“Tricks and Bids” Excerpt

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“Hey. Wanna play?”

Dillon looked at the young man with an appraising eye. At first glance, he seemed no different than any of the other men who frequented the club. He was lean and fit with a handsome face from what Dillon could make out in the shadows. The Dominant noted the boy’s dark brown hair was long enough to grip, a trait he appreciated in a submissive, but there was something else about the man that had caught his attention. It was in the way he leaned casually against the brick wall of the club but seemed just a bit too hidden in the shadows for a cigarette break. If Dillon wasn’t mistaken, he’d seen this man before, usually headed into the local motel and never with the same man twice.

“Are you some sort of whore?” Dillon asked.

The man looked taken aback for a moment before he covered it with a smooth smile. “I thought they used the phrase ‘rent boy’ around here,” he said.

“You wouldn’t want to be politically correct and go with prostitute?”

The young man wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Makes it sound too much like a job.”

Dillon chuckled and cracked a smile. “How much do you charge?”

“Depends on what you want to do.”

Dillon nodded. “Are you clean?”

“Yes. Condoms are mandatory and your expense.”

“Expense? That sounds like a job term to me.”

The young man smirked.

Dillon looked the boy up and down, considering him. “Come on,” he said, turning toward the car park. “We’ll talk details when we get to my place.”

“Your place? Don’t you mean a hotel?”

“My place,” repeated Dillon. “I don’t do quick fucks.”

* * * *

“You really want to let me into your place?” Mike asked as he eyed the big house with its quaint shutters and wraparound porch. “I could be a thief, you know.”

“I could be a serial killer.” The big man shrugged as he unlocked the front door. He was nonchalant, his deep voice never changing tone, even when he was being sarcastic. The sound of his voice went right to Mike’s cock, so he didn’t mind much, but they both had a point.

 “You’re not, are you?” Mike asked.

 “You’re really asking that? Now?”

Yeah, dumb to ask now, Mike thought as he entered the house and waited for the door to close behind him.

 The older man led him into a living room, asking, “Want something to drink?”

 “Sure. Whatever you have.”

With a nod, he left for what Mike assumed was the kitchen. While he was alone, Mike took the opportunity to look around. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the room seemed to fit the man. It was large and felt warm and inviting, yet something about it teased him, like a secret waiting to be uncovered. It was a similar feeling to the one that had prompted him to call out back at the club. He tried to figure out what it was, but the living room seemed rather ordinary if a bit old fashioned. The carpet was soft and clean. The furniture was leather studded around the edges in a style he hadn’t seen since he’d last visited his uncle. The layout was picturesque, like something you might see in a magazine ad, but the room was definitely lived in. One wingback chair in particular had seen years of use, and the ornate fireplace that was the room’s focus had been home to many fires. He noticed a lack of family mementos, but that wasn’t what was nagging at him. He still hadn’t found the answer when his host came back.

“Here,” he said, handing Mike a bottle of water. “It’s still sealed so you don’t have to worry.”

“You could have put something in it with a needle,” Mike pointed out.

The man’s mouth quirked into that smile again. “I’ll trade if it will make you feel better. I’ll even drink from mine first.”

“This is fine, thanks.” Mike cracked open the bottle and took a few deep swigs. “You said we’d discuss details when we got here,” he pointed out after he’d swallowed.

“Yes,” the man said as he took a seat in the well-worn wingback chair. The fabric creaked, but Mike couldn’t tell if the sound came from the chair or the man’s tight leather pants. “Have you ever experimented with BDSM?”

“I’ve had some guys who were into being all Dom on me,” Mike shrugged. “Maybe, a bit sadistic, too.”

“Do you like pain?” the man asked.

“I can take some flogging or a paddle, stuff like that. I don’t do heavy though.”

“What about spanking?”

Mike smirked. He could imagine the man enjoying the sight of him naked over his knees. Something about that image appealed to Mike, as well. “Sure. I could go for that.”

The man studied him for a minute. “I’m not doing any of that tonight. For things like that, we need a deeper level of trust than can be acquired after knowing each other for only fifteen minutes. If tonight goes well and we decide to meet again, we can discuss that then. As for tonight, if you agree, I’ll have you naked with your wrists cuffed to the hook in the ceiling above you.”

Mike looked up and saw there was indeed a hook in the ceiling above his head. Suddenly, the nagging feeling made sense, and he noticed other little details about the room he’d missed before, like the small waste bin hidden in the corner and the way the carpet in front of the fireplace wasn’t perfectly smooth. He wondered what the Dominant used that section of floor for.

“I will cage your cock and balls,” his client continued, recapturing Mike’s attention. “So you will be unable to come, and while you’re in that state, I am going to fuck you senseless—with a condom of course,” he added with a smile. “After which, we will retire to my bedroom where you will be cuffed to the bed by your ankle. The chain is long enough for you to easily reach the bathroom if necessary, and you are welcome to close the door for privacy, but you will return to the bed as quickly as possible and be available for my pleasure at any time during the night if the mood strikes me. In the morning, I will release you and bring you to orgasm before you leave. You will not be gagged or blindfolded at any time tonight. If anything occurs that you feel was not covered by our contract for the evening, I expect you to bring it up and we will negotiate. If at any time you feel it necessary to leave, all you need to do is say the word ‘stone’, at which time, everything will stop and I will release you and send you home with half of our agreed-upon price. Does that suit you?”

Mike stared at the man for a whole minute before he realized his lips had parted. He closed his teeth with a snap. That was a lot of detail. Most men went for a fuck, and if they wanted anything more, they just assumed they were free to do as they pleased and went for it without warning. He didn’t know what to do with a whole plan set out in advance. He ran through the man’s words again in an attempt to comprehend.
He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of being chained to the bed for a whole night, but his cock seemed on board with all the ideas mentioned. His mind returned to the serial killer joke for a paranoid moment, but Mike realized he believed this guy would release him if he invoked the safeword. Besides, this business was a risk no matter what terms were set beforehand.

“That’s acceptable,” he said finally.

The client nodded. “Now that you know the details, how much are you planning to charge?”

Mike considered. The man wanted him the whole night. Who knew how many times he could get it up during that time? Not to mention the tone of the night’s events. The guy had to know this wouldn’t come cheap, and by the looks of the place, he could probably afford to indulge, but one never knew the line that would scare off a client.

“One thousand dollars for the night,” he said. If the guy said no, Mike wasn’t losing anything and he still had time to find another client for the night.

“Done.” The man pushed up from his seat, ignoring Mike’s surprise. “Do you need anything before we get started?”

“A bathroom?” Mike asked, suddenly feeling the need for a moment alone.

His host pointed. Mike followed the direction and found a bathroom just down the hall. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, suddenly wondering what he had gotten into. This man wasn’t like his usual tricks, and the night’s plans were nothing like anything he was used to.

The first time he’d taken money for sex, he hadn’t known what was going on until the man had handed him fifty dollars and told him he’d take care of the hotel bill. It seemed that although Mike had thought they were randomly hooking up, the other man had thought he was the prostitute he’d been expecting. On a whim, Mike had tried it again, this time setting his own price for the fuck. It had seemed so easy at first and a simple and fun way to supplement his spending money while at university. He only worked when he wanted to, fucked who he wanted and set his own prices for everything.

It hadn’t been all fun and games, of course. There were times when he’d considered never doing it again, maybe even moving to another town so no one would know his face, but prostitution paid so much better than a minimum wage job, and the flexibility of being his own boss couldn’t compare to sitting at a desk from nine to five every weekday. So he’d made rules for himself. He never made the first move. He let them come to him. He never went to a trick’s house—that was trouble just waiting to happen. He never let a client choose where they would go or let them take him someplace crowded to fuck, and he always took half the money up front, so if something went wrong, he could run without being at a total loss.

So far he’d broken almost all of his rules tonight. The realization should have made him nervous, but there was something about this guy… Something had made Mike call out to him instead of waiting to be noticed. Maybe, it was the way he wore leather as if it had never occurred to him that he could wear something else. Or the fact he was solid enough to be intimidating, yet Mike wanted nothing more than to be pressed beneath that body, touched by those big hands or kissed by those stern lips. He wanted this man as he had never wanted anyone in his life, and he was going to get him and a thousand dollars to boot.

Suddenly grinning at his good luck, he made use of the facilities, washed his hands then returned to the living room. He opened his mouth to say he always took half up front but stopped. On the couch was a pile of bills.

“Count them.”

Mike glanced at the man then picked up the money. He wasn’t an idiot, and he appreciated that this client understood the business aspect of the evening.

“There’s one more thing I need from you before we begin,” he said as he finished counting the bills and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket.


“Your name.”

The man smirked. “Dillon Spade.”

Mike nodded. “I’m Mike Nole. Where do you want me to put my clothes?”

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