He’s cute. Strike that. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. His eyes stand out the most—he’s got this intense look in a pair of golden eyes that drill into you, like he’s seeing much more than what you’re showing him.

His hair was sort of styled when he arrived, but after I held his head while fucking his mouth, he’s got the whole just-out-of-bed look going, and it fits him like a too-small condom on a ten-inch cock.

I wipe my hand off on my shirt, then pull it over my head to throw it on the floor. I’ll put it in the hamper later. It’s not like banana boy here has never seen me naked.

And fuck, I just now realize I don’t even know his name. Holy mother of all awkwardness. Dammit, I fuck guys for a living. I’m way cooler than this.

“Were you planning on telling me your name anytime soon or would you prefer me to call you banana boy?”

He grins. “Troy. My name is Troy. Nice to meet you...Hendrix.”

Oh, god, I forgot. Tom gave him my real name, which few people have. Dammit. Living under an alias is a lot harder than it seems.

“Yeah, well, would you mind calling me Rebel? I try to keep my personal name, you know, personal, and since you already know what I do for a living…”

He shrugs. “Sure. I probably would have anyway, since that’s how I think of you.”

“You think of me that often, do you?”

This guy does not blush. Instead, he sends me a cocky grin. “Let’s just say I’ve seen all your videos more than once.”

When I started in this business, I would get weirded out when people would say shit like that. Because when people say they’ve seen all my videos, they mean they’ve jacked off or masturbated—I have a lot of female fans as well—while watching me. That was a little unnerving at first, to be honest.

Now, I’m used to it. Men and women come up to me all the time to tell me they love me, and I appreciate it from all genders, equal opportunity guy that I am.

Troy stretches and his shirt rides up to gift me a peek at his stomach. Nope, haven’t had my fill yet of this guy.

As if he can read my mind, Troy says, “You wanna hang out for a bit? I’ve got some great weed.”

“Sure, why the hell not.”

Weed is not something I allow myself to enjoy often. Drugs don’t mix well with this business. You gotta keep your body in great shape and your head clear and in the game. But I’ve got nothing else planned for today, and despite the fabulous blowjob I just received, I’m still pissed at Tom.

I cannot believe that motherfucker dumped me like that. Sending someone in a banana costume. Fucking asshole. I have no doubt he discovered what I do, because that’s the only reason I can come up with for him wanting to humiliate me like this. But fucking hell, what a dick move on his part. Can I pick ’em or what?

I guess that puts the score at six ex-boyfriends, though in my mind Tom hadn’t made it to boyfriend status yet. Shit, he dumped me before we even got there—and fucking paid someone to do it for him. A little pick me up sounds damn good right about now.

“Do you think we could move it farther inside than the hallway?” Troy asks.

I laugh. “You want to move...inside?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Say the word, man, and I’ll be inside in a jiffy.”

“In a jiffy? Fuck, I hope you last longer than that. Besides, who says you’ll ever get a go at this fabulous ass?”

He pretends to be confused. “I thought we were talking about your living room?”

“Sure we were. Come on in.” I make my way to my living room, which looks kinda messy, but not like a total pig sty. “You want something to drink?”

“You got any soda? Alcohol and weed don’t mix well for me.”

“Coke or Sprite?”

“Coke. Thanks.”

I grab us both a Coke from the fridge, while he makes himself comfortable on my Ikea couch. I love Ikea. Aside from the fact it’s highly affordable, their couches have washable covers. You wanna know how handy that is after a quickie?

I bring a small glass jar as well to use for our cigarettes. When I walk in, Troy is busy making two nice, fat joints. I set our drinks on the coffee table—also sponsored by Ikea, thank you very much—and plop down on the couch next to Troy.

Wordlessly, we light up, and I sigh with pleasure as the first buzz hits. Mmm, perfect. A hot guy and a thick joint.

“So, what do you do?” I ask after a minute or two.

Troy snorts. “I’m smoking a joint and hanging out with Rebel from Ballsy Boys.”

Maybe it’s the weed, but I find that extremely funny, and a not exactly attractive giggle escapes from my lips. “No, you shithead, what do you do? In life, I mean. Or for a living. Whatever. In general.”

“Jesus, you’re articulate when you’re high.”

“Don’t forget dumped. I’m high, sexually satisfied after that amazing blowjob you gave me, but still dumped.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re seriously regretting that fuck who broke up with you. Who the hell breaks up with Rebel?”

I sigh, suddenly less happy. “My guess is he found out about my job. They all do, you know, and it’s always an issue.”

“I don’t care,” Troy says with nonchalant confidence.

“Can I be rude and point out that you’re not my boyfriend? Slightly different perspective.”

Troy shrugs. “Hypothetically speaking, if I were your boyfriend, I still wouldn’t care.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You’d be okay with your boyfriend fucking other men?”

“Why the fuck not? First of all, it’s your job, right? It’s not like you’re cheating. You’re doing what you get paid to do, same as everyone else, only more fun. Second, people need to lighten the fuck up with the whole boyfriend thing. It’s not like dating means you’re getting married and having babies. Whatever happened to hanging out and simply having fun together without all that pressure of ever after?”

I take another deep drag of my joint. “Exactly. That whole thing with dickhead Tom was supposed to be that: fun. We met at Bottoms Up, for fuck’s sake. No one meets their happy ever after guy at Bottoms Up. All I wanted was to hang out, have some fun, share the occasional fuck. But noooo, he had to go all angsty on me and break up using a guy in a banana costume! No offense.”

“None taken. It was a dick move.”

I let out a distinctly unmanly giggle. “Dick… That’s so funny, because his dick was really unimpressive.”

Troy smiles. “Small?” he guesses.

“Normal, but a tad crooked...and his technique sucked. Having the equipment is one thing, but knowing how to use it is way more important.”

Troy laughs. “Could it be that you’re just a little spoiled? You do this for a living, you know. It’s like comparing a serious gamer to a mobile gamer.”

I shrug. “Maybe, but I’ve fucked newbies that were way better than him. Damn, I’d ten times rather fuck a Fleshjack...or a banana boy.”

Thinking about fucking makes me hard again, or maybe it’s the weed? I sigh with contentment and let myself fall sideways with my head on Troy’s shoulder.

“I like you, Troy,” I say. “You give great head.”

“Fuck, you’re a lightweight, dude. One joint and you get all cuddly and shit on me. Well, at least you’re a happy druggie.”

I look at him from underneath my eyelashes. “Happy and horny. Wanna give me another blowjob?”