A Kind of Truth (9 page)

I chuckled and tugged gently at his hair. “I don’t think we can do that. I’m too curious. Tell me about you… no, don’t be shy. I bet I’ve got a story or two to make yours seem pretty damn tame.”

Will rolled to his side and snorted. “I’m sure you do. Look, I don’t think I’m ready to—”

“I know you said that guy isn’t your boyfriend, but were you meeting him the other night?”

“The other night?”

“I saw you on the subway a couple nights ago wearing a long black coat over a blue dress. I just wasn’t sure it was you until I saw you at the bar last night.”

“What were you doing there anyway? You told me you were straight.”

I sucked in a deep breath and released it in a rush. “Actually I told you I wasn’t gay. I’m bi. I suppose it was a lie of omission. I’m sorry.”

“A lie of omission,” he repeated with a derisive snort. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. But why? I told you I was gay. Why lie at all?”

“It’s… complicated, but—” I pulled at his arm when he moved away from me. “I’ll try to explain. First, tell me who the guy is.”

“A friend.”

“Do you work for him?”

“Kind of.”

“Will, talk to me. I know I have some explaining to do, but I’m your friend.” I wanted to add that I was younger and better-looking than the bald man, but I didn’t think he was in the mood. I bit the inside of my cheek and considered how to plead my case. “I know a middle-of-the-night hand job isn’t a major declaration, but the guy I hired to tutor me in guitar didn’t strike me as A) the type to give them freely or B) the type to have a dress or two in his closet. I swear, you can trust me. Maybe you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

He gave me a lopsided smile that wasn’t particularly friendly. “I don’t need a psychologist. I’m nuts and I know it. Explaining crazy is harder than being crazy.”

“All right, then, I’ll try to figure this out on my own.” I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. “You’re an escort, and that guy is your pimp or your customer or—well, am I hot or cold?”

Will stared at me for a long moment before answering. “Lukewarm.”

“Huh? Which part was right? Are you an escort? Do you get paid to dress in drag? Is that guy your sugar daddy? Come on! You’re killing me here!”

Will made a face of exaggerated discomfort. Or maybe it was real. A nicer guy might have backed off or assured him he didn’t have to share anything that made him uncomfortable. That wasn’t me. I was known only for selective bouts of kindness, and I was too damn curious to let this go. How could I? My mild-mannered, nerdy guitar teacher was a cross-dressing escort on the side.

“You’re awfully dramatic.”

“I thought you were a geek. A sexy geek, but a geek nonetheless. I wasn’t prepared for the real you.”

Will smiled. “A sexy geek? I’m flattered. I think. I’m not a mystery, Rand. Not really. I’m still the guy who wears glasses and would rather play guitar or piano than talk. But everyone has more than one side to them, right?”

“Not like that! If you told me you liked to sew in your spare time, I would have thought it was odd but not completely wild. This isn’t a matter of having a variety of interests. It’s more like having a split personality.”

“Which do you prefer?”

His tone was low and provocative. I studied him for a moment, wondering if he was trying to throw me off track. He held my gaze with a quiet confidence that rattled me more than I wanted to admit.

“I like them both, but which one is the real you?”

He didn’t speak for a while. I was beginning to think he wouldn’t and that his silence signaled the end of our discussion. I was trying to think of something to change his mind when he finally spoke.

“Both. I’m kind of like an escort. Sort of. Martin isn’t my lover, but we had an understanding. Kind of.”

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on a sec. I’m not dealing with a full deck yet. Back up.”

“Are we really going to dissect this?”

“Why not? We’re just a couple guys hanging out in our underwe—oh.” I made a show of checking my naked state under the covers to lighten the moment and hopefully coax a smile from him. I gave myself a mental high five when his lips curled in amusement. “Take it from the top. Speak clearly and try to leave out ‘sort of’ or ‘kind of.’ What do you mean by escort? Why do you dress up like a woman? Who was that guy, and why the fuck did he have his hands all over you?”

“You sound jealous,” he noted irritably.

“More like hungover,” I quipped, though in truth, I didn’t know why I wasn’t letting it go.

So Will was a closet drag queen. Not my business. So he had a sugar daddy. Not my business, either. I could safely blame my presence in his bed on alcohol, but I knew the reason I was still here had to do with something beyond a healthy dose of curiosity. Then again, this was juicy stuff. This shit happened in the movies, not real life. Only in New York City, I mused.

“I needed money.” He shrugged and went quiet again, like those three words answered everything.

“O-kay….”

“Martin Kanzler is married. He lives in Jersey and—”

“I was right,” I whispered.

“—he’s loaded, and he’s got a fetish or three.”

“And you’re the guy who gets tied up or wrapped in Saran Wrap by his lover?”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m not his lover.”

“What are you, then?”

“I already told you.” He sat up in bed with his legs crossed, then cocked his head and gave me a funny look I had no hope of translating. “We had a loose… arrangement.”

“Of the sexual variety.”

“No. I told you I’m not his lover. I just… satisfy his quirks.”

Gulp. “What kind of quirks?”

“He’s attracted to men in drag. I dress up and go places with him. A bar or a club. Not a big deal.”

“That’s all he wants? No sex?” I asked incredulously.

“No sex. Sometimes it’s a little more involved, but not recently. It’s been a while since he’s wanted to jerk off to my bare ass in fishnets.”

“Holy fuck.” I winced as my cock twitched at the mention of last night’s hosiery.

Will’s grin had a boyish quality, an innocence so at odds with the conversation. He seemed to have no clue how alluring and downright sexy he was with his messy bedhead and freckled nose, talking about things I would never in a million years have associated with the straitlaced musician.

“Anyway I—”

“Wait up! So he used to get off to your bare ass in fishnets, and now he just likes hanging out with you?” My skepticism was clear.

“Sometimes there’s a little role-playing but—”

“Oh my God,” I moaned. I squeezed my eyes shut and silently counted to ten, anything to avoid grabbing my now-throbbing penis. “What kind of role-playing?”

My voice sounded like a strangled whisper. Either Will was oblivious or he chose to let it go. He shook his head nonchalantly as though this was all so fucking normal.

“It can be anything from the boss and his wayward employee scenario to a daddy thing. He makes up a story and I play my part. It’s kind of silly, but it’s pretty innocent.”

For once in my life, I was rendered speechless. It wouldn’t last but… wow.

“Daddy,” I choked.

“Yeah. He makes up a scene at the beginning of the night. Something I’m supposed to purposely disobey. Then he issues a couple warnings when I do or say whatever the script says and then….” He shrugged in a “doesn’t everyone do that?” way.

“And then what? He punishes you? I don’t get this. You must have been on the clock last night, so to speak, but he didn’t seem jealous when I showed up. I know I wasn’t exactly at my best but still.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Rand. It isn’t personal. At all. It’s business. A consenting act between two adults. It’s over now anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our arrangement is over. He took it pretty well. Maybe he has someone new in his life who actually will have sex with him. And doesn’t mind getting spanked occasionally.”

“Geez, that’s….”

“Weird? Not really. The virgin and the married businessman. Everyone gets turned on by different things,” he said with a shrug. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s just not for me. I ended it last night. I’ll just add the money I owe him to my mountain of student loan debt.”

“Good. Not the part about the student loans, and no judgment, but… we’ll think of something else. Escorting isn’t for you.”

He looked astounded. “We? Rand, I—”

I set a finger on his lips to stop his speech. I didn’t know what I meant. Not in any depth. I swiped my hand through my hair in agitation. “I’m having a hard time with this. Pun intended. I have another question.” He stared at me blankly, no doubt willing me to shut the hell up. “You said virgin. Does that mean you never did anything sexual with Martin or
any
guy besides me? Last night we—”

Will closed his eyes and let out a low groan. “I wish I wasn’t waking up now. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this conversation. Borrow the coat. I’ll get it back from you Tuesday. If you still want lessons,” he added with a worried frown before scooting toward the edge of the futon. “Can we please forget everything else?”

“Why? It was awesome. Will, look at me.” I held his elbow and pushed the covers over him as though that might keep him in place. I licked my lips nervously when he didn’t budge. Stubborn little shit. “Please. I admire you. It takes serious balls to dress up like someone of the opposite sex. It’s not easy being one of eight million people in this city trying to make something of yourself. Don’t stop believing that—”

“You aren’t going to start singing Journey songs, are you?” He gave me a teasing grin.

“No.” I chuckled. “I’m serious. You rocked the heels and fishnets last night. I’m not gonna lie, there’s a part of me that is really fucking turned on by this kinky stuff. And I mean… really turned on. I want….”

I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering how to proceed as I took in the cautious set of his shoulders and his wary gaze.

“What do you want?”

“I want to spank you.”

“Share time is officially over,” he proclaimed, tossing the covers aside.

I grabbed at his arm, relieved he looked more amused than angry when I pulled him back to my side.

“I’m kidding. Well, maybe not. Look, I get inappropriate when I’m nervous, and fuck, you make me strangely nervous. I can’t figure it out, but I want to get to know you. The
real
you.”

Will’s smile was slow to begin, just a tiny curl of his lips. It quickly turned incandescent. My nostrils flared slightly as I reached out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. I needed any excuse to touch him. With his twinkling eyes and pink-stained lips from the leftover red lipstick, he was extraordinarily appealing.

“But you’re not even into men,” he whispered with one brow raised in challenge.

I barked a quick laugh. “Obviously that’s not true.”

“Obviously. Explain why you’re naked in my bed after letting me believe you were straight. I know it was dark, but you seemed to know your way around another guy’s dick pretty well.”

“I told you I’m bi. I know my way around both sexes pretty well.” I shook my head, feeling ashamed for the lie all over again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I made this deal not to—whatever.”

His no-bullshit expression made me anxious. “You made a deal not to what? I just told you I dressed up to pay off a student loan debt. It’s your turn, so what is it? You made a deal not to tell anyone you’re bi, or you made a deal not to go the gay route?”

I swallowed hard, hating how that sounded. “Yes. To both.”

“Then I repeat… why are you here? Is it because I was wearing a dress? Do you get turned on by blurred lines of masculinity and femininity?”

“No. I never have before, anyway. I think it’s just you. Look, I’m not proud I lied. It was cowardly. Especially after you were honest with me. But I’m telling the truth now.”

“How novel,” he snarked, pulling a corner of the covers over his shoulder like a cape.

“I’m sorry. I hate it when people aren’t honest. I’m really torn about this. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. In my head, I figured I could treat it like a mind-over-matter thing, and then I
wouldn’t
be lying.”

“But why was it important to be straight? There are plenty of gay or bi musicians.”

“Think about it. The ones you hear about are the ones who’ve already made it in rock and roll. Either people assume they’re straight or they admit they’re bi, but every picture is with them and someone of the opposite sex. An agent we tried to hire when we first came to the city told me being bi wasn’t an issue, but having a boyfriend was. When I admitted I tend to gravitate more toward men than women, I was advised not to reveal my sexuality at all. It’s distracting, he said, and a losing strategy. According to him, established acts can reveal those things but not newbies. Supposedly my looks are part of the package, but if listeners hear buzz words like
bi
or
gay
, they won’t hear or see anything else.” I gave a half chuckle but wasn’t surprised it sounded hollow. “It’s turning out to be much harder than I thought. Having to push down a major part of who I am to sell the other major part of me is… exhausting.”

“I know the feeling. Remember when I told you I was standing in the closet door? Sometimes I think it would be easier to take a step back inside and close it for good.”

“Why? I get that it may take time to embrace your gay side, but why go backward? Geez, how could you do without the sex? I love dick. I can’t imagine not having—”

“What? Everything? You’re greedy, Rand. You want it all. You’re even willing to conform to someone else’s rules to satisfy your gluttony.” There was no mistaking his scorn this time.

“Gluttony? Look, I know it sounds bad, but when I’m wrapped up in the music, the business side doesn’t matter to me. Whatever gets us heard is what I’m focused on. It’s when I’m… just me that it’s claustrophobic. I’m not straight and I’m not gay. I’m somewhere in between. My so-called conformity is a—”

“Business decision. Got it. That’s how it started with Martin and me. I wish I’d never agreed to it, but I suppose I understand why you’re lying.”