Page 28

My forehead hits my arm and a broken sound leaks out of me that I hope the espresso machine in the café covers.

The orgasmic bliss is short and filthy and leaves my legs shaking. I stay there until the throb becomes a pulse I can walk on. I clean myself and then I pull my briefs up. Jeans too. The paddle goes back in the bag like it did not just wreck me in a café bathroom.

I wash my hands. I look at my face. Flushed.

I need to be bright-eyed. A boy on his way to a regular work shift.

But Zane’s message is still unanswered. Keller’s is still waiting. Dmitri is still in that building somewhere, or he will be, and he will look at me like he already knows what I did with his gift.

Maybe he will.

And maybe I want him to.

I sling the backpack on, check that the leather is buried, and walk out into the café like I only came in to pee.

Work first.

Then Zane.

Then whatever this is becoming.

I can be submissive and still be dangerous. I have done it before. The difference now is the man on the other end of the paddle.

The prospect of a shift at Keller’s looks different when your ass still hurts.

Not worse. Just closer. Every step up from the subway reminds me what I did in that bathroom. The paddle was smaller than his hand but just as mean.

The sting has settled into a deep, private heat that makes my work trousers feel too tight. I keep my face neutral for the cameras as I step inside.

In a place like this, I assume almost everywhere has some kind of video surveillance. Even the staff locker room.

A couple of boys are already in there, talking about a member who tips in hundreds and a member who tips in sleazy compliments.

I take a locker at the end, strip out of my street clothes, and pull on the uniform. Black trousers. White shirt. The kind of neat that says I belong here if nobody looks too hard.

I put the backpack in the locker.

The paddle stays inside it.

For a second I almost take it out and hide it in my waistband, just to feel the shape of the rule he gave me. I do not. Even I am not that reckless before a shift.

I shut the door, check my hair, and walk out with the walk of a boy who did not just spank himself to an orgasm in a café toilet.

Steven is waiting near the service corridor like he has been timing me.

“Elias. Good. You’re on time.”

“Always,” I reply, a smile on my face.

Steven almost smiles. Almost.

“Bar first,” Steven says. “Then the upper floors. Private rooms. The usual standard. Now that you’re settling in, I want you using your judgment. Work with the others. Decide between you who takes the floor and who takes the rooms. I can’t stand over everyone the whole time. This is Keller’s. We let our staff use their initiative.”

Settling in.

Two days ago I was a trial shift he wanted to throw into the street. Now I am a person who can use his judgment. This is good.

“Thank you,” I say. “That means a lot.”