A hint of comprehension glimmers in his eyes. “You’re a s*x worker?”
It’s my turn to look blank. “How did you get that? I’m talking about masturbation.”
He nods warily. “And that’s why I asked if you’re a s*x worker.”
“What kind of a s*x worker m*********s for a living?”
He lifts one broad shoulder in a shrug. “The girls at peep shows? The girls who work those chat cams? The girls who—”
“Sorry, no. I’m not a s*x worker. At least I don’t think I am. I blog about the subject of muffin buffin’—but I don’t actually do it in front of anyone… besides that time with you.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “If that’s all, why did you not want to tell me?”
“Because it’s embarrassing?”
He exhales a relieved breath. “And that’s it?”
“Well, yeah.” I begin to feel a bit silly. “I thought you were
