Page 3 of The Intimacy of Skin

“Don’t. You’ve officially pissed me off, which is hard to do outside of Brandt.

” I wiped my hands off with a cloth before throwing it onto the counter.

“Congrats, you’ve lost your extra help for the night.

Now you’ve got double the work, and I’m putting you on Callum’s station.

Don’t fuck up tonight or I’ll be calling Matt.

Consider this an act of grace that I’m not already on the phone with him. ”

“Yes, sir.”

Putting her with Callum was the best way to punish her without any real repercussions. As a locally owned, small restaurant, our HR situation was lackluster, to say the least.

Matt adored me, but he was never around. He was oblivious to what was happening in his business, always in and out, not paying much attention to the complaints everyone made about Brandt. He adored me, but he adored Brandt more thanks to familial relation or some bullshit like that.

After Layla’s little stunt, I had officially lost any respect I could’ve had for her, and we immediately got slammed the minute we opened.

We were at full capacity within an hour, an unusual event considering our small status. I didn’t have time to think about how frustrated I was, too busy sweating my ass off while I ran around managing everything by myself .

Brandt left after an hour and a half, leaving me with nobody else to call on when shit inevitably hit the fan. Just a normal night, basically, but an extra body would’ve been nice.

I had to deal with every angry customer, every server fuck-up, and a whiny Layla who claimed Callum was too annoying to deal with.

Thankfully, Tobias seemed to be doing all right despite his limited experience and this being his first full house rush. He was a good kid. Quiet and reserved, but great on the grill.

Usually, I’d end a night like tonight with an entire bottle of cheap liquor and a mindless TV show to try and drown out the incessant whirring in my ears. By the sixteenth mistake, the fourth angry customer, and fifth full meal comp, I knew that wasn’t what I needed anymore.

By the time we were locking up, I wanted to quit on the spot. I could only handle so much before I was set to explode. Heat seared into my spine, traveling up and across my shoulder blades and down my torso. It burned. Stung. I wanted to force my skeleton out from under my skin.

My throat was raw from roaring over the chaos. I was thirsty for something thicker than alcohol. My hands shook with the need to hold—to feel something soft in my palms. I needed a connection. I didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

Crescent Planes looked so different after sundown. From the outside, it looked calmer and sounded quieter. Lights of all colors mixed with the shallow rain puddles littering the asphalt.

The city was beautiful like this. But it held secrets within it, ones that most people didn’t see unless they looked for it. There was a hidden atmosphere of unspeakable acts whispered into the dead of night.

An atmosphere I was intentionally looking for.

Headlights blinded me from the left as I pulled down the street. Fat droplets of rain dripped onto the windshield, forcing a kaleidoscope of colors to bloom into a hazy painting. New York was nearing its winter months, the nights falling colder than the disappearing fall days.

My car’s engine hummed as it idled. I was parked further down the sidewalk, focusing on the men lining it.

The other side had a smaller number of women dressed in just as revealing clothing despite the cold, harsh rain soaking them and the ground.

I watched and surveyed, looking for someone to catch my eye.

Two years ago, I would have been consumed with guilt and shame. I was used to it now. I had accepted my reality, though I wasn’t proud of it. Friendships were difficult for me, and relationships were taunting. One-night stands took an ounce of charm, which I didn’t have the energy to fake.

The men on the sidewalk didn’t give a shit.

It was a mutual agreement with sometimes an outrageous amount of money that didn’t come with complications.

All I wanted was the feel of someone else’s skin on mine, if only for one night.

It reminded me I was human. It made the itching cease long enough that I could go another week or two without doing this again.

A silhouette of a man caught my attention from further down the street. He had his back to the wall behind him, one foot propped up against it, and his head turned up. His face was obscured by the hood of his jacket.

He was the most sensibly dressed, leaving far more to the imagination than most of the others out here.

The clothes he wore looked nicer too, at least from the bit I could see under the streetlamp and city lights.

What stood out the most was how alone he was.

Almost as though the others were avoiding him, huddled together in groups closer to where I was parked.

For a moment, I wondered if he was a sex worker at all. I felt pulled to him, much like the man with arctic eyes in the motel lobby.

Just as he kicked off the wall and began walking, I pulled my car up next to him. I rolled down my window and matched his pace despite the rain flowing through it.

He slowed, turning towards my car. When he stopped completely, so did I. Bending to peer through my window, he stared at me with a frigid gaze. “Yo, you lost?”

I saw his back tense just as all the muscles in my body did. “Arctic eyes.”

“Amber eyes.”

We looked at each other, both assessing the other in awe. He cleared his throat and looked away, repeating his question. “You lost?”

“Uh, no, I’m not lost. ”

“Then what do you want?” He pushed his hands into his hoodie pockets. The side of his bottom lip pulled into his mouth, his teeth biting down onto it.

I narrowed my eyes at him, squinting at the purple and black bruise around his eye. “You working?”

“You payin’?”

“What, do I look like I’m expecting a freebie?”

He shrugged, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. “Kinda. You sorta look like an older, more emo version of Prince Charming.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or take that as a compliment. “What does that even mean?” Either way, he looked like he was freezing his ass off, and I wanted to calm the itch that had been begging for him since I first saw him.

Half expecting him to turn around and walk away, I tried to urge him on by unlocking the car door. He pulled the handle and plopped into the passenger seat. “Where to, Prince Charming?”

I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

I wondered how long he’d been out in the rain, how many people he’d slept with tonight alone.

The pull in my chest, in my soul, only grew tighter.

I wanted to get him into a warm room and give him an easy job with enough money that he could stop for the night. “Hotel on Cross Street.”

“Not the motel up the road?” He pulled the sun visor down, running a hand through his hair with the help of the mirror. It looked like he hadn’t had it done in a while, his brown roots making their way down the sides and fading into the longer part at the back.

The cut accentuated his features, the wavy texture adding volume to the back and short sides. His side profile was breathtaking. I could almost see the remnants of melting ice against his cheek, just under the ice of his gorgeous, captivating eyes.

Realizing I was staring, I cut my attention to the road and began to drive. “Moe’s Ass Shack? Hell no. If I’m paying for your time, I can pay for somewhere that isn’t roach-infested.”

“Works for me. If I’m gonna get thrown around, I’d much rather do it without beady little eyes watching me.”

I didn’t entertain him with a response just yet.

I didn’t plan to throw him around like the other assholes he dealt with.

Idea after idea ran through my mind, each one more selfish than the last. I wasn’t naive enough to think I was only doing this for his benefit.

Desire replaced the blood in my veins, overpowering everything else.

The motel we met at wasn’t like the hotel we were going to, but it wasn’t like Moe’s Ass Shack. It was cheap, readily available, but clean. When I took Braden there, everything else had been fully booked.

Before I set out tonight, I made sure to book a room for the full night and specifically declined any scheduled room service when we got to the front counter inside.

Key card in hand, we silently made our way to the room.

Antsy, anxious tingles washed down my arms as I swiped the key card into the door lock and waited for the light to turn green, allowing us access.

I let him walk in first, making sure to lock the door behind me.

Underneath the bright hotel lighting, I was finally able to get a full look at him.

I was right about his clothes. Not a single misplaced thread, though they weren’t high-end or fancy.

Just a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans, a baggy jacket a few sizes too big for him, and just beneath the zipper, I could see a plain gray T-shirt.

“This is fuckin’ fancy,” he drawled, a slight accent lacing his tone. I had noticed it earlier, too. “Been forever since a John took me somewhere this nice.” His jacket fell off his shoulders, landing on the ground when he threw it off.

I stepped towards him, getting close enough to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “I never got your name,” I mused, running my eyes over his face. “Believe it or not, my name isn’t Emo Prince Charming. It’s Price.”

One of his eyebrows rose, revealing a thick scar down the side of it.

“I can do Prince Charming, Daddy, Uncle, Master—whatever you want. What I won’t do is use your name or mine.

So, what are we doing here?” His palm slid up my chest, his eyes following his hand as he got closer to the neckline of my shirt.

When he spoke again, his accent was dimmer, and his voice was full of practiced lust. “You gonna face fuck me until I can’t breathe?

Need to let out some pent-up anger and slam your big, fat cock deep inside of me?

Tell me, Prince Charming, what do you wanna do with me? I can handle whatever it is.”

I gently pulled his hand away. Flames brewed in my gut. I was angry for him, rather than at him. Was this how the other “Johns” treated him? So badly that he expected it from everyone who picked him up ?

Shaking my head, I tried to calm the dizziness swimming my vision.

Outside of this room, I was helpless. Weak.

Lonely and exhausted. I refused to show that now, looking into the arctic depths of his eyes.

Storms raged behind them, lightning striking atop a metal rod, flashing before the flood of fear washed it all away.

Whether he meant to show me or not, he was in pain. I could see it. I wanted to ease it. I desperately wanted to hold him in my arms and show him a gentle touch I was sure he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Keeping a soft hold on his hand, I found confidence I didn’t know I was capable of.

“I don’t do rough. I don’t do particularly fast. I am about to be the easiest, gentlest person you’ve probably had in a while because I’m about to practically make love to you.

” I refused to look away. We locked gazes, the flames licking my intestines, reaching out to him through my eyes.

Could he feel them? “I’ve got four hundred bucks with your name on it, whatever that may be.

Tell me, Pretty Boy, what do you want to do? ”