Former male model and current ad developer Boyd Ames wants to be in total control of the partners who top him to the extreme that he wants to go with men who normally would demand and claim total control but must give it all to Boyd. After a chance exhibitionist sex encounter across the glass with a window cleaner, Drake Simpson, in Boyd’s fifteenth-floor apartment, though, a dance for control begins between Boyd and Drake. This struggle, told from the perspective of three men, is made more complex by Boyd’s boss, Maury Rivers, who takes Drake into the ad agency and begins a whole game of control himself over the two of them, based on his theory that money controls everything.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the window cleaner. He was everything I looked for, rolled into one package—dark and sultry and the physique of a Marine, the image coming to me immediately because of the Marine cut of his hair, the sense of power he exuded, and the rugged, square-chinned aspect of his face, not to mention the broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and the pronounced guns on his arms, where he had the short sleeves of his soft blue shirt—matching his close-fitting trousers in color and material—rolled up to his shoulders.
He was giving me a knowing, saucy gaze from steel-blue eyes. He had started wiping the window, but he hadn’t gotten too far before he saw us on the massage table. I was in no position to extricate myself and go draw the gauzy curtains—through which the window cleaner, in any event could have seen enough of us to know what we were doing and to get a good view of our bodies doing it. What I was doing. Tony was just laying there, letting me borrow his hard cock. He wasn’t even aware we were being observed. There was no way to hide from the workman outside the window that I was fucking myself on Tony’s cock and had been in a state of ecstasy doing it.
I did recover enough then to think about moving—not to pull the curtains, which would have brought me, naked and full frontal, to within a foot of him on the other side of the glass, but back, retreating to the bathroom. But before I was able to climb off Tony, who was tensing up, nearly ready to blow, I looked back at the wall of glass to find that the window cleaner had engaged the lift of the platform and was rising above my floor, leaving my windows unfinished.
