Indecent Proposal Ch 03 1

Chapter 3: Separation Anxiety

This is the third chapter in an ongoing story - it's a good idea to read chapters 1 and 2 before reading this one.

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Behind my closed eyelids my eyes are adjusting to the morning light when I remember where I am. I move slightly and feel Jonah next to me. His morning hard on presses against my thigh. I want to wrap my lips around him, suck him off until his cum is sliding down my throat. My dick throbs in agreement. Instead, I carefully get out of bed and head for the bathroom. A cold shower and jerk off session takes the feeling away.

Jonah joins me in the kitchen a few minutes later, his hair wet. I wonder if he had the same morning I did. "Mom and dad want to know if we're coming to dinner tonight," Jonah says as he's preparing the blender.

Dinner with the family. It is a weekly thing. I am suddenly nervous, thinking of them. We can never tell them what we're doing. With each other, I mean. They know what we do for a living, but not too much detail. As long as we're making money, and being safe, they let us do our thing. But this, new aspect. I am suddenly five-years-old again, feeling guilty for doing something I'm not supposed to be doing. Jonah has sensed that I've gone into panic mode and stands next to me at the stove. "We don't have to go, we can say we have work, or something," he says.

"No," I shake my head at him. "We can't avoid family dinners forever, we'll just do what we always do. Not talk about it."

He nods in agreement and goes back to making our shakes.

After breakfast we decide on a hike in the hills rather than our usual gym time. The fresh air feels good. And helps clear my head. My phone rings as we're heading back down the giant hill we've trudged up. I am out of breath, and the number is not one I recognize. Probably a client. I stop and try to get my breathing under control, and answer.

"Looks like we do have work tonight after all," I tell Jonah after ending the call. "But it's not until late, so, we'll still go to dinner." I am not sure why I am so eager to face the family despite all of the nerves I feel. Maybe I just want to get it over with.

We arrive at our parents house right as mom is finished cooking dinner. My insides are tied in knots, but I am outwardly happy when dad greets us at the door. We are an affectionate family so we are immediately pulled into an embrace. We see our parents weekly, sometimes more, during birthdays and holidays. But they both act as if we never visit. Our older brother is in the kitchen with mom, helping her put the food in serving dishes. We have exchanged our hugs and sarcastic greetings and have made our way to the dining room table.

The talk stays on the usual topics. Our brother Rich is a lawyer, as is our father. A thought not lost on either Jonah or I in discussing how important it is to keep our secret from the family. We talk sports, dad and Rich talk work, mom tells us she's picked up two new hobbies, pottery and stained glass. I look at Jonah and I can see that he is as grateful for the focus being off of him and I as much as I am. Rich asks how business is, and we answer with the usual "great." No one wants to ask any more questions and we offer no more information.

Rich leaves right after dinner. He is the face of the law firm he and dad run together, and tonight he has a cocktail party to attend. Dad is happy to let him take on that role. He would much rather spend his free time in his garage tinkering with old cars. I help mom clear the table while Jonah follows dad outside to take a look at his latest project. A '66 Mustang.

Mom is washing the dishes and I am drying them. This has always been my job. We stand at the kitchen sink passing dishes, mostly in silence. We can see dad and Jonah outside through the window over the sink. I am watching Jonah inspect the Mustang, admiring his ability to pretend that he's interested in our father's hobby.

"Everything okay with you and Jonah?" mom asks.

I look at her, confused. "Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

She doesn't answer right away. We go back to our assembly line dish washing routine. "I feel like something is different between you two."

My heart sinks and my hands begin to shake. I tell myself there is no way she knows anything. Absolutely no way. "No, mom, everything is the same," I say, putting as much assurance in my voice as I can.

She turns off the water and dries off her hands, staring out the window. "When you, work together, you guys don't, do anything, to each other, do you?"

I drop the glass I am drying and it shatters on the tile floor. I want to throw up, cry, scream, and run all at the same time. I steady myself. "Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to, and stop thinking about what we do for work."

"I'm your mother, I am always going to worry about you," she says, helping me pick up the shards of broken glass.

I walk away before she or I can say anything else and grab a broom from the hall closet. When I return dad and Jonah are in the kitchen. Jonah is helping mom with the mess. He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. This is the second time in as many days that I've done this, and I'm not the clumsy one. I shake my head at him hoping he will not mention this to them.

"We have an appointment," Jonah says after we've cleaned up the kitchen and made our way to the small living room. We grew up here. It was always a place of joy and laughter. For the first time since we told them what we do for a living I am embarrassed and I cannot look either of my parents in the eye.

"Be safe," my mother whispers in my ear as we say our goodbyes.

The lump in my throat grows, but I manage to say "always" before letting go of her and hugging my father goodbye. In the car Jonah stares at me, willing me to tell him what the hell is going on.

"Mom asked me, if we do anything, with each other, at work," I tell him. I see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. "I told her not to ask about things she doesn't want to know, after I dropped the glass on the floor."

Jonah stares straight ahead, keeping his focus on the road. "You should have just said no, we don't."

"She's our mother, Jo, she knows something is different. She said that before asking me, about work. Why else would she bring it up after all this time? She never has before."

"Do you think dad knows?"

"I doubt it," it is more of a hope than a true statement.

We spend the rest of the car ride in silence. I am afraid, suddenly, at what Jonah is thinking. I wonder if he's contemplating the no touching clause again. I want to talk to him about it, but we are pulling into our client's driveway. We have been with this client before, but only once. My nerves are shot and I am tempted to cancel. We're here now, and Jonah is already out of the car.

I ring the doorbell and we wait in silence. We have never been very talkative, but I feel like this is different. Our silences are so much more tense now. As sex workers our motto is "sex does not change anything." In this case, it has changed a lot of things.

The client is a man in his early thirties. He is good looking, slightly overweight, and shy. We were fairly certain we would never see him again after our first session, but here we are. He greets us and invites us in, leading us into a large living room. Drinks flow freely with every job we take, and we are offered beverages right away. I try to push back my desire to gulp down the whisky I have been handed and ask for another. It works, briefly. The client offers me another and tells us to sit, make ourselves comfortable.

After our second round of drinks the client informs us that he would like to conduct our business separately. And that is how he refers to it. Business. I stifle a laugh, and we agree to "meet" with him one at a time. He has chosen to "deal" with Jonah first, so I am left sitting on the couch while they go off into the clients bedroom. This is the first time we have been separated in the two and a half years we have been escorts. We have no rules against it, it's just never something any of our clients have ever wanted. They're hiring twins, naturally we are a package deal. The idea of being alone with my thoughts has me fidgety.

There is no television in this room, but I find a few coffee table books, oddly, on a shelf behind the couch. I start to flip through one of them. It is all art and photography. I am no better off escaping my thoughts. They all involve Jonah. I am suddenly insanely jealous of whatever is going on behind the bedroom door. Then I am back in my parent's kitchen with my mother looking at me with a sense of disappointment. And before I stand up to find out what the other books on the shelf have to offer, I glimpse myself in an orange jumpsuit.

Twenty minutes later Jonah and the client return and I feel a sense of relief. I know that once I am in the room with the client I can lose myself in the sex. Jonah smiles at me as I stand up and follow the client out of the room. He says very little, aside from "suck my dick" which I do, with less vim and vigor than I usually have for it, but he does not seem to notice, or care. When he commands me to fuck him I oblige, bending him over the bed. I close my eyes as I am pumping in and out of him and I picture Jonah. My thoughts of him send me into a quick orgasm and I'm filling the condom quicker than I mean to. The client doesn't care. I continue to slide in and out of him despite going soft, and he convulses under me.

In the car Jonah turns to me and smiles. "That was, odd."

"So odd," I say in agreement.

"I felt like I was conducting a business transaction, even while we were having sex," Jonah continues. "It was so, robotic."

"I thought it was just me," I am thankful that he had the same experience. Maybe I was a lot less distracted than I thought. "He seemed to be having a good time," I shrug.

"Yeah, I mean, I guess that's what he's into," Jonah shrugs back at me.

When we get home I don't bother to check the email account. I can feel from this evening's events that the client has no intention of sending any more money, or hiring us again. Out of habit I head to my bathroom to shower. Jonah follows me. We undress and step into the shower stall. I step close to him, wanting to feel his bare skin on mine. The hot water washes over me and I feel the heat of it, and him, all over. My mouth finds his and I lose myself in the passion of his lips on mine, his familiar sweet taste, his hands on my body. His middle finger is rubbing my hole. I moan into his mouth and push against him, begging him to stick it in. My hand is wrapped around his dick, which has come to life at my touch. I can't decide what I want more. His dick in my mouth or in my ass.

I opt for ass, and turn around so that he has access to me. I brace myself using the wall and Jonah slowly eases himself into my hole. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to him. I feel his lips against my neck and he is slowly sliding in and out of me, making every nerve in my body come to attention. I want to feel this, always. Like I am alive, like I am wanted. Like the world is far away and it's just us. Jonah tightens his grip on my waist and starts moving faster. My body tenses and I am losing all control. As he hits every button inside me I scream his name and cum all over the wall in front of me. My knees threaten to give way but Jonah is holding me tight to him. His fingers dig into my skin and he lets out a groan before shooting hot cum into me. I can feel his dick throb and the heat of the cum against my ass and I don't want to let him go. He slowly pulls out of me and turns me toward him. "Never again," he says and it scares me. My eyes widen and I think I might burst into tears. "We will never allow a client to take us separately again," he says, thwarting my complete breakdown. My pulse returns to its normal pace and I kiss him with a force that knocks us both back under the water of the shower head.

The combination of hot water, intense sex, and the day's events makes me want to do nothing more than sleep. We have climbed into bed together, in my room this time, and I am laying across Jonah's bare chest. He is running his fingers through my wet hair and I can feel his chest move up and down as he breaths steadily.

"We have to keep this a secret, Jake," Jonah's sleepy voice breaks into the quiet darkness. "As much as I would like us to be like any other couple, we will never get to walk down the street holding hands, or celebrate anniversaries with family and friends."

I sit up and look at him, despite the darkness. "Jesus Jo, we're turning twenty one next week and you're talking anniversaries and family gatherings. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I know," he says after a short silence. "But you can't tell me you don't see it Jake. You can't tell me you aren't falling in love with me, and that this won't tear apart our family and we won't lose friends," his voice catches and I know he is on the verge of tears.

He's right. I can't tell him any of that. Except one thing. "You're wrong," I say, laying my head back down on his chest. "I am not falling in love with you Jo," I pause and I feel him suck in a breath. "I am in love with you."

I feel him let out the breath he had been holding. "I love you too Jake."