conversation taking place that I wasn’t privy to. After Cam left, I planted my forearms on the table. “He was flirting with you.”
Jesse looked up from his menu with a laugh. “Maybe, and?”
“Just another example of how you’re constantly talking about how you can’t get laid, and yet since I’ve been around you, I’ve seen countless dudes make a pass. Just saying.”
Jesse rolled his eyes, then lifted the menu like a divider between us, which I stared at resolutely. There was a smile in his eyes when he lowered it a couple of inches again, though. “You’re still there.”
“Shocking, right?”
He tossed the menu aside. “Fine. I can get laid. Getting laid is easy—”
“But—”
Jesse lifted a finger. “I said getting laid is easy. Meeting someone I want to do it with on a consistent basis is the hard part. I have certain…standards. A mental checklist of sorts.”
“Oh?” I cocked a brow. “And what might these standards be?”
“Uh-uh.” Jesse shook his head. “A lot of them are too embarrassing to admit. Suffice it to say, I doubt Cam or any of the other guys you’re thinking of would meet them, so I’ve shelved them until after this year.”
“What about John?” I asked, and Jesse pressed his lips together. Bullseye.
“John meets a lot of the criteria, but he’s also really busy, so we’ll see.”
“What about that date you were supposed to go on with him?”
“He had to cancel last Thursday because of work. He said something about next week, but who knows.”
I felt kind of bad for hoping John got tied up. But seriously, if he hadn’t made time for Jesse already, was he really a good match for him?
We paused our conversation again when Cam returned to take our orders. Jesse shook his head at me when he walked away. “Stop looking at me like you expect me to tear off my clothes and run after him.”
“That wasn’t how I was looking at you. But would you bang him?” I had to admit, given all Jesse’s talk of lists and stuff, I was curious what interested him, and the little prickle that ran through me, well, that was just awareness. Or conscientiousness. I mean, I was about to embark upon a sexual adventure with him. It was probably only natural to feel a little…protective.
Jesse bopped me on the head with his menu. “We’re here to discuss our…our business endeavor. But in point of fact, no, I wouldn’t bang Cam. He’s cute, but there’s too much history. It’d be trouble. Now, let’s get down to business.” He pulled out a small notepad and flipped it open on the table, then dug in the pocket of his backpack for a pen. “So I began a small list of ideas…”
“A new list? What a surprise,” I teased.
“Duh. You can’t just go into this haphazard. No one wants to see two guys fumbling around tripping over their underwear trying to take it off, or doing a dry jerk if someone absolutely hates a dry jerk.”
“Do you hate a dry jerk?”
“Not if it’s done right, which is exactly what we need to figure out. First, we talk scenarios. Second, we talk likes and dislikes.” Jesse spoke matter-of-factly, blessedly oblivious to the fact that just the mention of a dry jerk made my dick twitch. The only good dry jerk I’d ever had had been the one I’d given myself, because he was right, there was an art to it for sure. That wasn’t a requirement or anything; I’d had plenty of great hand jobs with spit as lube and actual lube, but now I was curious about Jesse’s technique.
Concentrate.
“Let’s start with scenarios.” Jesse rapped the pen lightly on the top of his pad like we were about to write out the world’s filthiest grocery list.
“Okay, you start,” I said. “Name the sexiest things you’ve ever watched on Pornhub. Anddddd go.”
“Wait, I need parameters.”
“There are none. We’re talking fantasies, right? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Jesse was unrelenting. “I need parameters, trust me. Like, how freaky can I get here?”
My cock gave another little twitch. Interesting. I was starting to feel like a scientist of sex lately, and what I was uncovering definitely needed more observation. “Umm, exactly how freaky are you? Never mind. Okay, parameters. “
“Take furries, for example. Is that a hard no?”
“Yeah. I mean, no? Or maybe? But I don’t want to wear a furry costume because I’d get too hot. I mean, I sweat when I eat sometimes,” I admitted. I wasn’t