I Need a Contract

Eric

I ended the meeting with a curt nod and closed the door behind me harder than necessary.

No one said a word. They never did.

I strode down the corridor while employees either averted their eyes or suddenly became very focused on their screens. That was exactly how I preferred it. Control wasn’t requested. It was enforced.

Hours later, when I finally stepped into the apartment—one of many I kept across the country—I let out a slow breath. Only here, in these empty walls, did I allow myself even a fraction of release.

The silence greeted me like an old acquaintance. As always.

“Finally. A shower and a martini,” I muttered under my breath, more out of habit than actual need.

I loosened my tie as I crossed the expansive living room, the space far too large for one man. For a brief moment, I considered turning on the television or putting on some music—anything to cut through the constant quiet.

I didn’t. I never did.

I was in the middle of visiting the company’s branches, and tomorrow I’d fly to the final city on this trip. I kept a private apartment in every location where we had a major office. Hotels had never been an option. Too impersonal. Too exposed.

I poured myself a drink and stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at the glittering city lights below. Another night. Another city. The same hollow rhythm.

I was tired of it.

Tired of deals, of power plays, of bodies that came and went without leaving any real trace. I needed something more controlled. Something with rules. Boundaries.

A contract.

I took a slow sip of the martini, the cold burn sliding down my throat. Yes. That was exactly what I needed.

Someone who understood the terms. Someone who could satisfy the growing hunger I kept tightly leashed behind years of discipline.

Someone who wouldn’t ask for more than I was willing to give.

My mind drifted, unbidden, to the kind of man who might fit that role. Young. Beautiful. Obedient.

And completely mine—for as long as the contract lasted.

I stepped into the apartment and dropped the keys on the console table, pausing for a moment to take in the heavy silence that always greeted me. Only then did I head straight for the shower.

The last few days had been more grueling than usual. Going through each branch one by one demanded absolute precision and left no room for mistakes. Most of them were running exactly as expected.

One, however, was not.

That particular office had been demanding far more of my attention than it should.

“I need a new contract,” I murmured as I stepped out of the shower, running the towel through my damp hair.

A faint smile tugged at my lips, almost automatic, when I realized it had been months since the last one. Six, maybe more.

Long enough.

After what happened in the past, repeating the same mistake made no sense.

Spontaneous arrangements never ended well. They always came with hidden agendas—money, status, or something even more inconvenient.

So I stopped pretending I didn’t see it.

If that was how the world worked, I would simply rewrite the rules in my favor.

Contracts were clean. Clear. Direct. No room for misunderstandings or messy emotions. It was the only way to keep everything… under control.

Preferences had never been an issue for me. Gender even less so. What mattered was the response. The reaction. The way the other person surrendered to the moment—completely, without reservations or side games.

Pure. Controlled. Mine.

I pulled on a fresh shirt, the fabric cool against my skin, and poured myself a drink. The city lights stretched out beyond the tall windows like a kingdom waiting to be managed.

Somewhere out there was the right man for this new contract.

I just had to find him.

The only rule that was never up for negotiation was simple: two people. Nothing more. Everything else could shift, and honestly, that flexibility was what made the arrangement work.

The pleasure I gave was always enough. I never needed more than that.

In business, though, the rules were different. Distance. Efficiency. Results. That was how people saw me—and for the most part, that was exactly how I operated. Unnecessary closeness only created room for error.

As those thoughts fell into place with practiced ease, I picked up my phone and called Christian, my legal advisor. He was the one who handled all my contracts.

“Hello, Christian? Any updates?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to a few candidates. Depends on whether any of them catch your interest,” he replied, the usual hint of amusement in his voice.

I ignored the tone.

“It’s taking longer than usual.”

“Maybe you’re getting pickier,” he said lightly.

I took a slow sip of my martini before answering.

“Maybe.”

The silence that followed stretched a little too long. I stared at the glass in my hand, swirling the clear liquid.

None of the names he’d mentioned so far felt… enough. And that wasn’t like me.

“I’ll send over the profiles,” Christian said, breaking the quiet.

“Do that.”

I continued talking with Christian while finishing my drink. We’d known each other since college, and he was one of the very few people who understood exactly how far he could push… and, more importantly, exactly where to stop.

Once the call ended, I headed to bed.

The next morning, I took care of a few pending matters before boarding the jet. Since I’d only arrive in the city late in the afternoon, I pushed the company visit to the following day.

I leaned back in the leather seat as the plane climbed into the sky, staring out at the clouds without really seeing them. My mind was already elsewhere—turning over the profiles Christian had sent, searching for someone who might finally hold my interest.

Control. Discretion. Surrender.

That was what I needed.

And this time, I had a feeling the search was about to become far more interesting than usual.