Page 32 of The Cartographer

“You’re sure this isn’t a job? You’re not trying to hire me for your weekend rent boy or something?”

“If I wanted a rent boy, I would get one.”It would be far less troublesome than this. “This is a business trip for me, not you. I have a meeting with a client who I find…challenging, and I like to have a familiar face to come back to after my sessions. You’ll be my guest. Nothing will be required of you. This isn’t some quid pro quo. I hope there will be sex involved and, if you’re comfortable with it, perhaps some of ‘that, uh, stuff.’”

It’s nearly inaudible, but I do hear a snort on the other end of the call. Good, he was supposed to laugh. “You’re under no obligation whatsoever. If at any time you’d like to leave, I’ll arrange for you to be on the next flight back to the Bay Area, Scout’s honor.”

“When do we leave?”

I figured he would’ve at least asked where we’re headed and for how long. His lack of questions sets me on edge. What exactly is he running away from? As he’s told me, it’s none of my fucking business, so I’ll keep my nose out of it for now.

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at nine. We’ll be gone for three days. Pack for warm weather.”

“Yes, sir.”

His words give me a thrill. He’ll be saying them a lot while we’re away, and I’ll need every single syllable.

*

Allie slides intothe town car after tossing a weekend bag in the back. He looks virile and rough in the jeans that hug his ass just so and the Henley that clings to the muscles of his shoulders and chest.

“So where are we going?”

I stow my phone in my pocket and give him a sidelong look. “Good morning, Hart.”

His response is grudging, but he gives it to me. “Good morning, sir.”

“Better. And to answer your question, we’re headed to fabulous Las Vegas.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Vegas guy.”

“I don’t gamble if that’s what you mean. But gambling attracts a lot of people with deep pockets. If you’d like to keep them happy, you’ve got to have the finer things in life on hand. World-class dining, shopping, accommodations—it’s all there. That’s the part I find pleasure in. Besides, my client requested it. He’s coming from Asia, and he enjoys the high-stakes tables.”

Everything Kenji does is high-stakes. He’s one of the most hardcore players I know. It takes quite a bit to shock me, but he’s one of the few people who can. I think he takes it as a personal challenge. He likes to goad me. It’s one of the reasons I like to bring someone with me on these trips, a warm, compliant body to come back to after I’ve flexed every control muscle I have. It’s tiring, being around him. The man is smart, meticulously careful, and I’m honestly flattered he considers me a voice of reason. Plus, he pays well.

“I’ve never been,” Allie says, looking down at his hands.

“Then we’ll make sure you see some of the sights. Do remember this is a business trip for me, so everything can be expensed. I don’t want any arguments about paying for anything.”

His fingers curl into fists on his thighs, the dark skin of his hands lightening around his knuckles. “Yes, sir.”

I coax him into telling me some of the things he’d like to see while we’re there, and I make mental notes on the things to arrange for him to do while I’m with Kenji and his latest slave.

Pulling into the airfield, I can tell Hart’s surprised. “I thought we were going to the airport?”

“I prefer to travel on my own schedule when possible. It’s easier this way.”

He follows me out of the car, and I have to beckon for him to follow me instead of retrieving his bag from the trunk.

“Don’t worry about it. The driver will get it.”

Truthfully, I frequently fly commercial. I’m not entirely impractical. But it’s going to be a difficult few days so I’ll take my pleasure where I can. And my pleasure includes Allie on his knees sucking me off at thirty thousand feet.

I greet the crew as we climb up the small set of stairs and onto the plane. It’s quite well done on the inside, all cream leather seats and walnut inlay. You’d barely know you were on a plane if not for the awkwardly rounded ceiling and subtle seatbelts and other safety equipment stashed around the space.

I gesture him toward two seats on either side of a low table.

“You look dazed, Hart. Is this your first time on a plane?”

He shakes his head, not meeting my gaze because he’s still taking in his surroundings. “No. It’s my first time on a private plane.”

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