Page 7 of Taken Off Camera
Whenever he speaks of his family, it leaves no doubt he loves them, and a pang goes through me.
“I grew up in a crowded home, too.” The admission escapes me before I can stop it. “I understand wanting a space of your own.”
I can sense his questions through the screen, but he never pushes for more personal information than I volunteer.
“The unboxing segment was off today.” His hand moves out of frame, returning with a glass of whatappears to be whiskey with a twist of orange peel. “The last package alarmed you.”
Shit, I thought I’d hidden my reaction better.
I lower my head to focus on wrangling my noodles. “It was nothing.”
“Elliot.” The way he says my cam name carries both gentleness and authority. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”
My mouth opens, then closes. The urge to deflect rises, the way it does with every patron. “Would you rather I put on a different kind of show tonight?” I toy with the collar of my sweatshirt. “I can change into a more entertaining outfit.”
His chopsticks tap the side of his container. “The livestream was more than satisfying. I’m happy just spending time with you.”
This is the frustrating contradiction of GentlemanX. He pays premium rates for private time, yet refuses every offer of explicit content. The riskiest thing we’ve done was when I fell asleep on camera last month, and he stayed connected all night, watching over me like some digital guardian angel.
“You’re a strange man,” I mutter, stabbing a piece of chicken. “Most guys want more bang for their buck.”
“I’m not most guys.”
No, he certainly isn’t. While every other client wants to own a piece of me, GentlemanX is content just watching me exist. It’s… unsettling. And addictive.
“Tell me about your week,” he prompts, steering us back to safer waters.
I take a bite, considering how much to share. “My scent suppressants are getting more expensive. The pharmacy claims it’s supply chain issues, but I think they’re price gouging Omegas without insurance.”
“Have you considered switching brands?”
“Can’t. I’m allergic to the fillers in the generic ones.” I poke at my food. “My Heat is due in a few weeks, and I need to stock up. Might have to take on extra sessions.”
He goes quiet, the silence stretching until I wonder if our connection froze. Then, his hand moves to adjust something off-camera. “I’d be happy to schedule additional private time.”
The offer warms me in ways it shouldn’t. He’s a patron, not a friend, despite how our relationship blurs those lines. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
We eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, and my attention wanders to his strong hands. The way they move leaves no movementwasted. How does he handle his lovers? Does he take control? Or does he prefer someone who leads?
“How’s your friend?” GentlemanX asks. “The one who works security.”
“Saint? He’s good. Paranoid as ever.” GentlemanX already learned the basics when I slipped up a few weeks ago, so it doesn’t feel like giving anything away. “He installed a camera in my hallway last week.”
“Smart man.”
“Overprotective man,” I correct, though my affection rings through. “You two would get along. Both of you treat me like I’m made of glass.”
GentlemanX hums thoughtfully. “Not glass. You’re far more valuable.”
Comments like that tie my stomach in knots. They feel too sincere, too intimate for our transactional relationship. Yet I crave them, collecting each to add to my hoard.
“What about you?” I change the subject. “Any exciting corporate adventures this week?”
He’s mentioned working in security before, which is how I let slip the information about Saint, though Saint is a glorified bouncer while GentlemanX works on the tech end. Today is the first time he’s provided details about his office.
“The usual fires to put out.” His shoulders shift ashe leans back in what I imagine is an expensive ergonomic chair. “Though I did attend a charity gala on Saturday.”
“Fancy. Did you wear a tux?”
