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Chapter Three

Theodore

I browse through the guys on the website, not sure why I’m entertaining the idea of renting a date.

I mean, what kind of people are these guys?

And what kind of people rent dates ? Asher didn’t seem too far off when he suggested prostitution, though these guys don’t sleep with their dates— apparently .

It’s against policy. I’m not stupid though, of course some of these guys sleep with their dates.

That’s the world we live in. And in no way am I judging them for what they do. We’re all just trying to survive.

I’m desperate to know what’s going on with me, but not enough to hire a prostitute.

So maybe this is the right way to go? Just a simple date.

I can talk to Asher and Morgan about my weird thoughts, but they’re biased in what they say.

We’re best friends. Maybe what I need is to talk to a stranger about it.

Maybe renting a date and spilling my guts about what’s going on won’t be so bad.

In fact, maybe it’ll be good for me. Maybe doing this will make me realize it’s all in my head and just nerves about the wedding.

If I happen to make a complete fool of myself, at least I’ll never have to see him again.

Besides, can my problem really be the weirdest shit they’ve ever heard?

They probably get whack jobs all the time.

I look through my schedule to see when I’m free.

There’s nothing going on Saturday night, so I put that into the filter on the site and it pops up with the guys who are available that night.

I scroll through, not having a single idea how to choose one.

Do I go with the one I think is the hottest?

The one who looks the kindest? One who looks like he won’t judge me?

An ugly one so I'm not as nervous? Impossible on both fronts, by the way.

They're all hot as hell and there's no way I won't be nervous.

“This shouldn’t be so difficult,” I mutter.

“Theo!”

I snap my laptop shut, whirling in my chair just as Marianne walks into my in-home office. It’s the smallest room in the house, but the one I use the most even though I hardly work—but where else should I hang out?

“Hey,” she says with a smile.

“Hey,” I answer, forcing a smile and hoping I don't look guilty of checking out guys that I want to date online.

“Thought I’d stop by on my break to see if you wanted to grab lunch.”

“Oh, uh, I ate already.”

“Oh, okay.” She shrugs, going to the mirror on the wall to fix her light brown hair. “Guess I’ll see you later then. ”

She comes over to kiss me on the cheek, then leaves. I’ll never understand how her brain works. She drove all the way here to see if I wanted to go for lunch when she could have called and saved the trip… or even easier, texted.

Though, I guess she just wanted to get out of her father’s office.

She’s a secretary there—for now. Once we’re married, she’ll be an at-home-wife, soon-to-be stay-at-home-mom.

The thought makes me nauseous. It’s not that I don’t want kids, I love kids, but I don’t want kids with her.

Which makes me a horrible person. Marianne is so sweet, and she’ll be an amazing mother.

She’s just not going to be the mother of my children.

This isn’t right. We don’t feel like two puzzle pieces that fit together—how can I settle for that?

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Why does my life suck so bad?”

I spend half my day on the website, overthinking my choices. When I get annoyed, I walk away for a bit, but I always end up coming back to it. There are a ton of guys on the site, and a lot of them have availability on the weekend. Their rate is pretty high, but money isn’t an issue.

Marianne and I both come from wealthy, high-end families.

As the eldest son, I will take over my father’s legacy once he passes, but it doesn’t look like that will happen any time soon.

So, for now, I’m a silent COO. Meaning I have the title, but don’t do many hands-on things other than attending meetings a few times a week and looking over reports and approving proposals.

I work about ten hours a week and get paid a ridiculous amount of money to do it.

My father says it’s time to watch and learn, this way I can continue once he’s gone.

My duties won’t change much once I take my father’s position, considering he works less than I do.

I guess I shouldn’t complain about it or even be ungrateful.

I’m lucky to have everything I do without having to lift a finger for it.

Which is why I don’t understand why I can’t just be happy.

Who cares if I have to spend the rest of my life with Marianne?

At least we’ll be financially comfortable.

Not enough people can say that. I’m not your typical spoiled rich boy, and a lot of my family doesn’t understand why I have emotions… As if that’s not a normal human thing?

Life would be much easier if I could make myself happy with Marianne and our planned life. But I have to question everything, and think about everything, and it’s such a pain in the ass. Things would be easier if I was as heartless and unfeeling as my parents and brothers.

When it’s getting close to five, meaning Marianne will be out of work soon and will be back here, I eeny, meeny, miny, moe the guys on the page, and click on the one I land on.

Tobias. I quickly book the date and enter my card info for payment before I change my mind.

The pop-up tells me I’ll get an email shortly if my request has been approved.

Once I’m done with that, I go back to look at his profile because I’m curious.

He is… fuck, he is hot .

He’s tall, lean, but toned. Broad shoulders, tapered waist. Abs!

I love abs on a man. There’s a close-cropped beard.

His hair is dark, a little shorter than mine, and styled messily.

He’s got a bad boy attitude about him, but his hazel eyes are kind.

I learned a long time ago it’s people’s eyes that say what type of person they truly are.

That, and the words that come out of their mouths.

“Well, Tobias. Looks like you’re my date for Saturday night.” I scroll through more of his photos, finding myself getting hard. Already a bad sign. Damnit. I should have gone for a guy I didn’t find so attractive.

I glance at the clock. It’s a few minutes before five. By the time Marianne finishes up with work and drives here in traffic, she won’t be here before six. Meaning I have plenty of time to take care of this problem without her interrupting or offering to help.

I head into my bathroom, though I’d much rather lie in my bed and jerk off like a normal person, but I can’t risk being caught.

I do not need her finding me and getting all excited about it.

Because yeah, that’s happened before and all it did was make my dick soft.

She didn’t care, though. Pulled out every trick in the book to get me hard again and eventually made me come anyway. I couldn’t believe it .

I lock the bathroom door and quickly get my pants off to stand in front of the sink.

I tug open the drawer to pull out the bottle of lube with shaky hands, pouring some into my palm before bringing it to my aching dick.

Being this horny and getting hard this often can’t be normal, can it?

It’s normal for teens going through puberty, but damn, I’m thirty and I still get unmanageable hard-ons.

I work my dick hard and fast, wanting this to be over.

I stare at myself in the mirror, focusing on my stomach and the v-lines that’re there, and the way my hand slides up and down my dick.

It’s an erotic sight, and if I focus hard enough, I can pretend I’m watching someone else.

Some other guy with a great body. One who’s fine with the fact he’s attracted to men and openly admits he takes it in the ass and likes it.

I could be that guy, if circumstances were different.

But they aren’t, so all I can do is pretend.

“Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth, feeling the orgasm building.

I grip the edge of the vanity, keeping my eyes focused on my hand working my dick in the mirror.

“Yes, that’s it. Just like that.” My legs tense, ass clenching, as I near the end.

The orgasm rushes over me and I cum all over the sink, counter, and the faucet.

I’m panting when I squeeze the last bits of cum from my dick.

Globs of it stick to my fingers and I bring them closer to my face to inspect…

closer to my mouth. I’ve never done this before, but I’m curious now that all these strange thoughts are going through my head and those dreams won’t leave me alone .

What does it taste like? Will I like it?

I bring my hand closer, the familiar scent making my dick twitch. I dart my tongue out, ready to taste myself, when there’s a knock on the door.

“Theo?”

My heart leaps out of my chest, and I jump so high my knee hits the cabinet.

“Yeah!” I call out, ignoring the pain radiating in my knee as I clean up my mess, scrubbing my hands free of my cum, along with everywhere else it landed, hoping I didn’t miss a spot.

“Just checking.”

I roll my eyes, mocking her in the mirror.

She acts like my mother sometimes. It’s irritating.

When my mess is cleaned, I get dressed and spray the air freshener so the stench of cum is drowned out.

I hadn’t realized how long I was in there, I guess, because it’s nearly a quarter of six now.

It’s a good thing I locked myself in the bathroom because she’s early.

“So, what are we doing for dinner?” Marianne asks, already out of her jacket and making herself at home.

Hiding what I'm doing from her shouldn't be so damn difficult, considering we don't live together, but it's turning into a problem.

“Uh, whatever you want,” I say.

“We had pizza yesterday. Sushi the day before that. Oh, how about burgers? ”

I drop onto the couch and reach for the remote. “Sure, burgers sound good.”

“Well, let’s go then.” She taps my leg, smiling down at me.

“Go, as in leave?”

“Well, yeah.” She laughs. “I don’t want to get them delivered. They never taste the same.”

With a huff, I get up from my comfortable spot on the couch, my body more relaxed than ever after getting off, and I leave the house with my bride-to-be. All I can think about is Saturday night.