Or rather, the Mary-Ann found him, stepping under the circle of a gaslight as Dorian walked by. "Hello good sir, are you looking for some company this evening?" In his early twenties and golden-haired, the man's eyes burned like emeralds. Fine of figure and wearing a scarlet waistcoat and a black velvet suit, he carried a silver-headed cane, no doubt for protection. It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, the wrong time to be alone. Dorian nodded curtly. The man smiled, his teeth pearly and Dorian's cock thickened with anticipation when he realised how startlingly attractive the man was. The man edged closer, placing the palm of his hand against Dorian's chest, a small, delicate hand for one of his height and build. "Do you have rooms anywhere, sir?" Dorian debated. He hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd only thought of taking down the drawers of a male whore and burying himself, achieving ecstasy for a short while and feeling less alone. He'd expected to do it furtively up against the wall in a dirty alleyway but this man was so pretty, he demanded more.
