Rubbing One Out - Susan Mac Nicol Page 0,2

It bore no visible hallmark and was delightfully designed with a small chain anchoring the lid to the handle. He weighed the heavy little piece in his hand, growing fonder of it as the seconds passed. There was something about it captured his imagination, reminding him of the Aladdin and the Genie tale from 1001 Arabian Nights.

As a boy, Ben had loved hearing those tales when his mom had read to him at night. At one time in his childhood fantasies, he’d gone through a stage of pretending to have a flying carpet. Luckily, his more practical father had managed to get to him before he leapt off the garage roof to prove he could fly. At the time he’d been upset at being thwarted, but as an adult, he realised that the two-storey fall would’ve probably killed him.

Casting a glance around the store to see no one was watching, he rubbed the lamp furtively. You never know, right? He was disappointed when nothing happened.

Another childhood story shot down in flames, he reflected in disappointment. Maybe there was an art to it, even some magic words to be said.

“Open Sesame,” he whispered as he rubbed the lamp again. Nothing. Maybe it didn’t work because he was wearing gloves.

Ben huffed. Even though it didn’t work, the lamp had grown on him. He had to have it. The feeling of possession was overwhelming.

Perhaps he could use his masculine wiles to talk Ryan down from the tag price. After all, what was the point of being a sex bomb to a younger man if you didn’t use it to your advantage?

He walked over to Ryan, who’d extricated himself from his tricky situation but looked a little worse for wear.

“Geesh,” Ryan muttered as he gave Ben a slow, approving appraisal from top to toe, all six foot two of him. “Mr Finkelstein is a crabby arsehole sometimes. All I wanted to do was tell him about this fancy walking stick.”

Ben laughed. “Yeah, I heard him. He has a way with words, that’s for sure.” He leaned over the counter, hoping his Paco Rabanne aftershave tantalised Ryan’s nostrils. He’d also undone one of the buttons on his shirt to let a peek of his dark blond chest hair peek through. He knew he filled out his black jeans well enough, and his blue eyes seemed to be a draw for most men.

I’m such a man-slut, he thought wryly. Ryan’s gaze was drawn to Ben’s chest as he licked his lips.

“I found this over there,” Ben gestured to the lamp, then the shelf, “I wondered if I could get it for less than the price tag? It’s a cute piece and reminds me of when I was a kid. Childhood memories are such a special thing.” He grinned and noticed with satisfaction something he was doing certainly buzzed Ryan’s drill. Ben ran his hand through his short, styled hair slowly, like he was the guy in the Paco Rabanne commercial. As if.

“Oh, I’m not sure,” Ryan hedged, his gaze drawn to Ben’s hand then back to his chest. “My dad would probably kill me if I let it go for less. He brought that back from a trip to the Middle East.”

“Huh.” Ryan’s dad Glenn was rather a stickler for the rules. Ben stretched his arms up, making sure it made the most of his torso, and his shirt lifted a teeny bit to show pale skin beneath. Ryan’s eyes bugged out. “I thought perhaps you could make an exception for me. Seeing as how we’re friends.”

Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “I guess, perhaps I could take a fiver off the price. But no more, or honestly, Dad will skin me.”

Ben considered the offer, then grinned. He didn’t want to be responsible for anything bad befalling Ryan. He might not want to date the guy, but he was cute. “Done.” He reached out to shake Ryan’s sweaty palm. “Thanks for that.”

Ben took out his wallet, removed a dirty ten and a five-pound note and laid them on the counter. “I have just the place on the mantelpiece for this. It needs a bit of a polish, but I’m sure with a touch of Brasso, it’ll come up sparkling. Although I have to say, I quite like the old look. I might dust it off and leave it at that.”

Ryan rang the sale up and passed the receipt and the lamp in a paper bag over to Ben. “You must have quite