Elusive

I was so sure, so sure when I was out in the limo and watching him enter the club that this was what I was seeking. The next step. What would satiate. But I wasn’t more than half way through the fuck when the room seemed to go hazy, and the cheers of the salivating watchers grew hollow and distant. I found myself searching for the title of the movie this had been; when I had filmed this scene.

It wasn’t all dim, though. There seemed to be shaft of light descending over to one corner. It illuminated a fine looking man, not young, but not too old. Obviously rich. Fine clothes, elegant hands and movement. Handsome, patrician features. Casually, calmly lighting up a cigarette. The match the source of the light that had caught my attention. He was watching, like the others. But he wasn’t frenzied like the others. His eyes were assessing eyes. I’d gotten that look before too. How high did I value myself? What would it take to buy me?

He was smiling, obviously enjoying the scene, but somehow as detached from the immediate scene as I had become. The sensation of the two of us being the only ones in the room.

was still deep thrusting when he stood, threw some money down on the table, and extracted a card from the open wallet before returning it to the inner pocket of his silk sports jacket. He walked over to me. Our eyes were locked from the moment I had first seen him. The card drifted down from his long, sensuous, well-manicured fingers and floated to the top of the pool table beside the leather guy’s trembling belly.

“Come see me,” he said in a rich baritone. “Whatever you want, I can afford.”