So far, none of the messages I’d received tonight had even remotely come close to passing my little test.

It was simple. I’d dropped a few hints as to my profession and rates in my profile, and told them to use a code word if they understood what I was saying.

How damn hard was it to read? Some guys swiped from profile to profile without stopping to read a word, though. The last thing I wanted was someone getting so angry at me trying to charge that they reported me to the cops, especially in today’s climate.

Then my phone went off, and I paid attention. The guy’s profile was blank, but his message made it unmistakable who he was.

Hi, I’m new on this app. We met earlier and I had a few questions, but my friend shooed you away.

He might not be using my codeword, but I knew who that had to be. Darren had been firm in telling me he wasn’t interested in paying—so far, he never had been, but we’d had several great conversations over drinks.

His friend? He was new. At least, I hadn’t spotted him here in the four months I’d been cruising this place. The owners didn’t care much what I did, as long as I wasn’t a nuisance and I didn’t hook up on their property. I was always cautious who I approached, and I usually used this place as a convenient place to show up on nearby Grindr profiles.

This was the cutie with the dark hair and tentative smile, looking a little out of place. He looked like he belonged in a catalog, or maybe a movie about a gay potluck club.

Whatever he did, he was set for money—he had nice brand names on, but inconspicuous. Not like the guys with their Diesel jeans and Versace underwear.

I’d stake my life on it, but still, not literally. I answered, telling him to send me a picture of himself flipping off the camera.

A little insurance for me. If he threatened to go to the cops, it was just naughty enough that he wouldn’t want it sent to his mom by an anonymous Facebook account. I might have been pretty new to this way of drumming up business, but I was quickly learning the tricks to turning tricks.

His answer came quickly.

I’ve never taken a photo like that. How about smiling?

I chuckled under my breath and waived a rule. I knew he was a real person, after all, if this was who I thought it was.

Something taken right now will do.

I knew exactly where the photo he sent back a minute later had been taken. It was at Bubbles—the diner next door.

With a warm lead, I didn’t think twice about ditching Friction and going to meet him. When they had something to hide, startling them worked well. If someone wasn’t expecting me to show up where they were, they were thrown off-balance. Nobody wanted to be caught on security camera with the guy they planned to dispose of later.

Not that I was paranoid, but it paid to be careful.

But although he blinked several times at me when I walked into the diner, his next reaction was a smile. “Hey.” He looked like he’d just finished breakfast, and when I slid into the booth, the waitress approached.

“Coffee?”

I looked at him, and he nodded.

“Yeah. Coffee for my friend here.”

She didn’t say anything as she poured it, which was lucky. She’d seen me in here sobering up after an unsuccessful night—or a successful one—more than once.

I smiled at her, and she turned away and headed for the kitchen. A tiny red flag went up in my brain, so I made a mental note for later.

“Hi,” I greeted. My worry was instantly forgotten when I saw the way he watched me. It was impossible to fake that blend of enthusiasm and trepidation, like a giant kid trapped in a man’s body. He didn’t seem quite sure of what he was doing. That always meant it was my job to put him at ease.

And he was beautiful, too. I hadn’t had a chance to appreciate it back in Friction, but in the diner light, he melted my knees. A man in business casual knew the way to my heart. When he had those blue eyes that just seemed to see my soul? Yeah, sold.

“Hey,” he answered, glancing outside and then back at me. “I didn’t expect you to be hanging out right here still. I mean, Grindr tells me you are. But still.” His cheeks flushed and he buried his nose in his coffee cup.

He came off as genuine, and I’d met worse. I’d give him a chance.

“I got a feeling you were interested,” I told him with a smile. I knew how to turn the charm on instantly. I always had—it was a useful skill in life, being able to flirt with anyone. But it was more than that. I could easily find something interesting or charismatic about people. Chemistry was possible with anyone if you just worked hard enough.

This kind of magnetism, though, took me aback. I wasn’t used to feeling it before I even tried.

I was intrigued, despite myself. Enough to give him a freebie? I didn’t know, but maybe. I didn’t want to devalue my product, but a boy had to have fun off the clock sometimes.

“I—I think I am.” His hesitance caught my attention. It was more than shyness or nervousness about legal trouble.

“Spill.” I winked. I was happy to answer questions. Sometimes people just wanted to make sure I wasn’t being pimped out.

He leaned in, his knuckles white on the handle of his coffee cup. His voice was low. “Do we have to have sex?”

It took me a few moments before the words sank in, and I grinned. “No. I’m not gonna make anyone do anything they don’t want to do. Can we start with your name, though?” I teased. “I like to know what to yell out, whether in bed or in the street.”

“Oh! Sorry! My goodness. Where are my manners?” The guy stuck out his hand. “Charlie.”

“Kev.” Normally it was a good idea to use a different name for sex work, but mine wasn’t my legal name anyway. Everyone had called me Kev for so long that I happily used it instead of the much grosser Kenneth Taylor. Most importantly, it didn’t remind me of home. Besides, Kev sounded like a typical gay guy’s name. Generic enough to be forgettable.

“Nice to meet you, Kev.” Charlie looked somehow at home here in the diner, even if he looked like he belonged in a Macy’s catalog.

It was that air of quiet confidence and the real strength that came from life experience that drew me to him.

“You, too,” I said, and I meant it.

I think Charlie heard what I meant, because he gave me the kind of smile that put me at ease. “So, if I wanted to go out for dinner sometime…”

“We can do that,” I told him. It might still lead to sex; fairly often it did when men were testing the ground and wanted to make sure I wasn’t a cop.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, and perhaps a bit relieved.

“That reassure you?” I drawled, letting my accent come through just a hint.

Charlie nodded, his lips curving up. “You’re southern?”

“Born and bred. Moved here three months ago,” I told him. I didn’t even have to fake a backstory for my clients—yet. They liked fresh meat, and a new, starry-eyed country boy fit many of their fantasies. I planned to keep it at “three months ago” for another three months before I started telling the whole truth.

“How are you liking the city so far?”

Everyone asked me this. It was kind of weird. Was I really gonna say it’s awful, I can’t wait to leave to a New Yorker? Especially one I was doing business with? His gaze didn’t say business, but I had to remind myself that that was all it was.

“It’s great,” I said, and luckily, that was also the truth. Overwhelming and frantically busy 24/7, yes. But nobody gave a damn if you held another man’s hand in Midtown, or sat across from him at a table for two. That alone made New York City worth the move. “There’s always something happening, always someone to talk to.”

He paused for a moment as he took me in, and I realized what I’d just said. The way he was looking at me, I was starting to think he didn’t always have someone to talk to. A lot of my clients didn’t. I wasn’t gonna act like they were all just in need of a listening ear, but some of them? Yeah, they needed to talk to someone about their life who didn’t judge them, who wouldn’t spill their secrets to all their friends and family.

Instead of the life story I half-expected, he shook his head. “I remember moving here,” he told me. “For college. It’s a heady thrill. So, how does this work? Do we set up a time and date? Do you take PayPal?”

He was joking to hide his nervousness, but I appreciated it. He was trying to put us both at ease, even if he was a bit abrupt. Lots of New Yorkers were. It had taken me two months to realize the cashier at the bodega under Adam’s and my apartment didn’t actually hate me. I tried to make conversation with everyone in the city at first, and I’d wondered how many people were having really bad days.

“Cash only, at the beginning of the date,” I told him. “A hundred an hour.” It was a discount, but was I willing to give a discount to a hot, professional guy who could hold a conversation and didn’t even seem to want sex yet? Hell yeah, I was.

Part of me wanted to offer him a freebie, but I resisted the urge. I might be an awful businessman when my dick did the thinking, but I still had rent to pay. Hot guys were dime a dozen here. I owed it to Adam to do my job if I was gonna rub his face in the fact that I had more freedom in mine.

“Only a hundred?” he questioned, his brows furrowing.

I blinked at him. “This ain’t your first time at the rodeo?”

“That sounded very Southern,” he said with a teasing gleam in his eye. “I’ve never hired a…” he looked around, and then lowered his voice. “I’ve never done this before, but I have straight friends.”

“Ah.” I smiled. “Women tend to charge more. Especially here.”

“God bless… well, dick,” Charlie murmured and drained his coffee cup.

“Cheap dick?” I teased.

Charlie blushed. “I didn’t want to offend you.” He was sweet, but if he’d been a friend, he would have quickly learned I had a raunchy sense of humor. I toned it down for clients who lived an upscale life and turned up their noses at dick jokes, but Charlie seemed like he had an interesting edge to him. He wasn’t all suits and Financial Times talk.

“It’s hard to do that,” I told him.

The waitress gave us coffee refills, and I waited until she was out of earshot before I spoke up again. “When are you free? My schedule’s looking pretty clear.”

“This evening?” Charlie suggested, and there was a barely suppressed eager note in his voice.

That, I was familiar with.

I smiled. “Tonight works. Where do you want to meet? I do out-calls only.”

It took him a few seconds to parse that, which backed up his claim that he hadn’t done this before. “Oh. Um… I thought dinner? I could pick you up?”

“How about we meet here?” I countered. We could take a cab together to the place. No way was I telling him where I lived, however nice he looked.

“Sure. At six?”

“Six works.” I was surprised this time—I’d expected it to be later. Guys like him tended to stay in the office until stupid hours, avoiding their wives. He had no ring on, though, and he’d just been at a gay bar. That helped my chances.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Kev. This is business, I reminded myself. Still, a boy could daydream.

“Tonight, outside here, at six,” Charlie repeated to himself, softly, as if committing it to memory—or second-guessing himself. I held my breath until he looked up and made eye contact, his jaw firm and eyes resolute. “Done. Here’s my number.”

I entered it into my phone quickly and sent a text so he had mine. There was the confidence I was attracted to. It took all I had not to crawl into his side of the booth and rub my cheek against his, just to try to pick up some of that for myself.

“I look forward to it,” I said instead with a casual smile, not wanting to dial up the pressure.

He reached over the table to take my hand for a moment and drained the rest of his refill. “Me, too.” He squeezed and let go gradually, his fingertips trailing across the back of my hand all the way to the fingertips. “See you later.”

I gave him an encouraging smile to hide the reaction my body was having: my hair stood on end in a pleasurable way. I wanted those hands all over me and now I was gonna need a minute in the booth before leaving so I wasn’t standing at attention.

On the way out, he flagged down the waitress and paid, then winked at me—presumably to indicate he’d grabbed the bill.

I blushed and waved, and I even caught myself watching him walk down the street. Though the waitress was brisker with me than she had been with him, she still indulged me when I stayed there for another hour, just thinking over that meeting until pre-dawn started to touch the edges of the dark sky.

Dog walkers weren’t yet out, but a couple of the craziest early-morning runners were starting their days as others ended them. It was time for me to join the first group, not the second, for today.

Sleep was for later.