John made a soft, wanting noise but didn’t interrupt.

“I carefully pop open the buttons and slip the jacket from my shoulders, flexing as I move. My arm muscles stand out beneath the fabric. The fabric shushes as it crumples at my feet. Under it is a simple dress shirt that brings out the color of my eyes.” Zack was intentionally vague so John could imagine him with whatever eye color he wanted. Zack sometimes had to describe variations of himself—including hotter ones—to his clients. It was awkward but a necessary part of the fantasy. “I can feel you watching me from across the room. My fingers fumble a little on the small white buttons, exposing my chest slowly, my hands trailing over my abs. When I look up and meet your gaze, your eyes are dark and hungry. You devour my skin as I reveal more and more with each undone button.”

“Good,” John muttered, sounding slightly dazed. “Very good. Keep going.”

Zack heard rustling fabric and imagined that John was palming himself through his pants. The idea sent a shock of arousal through him. He always enjoyed the thought of people getting off to his voice, but with his other clients it was more about ego than sex. With John, the sex part was definitely a factor.

Zack concentrated on maintaining his rich, sensual drawl. “I let my shirt slide off and join my jacket on the floor. Your eyes rove over me, and I make an effort to hold still while you drink me in. It’s hard, though, because all I want to do is cross the room and kiss you. Instead I let you examine me, from my muscular shoulders to my taut stomach. I spend a lot of time on my body, John. It’s the most valuable asset I have. I work on it daily, perfecting it, making sure it’s strong and fit so I can spend hours pleasing my clients. Now tell me, was your money well spent?”

“Yes,” John answered immediately, his voice thick with arousal. “You sound delicious.”

“What do you want me to do?”

John paused. “I’m going to sit on the bed, and then you’re going to kneel in front of me and suck me off.”

Zack’s cock surged at John’s words. The way John said that, with complete confidence that Zack would obey, was wicked hot.

“That sounds perfect,” Zack breathed. “Sit down on the bed and spread your legs.” He pictured a generic handsome man leaning back on his palms while his legs dangled over the side of the mattress. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“A Versace Barocco jacquard suit with a blue dress shirt.” The words rolled off John’s tongue like liquid. Zack didn’t know what half of them meant, but they sounded good. “And APO dark-wash jeans. I wish you could see them right now, Wesley. They’ve gotten so tight. I’ve been hard since you said hello.”

“Fuck,” Zack said under his breath. He had a perfect mental image of John’s dick straining against his jeans: a thick bulge outlined by dark denim that couldn’t begin to conceal it. The designer labels John mentioned were a nice touch as well.