The two men gazed at the naked, sleeping youth sprawled across the mattress. The older, who had streaks of silver at his temples, handed over a number of large denomination bills to a young Hispanic almost as handsome as the boy on the bed but with a harder cast to his features.
“ beautiful.” Now fully clothed, Silver Wings exuded the authority of a player, a someone who counted. “Are you sure he’s eighteen?”
“Just turned eighteen last week. He is that rare creature who is as beautiful as a woman and as macho as a man. He performed adequately, no?”
“More than adequately.” Silver Wings rubbed his eyes as if remembering. “He was fantastic. Must have worn himself out. Does he usually go comatose afterward?”
“Ah, that’s the drug. You see, he feels he gets a bigger charge if he uses something to enhance the moment. But you benefit as well, no?” He eyed his companion. “You can have him for twenty-five thousand. Exclusively yours for as long as you want.”
Interest flickered and died. “Tempting. But my household isn’t set up for that kind of arrangement. I prefer to call you when I feel the need. Even if that means sharing him.”