Tag carefully carried the plate of food over to the customer at the corner table. This well-dressed, well-spoken, well-built man in his forties looked as though he might be a big tipper. Then again, looking as if someone should tip a lot meant nothing. Sometimes the least likely looking person, who’d picked the cheapest item on the menu, tipped more generously than someone who chose steak and the most expensive wine.
“Here we go,” Tag said in his I’m a cheerful waiter voice. “Beer-battered fish, double cooked chips, petit pois and homemade tartar sauce.”
“Is it homemade?”
That’s what it said on the menu but Tag had seen the catering container in the kitchen. ‘No,’ he mouthed and said, “Absolutely. Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”
Sir wasn’t a word that fell easily from his lips, and in a pub like this, the sort of thing Tag might have got teased about, but this customer looked like he’d appreciate being called sir.
“Such as?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Vinegar, ketchup, another drink, more tartar sauce?” Tag smiled. “Maybe some bread and butter?”
“There is one thing.”
Tag waited.
The guy looked up at him. “Do you have a big cock?”
For a moment, Tag convinced himself he must have misheard. He took a moment to think what the man might have actually asked. Something about a rock? A sock? In stock? But when the guy glanced at Tag’s crotch, then looked up at Tag’s face, Tag decided his ears hadn’t been deceiving him. He’d never been asked that question before.
“I usually expect a bit more foreplay conversation-wise.”
Tag hoped for a laugh but didn’t get one.
“Do you?”
“Well, yes. Like—you have a lovely arse or are you doing anything later because I have something in mind or look how happy all of me is to see you.”
The guy rolled his eyes. “Do you have a big cock?”
Tag was fairly sure he was blushing. He hadn’t been hunting for compliments. This guy wasn’t his type. Shit, he wants an answer. Tag’s cock wasn’t huge, but it definitely wasn’t small. Oh fuck it. “Why do you want to know?”
“I’d like to invite you to a party. If you’d walked away in a huff after that question, then you wouldn’t have been suitable…a suitable guest. I’m looking for a good-looking young man with an open mind, a big cock and—a lovely arse— who’d like to make some money.”
“Too late with the arse comment.”
That did get him a laugh. Tag’s thoughts flashed onto exactly what this party would entail. Sex, probably drugs and…more sex.
“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong.”
Tag was pretty sure he was right. Sex in some form or another. Young guys for older rich guys to fuck. Although he was flattered to be called good-looking, he wasn’t flattered to think that he looked like someone who’d fuck for money. Not going to happen. But he was still standing there, wasn’t he? He hadn’t flounced off feeling insulted.
