C8 7

"So we'll bond these two weeks at full speed," I summarise the lengthy discussion we've had while cooking and over dinner just now, "Then perhaps take a snail pace when I start my internship, and go at a comfortable speed once I've adjusted to my new life."

He agrees as he tops up my Rose, "Sounds like a perfect plan."

Treating me with good food and prepares my choice of champagne beforehand, he really is trying his best to keep me here for his mission of sexual exploration.

Honestly, he's so easy going I don't think it will be a bumpy ride. We've spent hours talking and being in each other's space but I haven't even once find myself to have any negative feelings towards him.

"So on the full speed part, besides getting to know each other, should we start having sex too?" I ask in the most nonchalant tone I can muster when deep down I'm wondering if I'm stepping on the boundary. I mean, this is only our first day.

No, tomorrow is our first day. Today is the goal setting day. Strategy planning day. Heck, I only know he's gay three hours ago.

He rests his back to the one seater outdoor sofa he's sitting on, doesn't even look like he wants to say anything to my enquiry let alone answering it.

"We're on borrowed time that's why I wanna know beforehand. But it's okay. We'll go with the flow." I answer myself and turn my gaze from the view to my manicured fingernails, fiddle with them.

After the dinner he brought me to this amazing backyard, chilling out while having our choice of drink with a view of the infinity swimming pool.

"We can have sex, I guess." He murmurs, grabbing my attention that instant.

We can? I wanted to playfully ask him that, because I know I can. But can he? Can he get it up?

I giggle at my evil thought. But there's no way I'm sharing it. I'm not stupid to condemn my client to his face when his main objective is to tackle that problem in the first place.

Wait, it's not a problem. It's just a matter of preference. He doesn't prefer the female, it's definitely not a problem. Just like us heterosexual girls prefer those badboys; it's a matter of preference.

"Perhaps," he adjusts himself, angling his body to directly face me instead of the infinity pool, "First week, let's just get to know each other. But maybe on the weekend... we share the bed?"

I nod, sure.

"Then uhh next week, perhaps we can do something sexual. I don't know how but I'm open to discussion." Cute. It feels like I'm dealing with a virgin, planning his first time.

I quickly turn to my nails again to avoid looking at his face. I really don't wanna laugh at such delicate situation.

Remembering my horrible experience when losing my virginity to an inexperience boy in high school, perhaps planning it would be good for him. At least he'd get a good memory if it turns out he really likes just men.

"Maybe I'll suck you off or something," I begin, "If I'm too unappetising, I'll just blindfold you so you can pretend I'm a guy. Get you used to my mouth. Then maybe later," when I finally raise my gaze from inspecting my manicured fingers to his face, I laugh, "Am I too straight-forward?"

"Yes," he grins, already leaving that shocked expression, "But I like it. I like the effort you're already putting in, throwing ideas and stuffs. Very detailed ideas indeed."

"What can I say, I'm an active participant."

"Absolutely worth every penny."

It's one thing about taking money for sex, but it's another at saying it out loud.

"Appreciate if you can stop mentioning about money in the future. I think we can just leave it at the bank statement, hmmm?"

"Oh," he's totally caught off guard, "Sure. Okay. Will do."

***

"So you'll travel every semester break? Every semester break?"

"Yeah. I have this list that I promise myself to cross off every single thing in there before I graduate. I have to go to certain places to do those things."

"Like what?"

"Like going to Paris. To visit the Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, eat the amazing dessert, people watching at the cafe, buy designer stuffs, sleep with a French guy-"

He laughs as he finally lifts his head from the sun lounger and turn to me, "That too in the list?"

I shrug, "Why not? Haven't you heard French guys are good lovers?"

"Oh they sure are." He nods knowingly which I laugh like a mad person, shaking so bad until my sun glasses fall from my head.

Four days with him, it feels like I'm getting a new best friend instead of being with a client.

Every day we'd cook together (or rather he cooks while I watch), sunbathing or swimming at the pool, watch movie in his mini cinema on the fourth floor, gosh we do all sorts of stuffs together we're basically inseparable since the morning till night when we finally part into our own bedroom for a good night sleep only to repeat the same thing the next day.

"I went to a culinary school in Paris for two years so I've had my fair share of French men."

"Whaaaattttt?" I can't believe this. I've been wondering how awesome it would be to find a job and live there because of the amazing food and sex, minus the need to learn the language but really, I had one of the best sex with the French guy I hooked up during my visit there. So to know he spent two years there, wow. I would've been content with that. Grateful indeed.

"After my retirement I thought this is the chance for me to do things that I wanna do. Being a footballer was my parents' dream, they sent me for training since I was five. So I applied for a culinary course there and spent two years learning how to cook."

"For me." I grin, considering the ridiculous menu I asked him to cook for me either for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Which by the way, his specialty is more to white meat and dessert.

"What age did you retire?" 28. I know this from Google but I need to play the non-stalker version.

"28."

I gasp, again faking it like a pro, "Isn't 28 is still too early for retirement?"

"I had an injury. Here." He straighten his left arm then touches his shoulder.

"Ermmm correct me if I'm wrong but... we kick balls with our feet, right?"

He chuckles as he shakes his head repeatedly, "You're cute." No you're cute.

"Well let's just say if I play again I might lose the ability to move this hand. So I retire."

I nod understanding what he means, "Two years in Paris then you're back here? Are you a chef now? But you've been with me day and night, don't you need to go to work or something?"

"I work at a restaurant while attending school," you also model for a few big names including an underwear brand, don't forget that, "Then after some time I open a restaurant there. So yeah I'm a chef. Was."

"And then you come home and be lazy? Decided to just entertain your sugar baby? Figured if you feed her enough she'd turn into a guy? Grow a penis? And finally make you hard?"

He laughs while he shakes his head.

"Hihi just messing with you." I grin before picking up my sunglasses and put it on my head again.

"I rarely cook ever since I'm back from Paris. This is the first time since I quit my job as a chef there that I cook this much."

I put my hand on my chest, "Awww now I feel special."

His eyes linger for a good five seconds on my breasts that's only covered by a tiny yellow bikini top but then he shifts his gaze to the pool in front of us, "You are special, Elle. But I'm gonna take a dip first before I cook our lunch."

He stands up and ruffles his hair as I take the opportunity to see the bulge in his swimming trunk if it has grown but to my disappointment, the junior remains unexcited. Oh well. At least he's somewhat interested with the DDs.

"Join me?" He asks before walking to the pool.

"Okay." I answer him but make no effort to leave my lounge chair. Instead I eye his delicious ass before finally joining him when he's already in the water.