Page 19 of The Intimacy of Skin

Thankfully, I had years of experience when it came to being someone’s punching bag. By the time I’d instructed Price to pull into the parking lot, the fog I was fighting had lifted for the most part. The pain settled in more, but it was easy to ignore.

I’d survive the bruises that would come from this.

My ego and confidence were not so good, though.

The entire ride home, my cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

I prided myself on my strength and ability to take and take without breaking.

I wasn’t porcelain. I wasn’t ceramic. I was steel; my threshold for pain was nonexistent because I had never hit my limit. I wasn’t allowed to.

Nothing could have prepared me for tonight. The pure, fiery rage I heard in their voices played on repeat in my mind. Had I been so caught up in my shit that I hadn’t noticed what was going on around me?

I’d inadvertently turned a blind eye to the world I had chosen to stay in. Been ungrateful, and it burned more than any slap they could deal me.

I slumped further into the bar stool I sat on, resting my head on folded arms. Price had been quiet so far, leaving me restless about what he was thinking.

I wanted to know if I’d somehow ruined whatever image he had of me.

I didn’t want to seem like some weak, pathetic guy with no backbone.

That wasn’t me. Tonight, though, that was exactly how I felt.

Price returned, standing on the other side of the bar counter. He had a wet washcloth, a few bandages, and a bag of frozen broccoli. “You guys don’t have peas, so this will have to do,” he said with a smile. “Lift your head and look at me. I wanna take care of these before I cook.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t need any of that. I can take care of it myself.”

Grasping the washcloth, he shrugged. “I know you’re capable. I just don’t think you will. I bet you’d barely wash those cuts off in the shower and then let them scar or get infected.”

I stayed silent.

“That’s what I thought.” Price sighed and grabbed my chin, his grip gentle, the pads of his fingers smooth as he moved my head from side to side.

My cheeks burned as licks of humiliation made their way through me.

I flinched a little when the cloth touched my skin, though I didn’t move away entirely.

I tried to avert my gaze or stare at the wall behind Price, but I was failing miserably.

His face scrunched with concentration; his eyes locked onto each individual graze.

It didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting. The rough texture of the rag barely fazed me thanks to the slow, calculated movements Price used. I watched as he pulled the cloth away, the once-yellow color tinged with red. He didn’t move immediately, his grasp on my chin tight as he examined me.

“I found some ointment. You have quite the first aid kit, Pretty Boy.” The way he said it wasn’t with praise. It sounded like disappointment. “Barely used for someone with a penchant for getting roughed up.” He grumbled before squeezing some onto his fingertip, dabbing it along my face.

Fuck, his hands felt so warm. The ice inside my chest was thawing with each stroke against my cheek.

My forehead.

The curve of my nose.

Everywhere Price touched me, fire trailed soon after. He was burning me up from the inside out.

I still hadn’t said a word, not for the lack of them, but because I was afraid. Being alone together at work was one thing. It was something else entirely to be in my home, my sanctuary, after being battered for my stupidity.

Worse yet, being taken care of by him was chipping away at my resolve.

My eyes slid closed as I got lost in the moment.

Price’s touch and the care he took in making sure every wound was covered in ointment lulled me into a sense of security.

Something I hadn’t felt in years, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise .

Price pulled back, taking his warmth with him. “You feeling okay?”

I blinked my eyes open with a slow nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He threw the tainted washcloth into the sink. “So, what was that about anyway? Did you know those guys?”

Back to the questions. I laid my head back down, resisting the urge to shiver when my cheek met cold, hard marble. “Not on a personal level.”

Price moved around the kitchen effortlessly. Ingredients I didn’t know we had were piled onto the counter by the stove, and the way he wielded a knife had my heart clenching. Why did he look so beautiful like that? “Professionally, then. They didn’t look like the type of clients you take.”

I snorted so forcefully my head rolled a bit. “They weren’t clients. They were also workers… or rent boys as they called themselves.” I sighed heavily, repeating the encounter in my mind. “I fucked things up for them, I guess. They were pretty angry.”

“I’d say.” Price cracked a few eggs into some sort of mound made of flour. “How did you fuck things up for them?”

“Let’s see.” I sat up, resting my elbows on the counter.

“I have a home, for one. I’m no longer working out there because I actually had the choice and audacity to take a break.

I’m also the most requested prostitute in the area, so the clients, or ‘customers’ as they called them, are pissed. ” I gestured with finger quotes.

“That hardly seems like it’s your fault. You’re popular, so what?”

“That’s the thing, Price.” I rubbed a hand down my face, wincing a bit at the tenderness.

“I fucked it all up. I’m popular for a reason.

I take aggression with greed, always taking more and more.

If they aren’t using me as an outlet for their anger, then I don’t waste my time with them.

” Shame rolled in my gut, making it cramp with more than pain from the punches I’d taken.

The eggs and flour Price was working with before had now turned into a nicely shaped lump of dough. He didn’t speak, letting silence fill the room as he covered the lump with cling wrap.

With his back facing me, he ran his hands under water at the sink. “Go on,” he urged.

That was the problem. I didn’t want to continue. Didn’t want to admit my direct involvement in this mess. I sighed as I wrapped myself into a ball, pretending I was the dough Price had made.

If I were that small, maybe I wouldn’t have to face the world. “Because of me and my… specialty, the clients have taken to using force to have their way. Apparently, if they can’t have me, they grab whichever guy is available and they play by the rules I set.”

I saw the hesitance as Price’s chopping slowed. The knife’s hilt suddenly seemed much more interesting as it paused with him, the blade barely touching the broccoli on the cutting board. “So they request you, can’t get you, and instead take it out on someone else?”

“Pretty much. I knew my situation was better than most. I have a lot of freedom compared to others. I don’t have anyone forcing me into sex work except myself.

I can stand up for myself, too. For some reason, I never thought about what I was doing.

There are some sick fucks out there in the world.

It’s hard to avoid them in this line of work.

But I brought them out, spoiled them with the ability to live out their sickest fantasies, and now they’ve gotten brave. ”

“Brave enough to take a chance on other guys.”

I nodded. “Guys who don’t have the choice I do. Give out enough money, sell enough drugs, make enough demands, and whoever’s in charge will let you do anything to them. Anything just shy of killing them.”

Price let out a long, shaky breath. “Fuck, I hate people.”

“You and me both.” I picked at my jacket sleeve, remembering how, less than an hour ago I had been ready to punish myself.

Now, I had more of a reason to once Price left.

“I was so naive. I don’t talk to anyone else, don’t make friends, or idle chit-chat.

I knew that would piss a lot of people off.

But I didn’t think about how my positive reinforcement of violence would hurt them. I fucked up, Price. I deserved this.”

The knife Price was holding clattered against the cutting board as he whirled around. “No,” he urged, his voice firm. “You don’t deserve to get beaten up for something completely out of your control. Whether you agree or not, you didn’t make those sick excuses for humans do all that shit.”

I tried and failed to hide the shock on my face. He was being serious, desperately trying to defend me when there wasn’t a reason to. When I opened my mouth to protest, or perhaps beg him to stop rationalizing something irrational, he cut me off.

“Don’t start, Crew. The other sex workers need an outlet to deal with their daily lives, and they chose you. They don’t know you. They don’t understand you. They can’t blame someone else because they’re wrapped up in a circle with them, so they chose to blame you instead.”

I planted my face into my palms, struggling to believe what he was saying. “Their lives are shittier than mine. I don’t belong in their world; I just exist in it. They’re protecting their territory, which I infringed on and utterly screwed up.”

A full-body flinch wracked me when Price placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t want to look at him, afraid he’d see the vulnerability in my eyes.

Fortunately, or maybe un fortunately, he took the decision away from me.

He carefully pried my hands away from my face and grabbed my chin, tilting it until I was looking directly at him.

“You don’t simply just exist anywhere, Pretty Boy.

You aren’t supposed to fight for space in the world you live in. ”

His words and the sincerity I saw in his eyes when he said them slammed into my chest without mercy. Something warm and unfamiliar encased my heart, pulsing in time with its beats, encouraging it to continue. How long had it been since I’d wanted the life that flowed in my veins?