Jesse

Dear God, I did it.I settled shakily into the tub, letting the hot water hold me safely in place as I floated. I loved the water.

Some of my best memories are of days in my youth when I'd rushed through my morning chores on sweltering summer days and escaped to the large pond at the edge of the fields.

I'd strip in the knee-high grasses that swayed in the gentle breeze and wade out until I could float on my back. I'd lay weightless, letting the water carry me for hours on end; long enough that the small wild creatures grew used to my presence. The fish would come to investigate, lightly swirling the water under my back while the dragonflies darted in and out of my field of vision as I stared up at a clear, blindingly blue sky.

On more than one occasion I'd lost track of time for long enough that my siblings had been sent to retrieve me. I'd been grateful to find that my small, school sponsored apartmentnot only had a tub, but that it was large enough for me to fit in comfortably.

I hated the way simple things like interviewing for a job affected me so strongly at times. It didn't happen often anymore, and when it did, I was usually able to reign in my panic before it escalated too badly. It had been years since I'd experienced an attack as intense as those I'd known during my childhood. Those had often led to my breaking down into shaky tears and hiding in the nearest closet.

There wasn't any real reason that interviewing for a part-time job should have gotten me so worked up. I hadn't even panicked like that when I'd applied to med-schools, or when I'd found out I'd been accepted, or when I moved to the city alone. I suppose it was because I was desperate. When I saw the listing with the amount of money being offered, along with the hours I'd need to work, it was as if someone had miraculously created a job posting exclusively for me.

I'd been looking for weeks, been to several interviews, and had even been offered a couple of positions. Unfortunately, there was no way I could have made them work with school. This job had seemed perfect, even if I had no idea what in the world the assistant to a consort did. It's not like we had consorts out on country farms.

I had not expected the man who answered the door. I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he looked like sex on a stick - that is how he makes his living, after all. Still, it had felt like the leading character from a romantic summer-blockbuster had stepped off the screen and into a normal, everyday apartment building. That didn't happen very often. That never happened in my experience.

Don't get me wrong, I'd seen plenty of attractive men in college, even more since I'd moved to the city. I'd even gone home with a few of them over the years. Nothing that ever lasted very long, mind you, but they were enjoyable for the brief moments they were mine. This time though, there was something about Ash that seemed to draw me in like a moth to a flame. His long blond hair curled subtly around his clean-shaven chin, and his tight jeans and t-shirt hugged every plane and curve of a body that looked as if he spent every free moment swimming laps.

Even more surprising had been the way I'd suddenly managed to pull myself together as I stared into his jade-colored eyes. For a momentbefore he'd ushered me into the room, my anxiety had nearly evaporated. It was as if those pools of pale green had held me, grounded me, allowed me to breathe even though they were just eyes, and I'd only just met him. There was no reason they should have affected me like that. No reason at all that I should have felt like I was floating weightless in warm summer waters.

He'd smiled kindly nearly the entire time I was there. If he'd noticed how nervous I was, he didn't mention it or fixate on it. When I struggled to find the words I wanted, he'd simply waited patiently.

Normally people get frustrated with me. They roll their eyes, or wave their hand, gesturing for me to hurry up and spit it out. He'd simply smiled and waited.

When he'd crouched down at my side to go over his scheduling system with me, I'd nearly forgotten how to breathe. His shoulder kept brushing against the side of my leg, occasionally my forearm as well. His hair smelled like peppermint and sandalwood, and I'd struggled to keep my eyes…and hands…on the computer as he walked me through the software. I'd wanted nothing more than to sink my fingers into the silken strands, curling them tight against his scalp, and trailing them lightly through the gently curling ends. I bet his hair was softer than corn silk.

The job hadn't been what I'd expected either, not that I really had any preconceived notions about what such a job would entail. I suppose I'd expected it to be like most other reception-style positions where I'd have multiple administrative duties and lists of things to accomplish that no one else seemed to have time for. I had certainly never expected that I'd spend perhaps twenty minutes of every hour actually working and the rest of the time I'd be free to study. When he"d said he didn't mind if I spent my time with my nose in my books even though I was technically on the clock I'd nearly started crying in relief. I'm pretty sure I managed to force my face to remain politely neutral. He hadn't looked at me oddly or said anything to indicate I looked like I was having a minor stroke, so yeah, I probably managed it.

When he'd finished with his client, I'd stood outside his bathroom door with very…dirty…sheets in my arms, trying to reign in my panic for longer than I'd care to admit, before I managed to compose myself, walk in, dump them in the laundry shoot, and walk back out without stopping to settle cross-legged on the granite floor and watch him under the water like he was this week's most anticipated new release. While I wasn't proud of the waiting outside the door before managing to complete the most basic of tasks, I was proud of the fact I'd only stolen the quickest of glances at his pale, firm, wet backside as I'd turned to leave the room.

What are you doing?!

Stupid hand. I hadn't even noticed that it had slipped under the water and was slowly sliding along my length as I thought about my new boss. Clearly, this was not an acceptable thing to do.

I forced the willful limb up onto the side of the tub and leaned back with my eyes closed once more. No more thinking about his ass. Or the way he smells. Or the way he'd looked in that black silk robe. No way. He'd been kind and the job was beyond perfect. That was all this was, a professional arrangement. I hadn't been on a date in nearly a year, not since I moved to the city. That was definitely what was wrong with my hand. It had nothing to do with green eyes or perfect shoulders or the smell of peppermint.

I only stood in front of the door for three minutes on my first official day of work. I'd ended up leaving class a few minutes late and had to sprint across town, so I'd needed a moment to pull myself together. I knew that taking a job while I was a full-time student with a demanding course load was going to be a challenge. I also knew that it would get easier as I adjusted to the extra mental strain and demand on my already very limited time.

The room was empty when I walked in. I quickly checked the waters, straightened the books, and settled into the desk chair. When Ash walked in a few minutes later, he was wearing that damn black silk robe again. His hair was loose, the ends gracefully brushing the tops of his shoulders. I'd been clicking around his schedule, taking a more in-depth look at the way his business ran, but in truth, it really did seem as simple as it had during his brief tutorial. He had three back-to-back clients today, each scheduled for an hour, with half hour breaks in between, so I'd be here for what…four or five hours. I wasn't sure if he expected me to wait for him to leave after his last client. I would today just to be safe. I already felt guilty that he would be paying me for time I spent studying, I didn't want to risk him feeling that I was a slacker who left early without permission.

Five hours and he was going to pay me for a full day's work because he considered three clients to be a full workday for him. Five hours, and I would have time to study on the job. Some tiny part of me wondered if this was an elaborate practical joke someone was playing on me. How was a job like this available, and how had I stumbled into it?

Three clients in a row. Three hours of sex? Five days in a row. Some days there were even four appointments! How is that even humanly possible? Ash hadn't said much about himself, but I'd bet he was close to my age. I mean, at twenty-nine, I'm not an old man, but there is no way I could manage something like that. Hell, even in my early twenties an hour and a half would have been a marathon, even if I included time spent on foreplay.

I'd done some research about consorts over the weekend, and I'd read that they often offered other services as well, simple companionship, escorting clients to events, that sort of thing. Maybe he wasn't having three hours' worth of sex. Maybe some of them like him to…I don't know…pour wax on them while he talks dirty, or maybe they just cry through mental breakdowns while he hugs them. That doesn't sound so bad actually. Shame I'd never thought about looking around for that service when I was younger. Paying someone that looks like him to hold me tightly when I start to panic would definitely take the edge off, or at least distract me enough that I'd stop thinking about whatever had caused me to spiral and focus on his strong arms instead. Nope. That's not the type of thing I'm thinking about my boss, remember.

He took the first few steps into the waiting room, still knotting the tie of his robe. He absolutely looked like he could have sex for three hours.

The moment he saw me behind the desk he smiled so broadly it lit up the room. During my interview he'd smiled most of the time, but it had been kind and soft; the type of smile that professionals use in hospitals and at the front desks of hotels. This was not that smile. This was happiness. He was happy to see me. It faded to his polite, professional smile quickly, but for a moment it had been there.

"Good morning."

I couldn't help but grin back as he made his way over and settled one butt cheek on the corner of the desk. His naked calf casually crossed over his other knee.

"It's three in the afternoon."

"Technically, I suppose. But it's my first client of the day and good afternoon somehow always seems too formal to me, so I always just go with good morning."

"Whatever you say, boss." I chuckled softly. He had a sense of humor too? Albeit a dorky one, but still.

"Have you been here long?"

"About ten minutes."

"Any issues so far?"

"Nope." I grinned and tried to joke as well. "So far I have successfully managed to sit in this chair and remember how to type things."

Ash cocked his head to the side like an amused puppy for a moment before offering a lopsided grin as he opened his mouth to speak.

Then the door opened.

He stood quickly as his client entered the room. He walked toward him and offered his hand in greeting, abandoning whatever thought he'd been about to utter.

The afternoon faded into evening uneventfully. I greeted his other two clients, rescheduled one of them, changed the sheets, refilled the waters, and spent most of my time with my nose in my books. I was expected to do so little that it really didn't feel like he needed an assistant. I felt a bit guilty taking his money for such a minimal amount of work but telling him that and finding myself out of a job simply wasn't something I could afford to do. I'd have to keep an eye out for other small things I might be able to do for him to make up for it.

As I sat on the couch flipping through a book about ornamental gardening while he finished showering after his last client, I tried to convince myself that I should probably continue to force myself not to stare when I changed the sheets and caught glimpses of him in the shower. I'd seen him in there four times over the course of two days, and every time he'd been in the exact same position. He faced into the spray with his hands placed just above his head on the slate wall. He'd lean into them with his head bowed and his shoulders dropped. His hair appeared light brown rather than blond when it was wet, and it clung to the back of his neck and shoulders. He looked different in those moments, like he carried the weight of the world and he was trying to find a way to survive. I don't know why that's how it felt. In every one of our interactions, and the few moments I'd seen him with others, he seemed to radiate calm and self-assuredness. I couldn't figure out why my brain said that might not really be the case based on a few stolen glances.

"You're still here."

I nearly jumped out of my skin when he opened the door and stepped into the waiting room, now dressed in dark blue jeans and a lightweight pale cream sweater. A black backpack was slung over one shoulder.

I felt myself blush.

"I didn't know if you wanted me to wait and walk out with you at the end of the day."

His smile was gentle and comforting. I wanted to hug him. Nope, not thinking that either.

"That's very kind of you. But no, I can't even imagine how little spare time you must have. You certainly don't need to spend any of it waiting for me."

I stood and followed him to the door with an awkward laugh.

"True. I barely have time to remember to eat and breathe most days. But, if you ever change your mind, just let me know."

"I certainly will. Thank you for the kind offer."

He entered the keypad code to lock the door behind us, and with a single nod and one last smile he took off down the hall in the opposite direction of the elevator. I wondered where he was headed.