Dante - Daryl Banner Page 0,43

rules over the years we’ve known each other and know a few details about each other—like what cities we live in. “Got the night off. Looks like I’m all yours.”

Other people are messaging me as well, mostly the usual beggars trying to get me to do something on cam for free, but with Captain online, I don’t have to sweat a thing; he always takes care of me.

In our private chat window, he types: I wish my cam worked. We could have a better time if you could hear my voice. I look and sound younger than I am, promise!

I unzip my hoodie down halfway, letting my pecs show. “Don’t worry about it, Captain. You know I don’t care how old you are. Hey, how’s the weather down there in Mississippi?”

The chat room floods with messages from my viewers begging me to take the hoodie all the way off. Someone wants me to show them my feet. Another one wants to know how big my dick is—which is a question I get about ninety times a day.

There’s a knock at my door.

And that’s something I get about zero times a day. Who could be knocking? Brett, maybe?

Doesn’t matter. I ignore it as I await Captain’s response, which comes only a minute later: Actually, that’s the thing. I’m not in Mississippi right now.

“Oh yeah?” I smile. Chatting with Captain is like talking to a friend. After so many years, you really get the sense that you know someone, even if it’s just words on a screen with little else of substance other than our conversations. “Where are you? On vacation in the Florida Keys?”

Another knock at the door.

He responds: Actually, I’m in your city tonight.

I read his reply several times.

I’m on cam, so I’m aware that any reaction on my face is something he’ll immediately see. That makes hiding my surprise from him a challenge.

Especially when he adds this: I was hoping maybe we could finally meet. After all this time. Just so I can prove to you I’m harmless.

I stare at the message.

My instinct is to shut him down immediately. Or turn off my computer and fake a power outage or internet failure. Or smile and play it off, like I’m too busy to meet him.

But then there’s a nagging curiosity inside me.

Eating at me.

He goes on: I know you’re freaked out. It’s okay. I don’t want to pressure you or make you do something you don’t want to do. Really, I don’t. But you and I have talked, and we’ve bared our souls, and I just can’t believe this is something you want to do for the rest of your life.

I catch myself fidgeting with the drawstring of my hoodie, which I promptly let go, then scratch the side of my face. “I, uh … heh, well, I mean …”

He then says: Don’t you want to see what else is out there? Don’t you want to pursue your dreams? I know you’re doing those online classes, trying to get a degree and chase your real dreams. You aren’t going to dance forever, either. I can save you the trouble, Zak. I can support you.

The savior thing.

Men all across the world … horny men, lonely men, well-intended men or just manipulators … they are all trying to save me.

To buy me.

To keep me away from the other horny men.

I know it, and I suspect he knows it, too.

He says: I’m going to tell you where I’m staying. You can meet me at the hotel bar downstairs. Please give my proposal an honest consideration. It could change your life.

Something about the way Dante has changed rings in my heart like a little bell of hope.

And I thought I’d abandoned hope years ago.

What harm could come to me by meeting a guy like this in a public place like a hotel bar?

Also, that’s kind of the most crazy thing I’ve ever done. I once swore to myself I would never get personal with a customer on this cam site. Not ever. I swore it up and down.

And here I am, standing at the crossroads of that promise I made to myself.

Ready, with a click, to break it.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I’ll be right back. Some very persistent asshole’s at my door. Don’t go away.”

With that, I’m on my feet. I round the corner of my hallway, hurry across the den, and pull open the door without even looking through the hole.

My heart stops.

Alexander—who calls himself “Lex”—my sworn enemy from the