Page 5 of Sex Coach

I started to turn my head in his direction .

"Don't look at me. Discretion, remember ?"

His voice was low and smooth, accented slightly. He sounded like he was from someplace out west. Texas, maybe .

That low, easy twang did something weird to all the girly parts inside me – or maybe it was the deep, smooth sound of his voice. I had no idea .

My reaction was surprising enough that I took a drink of wine before replying. "Hello." I fought to keep my voice level and at the same low tone of his .

Somebody labeled The King of Multiple Orgasms probably paid a lot of attention to the female persuasion. It only made sense, otherwise how could he be the king of one orgasm much less the king of multipleones ?

"I'm happy to talk to you, but you can't look at me," he said in the same low voice that somehow carried to me despite the noise. "Confidentiality is key in my line of business so you can’t use my name. Anything I tell you must be kept between us. Are you okay with that ?"

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to do this without naming a source, but I'd find a way. I needed this break. After another sip of wine, I went to look at him, only to get another stern reminder .

"Don't look at me." He sounded mildly exasperated now .

I toyed with my glass, thinking this through. I guess I could still use his information without naming the source and in his line of work I didn’t blame him for wanting to stay anonymous .

"You do understand that this is confidential? I need to be able to trust you on this ."

I gave another single nod. Then, hoping I used the proper amount of amusement and professionalism, I asked, "Am I okay to record this? I'll take notes, but I do better having my recordings as back up ."

He was quiet a moment, then I sensed him shrugging. "Maybe. But...no peeking. And it might help if you say please ."

"Good grief," I muttered, unsure why I felt so unsettled just then – or turned on. But I tossed out a flippant, "Please ."

"Alright, then." He stroked one finger up my bare arm, making me shiver .

"I get it, you know," I told him, trying to cover my uneasy arousal. "You want to be an international man of mystery. But why not just let me interview you over the phone if privacy was so essential ?"

He laughed, and the sound of it was even sexier than his voice. "Because I can't read you over the phone. Can't see if you follow the rules, do as I say ."

"So this is a test ?"

"Of course ."

Trying to distract myself, I flipped my notebook open, but I wasn't sure how to start this. How did one interview a male prostitute? I should have written down some questions, but I'd been interviewing people for several years now and had come to accept that I never felt right asking the staid, boring, typical questions. Winging it always produced better results .

But the only thing in my mind right now was ...

Awful.

Blood rushed to my face. Hoping to hide the blush until it faded, I propped my chin in my hand. "I hope you don't mind answering some of these questions. Some might sound kind of silly, or intrusive. Or both," I hedged, waiting for even a silly question to come to mind .

So far, all I had was...do you really sleep with women for money ?

"If I wasn't open to answering questions, I wouldn't have agreed to the interview." He sounded amused, and I had a difficult time not turning to look at his face .

Finally, another question popped into my head, and it made it to my lips too .

"How much do you charge ?"

"Well, you just get right to it, don't you?" He reached over, trailing a finger down the hand that still propped my chin up and shielded my face. "You'll have a hard time taking notes like that. You are right handed, I believe ."

"I am. I just..." Babbling made me sound so professional. "I'm still trying to figure out the right approach to this, to be honest. This is a little different from most of my articles ."

There. That sounded honest enough, didn't it ?

---