Desperate Lovers Adam Carpenter (the reading list book txt) 📖

office for a distraction. Finding none, Dane opened a new screen on his computer and clicked the link for Straight-To-Bed’s website. Hmm, Mario had posted a new video. He was considered watching it for inspiration but instead accessed the business files for the site. Subscriptions were up. Noticeably. Dane opened the database and let his mouse scroll through the list of names, like a miser rifling a wad of money. Then he stopped. A memory crept to mind: His neighbor Aaron saying that Converse was one sick bastard.

Out of curiosity Dane’s mouse scrolled back through the list of subscribers until he came to the Cs. Now he slowed down and clicked through the names one at a time. When he stopped, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

Converse. Could it possibly be?

He opened the file. There was Danvers Converse’s name, address, phone number, and billing information. The address listed was in Carmel, California. Strangely, the login ID was “Troys.” As in Troy’s? Or Troy S?

S for Saunders? Edgar had said this morning that the boy had disappeared years ago.

“Not missing anymore, I guess.”

Now Dane had a new thought. He opened Facebook and searched for the name Troy. He found a few in California. And one in Carmel-By-The-Sea. Like many young people, Troy didn’t block his information from outsiders. After all, he was trying to make connections, right? Dane noted that Troy liked club music, photography, and South Park.

There had to be a way to use this information. Maybe Sawyer would have some ideas. He opened Yahoo to send an email. As always, the splash page offered four news stories: “Three easy makeover ideas for the bathroom,” “See which Idol was voted out last night,” “Model makes headlines without clothes,” and “The best dogs for families with kids.”

Dane was about to click “Mail” when he was drawn to the third headline about the model. One click revealed Sawyer and some girl, their midsections blurred out though clearly not covered in clothing. Feeling his heart pounding in his ears, Dane read on.

Hot gossip: You heard it here first. After a fashion show in

Beverly Hills, celebrity models Sawyer Block and Monica Paris apparently decided to ditch the trendy threads and put on a racy show of their own, much to the delight of onlookers and paparazzi.

There was more but Dane didn’t care to read any further. He dragged his fingers through his hair and went back to trying to salvage his video of Kyle Montana.

After promising Kyle even more money, he was allowed to continue the blowjob. To will himself through the mess, Dane pretended he was going down on Sawyer. It helped to keep his eyes shut. Now, as Dane watched the scene, he could see that Kyle was doing his damnedest to not react. Pretending like it didn’t affect him one way or the other.

Except it clearly did. You could see it in his eyes. At the time, Dane had been oblivious, his head buried in Kyle’s crotch. The kid was probably horrified that this was turning out to be the best head he ever experienced.

And by a guy, no less.

Dane deleted the part where he stopped sucking to tell Kyle to warn him when he was about to come. They needed a come shot. That’s what the people paid for.

He reset the marker and pressed play. The scene continued. Kyle stood, hunching over more and more as his dick pistoned into Dane’s mouth. Suddenly, a look of pain shot across the college student’s face. His knees buckled. And he grabbed Dane’s head, grinding his hips into his sex partner. Dane couldn’t break free as Kyle came down Dane’s throat. The scene ended without so much as one drop of cum visible for the viewer.

Asshole!

Ever resourceful, Dane copied his own cum shot from the video with Sawyer and meticulously edited that in.

Then the phone rang. Dane scooped up the receiver, thinking it was Sawyer. “I was wondering when you’d call—”

“Dane? This is Kyle. Kyle Montana.”

“Um, hey, Kyle.” He looked up at Kyle’s miserable face onscreen.

“I was just working on the video. How’s it going?”

“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I think I changed my mind. You can’t post that on the net.”

“Um, okay. I understand.”

“Sorry. I just … you can’t.”

Dane could have been a hard ass and reminded the kid that he’d signed a release form. But why fight for a video that totally sucked anyway? “No prob, no prob. Tell you what. Stop over tomorrow. What did I pay you? $300? Just return the money and we can erase the file on my computer together. Sound like a deal?”

“Yes, but …”

But? Dane didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t have the money.”

That was just wrong. “Huh. Look, I’m happy to help you, but you can’t just take my money.” There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Give me a call when you can pay me back and we’ll sort this out. Okay?”

More silence. “I promise I won’t post anything in the meantime.”

After ending the call, Dane stripped to his underwear and got into bed. Then, realizing that sleep wasn’t going to come, he sat up and turned on the reading light. Only, he wasn’t in the mood to read a book. Instead, he got up, padded across the room to the box he found in the attic, and carried it back to the bed. He spent the next two hours looking at photos and reading the letters. The author was careful to address each note to “G,” usually signing them “G.” However, in one of the letters, Dane came across a name. And it wasn’t Gerald. Or Green.

I keep telling myself, ‘George, you’re lucky to have someone like him in your life…’

George?

“Hello, Mr. Green. My name is Dane Walters. I live at Number

One Eldon Court. And I think I found some things that might belong to you. And George.” Dane winced. Why did he mention the name George?

Immediately regretting even looking up Green’s phone number and leaving a message on voicemail, he quickly left his phone number and hung up.

“Hello?” Even though it was ten o’clock, Dane’s voice