In The Moonlight

By Sabrina K. Mercury

For men who fancy their own, the Cream Shop caters to a plethora of desires. After years of being on the bottom rung of the bathhouse’s chain of consorts, Sénka is willing to do anything. His debut has come and seducing the Cream Shop’s top client and influential entrepreneur, Lord Arion, is a sure-fire way to secure a position. With his future riding on this one night, is Sénka truly ready for the consequences of his actions?​

Warning, this title contains the following: explicit male/male sex, graphic language, and cross-dressing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sabrina K. Mercury
• Release date: Jan 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386798972

Sabrina K. Mercury

Sabrina K. Mercury is the pen-name used by this female author. Sabrina K. Mercury graduated college in December 2014 with a Bachelor’s of Science in Computer Information Systems. When she is not exploring the pleasures of reading and writing erotic romance in fantasy & paranormal fiction, her hobbies include world-building and role-playing. She also enjoys anime, Asian films, dramas & variety shows. As an author, Sabrina shares stimulating stories about taboo relationships and forbidden romances. Her fiction reflects her love of Asian web serials and Boy’s Love manga and novels. Her creativity is more than thinking outside the box. It's about turning something new into something that's mastered.

Book preview

Chapter One

My little cherub boy holds me by my chin. That’s what I like to call them. Cherubs. These little servants look like their painted counterparts. There is nothing cute about them. Such stout, small things. Such little stubby things. Such unsightly things with unsightly oval faces and unsightly, plump cherry cheeks. Cherubs. That’s what they should be called.

A strip of wax paper is all that separates me from its fat thumb and even fatter index finger. This male cherub dusts my face, brushing silver glitter and coloring powder over what it likes to call, my broaden cheekbones. My teeth sinks slowly into my inner cheeks and marks the inside my mouth.

Girlish figure makes for enhancing endowments Sénka, yes, my little stout cherub says.

My mouth curls – slightly and upward. Let it interpret my expression as a nervous smile. Maybe that will satisfy it need for yammering. It should know better than to speak to me.

My little fair-colored, cherub servant wipes his baby hands in his blue apron. It squares me towards the mirror – with its hands on my shoulders – singing. I wish it wouldn’t sing.

I hate this thing more than I hate this cherub. This white, leather corset I’m bound in. How can others wear this daily? Such constriction, I wasn’t anticipating such limited movement. Everywhere is tight. Everywhere... except my smooth, bare, brown chest.

No not brown. I’m not the hired little cherubs. I’m not those Public citizens that fill their empty pockets with loaves of stolen bread. My complexion’s a rich mahogany. I’m as valuable as cedar; soft like the melting chocolate my cherub smears on my rosy, pink tongue.

How happy you must be. Long blond hair like honey and such feminine features, my other – fairer – cherub speaks.

I press my lips together, licking the roof of my mouth and front of my teeth. If I’d been... no I’d still feel ridiculous. My heart’s pulsing in my throat, jumping higher between deep breaths. If I were a woman, I think I’d fill out to a nice full B-cup.

I’m not a woman, or a young girl.

I am an angular boy with spare and wiry limbs and today I am eighteen.

How happy, my blue apron cherub speaks again, it’ll make that patron feel good, yes.

Rolling my eyes is tempting. It’s the spiraling ribbon – the unthreading bright blue, unweaving in flight between two female doves – that takes me back to my three-way mirror. My other little cherubs flitter in my marble dressing room. The lithe ones burn more sweet incense. The small ones empty my cup, refilling it with cool water. The new ones – faces I’ve never seen before – fan me with feathered sticks and idol-like admiration. I know them for what they really are; buzzing pests. Little flies on the wall, all of them.

Their gossiping is acid. Awing and giggling, stroking and fingering my fabrics with their honey hands. I know many who lost position – even after they debuted – because of loose lips. Escorts – like I’m about to be – talking like they and the Attendants – those cherubs – were fast friends. Being too acquainted got their contracts revoked the point that they could only work in Public districts.

Everything gets back to the Master Jade Lang – the Master Proprietor, the owner of this Cream Shop.

They should’ve paid more attention to Master’s Lang lessons.

It’s my size that keeps me at an advantage. I’m diminutive compared other operatives – employed workers. My work contract expires in two years. In two years Master Lang will judge me by the weight of my filled books. I won’t work elsewhere. I won’t be turned out to the streets ‘cause my legs weren’t wide enough. There I go, forgetting proper grammar. I must remember to speak with elegance. That kind of tongue isn’t welcomed here. You’re only as good as your last appointment, Elizabetha warned me months ago.

I’m easy money. My second growth won’t start until I’m around twenty; looking young prices second only to virgins. That means double earning for me. My worth’s bringing me mass fortune. Beauty alone, I’ll be filling my first book by the end of the month. I’ll be the envy of everyone, for generations to come.

Or so today’s Attendants say. I don’t care to remember their names so I just call them by their titles.

I’m focusing on permanent employment after my debut review. I’ll own my solidary apartment, having my own Attendants from now until my Academia application.

I’m not turning out to the streets. I have no place there anymore.

TODAY’S MY BIRTHDAY and since this morning, it’s gotten hotter. It’s midafternoon and there’s no glass holding back the heat. I see the public streets. There are men standing under my window, climbing over themselves to see more than a glimpse me. They’ve watch me powder and buff. Seen my cherubs fall and rise from their knees, removing all my private hairs. I hear the cat calls, and I keep my naked back to them. My silver hennaed inking makes them uproar with cheers.

That be wings on ‘im.

Too pretty a virgin to be boy.

Get out of my way!

I lower my shoulders to keep from laughing when Elizabetha finally comes. She ushers me back into the shade, snapping her fingers and cursing in my stead. More cherubs with fanning sticks come to stop the sweat on my skin. Elizabetha gives me a few sips of a sweet cocktail, more mouthfuls of melting chocolate from her delicate fingers. I suck the chocolate from her fingertips, my tongue swirling from base to tip.

That’s good, says Elizabetha, He will like that, Sénka.

Can I have more honey wine?

Relieve yourself and I’ll give you two more sips, Elizabetha snaps her fingers calling for the pot.

I’m puffing my chest, lowering my slightly pointed chin. Three.

Elizabetha smiles, After that it’s back to the water.

I DO AS I’M TOLD, ALLOWING the chamber cherub cleanses me thoroughly. Elizabetha checks for any accidents – stains on my clothes or body – that will embarrass Master Lang. She waves her hand after her inspection, sending the cherub off to dispose of the wastes.

The Attendants clean between my thighs with fragrant soap and