How often do you like to fuck?
Not “have intercourse” or “make love,” but “fuck,” written out right on the application. Damn! I hadn’t expected such personal questions, but after a few moments of thought, “No limit” seemed as good an answer as any.
“What is your favorite position?” Oh, the possibilities.
“Bent over a sofa, chair, table?” All of the above, giving or receiving.
“On all fours on a bed or the floor?” Right you are.
“Standing against the wall?” Definitely has merit.
“Do you suck cock regularly, or do you prefer to be sucked? Do you swallow?” I should have seen that one coming.
“Dildo preference—glass or flexible?” I’d never thought about it, but the question gave me ideas.
“Butt plugs?” Damn, did other people use those things? I squirmed, thinking a smaller one might have been in order for this excursion.
A whole section entitled “Probing Your Fantasies.” “Are you into cowboys, pirates, millionaires, policemen, doctors? Kidnap, rape, ménage? Explain your desires in detail.” I took the expeditious route and wrote, “Yes to all the above.” Why limit my options?
“Are you willing to put yourself in our hands?”
Now, that was a loaded question. The devil in me wanted to write, “Hell, yeah,” while the commodities trader wrote a more dignified, “Yes.”
Only one section left: “The Usual Stuff,” mercifully mundane after an hour’s worth of divulging everything there was to know about my sex life, real or imagined. Name, address, phone number. Then, bam, “Do you consider yourself handsome?”
Now, what’s a guy supposed to do with that? It’s one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t questions. If I said “Fuck yeah,” I’d come off as arrogant. If I said “No,” I’d sound like someone desperate enough to live in his mother’s basement. But then, I was filling out an application for a freaking dating service. Wasn’t that desperate by definition? Oh, hell, just leave it blank.
I checked over the tome to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, lest a fantasy be left undiscovered. My libido had kicked up several notches this past hour and the black and white photos on the walls did nothing to tame it. Damn, if this was a sample of what Romeo’s offered, I was glad I’d taken the afternoon off.
The adorable blond behind the desk looked up and smiled when I stood. Good Lord Almighty, they didn’t grow guys like that back in Kansas.
Blondie came around the desk, his slim hips working overtime. His body was built to my personal specifications. The fact he’d wrapped it in skin-tight jeans and a royal blue shirt was the cherry on top of the cake. Oh, my unruly cock, be still, boy.
I glanced at the black engraved desk plate: Aaron. He checked over my application with pursed lips and an exaggerated hand to the hip “Have you answered every question? It’s very important that you answer all of them.”
Hmm, what was he, the damn question police? “I believe I did, yes.”
“We’ll just have a peek, shall we?”
He grasped the clipboard with both hands and studied it, save for an occasional smirk or eyebrow waggle in my direction.
“Ooh,” he said with a giggle. Though curious, I was too chicken to ask what part he’d read.
He flipped through the last couple of pages, then settled a hand over the first page. “You have unique tastes,” he said. The sparkle in his eyes was unmistakable. “I believe Blake would be interested in talking to you. If you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to him.”
