Page 7 of Cleats and Pumps

“No, no, with you is good.”

I glanced at Keith and Peter, who wore identical smirks. Okay, maybe I wasn’t hiding my attraction well. Not that I ever hid my emotions well, especially when I was hungry for a man as much as I wanted Anton Wagner.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll meet with my team this week. Then we’ll let you know.”

Anton and Peter stood and excused themselves as Keith walked them to the front door. I watched as they got into Peter’s car and drove off. “Well, fuck me,” I said out loud, only to hear Keith chuckle.

“Really, you’re going to turn into a bottom now, are you?”

“Shut up, Keith,” I said but didn’t add that if Anton Wagner wanted to fuck me, I’d bend over without a moment’s hesitation.

5

Chapter 5

Sixmonthspassedwithno word from Peter or Anton. Not that I expected there to be. Well, that’s not true, I was really disappointed. It would’ve been nice for Anton to show a little interest, but I was a country bumpkin, and he was a refined New Yorker.

Yep, I’d done an extensive stalking job of Anton Wagner after I met him that day. Forty-one years old, almost twelve years my senior. Damn, all I could say was if I did forty like Anton Wagner was doing forty, I wouldn’t mind growing older.

Life had gotten busy. Keith, probably because I scared him with the whole Broadway musical thing, had finally stopped playing hard to get with the music artists, and I was once again writing songs for the big names in the industry.

Things had gotten better on the Gregory front too. The queen soothsayer had been right. It had been therapeutic to write down the story from the dream. Creating something totally outside my comfort zone to heal from being dumped by the twink.

I’d seen him twice since finishing the musical, and he hadn’t noticed me. The fact that I could finally see how little he cared went a long way in helping me let him go.

Besides, I was enjoying the thought of dating an older man who knew how to use a guy’s body the way it was meant to be used.

Don’t get me wrong, I like being a top. I like being in charge. But I wondered if I might like handing some of that control over to a lover. Maybe it would touch parts of me I’d kept hidden all these years. Pun totally intended.

I doubted it would be Anton, but it was a sweet fantasy. Maybe once things settled down again, I’d get on a real dating app and see what was out there. Up until now, I’d only ever invested in Grindr or, when I was craving the opposite sex, Tinder.

The call from Keith had me moaning. “Ugh, really, another song?” I asked, not even saying hello.

Keith chuckled. “Listen, you’re the one who was complaining about too much time on your hands, even wrote a damned musical… which is why I’m calling.”

“Okay,” I said, my eyebrow cocked as it did when I was curious.

“So, Peter contacted me, and they want to pursue your musical, Alec in Wonderlust. I think it’s a ridiculous idea. Do you know how much money you make on your songs? You don’t need to go down this—”

“I’ll do it,” I interjected, stopping Keith’s rambling.

He let out a beleaguered breath and said, “Okay, well, I told him you had to finish the project for Kelly Orman. After that, you’re free.”

“Oh, Kelly’s done. Been done for a week; she just pissed me off telling me I was taking too long three days after giving the project to me, so I was holding on to it in principle.”

“Child, you’re going to be the death of me,” Keith said. “Okay, send it over, then book your flight to New York. Apparently, they’ve already begun working on the details.”

“Oh?” I asked, feeling more than a little upset about that news. I’d specified in the preliminary contract that I had final creative control over the musical. I didn’t like the idea of them changing things without my involvement.

“Yes, so the sooner the better,” Keith said. I knew he understood my frustration. When I’d first hired him, he’d told me songwriters didn’t have creative control over anything, and I’d told him in that case the singers could write their own songs.

I didn’t really mind how an artist interpreted my music. Look at how differently Whitney Houston had sung Dolly’sI Will Always Love You.Both versions were intense and beautiful but also vastly different in performance.

I never wanted to stand in the way of excellence, no matter who the artist might be.

I booked my flight for the next day. I had nothing to wait for and was looking forward to a few nights in New York. Keith had told me Anton had made arrangements for me, and I had to force myself not to get a hard-on, thinking those arrangements might include staying with him. Okay, more than just staying with him. Doing naughty things to his body!

When I walked out of the airport and saw Anton standing at the entrance, my heart leapt. Damn, I had it bad for the guy.

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