Читать книгу For Hire: The Intimate Adventures of a Gigolo - Luke Bradbury - Страница 5

Don’t move a fucking muscle. Julie’s cold fingers pad over my hard dick which is cradled in the palm of her other hand. I hold my breath. Julie’s focus is just as taut, her attention fixed on the wet plaster she is spreading over my entire cock. I watch her from above the hardening cast that runs all the way down from my shoulders to just above my knees.

Julie’s top teeth bite into her lower lip with the concentration. Her fingernails. That bite. The cast’s brittle white outer shell. It is me that is putty in her hands.

She could do whatever she wants to me.

I breathe out. She catches my eye.

‘Not much longer,’ she smiles, and the lines crinkle around her eyes.

She takes a step back to observe her handiwork.

‘Looking good,’ she mumbles, ‘looking good.’

Julie picks up her mug of tea from the paintsplattered trestle table and takes a sip. I lick my lips. My own mug sits tantalizingly out of reach.

‘It shouldn’t take too long to set, and then we’ll have you out of there. Free at last,’ she winks.

While we wait, I try to imagine what I must look like from Julie’s point of view. A fit young guy caught in suspended animation in the middle of her studio, and on the way to giving her a new coat hanger. Or whatever she plans to do with my sculpture.

I was Julie’s muse, her model, her material all in one. It was my dick that had got me this far. But standing here now, I had a hunch that maybe sometimes it was taking me too far. Because the only reason I was here was because of my prime-quality cock, legs and torso. I could be anyone.

I now knew what it felt like to be treated like a lump of meat. My hands might have been free, which meant that I could help Julie a little with her work, but I had to be careful, as the very movement of my underarm muscles threatened to do serious damage to Julie’s cast.

I’d shake my head at what my escort work got me caught up in—If I didn’t fear that moving my neck and chest muscles might ruin Julie’s artwork.

I’m not sure what I’d expected when Julie had called earlier in the week and asked me to help her out; I was just happy to be able to do so. When she’d told me she’d need to cover me in plaster for her artwork, it had taken me right back to the beginning of this game when I’d needed photos for the agency websites and paired up with a photography student who wanted snaps for his portfolio. We’d been doing each other a favour.

Even though Julie was paying me, I still liked the idea of being an artist’s muse for the afternoon. And who knows? I might end up on someone’s wall.

As long as none of my clients recognizes me!

In my mind’s eye, I could see the metal length of me—from breastplate down to my thighs and, jutting from the midst of it, a shiny golden cock—featuring in a Sunday supplement or a famous gallery. And someone pointing out, ‘I know him. He was a good lay.’ Well, of course, that went without saying.

Yup, it was Dick who was more of interest to Julie than Muggins here. I couldn’t help wondering if I was the one being dragged along for the ride.

I didn’t know much about art, but this situation certainly felt surreal. Me standing here, butt-naked except for the cold damp paste that Julie had been slathering over me. I’d had enough trouble finding Julie’s cottage. My scooter had stuttered up a dirt-track country road in Kent to reach here and it felt like the back of beyond. I’d barely seen another house once I’d turned off the motorway slip road. She’d taken me along a garden path to a renovated barn filled with her artist’s stuff. Yeah, this was all happening in the middle of nowhere. It meant we were free to do whatever we liked. And no one would know anything about it. But then again, I’d laid myself wide open to anything happening. And that thought sent a shiver of vulnerability down my stiff spine.

Julie set down her mug, and took a walk around her masterpiece. I relaxed a little too, beneath my solid second skin. From where I was standing I couldn’t help feeling pretty impressed by the shape my cock was in. I’d feared that I wouldn’t be able to remain erect while the plaster set. But Julie had made sure that was sorted by leaving my dick until last. Her hands sweeping the whiteness over my chest and then up my legs had certainly fired me up.

Julie was back in front of me, looking me up and down, assessing me. She clapped her hands, then rubbed her palms together like she was satisfied with how things were going. She was ready for the next stage.

I still had to remain stock-still. She looked me straight in the eyes, her fingertips clipped over the upper edge of the cast at my collarbone. ‘Right, Luke, this is the moment of truth. It’s time to get you out of these dry clothes.’

Julie winced as she worked as if the plaster was being pulled away from her skin. The trouble was that the skin was mine, and as the cast was drawn away from my body it was dragging my body hairs with it.

I whistled with pain through my teeth, and then exhaled. There was a responding glint of concern in Julie’s eyes.

‘Careful,’ she whispered, as if she was directing herself as much as me. ‘Not long now.’

I rolled each released shoulder, enjoying the freedom my arms now felt. Julie drew the cast away from my diaphragm and a hairline crack suddenly appeared across the concave smoothness, splitting the plaster apart. The chest-piece slipped to the floor and shattered into lumps like chalk.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ rattled Julie. She was still gripping tight to the lower casing. I froze and said nothing.

After all, everything was in her hands.

Julie bowed her head, wondering what to do next. She then looked up at me.

‘It’s salvageable. I hope.’

She bit her lip, as though she was trying to stop herself quivering. It wasn’t working.

It wasn’t exactly as if she had much alternative—unless she wanted to begin all over again. Standing here for another few hours certainly wasn’t my idea of a good time.

Then Julie rallied, as if making a new plan. ‘No,’ she reassured herself, her voice stronger now. ‘I can make something of this.’

She picked up a scalpel and began to lever it under the remaining edges of the casing. Her other hand was round the cock-shield as if she was using it as a handle to steady herself. The cast came away from my lower half without any trouble at all.

She settled it down on the floor in front of her knees. Her whole face beamed.

‘Go and get yourself a shower, Luke, while I finish off here.’

I slung my clothes back on and headed back to the house. The golden light in its windows promised warmth against the late afternoon’s growing darkness.

My entire body savoured the rush of hot water. My limbs relaxed and shifted in pleasure like they had just woken up. I closed my eyes and stood directly beneath the shower nozzle and raised my head to let the water pour over me.

I opened them again at the sudden opening of the curtain. Julie stepped into the cubicle, as naked as I was. This was more like it. I didn’t know if it was her plan all along—whether this was exactly why she’d ordered me in the first place. For the art, and then the show afterwards. I couldn’t care less, to be frank. I was only happy to oblige.

Julie’s hands once more glided all over my body, her touch mixing with the streams of water. I pulled her to me, wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. She slipped beyond my grasp.

Julie looked longingly at my hardened cock. Again. Her eyes flickered up to meet mine at the very same moment that her hands encircled my dick.

‘I’m going down,’ she cackled, dropping to her knees and drawing my prick between her dripping wet lips. Her tongue flickered to greet me.

The rush of water seemed to get louder around us. Who cared where my cock had dragged me to this time? The pleasure was all mine.