The next day should have been awful. Luggage was heavier than ever, guests were rude and demanding. The heat was sweltering, his boss a total asshole. But Carson went about the day with a smile on his face, his footsteps light as a feather, elevated by one thought that kept reverberating through his mind: I sucked Mr. Armisen’s dick.

He had to keep telling himself it really happened, but it felt like a dream. Still, the soreness of his cheeks and his difficulty swallowing was a keen reminder that it was very, very real indeed.

“What are you so happy about?” Clarissa asked him, scowling.

“Nothing,” said Carson, smiling to himself.

“Bitch, you’re lying,” she said, sliding away from the computer. “What the hell is going on? You haven’t bitched to me all day. Is something wrong?”

He turned to her and laughed. “You promise you won’t tell anybody?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Depends on what I’m promising.”

“Fine,” Carson shrugged. “I won’t tell you.”

He looked around the lobby. All these men in business suits he used to fantasize about looked so ordinary to him now, the memory of Mr. Armisen’s impossibly perfect body still lingering in his mind.

“It’s Mr. Armisen, isn’t it?”

He spun around to look at her. “What?”

“You were thinking about him!” she said, delighted by her discovery. “I can always tell--your eyes glaze over and you get kind of slack jawed.”

“I do not,” he protested, but she mocked him anyway, dead eyes and open mouth. Well, maybe that was kind of accurate. But who wouldn’t make that face at the thought of him?

“What happened?” she said, scooting closer. “You overhear him again? Or did you walk in on him this time?”

“I told you, I can’t tell you,” he said.

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “It’s not like you’ll ever see the guy again anyway.”

“What?”

“He just checked out this morning,” she said, gesturing to the computer.

Carson's heart fell with a heavy thud. And suddenly the weight of this terrible day came crashing onto his shoulders.

“Are you serious?” he said, his voice almost breaking.

“Yeah,” she said carefully, noticing his disappointment. “Why do you care so much?”

Carson looked at his feet, dangling off the edge of the counter.

“‘Cause we--”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Did you guys fuck?”

“No--we didn’t--fuck.”

“Then what?”

He turned to her. “I… may have walked in while he was showering and… Sucked his dick.”

She stared deep into his eyes. And suddenly, unexpectedly, she broke out laughing. “You lying bitch!”

Carson glared. “I’m not lying.”

“Yeah, you sucked Mr. Armisen’s dick and I ate his ass,” she chuckled, returning to her keyboard.

“It happened,” Carson insisted.

“Come on. I saw the girls he brought back to the hotel this week. All the same--big hips and big tits. Neither of us would have a chance with him. But don’t worry,” she winked at him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You’re just jealous,” Carson shrugged, looking away from her.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Oh, by the way Beej Boy, he left you a tip.”

Carson turned. “He did?”

She slid him an envelope. Sure enough, it had his name on it. Carson opened it up and flipped through. A flipbook of Benjamins.

“He’s definitely stacked, though,” she said. “How much did he tip you?”

He showed her the stack. Her jaw dropped.

“Enough for a blowjob,” said Carson victoriously.

Carson flipped through the bills, counting up his earnings, when he found a tiny hand-written note at the bottom of the envelope: (917) 555-2840.

“Holy shit,” said Carson.

“What?” 

“He--he left me his number.”

“What the fuck…”

Now she was definitely jealous.

“What did you do to this man?”

Carson shook his head, massaging his jaw. “Guess he just wanted to return the favor.”

* * *

Carson couldn’t sleep that night. He sat on the living room couch, his roommate’s snores rumbling through the small apartment. Well, maybe not his roommate--his college friend Eli whose couch he had been crashing on for the past four months and who had started to bother him about paying rent.

Carson stared down at the coffee table where he had laid out Mr. Armisen’s note. The ten digits stared back at him.

“Fuck,” he said, taking a sip of a beer.

Clarissa had nearly begged him to call (“I can’t believe it! You have a real Sugar Daddy!”). And it was tempting, and flattering. And though the thousand dollar tip was generous, it also left Carson feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he felt used and dirty, like a whore. On the other hand, he liked it--being Mr. Armisen’s dirty little whore.

But the idea of seeing him outside the hotel was a whole other ordeal. 

Carson massaged his temples. The truth was, he wasn’t ready for a commitment to anything at this point. He’d had a few Grindr hookups over the years, but he hadn’t really seriously dated anyone since college. His last relationship had been a disaster--a dream for the first year, but then eighteen months of misery as he got dragged into his ex’s family drama, his boyfriend traumatized by his father’s affairs and bringing those trust issues into his own relationship. They eventually became toxic for each other and it went down in flames. Now Carson was blocked on all his ex’s social media, but according to Eli their pictures together were still up on his Instagram.

Carson was only twenty-four but he was pretty much done with love. He didn’t want to be anybody’s boyfriend, but he wasn’t too sure he wanted to be anybody’s fucktoy either--especially some random rich dude he met as a bellboy.

But then he pictured Armisen again--not his picturesque body, but his face--and the way he acted when his shirt button struck Carson in the eye. How gently his thumb brushed against Carson’s cheek. How immediately he went to get Carson some ice. And how his face looked--his strikingly long lashes, his rosy lips, his deep, thoughtful eyes.

Before he could stop himself, Carson took a swig of his beer and dialed.

His heart was racing. For a moment, he had the impulse to hang up, when after a few rings someone picked up, and a familiar smokey voice answered.

“This is David.”

For a second, Carson’s mind drew a blank. He didn’t even know this man’s name. He had to confirm, “Mr. Armisen?”

Mr. Armisen chuckled at the hesitancy in Carson’s voice. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t call.”

“Well, I just wanted to thank you,” Carson said, his knees shaking. He added quickly, “Uh, for the tip.”

Mr. Armisen laughed. “You’re very welcome. How’s the eye?”

“Oh, much better,” said Carson, catching his reflection on the darkened TV screen. His bruise had faded significantly, which was a relief since it no longer hurt. But it was also kind of sad, watching the last evidence of his encounter with the mysterious businessman slowly fade away.

“So, listen,” Armisen began. “I had a really nice time at the Bravard. Excellent service.”

Carson gulped. He could almost taste him still.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed your stay.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to assist me again?”

Carson hadn’t prepared for this. He was petrified.

“I’m still traveling on business,” Mr. Armisen continued. “I’m gonna be in Miami this weekend. You haven’t spent up that thousand dollars yet, I hope?”

“No,” said Carson. He could hardly breathe.

“Good,” said Mr. Armisen. “That should cover your flight.”

Carson rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know, sir. I mean… I hardly know you.”

“I know,” said Mr. Armisen. “So, are you interested?”

Carson bit his lip. All he could think about were those woman’s moans from behind the door of the suite as Mr. Armisen slammed into her.

“Well, think about it,” said Mr. Armisen casually, as if he couldn’t care less either way. “Call me when you make up your mind.”

“Okay,” he said shakily, and hung up the phone.

He sat there shivering in the dark, a million fears running through his head. This is crazy, he thought. A total stranger. He could be a murderer… Or some psycho sex fiend.

Well, that last part was definitely true. But it was too wild, too wild for a boy with no money and only enough confidence to showcase the occasional sexy photo on his finsta.

It was three o’clock in the morning, but Carson decided to take a shower to clear his head. He stripped down and looked at himself in the foggy bathroom mirror. He was cute, he knew, even if he wasn’t his own type. Skinnier than he wanted to be. And at 5’9” he wasn’t short, just not as tall as he’d liked to be. And he was a little pasty--he couldn’t tan much, he mostly burned, but he had freckles in surprising sexy places. And he wasn’t ripped--not like Mr. Armisen, woof--but he lifted three days a week and had a nice toned muscular frame, with skinny abs and nice square pecs. And his ass--he had worked on that ass for years, and it paid off nicely; nice and round and firm.

His ex was the first person in his life to call him sexy, even before he started to hit the gym. He used to jerk off as Carson stripped for him across the room. When he bent over to show his hole, his ex usually came right on cue.

Carson shook his head. Enough of that, he thought, and slipped into the shower.

The water was warm and cleansing, and Carson closed his eyes and let the steam lift him away from his troubles.

Mr. Armisen’s eyes peered back at him through the darkness.

Carson gasped. The shower water hitting his mouth took him back to the suite, to the image of Armisen’s glittering body stepping out of the bathroom, to the smell of Armisen’s balls stuffed into his nostrils, to the red meat taste of his impossibly giant rod.

Almost subconsciously, Carson’s hand wandered to his cock and he started to stroke himself, imagining Mr. Armisen wrapping his hand around him from behind.

“That’s right, baby,” he could hear Armisen whispering in his ear. “Come for Daddy.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Carson whimpered.

“Now bend over.”

Carson submitted to the voice in his head. Hypnotically, he plucked the showerhead off the bar and slid down into the bathtub on his hands and knees. He looked back. There was Armisen, gripping his ass in his hands.

“Mm, fuck,” he said, almost angrily, as he jiggled Carson’s cheeks.

“Huh…”

He could imagine Armisen licking him now. He held the showerhead up to his crack to feel his tongue against his hole--thick and warm and hungry.

“Lick me, Daddy--”

“Shut up.”

Carson whined. He could feel the vibrations of Armisen moaning into his ass, the water from the showerhead tickling his hole. He imagined Armisen sticking his finger into his mouth to lube it up, and then penetrate him.

“Oh, shit…”

“You like Daddy’s fingers up in there?”

“Uh-huh…”

“You're gonna like Daddy’s dick even better…”

“Mm…”

“Arch your back, boy. Let Daddy have you now.”

And Carson complied, positioning himself perfectly for fucking. And just as he felt the tip of Armisens’ dick graze his outer ring a surge of pleasure shot through him and he collapsed onto his stomach, shaking and spasming and cumming harder than he’d ever come in his life.

He turned around but Armisen was gone. He was alone on the shower floor, soaking in dirty water and his own cum.

And that was just the thought of him.

Carson hopped out of the shower and whipped out his computer, booking the first available flight to Miami.