Page 12 of On Your Knees

When he sets the glass down, I hold out my hand and say, “Let’s begin.”

FIVE

Levi

It feels strange to take a man’s hand simply to get up from a couch. I’m not sure why I accept it. I’m not sure why I like it. It kind of embarrasses me, but Ethan doesn’t make a thing of it. He does it as lightly as he sent me that money.

Seven thousand dollars.

I’ve never had that much money in my entire life. All my debt paid. All my stress just… gone.

He said that’s why he did it, so I could focus on what we’re doing. But right now I’m distracted by it. I can’t process it, and it’s buzzing under my skin. God, I hope I don’t cry. I almost did a few minutes ago.

It hurt, having him do that for me, regardless of his reasons, and I’m having trouble putting it aside as I follow him across the insanely nice living room of his penthouse. I’ve never been in a penthouse. Trash like me doesn’t even clean places like this. Serving at the charity dinner last night was a fluke. They needed someone, anyone, and that anyone just happened to be me.

But Ethan was adopted. He didn’t come from this either.

It seems a little unfair that I already know that about him. It’s something private and personal, but it’s all over the internet for anyone to see. That, and the fact that his adoptive father was murdered when he was in high school. I’d never heard of Paul Castle, but it was obviously a big deal when it happened, him being some kind of famous preacher or something.

Ethan clearly didn’t want to talk about it. I get that. I wasn’t trying to make him talk about it. But I couldn’t help feeling something, and I guess it showed on my face. Everything shows on my face. I generally catch it and get it under control, but it’s not always easy.

It’s definitely not easy right now with my head spinning and my hands shaking. I’ve got them balled up in my jacket pockets at the moment, but soon that won’t be a possibility.

I honestly can’t imagine being naked in front of another person, so my mind just keeps skipping around it. Even in the moment of deciding to come here, I wasn’t really imagining it. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking about the money either. I was just thinking about being around Ethan again.

He leads me from the living room into what looks like another foyer. There are no windows, and the black-on-black wallpaper, which is textured and ornate, further darkens the space. There are glossy black statues in vaguely human form, but I can’t make them out in the dimness. It’s a little eerie and almost makes me feel like we’re walking through a tunnel. Then Ethan opens a door.

I don’t know what I was expecting other than, vaguely, an art studio, but that’s not what Ethan leads me into. The room has a strange, dark mood. The light is restricted by black curtains partway shut over windows that frame the cityscape. Another black curtain forms one of the walls, closing off what is clearly the rest of a larger room.

In this smaller space, the ceiling and upper walls are deep red, but the color bleeds to black as it nears a floor of dark, glossy hardwood. Lengths of silvery chain hang on the walls. Some of it is clearly decorative, hanging connectively between pieces of abstract silver sculpture. Some of it, though, hangs from pegs, and these chains end in shackles and even… collars.

“Those are just props,” Ethan says because I’m sure it’s obvious what I’m staring at. “They’re not for you.”

I have the weirdest reaction to that statement. I should be relieved, or maybe even freaking out and trying to leave, but all I can think is: Why not for me?

It makes no sense, so I force my mind away from the question and force my eyes away from the… what did he call them? Props.

In the corner, there’s something even stranger. It looks like a coffin made of quilted black leather. It’s closed, but I can see hinges and handles in strange places, as though there are little doors that can be opened.

To my right, there’s a well-stocked bar that’s all black and gold and crystal bottles. I only glance at that because it looks pretty normal. The main part of the room, however, is dominated by strange furniture. It undulates in curves and waves like some kind of modern art. One… chair? looks almost like a slide with two humps and a dip between them. There’s a curved couch of deep red velvet that’s shaped sort of like a comma, where the fat end is bigger than my bed.

Only one chair looks normal, a large and imposing wingback of black leather. On a table beside it lies a large book with a plain black cover.

For the first time, the reality of what I’ve agreed to actually hits me. I’m going to take off all my clothes. Ethan is going to see me. All of me. What if he’s disappointed? I’m pale. I’m a lot smaller than him. And I didn’t… shave.

Heat creeps up my neck.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Ethan demands in a low, dark voice.

“I… I don’t know.” I’m not supposed to lie to him, but it’s not really a lie. My thoughts are crowded and slippery. I’m not sure which one I could hold onto long enough to explain.

“Are you scared?”

My eyes jump to the coffin-thing then the chains, but I’m not scared, at least not of them.

Ethan doesn’t force an answer to the question but instead asks another. “Have you ever been naked with another man?”

“No.”