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A photo session in the garage gets erotic.

"You sure you're a taker?" he asked. "You feel like a giver. I was told you were a taker."

"I can do either," I answered in a steady voice. "I prefer to bottom, though."

"We call that a 'T' wrangler here. Did you know that?"

"I was told that much, yes," I answered. "Not much more." I took the "no gossip" to heart. I didn't want to finger Butch for telling me anything at all. Butch looked very much like someone I didn't want to be on the bad side of-which meant Butch looked pretty damn good to me.

"The guys who dick we call 'G' wranglers. For 'giver.' You'll soon see the difference. The clients can see the difference. Strip all the way down for me, please. And if you think you can make it entertaining, do."

I slowly stripped down as he walked off and leaned his butt against the desk top, which was clear of everything but a blotter.

"Yeah, slow like that. The zipper slow. You'll see that you will have jeans with buttons. If the client wants, work those slow. And you'll have a jock, but if you know already the client wants a show, lose it beforehand. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Turn for me, please. You sure you're not fucking Sadie?"

"No, sir, I'm not."

"You're prime, though. How'd she know that, I wonder."

I was prepared for this. "I model. There's a portfolio. And I've got a DVD or two out-me with other guys. Maybe she's seen those. And . . . and . . . I have worked in the Crystal Lounge in Chicago."

"Ah, that must be it. She owns that too. Someone there must have told her you'd fit in here. If she's seen your photos, that probably would have told her a lot too."

"Yeah, maybe that," I answered.

"Doesn't say why she'd let you go from Chicago though. You must have been real popular there."

"Ummm, I think they might have been following my preferences. I've heard of this place. I wanted to try it out. Chicago was a bit . . ." I acted that I couldn't quite find the words.

"Refined? Tame?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess that's it."

"Mean you like it rougher than you were getting in Chicago? More cowboy style?"

"Yeah, I guess something like that." This was all back story that had been carefully constructed. I was a little nonplused, though, as I didn't know if this guy knew more of why I was here than he was telling-which is what I would have assumed-that maybe he was afraid someone was listening to us and was just being careful.

And I was even more confused-and fighting hard not to show it-as I turned toward him and found that he'd dropped his jeans and was unbuttoning his shirt. And now I knew for sure where he'd gotten the snake and even the sidewinder nickname. His cock was long, really long, and slender and it crooked slight to the side right behind the bulb. The rest of him was rangy and hard muscle over a thin, angular body-a body I'd call wiry. And his muscles were so hard on his body and tight-fitting, that his veins ran just below the surface of skin, in a pattern that ran all over his body. I rather liked that, and I immediately began showing him my appreciation.

"You harden up that fast for all men?" he asked.

"The ones I like the looks of."

"Can you do it for the ones you don't like the looks of?"

"I've been able to do so thus far," I answered. "You know how it is at the Crystal Lounge, I assume," I said.

"Yes. And so you know how it is here, don't you? We can go more into it later, but this is no different from the Crystal Lounge-except a little more free style and a little rougher and the johns don't come and go as quickly as they do in downtown Chicago. They're here for pretty long stretches of time. If they take a shine to someone, they can work him for days. You work here, you do what you are told when you are told-for as long as you are told. And we get bigger spenders here than they do in Chicago-men who have the money to get all that they want."

"Yes, sir.

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