by Torino Koji
The posting was under men seeking men in the personals. Jonah found the posting through trawling the personals in general, rather than going straight to casual encounters or even miscellaneous romance like he tended to. It was the title that caught his interest.
Established ISO boy for PA.
Jonah wasn’t entirely certain what ‘established’ was meant to mean in this exact context, and the posting gave almost no clues. Was the man in question a well off older gentleman? There were no pictures or mention of age, though he described himself as mature, whatever that was supposed to mean. Was the man in a relationship, and looking for something discreet on the side? No, the men who did that tended to not want something so permanent-sounding as a personal assistant.
Toward the middle of the posting were the words, compensation will be generous, and Jonah could not hit the reply button fast enough. He was pretty sure this guy was a cop or something, but even if he was, he could probably just blow the whole thing off.
His hands shook as he responded to the advertisement. He used the same shtick every time he responded to any post, a sort of cut and dry run down of himself that left out a few precious and precarious details. Jonah doubted he’d get anything out of this anyway. Nonetheless, he attached a photo—one of his professionally done graduation photos, because they were charming and flattering and he liked how his hair had looked that day, the sunlight gleaming on it and turning it the color of weathered pennies.
He did not ask what defined generous compensation; he made a vague allusion to his abilities with his mouth, smirked to himself at making a pun in there, and sent the email off, content to pretend like he hadn’t just wasted half an hour on craigslist rather than looking for a real job. He wondered if you had to pay taxes on compensation that was so generously given by established gentlemen, and then pushed the thought aside and looked through the job postings on the site. If he was already here, he might as well make it worthwhile.
His phone dinged but did not vibrate, informing him that he had an email. He brought it up in another tab. That was awfully fast. The email was overly formal and Jonah wondered if this was going to be the kind of guy that got persistent if he blew him off. He skimmed the email, which was more of the same that had been in the posting itself. He skipped down entirely to see if there were any attachments.
Jonah sent a blunt response of, Any pics? Even before he pulled up a new tab and Pandora had fully loaded, his phone dinged with an email. He stared at it for a second, and then refreshed the tab with his email inbox loaded in it.
The poster—whose email was of considerable professionality, which made Jonah a little bit considered that this guy was posting to Craigslist and responding to requests for personal assistants from a large oak-wood desk in some office park corner office—responded only with, I would prefer to meet you for coffee at two. Under this was an address.
Jonah looked at the clock on his computer. It was quarter to two already. He squinted a little at the address. It would only take about five minutes to get there, really, but how stupid would he look if he showed up and this guy didn’t?
Another email popped up on his screen as his inbox automatically refreshed. It said simply, Wear something professional, Jonah, it’s a job interview. No tie is necessary. Jonah appreciated the information, but suddenly felt intensely nervous about being informed that he was being interviewed when he’d just been trawling the personal ads.
He got up from his computer and went upstairs, foggy and feeling like he was rushing to catch up with computer lag. He changed into a pair of (mostly) clear jeans and a t-shirt and button-down that weren’t too wrinkled. The layers disguised his wide-hips and narrow, nipping waist. He contemplated a hat to cover his unruly mop of golden-orange hair, which he hadn’t cut since his graduation pictures were taken, then decided against it.
He responded to the email on his way out the door, with a simple, Yeah, okay, be there in a bit. He stared at the notification that it was sent, a gnawing in his stomach that spoke of how nervous he was to meet someone with a strange post and no pictures to speak of, then climbed into his car and headed downtown to the café that the man had specified.
As expected, it only took a few minutes to get to the café, even with traffic. The bigger task was, as always, finding parking that was cheap enough and close enough to have even warranted the car at all. Once that was secured, Jonah headed over to the café and bought himself a small drip coffee with his last five dollar bill. He set himself up at a small table that had a direct line of sight to the front door and held the coffee in his hands while he waited.
Two o’clock came and went, and as it was creeping toward quarter after two, Jonah began to suspect that he had been stood up. He wasn’t surprised, but it was a stupid thought, as being stood up implied that this was a date of some variety. He supposed, since he’d been informed it was an interview, that there would be some professionalism going on here. Jonah sipped his coffee, which tasted like shit, and continued to wait, telling himself that if it got to being half past, he would leave. Twenty-five after, and Jonah was just standing when his phone dinged. He pulled up his email application. There was no apology, simply an attachment that was a picture of himself sitting at his table sipping his coffee. He sat back down and then looked at the picture, and then supposed at the angle it could have been taken from, turned in that direction.
A man in a suit saluted him with a phone held in hand, smirking a little bit. Jonah wiped his hands on his jeans, then got up to walk over to the other table.
“Hello, Jonah.” The man had a voice as rich and dark as his suit. He was bald, though it appeared to be on purpose rather than by fault of genetics; brow ridged with furrows of age and either frowning or smiling excessively. His eyes were sharp and piercing, squinting at the edges and his nose was wide but hawkish. Perhaps it had been broken once or twice, or maybe it was a product of some combination of genetics that Jonah had never seen in this particular grouping before.
He was handsome. Very handsome. Jonah sat down across from him and wiped his hands on his knees again because he was nervous. “Afraid I don’t know your name yet, mister.”
“It’s Shaun,” the man said, and Jonah nodded a little, but Shaun continued, “but you may call me sir, or Mister Ochoa, if we’re being professional, Jonah.” Jonah flushed a little and fidgeted with his shirt sleeves as Shaun continued to smile at him. “I’m sorry,” Shaun finally said. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No,” Jonah said, with the sort of speed and grumpiness that denoted that he was probably lying about his comfort. Shaun didn’t call him out on it—perhaps people were just fast-talking and mildly sarcastic to his face by default. “So. Are we discussing logistics of this, or are you just sizing me up? How is this… What are we doing here, man? Sir.”
Shaun’s smile softened, but only by a little way. It was not, really, softened at all, but it showed less teeth at least. He put an ankle over one knee, and Jonah did his best to not look at the front of Shaun’s pants.
“A little bit from both columns, I suppose,” Shaun said. He turned his coffee cup once on the table, then picked it up and sipped from it quietly. The stillness between them made Jonah fidget some more. This was, fundamentally, why he tended to respond only to casual encounters: there were no awkward, terrifying silences when the first thing he did was put a cock in his mouth. Shaun put the coffee cup down and then said, “Tell me a little bit about yourself, Jonah.”
It was not a question, or even a request, so much as it was a command. Jonah contemplated being obstinate or not responding, or at least not answering the question directly. But he’d put on real clothes for this, and supposed he should actually act like a somewhat respectable human being. He had, after all, responded to the advertisement, and not the other way around. Shaun had said this was a job interview.
“I graduated from university last summer—”
“Which university?” Shaun interrupted.
Jonah sighed a little. “A university, what’s it matter, I’m not going there anymore. And before you ask, I was studying a dual degree in public policy and procedures, and business administration; and no, I’m not working in either of those fields.”
“Are you working at all, Jonah?” Jonah’s cheeks felt very warm in the wake of that question, and he looked down at the table. Shaun’s voice was smiling, even though Jonah wasn’t looking at him, and Jonah hated that a little bit. “That’s alright. I did suggest compensation in my listing.”
That brought the conversation nicely to Jonah’s feet. He cleared his throat quickly. “What sort of compensation are we talking about here?”
“I start my personal assistants at fourteen dollars an hour, and a small stipend on weekends.”
Jonah looked up, an eyebrow jumping and his eyes going slightly large. He was doing math in his head already. “How many hours do they get?”
“My last was averaging twenty professional hours a week.”
Jonah felt a little bit slack-jawed. That was the sort of money you made where you paid taxes on it, where you were kept on a payroll. That was a personal assistant, with a side order of whatever else this guy was looking for. What the hell was he doing, posting this in the personal ads?
“And,” Jonah hesitated to ask, “what about non-professional hours?”
Shaun smiled that dangerous, toothy smile again. “That’s why I pay a stipend. I like to have my boys to myself for four to eight hours a day, Friday to Sunday. I pay cash, or gifts.”
Jonah was definitely a little slack-jawed and stupid. “The hell do you do for four to eight hours a day?”
Shaun looked at Jonah while he continued to smile like a wolf, and Jonah looked back, more stubborn than he probably had any right to be, and trying to not be intimidated by this large business man. Eventually, Shaun’s smile softened a little bit again, apparently charmed by the stubbornness he found in Jonah’s baffled expression.
“If you think it’s too much for you, we can make other arrangements.” He was soft and quiet for a moment. “If we went through with the whole arrangement, though, you would be my only assistant. I would not expect to be your only time sink, of course; you’d have your free time and your personal life. But you’d keep clean and have regular screening. I prefer being fluid bonded.”
Jonah gaped a little. Was this guy for fucking real? “Okay,” Jonah said, his voice quiet and cautious.
“You will work in the office with me as my personal assistant, so you will need to have appropriate business attire.” He gave Jonah a once over. “Are you busy this weekend?”
“I have business attire,” Jonah protested, pouting a little bit. Shaun smiled, though it was not his wolf smile but something a bit more patronizing, as he reached out to run his thumb and forefinger, pinched together, along Jonah’s unbuttoned button-down shirt. Jonah flinched back a bit.
“Somehow, I get the feeling it’s not quite appropriate enough. Trust me on this one, Jonah.”
Jonah was quiet for a moment, looking down at the table, and Shaun moved his hand away. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment on Sunday morning.” He didn’t mention that he had that appointment every week, but Shaun nodded nonetheless.
“On Saturday, then.” He was quiet, watching Jonah with those intense eyes. “Do you have any questions for me?” When Jonah shook his head, Shaun nodded. “I trust if you have any, you’ll tell me about them as they come up.”
“Yeah, sure, probably.”
Shaun rose from the table then, and Jonah wasn’t sure if Shaun was just simply tall, or if he looked tall towering there in his sleek, dark suit, peering down at Jonah in his chair with those dark, penetrating eyes. Jonah tried to keep looking at him, but ended up looking over his shoulder instead.
“I’ll see you on Saturday. We’ll meet at the Nordstroms, at ten.” Shaun didn’t wait for an answer, and even if he had, Jonah wasn’t sure he would have one. Once Shaun was gone, Jonah lingered in the café a little longer, and when he was perfectly positive that Shaun wasn’t going to reappear and laugh at him, he got up and went to where he’d left his car, feeling a little bit like he’d just woken up from a very strange dream.
He had a parking ticket. Fucking figures.
On Saturday, Jonah woke at quarter to ten. He blinked at his phone for a moment, dragged himself out of bed, and threw on some clothes that didn’t smell as dirty as the other clothes strewn around his room. He yawned, heading down the stairs and out to his car, and arrived at the mall a few minutes after ten. Purposefully, he parked away from the Nordstroms, giving him time to wake up a little bit more as he wandered the mall walker route over to the store.
Shaun stood outside the store. He was more casual than when they’d met at the café, in dark jeans and a button-down tucked in, sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows. His forearms were thick and rugged and covered in freckles.
Jonah shrugged and yawned, stretching. “So were you, yesterday.”
They stared at each other, and then Shaun put a firm, warm hand on the small of Jonah’s back. It sent a thrill straight down his spine, and he allowed himself to be guided into the store. As they entered the shoe department from the rest of the mall, Shaun told him, “Don’t look at the prices.” Jonah looked at him suspiciously. Shaun smiled his wolf smile back. “I’m sure you have some creative ideas on how to repay the shopping spree we’re about to go on.”
It made Jonah blush a little bit, cheeks and ears all warm, and straight down his neck as well, but he went through the motions of it, doing his best to ignore the sales people and the price tags. Shaun had said he paid in cash and gifts, and Jonah supposed this was the first example of it. Shaun was present, but not overbearing, as they went through Nordstroms. A pair of dress shoes that fit like they were made for him, two polos and two button-downs, a pair of dark jeans and two pairs of chinos, and a tie and jacket later, Shaun seemed content.
They took everything up to the cash wrap. Jonah stood with his back to the cashier, purposefully not looking at the total that was rung up. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to think about it. He was sure it was more than he paid for rent.
As they stepped out of the store, Shaun foisted the receipt off on Jonah, saying, “You were actually very good at not going wild. I’m proud of you.”
The nearly two thousand dollars Shaun had just spent on him said otherwise, as far as Jonah was concerned. That was the rent that he split with four other people. He felt his face go hot with embarrassment and shame, and his feet stopped carrying him forward for a second.
“Now then,” Shaun said, and Jonah was suddenly very aware of how close the man was standing to him. He was very aware of how tall Shaun was, again. “That was a bit more than I was expecting to pay today, even if you didn’t go absolutely wild about it.”
Jonah gulped quietly. Shaun’s hand was on the small of his back again. His brain fizzed out as he continued to stare at the receipt, as Shaun’s quip in the store rang in his head. Creative ways to pay him back. This was the moment of truth here, he knew. His mouth, without any permissions from anything else in his body, opened and words spilled out. “I’m transgender.”
Shaun’s hand didn’t move. “And?”
“And I’d understand if you wanted to return all these clothes and everything right now, you know, since you’re looking for a boy. You posted in men seeking men, and I—it’s chill, you know, I get it, we can just go—”
Jonah was already trying to turn around. Shaun’s hand caught his hip and he steered him back. He didn’t stop walking, and Jonah watched a small group of people shuffle around them like a school of fish in a river dodging around a boulder. His stomach was shaking with nervousness. He didn’t dare look up at Shaun now, terrified that he would be sneering or disgusted—or, perhaps worse, leering about how lucky he was. The silence dragged on, and the anxious vibration at Jonah’s core just got worse and worse.
When they reached a quieter part of the mall, Shaun lifted his hand from Jonah’s back to his hair, near his ear. Jonah flinched, but looked up at him. Shaun was watching him closely. “You are a boy. And I picked you out of quite a large group of responses, Jonah.” Jonah’s mouth went dry and chalky. He swallowed convulsively, but it didn’t do much. Shaun moved his hand to Jonah’s shoulder, and his smile was soft, less toothsome and more sympathetic for a moment. “And if you would like to rescind the offer to be my boy, as you put it, I still think you have a lot of potential, with that degree of yours, to do very well as a personal assistant.”
Jonah shuffled a little bit, and found himself sort of muttering, “No, I just thought…”
“Don’t worry about it so much then. But thank you for telling me while your pants were still on.”
Jonah wasn’t sure if that implied that Shaun would have been less thankful and sympathetic if Jonah hadn’t mentioned it at all, or what, but he left it alone, clutching his bags to his chest and staring at the tiles in front of his feet. They walked through the mall a bit more, shoulders close and Shaun’s arm around Jonah’s shoulders. Slowly Jonah looked up again. When the silence dragged on between them, he murmured in a very hushed, private voice, “I give really great head…?”
There was that wolf smile, those stark white teeth, and Jonah felt his ears go hot. He lowered the bags from his chest and gently bumped Shaun’s hip with his own.
Shaun bullied him toward the hall to the public restroom, and Jonah’s stomach shook again. He’d never done something in public before, not really. He grabbed impulsively for the door to the single-use family restroom, but Shaun moved his hand off and continued them along to the mens room. A janitor slipped out from cleaning as Shaun opened the first stall and pulled Jonah in with him. It was cramped, with two grown bodies and two bags full of things. Jonah didn’t think he’d ever stood so close to someone with all his clothes on, outside of being on an airplane. In the quiet of the bathroom, Jonah thought his nervous breathing echoed too loudly. Shaun watched his face the entire time that he undid his belt and slid it all the way off. Jonah put the bags on the floor, like they might block what they were doing.
Shaun looped the soft, worn leather around the back of Jonah’s neck as Jonah sank to his knees. “I plan to be rough with you,” Shaun said, and his voice definitely echoed. Jonah inhaled slowly, trying to steady himself.
“Tap my thigh if it’s too much.” Shaun’s voice was low and soft, more considerate than seemed reasonable for the situation. Looking up at the taller man standing over him, Jonah reached up and opened Shaun’s jeans.
His cock wasn’t hard yet, as Jonah pulled his jeans and boxers down a bit to show him off, and Jonah took a moment to feel the weight of it in his palms. Like his head, Shaun was bald below the belt as well, a practice of dedication that Jonah could appreciate and that he sort of worried he was going to have to follow through with as well. Shaun’s inner thighs, where Jonah could see them, were more finely haired than Jonah’s own. He gave Shaun a few strokes, pulling the foreskin back a bit and leaning in to wrap his mouth around as much of the shaft as he could while it was still limp. He was distinctly aware of the warmth and weight of the belt behind his neck, but in the way that he was aware of his shirt, or his hair.
Shaun groaned above him, adjusting the belt on the back of Jonah’s neck. There was very little pressure; really, it was almost reassuring. Jonah bobbed his head a bit, splaying his knees on the hard tile floor. He put his hands on Shaun’s hips to steady himself, felt his cock growing hard in his mouth as he worked in, able to take less and less in as it hardened. He was bigger than he’d expected, somehow.
The belt behind his neck suddenly became a steering brace. Shaun pushed into his mouth until Jonah gagged a bit. The noise seemed loud and harsh in the bathroom, and it didn’t stop Shaun at all. “Stick out your tongue.”
Jonah did his best to, looking up at Shaun to gauge just how rough rough was going to be. Shaun’s face was serene and the line of his shoulders taut to keep the belt, and Jonah’s head, firmly in place. He smiled down at Jonah when he seemed to realize he was being watched, and rocked his hips insistently until Jonah took the whole thing in his mouth, down his throat. The head fit back just past his gag reflex and Jonah squirmed a little, his eyes watering and every instinct in him fighting.
“Swallow on it,” Shaun said, coaxing and almost sweet. Jonah did his best, making a wet, desperate noise in the midst of it. Shaun pulled back finally.
Jonah got one deep, heaving breath in before Shaun pressed his cock in again. He didn’t go quite as deep, but he worked at fucking Jonah’s mouth. Jonah felt that deep hot fluttering feeling in his belly and inner thighs, and he could feel his boxer briefs sticking to his crotch. He snuck a hand between his legs and rubbed the seam of his jeans against himself. It was absolutely nothing, a tease. Above him, Shaun continued to give him soft, coaxing instructions, and Jonah did his best to follow them. Occasionally, someone would come in, and Shaun would quiet his force and murmuring, and let Jonah suck at his cock like any other normal blowjob. One time, when a man took a particularly long time in the stall right next to theirs, Shaun pulled him off and lifted him quietly to his feet.
Jonah was pretty sure the guy in the next stall was lingering for a reason, and he was pretty sure Shaun had the same idea. Neither of them said anything. Shaun opened the button on Jonah’s jeans and then turned him toward the partition between the two stalls. He sank one big hand into his jeans, but not under his boxer briefs. Jonah had to cover his mouth and bite his palm. Shaun’s fingers bumped against him teasingly and buried his face against Jonah’s shoulder. He bit him, through his shirt, on his shoulder, and Jonah whimpered helplessly against his palm.
Eventually, the man left. Shaun nuzzled up to Jonah’s ear from his shoulder, and was grinning against the soft skin there. He was still hard; Jonah could feel him pressed against the small of his back. “I want to fuck you.”
Jonah wanted that too. He shook in Shaun’s grasp. “Not in the fucking bathroom,” he said, a whine of a protest. Shaun laughed softly.
“No, of course not.”
He twisted, not quite half a turn, and watched Shaun put his cock back in his slacks without even attempting to cover up his erection. It strained the front of his dark jeans, and Jonah licked his lips. They were all bruised and his throat felt raw. His chin was a mess. He grabbed some toilet paper and cleaned up, then flushed it.
Shaun laughed at him and unlocked the stall door. “Maybe next time, you little cock slut.” He put a hand on the back of Jonah’s neck and squeezed gently, then shoved his belt into their shopping back. “I think I like leaving you hanging, though.”