Page 33 of Glitter

He did have on some jewelry, though, the first time I’d seen him wearing any. Each dainty earlobe held a long, dangly, silver spiral and a round, silver stud. The top curve of his left ear also had a sparkly, diamond stud threaded through it. And gracefully draped around his neck was a long silver chain, with a 3 or 4-inch silver charm, shaped like a lollipop, that brushed against his exposed, flat stomach.

And, fuck, I couldn’t think of a more appropriate piece of jewelry for Dusti, because I wanted to lickhimlike a lollipop.

Maybe a charm of a pair of angel wings, although the more I was allowed peeks into his personality behind the glittery façade, the less of angelic he seemed. He was still my angel, though.

“You really are exceptionally good at following orders, boo.”

My eyes drifted up from where they’d been admiring his toned stomach. Dusti’s mouth was tilted up in a satisfied smirk and his blue eyes almost seemed like they held a hint of fondness.

His smile grew as I responded, “I like directions. It’s nice to know what I’m supposed to be doing and when I’m supposed to do it.”

Bracing his hands on either side of the doorframe, Dusti’s pink tongue swiped over the berry-pink plushness of his lower lip as his eyes made a slow, sweeping journey over my body. While still gazing somewhere in the vicinity of my pecs, Dusti murmured, “We make a good match then, Benny-boo, because I like giving directions. Especially to you.”

A soft wash of pink touched his cheekbones, as though he was embarrassed by his admission or by the use of my name to alter his customary endearment for me. I wasn’t prone to blushing, but I had the feeling that I was probably close to glowing with happiness at his words.

Dropping his hands from the doorframe, Dusti tilted his head toward the space behind him, saying, “Might as well come in. You don’t need to stand outside all night.”

He turned around, leaving the open doorway empty for me to enter, and I got a reminder of how short his shorts really were. The bottom edge cut a straight line across the perky swell of his ass, leaving a narrow, couple of fingers’ width, twin crescents of milky-white butt cheeks peeking out below.

His words already proving themselves true, even as he spoke them, Dusti called back over his shoulder, “Come on, Benny. Come in. I have more directions for you, since you like them so much.”

I entered Dusti’s small house, closing and locking the door behind me, and noticed that not much had changed in the five days since I’d last been here. Some of the items in the messy pile on his unusable kitchen table looked different, but it was still covered with a messy pile of things. Pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals were still taking over the living room. And past the privacy screens, Dusti’s closet door was still partly open, the small storage space unable bulging and overflowing with his clothing and accessories, and the sheets on his bed were crumpled in a heap.

Dusti had moved into his kitchen area, bent over with his delectable ass sticking in the air as he rummaged for something in the small refrigerator.

“Sit wherever,” he told me, then asked, “You want something to drink? I’ve got…water, apple juice, iced tea, and… Nope, that’s it, that’s all I’ve got. Unless you want this bottle of…I’m not even sure what. The label’s gone and I can’t really tell what’s in it, although it looks…brown? Brownish-green? Yeah, maybe not a good idea.”

Eyeing the jumble of soft, squishy, and/or comfy items occupying most of the available seating space, I grunted a rejection of the last option he listed. Drinking unidentifiable liquids didn’t sound like a good time for my stomach. “Whatever you’re having is fine,” I answered, as I scooped up three pillows, one blanket, and two stuffed animals from the love seat and deposited them onto the club chair. The love seat might just be big enough for the two of us to squeeze together on, and I’d thoroughly enjoyed what Dusti had done the last time he’d gotten me in the vicinity of this particular piece of furniture.

Hips swaying sweetly, Dusti walked over from the kitchen, a bottle clutched in each hand. He passed me mine and I hoped he was too busy settling onto the loveseat to notice my grimace as I saw it was extra-sweetened iced tea. Dusti, himself, was about the only extra sweet thing I liked the taste of and I probably would’ve asked for something else if I’d known this was what he would bring me.

The small sofa was only just barely big enough for both of us to sit on, not that I minded having Dust’s leg pressed tightly against mine and his candy-scented body within easy touching distance.

He uncapped his tea and I avidly watched the nibble-worth swell of his Adam’s apple bob as he took a drink. The small sigh of enjoyment he released, as he recapped the bottle and set it down on the floor, had my dick twitching within my jeans. Not that Dusti needed to do much of anything to get my dick interested; I was pretty sure that simply listening to him breathe could make my dick hard.

His blue eyes held an actual gleam of interest as he shifted his body to face me more and asked, “So, how was your week, Benny?”

My own eyes blink a few more times than necessary as I processed—Were we doing this sort of thing now? Calmy and casually chatting with each other about how our weeks went?

Happily stunned, I answered, “Good. It was…good.” Dusti continued to look at me, those blue eyes clearly waiting for me to say more, so I added, “A lot of…you know. Walking people through how to build tables, chairs, beds, and bookcases. Ugh, so many bookcases.” Belatedly, I asked, “And what about you? How was your week, Dusti?” Not because I didn’t want to know, but because I was still bewildered that we were having this conversation—any sort of conversation—at all.

A small shake of his head sent his dangly, spiral-shaped earrings dangling. His light laughter was like finding a new favorite song as he answered, “Not too bad, actually. The usual crying kids, before and after their appointments, but that’s a daily occurrence that I barely even notice anymore. But I made it through the whole week with nobody puking in the waiting room, so that was a plus.”

I must’ve looked shocked or disbelieving because, with another airy, musical laugh, Dusti explained, “It’s not every day, but, usually, at least once or twice a week, somebody’s nerves get the better of them, or nausea from the lidocaine, or…kids being kids and…” He mimicked a gagging, herking sound. “Spew. Puke, right there in my waiting room.”

“Oh. That’s…” I wasn’t really sure how to respond. Dusti seemed pretty blasé in his retelling, but I had no frame of reference to figure out if he truly didn’t care that much about constant, frequent vomit messes at work. That certainly wasn’t something I had to deal with since the customers I dealt with were all over the phone.

A sly look settled on his pretty face, his hand landing by my knee and teasingly drifting up my thigh. “I did have one new problem to deal with this week. And it was all your fault, Benny-boo.”

“My…my fault?” I gasped, my eyebrows winging up in surprise.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, his fingers now close enough to my hardening dick that it would only take one of us to twitch for them to touch it. “Your fault,” he repeated. “You see…all week, I was distracted. Distracted by you, Benny.” His green-flecked, blue eyes had reached the stage of looking like blazing, icy fire when he flicked them up to stare deep into my eyes, deep into my deepest desires. “Distracted by thinking of all the things I wanted to order you to do to me, Benny.”

Unsurprisingly, his fingers were now resting over the head of my cock, behind the denim layer of my jeans. His words had made me swell harder, longer, so that it had bridged the necessary distance.

“It was so hard, Benny. Do you have any idea how hard?” he asked.

My head bobbled between nodding yes and shaking no, because I was too scrambled to continue to follow his line of conversation. Was he talking about my dick? Because, yes, I had a very, very good idea of how hard that was. Or was he talking about something else?

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