“I ordered the kartoffelpuffer, potato pancakes. They’ll be crispy on the outside, but when you bite in, you’ll taste the potato. Soft. Smooth. Hot. For our main course, we’ll have beef rouladen, soft, succulent beef covered with tangy mustard and wrapped around savory bacon and sweet, thinly-sliced onions and carrots. The butteriness of the beef, spice of the mustard, and salt of the bacon will tantalize your mouth. I promise you’ll love it.”

Dash kept his voice pitched low, and he spoke slowly, dragging out his vowels. By the time he finished, Thorne was half-hard and considering whether to ask for dinner to go and drag Dash back to his apartment.

“LIKED THAT DID you?” Dash asked, well aware of his skill and Thorne’s reaction.

“Fuck yes, I did.” Thorne’s voice was scratchy with need. Would he be asking for another round after dinner?

“Just wait until I order dessert,” Dash said.

“We’ve already had cupcakes.”

“We had a lot of things that were sweet, but I”—Dash licked his lips and closed his eyes—“believe you can never have too much.”

Dash slipped his foot out of his shoe and lifted his leg, pushing his foot into Thorne’s lap. Thorne’s eyes widened as Dash pressed against him, discovering that, as he’d expected, Thorne’s cock would be more than happy to have dessert.

“Quit that. Our server is headed this way.” Thorne looked horrified.

Smiling, Dash lowered his leg and slipped his shoe back on.

Jordan set the kartoffelpuffer and their bourbons on the table. “Did you choose a wine to go with your entree?”

“Yes,” Thorne said. “We’ll have the Dornfelder.”

“Excellent choice. Do you need anything else?”

“No. Thank you.”

“Then enjoy.” Jordan left them.

Dash used his fork to spear one of the cakes, and Thorne followed suit. Dash tasted his carefully. They were still piping hot. “Mmmm.” He closed his eyes to better enjoy the taste. A perfect blend of saltiness and quality-potato flavor. When he finished savoring his bite, he realized Thorne was staring at him; glaring, more like.

“How did you learn to be so…” He waved a hand. “Did you go to seduction school or what?”

Dash laughed. “If there were an Escort Academy, it would be nothing like most people would imagine. Most of us are already quite comfortable with our sexuality when we’re hired. It’s the unexpected parts of the job—being a therapist, career consultant, personal shopper, companion to a sports enthusiast—most of us could use help with.”

“So were you just born knowing how to make men want you?” Thorne looked annoyed that seduction came so easy to Dash.

“Were you born knowing how to swagger around the office and tell people what to do?”

“I don’t—”

Dash raised his brows, and Thorne stopped his feeble protest.