His True Nature is the latest story by Silvia Violet. It is only 38 pages…
Professional Distance is the first novel in the Thorne & Dash series by Silvia Violet and if the following books are as good as this one, I am really looking forward to them. Silvia Violet manages to write about a subject you don’t see that much, but is a very real part of life. Lots of people pay other people for sex or companionship and of course there is nothing wrong with that, provided it is an equal partnership between two consensual people. But what happens if the lines of professionalism are crossed?
Thornwell Shipton is very rich, very closeted and lives for his job. There is no other person working as hard as he is and he is proud of it. But every Friday night he lets go. Friday night he hires some one for sex, so that is scheduled and professional, just like everything else in his life. And that is all fine and well, until one night his favorite escort is no longer available and the agency sends a replacement by the name of Dash.
Riley Dashwood is young and passionate. He really wants to be a chef and a baker and is saving up money for that. To earn some money he is working for an escort agency. So one night he is send out to be with Thorne and he goes….
The minute they lay eyes on each other the attraction is instant and swift. Pretty soon sparks are flying and Thorne hires Dash over and over again, just to be with him. Both men are wondering if there might be more to this than just sex, but that would mean they’d have to cross the lines of professionalism and try to go for a real relationship. But is that even possible? What about all the differences between them?
Thorne makes a desperate move, but ends up driving Dash away even further. Will it be forever or will there be a chance between them?
Thorne’s intercom buzzed. “A Mr. Dash is here to see you. He says he’s expected. Shall I send him up?”
“Yes, Je-Michaels, thank you.” Michaels had only been working as a doorman in Thorne’s building for a few weeks, yet Thorne had lost count of the number of times he’d almost called the man Jeeves. Michaels’ British accent and starched appearance simply begged for it. Years ago he’d loved to watch and re-watch the Masterpiece Theatre version of Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Wooster, with Clint, his—boyfriend was certainly not right, even lover didn’t fit—boss. His boss whom he’d occasionally fucked. Now, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched anything but videos of junior consultants’ meetings.
Two crisp knocks at the door signaled that Dash had made the long elevator ride to his penthouse apartment.
Thorne’s pulse sped up. He resented how very much he needed this respite from work, these moments where he actually let go of all his clients’ woes and indulged himself. Yet he kept paying for it, every week that he was in town. He imagined being fucked roughly, hands held down, as Dash whispered dirty words in his ear. By the time Thorne reached the door, he was already hard. Dash damn well better work out; but whether or not Thorne requested him to come back, he was going to get fucked tonight.
He checked the peephole out of habit, although Michaels and the other doormen were quite strict about checking credentials before allowing anyone in the building. The young man standing at Thorne’s door appeared to be in his early twenties, as were most of the service’s employees. He had dirty-blond hair that curled loosely and was longer than he could have worn it if he’d worked in Thorne’s office. His hazel eyes had a mischievous look to them that held promise. His smile, however, wasn’t at all what Thorne was expecting. It was fresh and sunny and it reached his eyes, a true smile, like he was meeting a friend, not conducting illicit business.
Quit trying to read so much into him. This isn’t a business meeting where you have to size up the clients. It’s a fucking hook-up that you paid for.
Thorne opened the door.
“Mr. Shipton?” the boy asked.
Thorne nodded and stepped back so Dash could enter.
“I’m Dash; Sheila told me you were a client of Marc’s.” Dash lifted the strap of the messenger bag he carried over his head and sat the bag against the wall in the entryway.
“That’s right,” Thorne answered. “He suited my needs perfectly.”
“And you think I won’t?”