earned from his hustling), and purchased me the new Jacqueline Druga zombie best-seller that I had been meaning to read.

Tommy also complimented me regularly: I like your hair short like that, it makes you look sexy; your ass is perfect in those shorts, I have no complaints; you smell great, like peaches, I like that; your smile today reminds me of—

There were fresh flowers in the apartment: long-stem roses, peach-colored carnations, and a variety of orchids. Their aroma combined in my nostrils and warmed my senses. Fresh towels decorated the small bathroom: aqua-colored fluff that felt sensually tender following my ten-minute showers.

Tommy’s seduction was potent and relentless, although he had never touched me. The man wore very few clothes around the apartment. Sometimes he was clothed in a pair of white boxer-briefs that were snug against his inner thighs and outlined every curve on his lower region. I found myself drawn there, despite him being a hustler. He kept teasing me with his skin by leaving the bathroom door open while he showered or by sleeping naked in my bed, showcasing his limp cock and its bristly patch of blond pubic triangle. His physical regiment in the mornings afore breakfast included push-ups on the living room floor, which he executed with much precision. He did them naked from head to toe, flaunting his good looks, knowing that I didn’t have a boyfriend at the time. He teased me for all the wrong reasons.

I declared that Tommy had wanted me in the worst way near the last days of August. Any fool could have determined that detail. He pretty much made it clear to me that he didn’t want me to be one of his street clients; someone he collected money from for sexual favors. Rather, he wanted me as his lover, a certain bed-partner that was not asked to pay him for an hour in the sack or against a wall.

Sober, wide-eyed, and nervous, he explained to me, “I could never request cash from you, Shane. Your affection to me has grown into much more than that. What I want from you is romance. No games. You’d make the best boyfriend.”

Tommy pined for me in the worst way, but he seemed very indirect with his sexual advancements, almost confused.

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