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minute for word to spread along the corridor and throughout the main staging area: Sawyer Block had been banging Monica Paris’s brains out in one of the dressing rooms.

“Do you mind telling me what the hell you think you were doing?” Max was livid as he paced the length of his hotel room.

Sawyer sat back on the sofa, stifling a smile and pretending to be contrite. “Well, we were—”

“I know what you were doing!” Max stopped, apparently unsure where to move next. Or what to do. He slapped his hips with exasperated hands. “Why then? Why there?” He moved closer to Sawyer. “Look kid, I know you. You’re smarter than that. You’ve got to stay above all the bullshit. Do you hear me? We’ve got big things coming up and, well, something like this could ruin everything.”

Sawyer wondered what Max was really concerned about.

Sawyer’s well-being? Or his own? Still, he was sure it put to bed any rumors about his sexuality. At least for a little while.

“I thought I had a surprise for you tonight and instead you surprised me. And not in a good way. Seeing you… like that…”

Was it Sawyer’s imagination or were Max’s pants filling out before him? He changed the subject, “What was your surprise, Max?”

“My surprise? Oh yeah.” Max hesitantly held out his hand.

Sawyer stood and shook it, not understanding the context.

“Congratulations, kid. Tyler Wood called. He’s in town. Thank God, not here tonight. He wants to see you.” Max smiled like a bubbly teenager.

“You’re in!”

Tyler Wood was the new Tom Ford. The new “It” designer whose fashions were all the rage in Paris, Hong Kong, and New York. But that was only part of it. Hotter-looking than many of his own models, Wood was a virile young trendsetter who made headlines wherever he appeared.

Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. Even movie star Brad Pitt, in an interview with David Letterman, said he’d give it up for Tyler Wood.

“That’s great, Max! Thank you!”

“Thank you?”

“Sure, for everything you’ve done to set this up. I’d be nowhere without you.” Sawyer could hardly believe his luck. And as quickly as the elation came, it went. Two feet away, Max fumbled with his belt.

“I’m glad you understand that, Sawyer.”

“Max … what are you doing?” The agent looked back at his model with an expression that clearly conveyed ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Sawyer swallowed hard. “What do you want?”

Max let his trousers fall to the floor around his ankles. He turned away from Sawyer, bending over, hands firmly planted on the hotel room desk. Butt jutting out. “I’ll have some of what she was having.”

It was one of those make or break moments. Max Melbourne had set up a rendezvous with Tyler Wood; he could just as easily cancel it.

Sawyer stepped forward, shamefaced, and opened his jeans. His dick fell limp in his hand. Sawyer closed his eyes and thought of Dane, replaying in his mind the video of their lovemaking. His shaft began to grow. Then pulse. In moments, he skewered Melbourne, causing the middle-aged man to cry out and then bite his lip in blissful agony. Sawyer’s eyes remained tightly shut. As far as he was concerned, he was with Dane. And he proceeded to make love to his partner in that lonely hotel room, fucking the shit out of Max Melbourne in the process. Part of him, lost in fantasy, never wanted it to end. The other part, knowing the terrible reality, prayed for it to finish.

Dane was looking for any excuse to avoid working on his video.

No matter how he cut it together, it was crap. He rubbed his tired eyes and remembered that night not too long ago. After cautiously approaching a few guys as a “filmmaker,” and coming close to getting his lights punched out in the process, Dane had come across straight-boy Kyle Montana. Even his name sounded right. Too bad his cock wasn’t anywhere near as expansive as the state after which he was named.

He found the kid leaning against the bar, shitfaced. Honestly, there was nothing remarkable about him. Kyle Montana was the epitome of the word ordinary. But like any college student, he was short on cash. Dane bought another round of drinks, while casually feeding his ego. “You work out?” Then, Dane planted a conspiratorial idea that he knew how to make some quick money—off of gay guys who wanted to see straight guys like the two of them in the nude.

Kyle agreed, probably not knowing what he was getting into.

Back at Eldon Court, Dane fired up his equipment. Three cameras, shooting at various angles and at different degrees (a close-up, a medium shot, and a longer, establishing shot) would capture the action on the bed.

The video would have been better with him manning one camera to move with the actors, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was needed in front of the camera.

Only, Kyle didn’t budge. He stood there, frozen.

“Come on,” Dane whispered. “It’s acting, dude. Just pretend you like it.”

Finally, Dane coaxed him into action. The two stood there, pants undone, jerking off. But to be honest, Dane wasn’t into it any more than Kyle was. So the director tried a different tack. He kneeled down in front of Kyle and started playing with the guy’s meat. Initially, Kyle took a step back in shock, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Then, he began to relax, allowing Dane to manipulate him.

“Just go with it,” whispered Dane, hoping the cameras didn’t pick up the sound of his voice.

Finally, to perk things up and save the scene, Dane swallowed

Kyle’s semi-flaccid dick. The college junior stood there, impassively, either pretending not to notice or too drunk to care anymore. But his cock reacted in Dane’s mouth. And slowly, Kyle’s disinterested expression turned to one of confusion. Then quiet panic. The kid was close to shooting, Dane was certain. That was when Kyle pushed him off. “I can’t do this.”

“Shit.” Dane hit the pause button on his editing software. He’d have to cut that part out.

He looked around his third-floor

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