Finding Home Read Free Page A

focus of her life was school, she had an unrequited crush on the captain of the football team and her knowledge of sex was still mostly theoretical except for a little fumbling with Ray Marsden at a house party one summer evening. And even then, nothing much had happened.
    “May I ask about your early sexual experiences?” She referred to her list of questions. “How old were you when you first had sex?”
    “Fourteen.” Again, his answer was succinct, and Megan had to ask him to elaborate.
    “Kristina Taylor. Eighth grade formal. In back of the gym. Less than five minutes.”
    “How did you feel about it?”
“Embarrassed. But she was cool about it and it was better the next time and even better after we’d had more practice.” There was a hint of humor in his tone despite his blank face.
    “When did you realize you were gay?”
“I’m not.”
    Megan paused, taken by surprise. “But your clients are male.” “What I do is work. Doesn’t mean I like it. You know anybody who works at McDonald’s and loves the job?” He smiled slightly for the first time.
    “True.” She returned his smile.
    The waitress returned with Mouth’s meal and a soda for Megan, who turned off the recorder.
    The boy tore into the burger, his jaws bulging as he chewed an oversize mouthful. He didn’t look at her as he methodically ate his way through the food, chased by great gulps of soda.
    Megan wondered when he’d last eaten.
    If it bothered him to be watched, he gave no sign of it, but then anyone who engaged in intimate acts with strangers on a daily basis must have long ago lost all self-consciousness.
    “Why do they call you Mouth?” she asked when he’d finished his burger and she’d put on the recorder again. “Ricky said it’s because you’re such a talker, but it’s nothing to do with that, is it?”
    He looked at her significantly, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips.
    “Listen, even if I know why, I need some quotes from you.” Megan felt her cheeks flush and her tone was sharp.
    He shrugged. “I’m good at blowjobs.”
    She fought the desire to shoot back “How good?” and said instead, “So it became your nickname.”
    “Yeah, well it’s better than Ass, don’t you think?”
    Megan had trouble taking his teasing lightly. “So you also engage in penetrative sex?” She sounded like a prissy schoolteacher, but couldn’t find a better way to phrase the question.
    “No. I only do blowjobs and handjobs. Mostly guys want blowjobs. Because I
am
good.”
    “And that’s all you do?” She felt like a pervert poking through other people’s dirty laundry, which in a way was exactly what she was doing. Rossi had better publish the damn article when she was finished.
    “Now and then, some guys pay me to jerk off over them. Or they want to suck me off.”
    “They do? And you…?” Her cheeks burned hotter as her questions brought more explicit answers. She couldn’t help feeling this interview would be easier if he wasn’t so attractive.
    “Yeah, they do. I can close my eyes and use my imagination to get off. It beats sucking cock.” He critically examined a burnt fry, setting it to the side of his plate.
    Megan looked down at her written questions again. She’d hoped the conversation would flow more easily, but it seemed to be getting more stilted as the garish details of his life were laid bare in front of her. “Are all your clients men or do you also get women?”
    He didn’t answer immediately. When she glanced up, he was watching her speculatively. “Guys. But I had a client who wanted me to go down on his wife once. So, yeah, I guess I do do women.” His voice grew huskier.
    A shiver passed through her and her crotch tightened in response to his suggestive tone. Shame followed immediately on the heels of her arousal.
    She took a long sip of her soda. This was ridiculous. The kid was a prostitute, she was paying for his time and maybe he thought she wanted more than an interview. Or