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The phone buzzes against my thigh.

I do not pick it up at once. I let Hale talk. I nod at the right time. Then I turn the screen just enough.

Unknown: You are hard. Don’t lie. I know that body. Put your hand on it. Over the cloth. Just once. They will think you are fixing your jacket.

I lock it.

I am hard. The cloth is tight. My hand wants to drop. I leave it on the table around the pen.

“Rhys,” Hale says. “You with us?”

“Yes,” I say. “Two years. Paid. I heard you.”

Grant looks at me a second longer than he needs to. I give him nothing.

Another buzz.

Unknown: Do it. Hand under the table. Over the cloth. Just once. I want you hard in that chair. I want you leaking in your shorts while those two men wait for you to speak. You came this morning with my voice in your ear. Do it again. Undo the button. Pull the zipper. Wrap your hand around it and stroke once. Slow. If they look, smile. You are good at lying.

Heat runs down my spine. My cock throbs against the zipper. I sit very still.

I move my hand anyway.

Not all the way. Just off the pen. Fingers on my belt. The metal is warm. I hook a thumb in the waistband like I am settling the shirt. The button is right there. I press it. It gives a little. I do not open it.

I breathe in through my nose. Out. Hale is still talking. Grant is writing.

I pull the zipper down one tooth.

The sound is tiny. It is still too loud. My cock pushes into the gap like it has been waiting. I freeze. My face does not change. My hand is under the table, on my own fly, in a meeting worth more money than most people will see.

I could take it out. I could stroke once and they would never know if I kept my shoulders still.

I do not.

I ease the zipper back up. I take my hand off my belt. I pick up the pen.

The phone buzzes again.

Unknown: Leave the room. Now. You have one minute. Then I call. If you ignore me I will tell you what I did last night with my hands still wet.

I am not going to come in a chair that is not mine, in front of two men who are paying me to think.

“I need two minutes,” I say. I stand. The jacket hides most of it if I keep it closed. “Then we finish the hold-back and you both sign.”

Hale waves a hand. “Go.”

I take the phone with me.

The bathroom is down the hall, private, one stall, a lock that clicks. I shut it. I put my back to the door. I look at my face in the mirror and I do not like how dark my eyes are.

The phone rings.

Same number.

I answer because I already know I will.

“What.”