Excerpt from The Liar. I realize the first post I made was taken from a portion that could probably not be understood without more detail so here is my second attempt.
Jasha Osei was a rare breed. The kind of man who thought he wanted to run the show when his every action was begging for someone else to take the reins. Jasha seemed startled when Dade asked him to help prepare the chicken salad he had planned for lunch, but the man responded beautifully to direction. Jasha never made objections or hesitated to do what he was told.
Dade also introduced some experimental touches into their interplay. While they worked around each other in the kitchen, Dade made sure he brushed against the other man, or when he was demonstrating the proper way to slice a tomato or peel a cucumber he made sure to hover too close, to crowd Jasha without alarming the man.
Again, Jasha responded in the way he predicted, pressing into his touches, leaning his weight back against Dade without seeming to know what he was doing. Jasha was a hedonist in disguise; his true nature locked away because of fearing generalizations and the dictates of society. Successful men in America were dominant, aggressive, skirtchasers and to be anything else was to be less of a man.
Dade had heard it all, but the difference between him and Jasha was that he knew better. Men came with all kinds of appetites and there was no right or wrong way to be. Jasha probably thought his desire to be dominated was kinky and outrageous, but really, he’d only just touched the tip of the iceberg.
There is so much that I would teach you.
Cuffs. Collars. Obedience training. Dade could hardly wait to start, but he had a feeling Jasha would fight him all the way. A professional liar could do his job so well that he even began to fool himself.
Sitting down to lunch, Jasha was wary of what Dade wanted from him. He could tell the man wanted something. He could read the anticipation in his body language, could see it in those assessing eyes. And then there were the touches. Jasha couldn’t tell if Dade thought he was being subtle or didn’t care if he knew it was on purpose.
He should probably speak up and tell him to stop. He wasn’t the type to bite his tongue, only now he found that the words wouldn’t come. Truth be told, he liked the touches. They were so unlike the fluttery touches of his ex-fiancee. Dade’s touches were sure, firm, directing his actions— fraying his nerves.
Jasha had chosen to sit in the farthest seat from Dade. He wasn’t thinking properly when Dade was too close. It was confusing and a bit scary to realize Dade went to his head like a shot of Novocain. He wasn’t sure what it was about the man that made him more docile than he was used to. Sure, Dade was handsome, sinfully so, but lots of men were handsome, cocky, self-assured, and bossy.
But none of them were Dade Savage.
*Picture above is what Jasha Osei looks like in my head. He is of mixed ancestry. Irish, Portugese, and West African.