Page 52 of Mother Parker
I gritted my teeth and balled my fists. Why was he being so chirpy and friendly with his ex-boss? Why was he begging to take pictures of him? Surely there were other people who’d want their pictures taken. Not me, obviously, but…others.
“Oh, I don’t know, Hwan. You know I hate it,” Carson said with his raspy, whiny voice as if he didn’t enjoy being tortured by Hwan.
He put his hands up like a fucking celebrity warding off paparazzi and pretended he hated the notion yet again. And of course, like the relentless little shit Hwan was, he kept begging.
Come on, Mr. Dorothy, please let me suck you off.
The image of Hwan, naked and down on his knees behind the counter, flashed before my eyes. My lungs stopped working for a moment because, apparently, I forgot how to breathe.
“Please, Carson. I promise you can delete the pictures you don’t like,” he kept on.
Please, Mr. Dorothy. Please. Please. Please let me suck that gorgeous dick of yours.
“Carson, come on! You’re supposed to be my friend. Please!”
My body strained, my dick hardened, and a growl escaped me before I could stop myself.
I snatched the towel from the counter, walked to the back of the café, and started wiping the end table like it owed me money.
But no matter how far away I went, I could still hear him. And no matter where I went—here, the storeroom, home, or walking Biscuit—his image followed me.
“Are you okay, Parker?” he asked me from across the room, and I just nodded and bit down my response.
No, I wasn’t okay. Something was wrong with me, and I didn’t know how to fix it. And every day that passed, I regretted getting this job to help Hwan more and more.
I shouldn’t be surrounded by pink tables and tasty drinks or cute Korean boys I had no right lusting over.
In all honesty, my head was acting like a pubescent teenager that got turned on by anything, only I seemed to be getting horny only for Hwan.
It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense anymore. My life was in this strange limbo where I didn’t know whether I was coming or going half the time.
“Okay! Fine. Take your fucking pictures,” Carson chuckled and picked up a cup.
Naturally, Hwan wasted no time getting his camera aimed at him. Carson made an ugly face.
“What are you doing?” Hwan asked him.
“What? If you’re gonna crop my head, what does it matter what my face looks like?” Carson said.
I couldn’t help but laugh. He was a smart fucker, that Carson.
“A, you’re a dick, and B, fine, you win,” Hwan said.
“Aha! I knew it. You were planning to post my face, weren’t you?”
“Please, as if I would want that ugly mug anywhere near my page!”
“Hey!”
A knot formed in my throat, and I tried to swallow, tried to tune them out, to think about anything else, but it was impossible. Whether Hwan was in a room or not, he was the center of my attention, and I hated myself for knowing and admitting that.
Since when did I start having stupid gay fantasies?
I didn’t want to answer that. I knew if I did, I’d discover something that would send me into a deeper, darker place than I was already.
“Oh, I like that. Your hands are very photogenic. Your face, on the other hand…” Hwan said.
“Shut up, dickhead! Of course my face isn’t. I’m trying to make it so.”
