Copyright 2013 EM Lynley. Please do not share or repost without author’s permission.
Brice shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to see Remy again with an audience. He’d been able to stay away from the place only by pushing his willpower to the limit. Now he was being asked to go back. “Sorry, Ron, I can’t make it.” Best not to explain why.
“I don’t care what it is, cancel it or postpone it.”
“It’s not that… Why not send Watkins. He loves the place.”
“What is it, then?” Ron paused. Brice could see his mind whirring, trying to decide if he could ask Brice outright whether he was gay or mention anything sexual. California and federal laws could be tricky on the issue. And Brice was an attorney. “He doesn’t like Watkins. He likes you.”
“Do you mean ‘like’ as in the high-school girl usage of the word, or just that he doesn’t care for Watkins’ personality.”
Ron chuckled. “Definitely the latter. I’m not sure about the former. He won’t hit on you if you’re someplace with willing participants.” He paused and smiled mischievously. “Look, I don’t think he’s got the hots for you. But if he did, couldn’t you just smile at him? For 50 mill?”
“I can’t believe you just said that.” But Brice was more amused than annoyed. He could hold his own but he hated that sometimes a little extra smile—from the right guy or woman—could grease the wheels on a business deal, even when nothing was expected.”I could sue your ass.”
“Well, I suppose that’s better than the alternative,” Ron said. They’d been friends for years before they started working together, so Brice would let him get away with the comment.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Brice gave as good as he got. He leaned back in his chair and considered his options. He really wanted to see Remy. And Brice admitted the blatant sexuality of the club was a lure. He didn’t feel entirely comfortable with being on display, but who was even looking at him? Watkins had his mind—and his hands—on his own serving boy and hadn’t cared what Brice was doing. “Okay. I’ll do it this one time, for you. And the knowledge of how much of that 50 mill I’ll get.”
Ron stood upend leaned across the desk so he could slap Brice on the shoulder. “There you go. Take one for the team.” He straightened up and looked at Brice. “I’m not sure what’s not to like about the place. They have another club, with women servers, and I’d love to go there. Marilyn wouldn’t like it, though. But you’re single, or so you’ve been saying. Is there someone who might be getting jealous?”
Brice shook his head. “Quite the opposite.”
“Hang in there. And thanks. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, one million dollars.” Brice delivered the line like Dr. Evil in an Austin Powers movie and Ron laughed his way back down the hall to his own office.
Brice got up and shut his door. He needed to think about this. Did he really want to see Remy? He admitted he was physically attracted to the young man. Could his politeness and charm be just an act? Brice knew how some of these pros got their clients hooked on their company, as long as they were spending money, but the affection and attraction wasn’t reciprocal. Remy had said he was new, but that could have been a lie too.
The best way to handle this would be to assume the attraction to Remy was nothing more than the normal sexual tension and desire the Dining Club existed to provide. When Brice looked at it that way, he’d been the naïve one. No wonder they’d called him Mr. Green. Greenhorn, newbie, easily influenced. An evening with any of the boys would be just as enjoyable. In fact, he shouldn’t have Remy again, to guard against the misplaced emotion.
He hadn’t walked into a real-life version of Pretty Woman.
Brice picked up the phone and buzzed Watkins. “Can you give me the reservation number at the Dinner Club? I need to bring a client.” Brice kept his request short and businesslike, with no room for Watkins to wrangle an invitation to come along.
“Sure. Let me find it.” He paused and Remy expected to hear him tapping at keys, but there was silence. Watkins told him the number—apparently he had it memorized. “Have fun, Brice.” Watkins chuckled lasciviously and Brice hung up without thanking him.
He picked up the phone again and took a deep breath before calling.
“Men’s Dinner Club,” a pleasant-sounding woman announced on the other end. Brice had expected a breathy-sounding man to be taking reservations, getting the clients worked up on the phone, before they ever set foot in the place. “How can I serve you?”
Brice tried not to imagine how that would sound in a husky male voice. “Can I book two seats for tomorrow night?” He half hoped they were booked up.
“Your color, please?”
“Just green? Not forest green or Kelly green?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been there once and I was the only Green that night.”He gave the date. He’d wondered how he’d gotten such a common color.
“Oh, yes, sir. That was a new client basic color. Here you are in the database under a corporate account. You’re actually going to be Hunter Green from now on for reservations. I’ll need to get some contact information and and give you your personal membership number.”
He spent five minutes providing the details and she verified his authorization to use the business account.
“Do you have a preferred serving boy?” she asked as if she were inquiring about whether he wanted sugar for his coffee.
“No, but… ” He paused, not sure he was making the correct decision. “No. And I’d rather not have the same boy.”
“Weren’t you pleased with his service?”
He didn’t want to get Remy in trouble. Damn, he just shouldn’t have said anything. “Oh, I was. Very pleased.” Fuck, that sounded perverted. “J-just I’d like to try someone different.”
“No problem, sir.” She tapped away at a keyboard. “Oh, looks like Remy isn’t working tomorrow anyway, which will make it easy. I’ll put you down for two seats. Your companion will be Mr. Mauve. If he joins, he’ll get a permanent color.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow at eight.”
“Thanks.” He hung up. Good, Remy wouldn’t be there. No guilt over passing him up and no temptation from seeing him again. He’d get a completely different boy, one who he would avoid forming any connection with. Maybe he’d even go for something on the special menu. Why not?
Jeremy’s week was full of disappointments. His lab time got cut and he couldn’t get any more hours at his part-time job at the clinic. His research was stalled, mainly because he found going to the lab frustrating. He didn’t have the hours to do all the trials he needed for his dissertation, which meant he might need to stay an extra semester. That meant more money for fees, even if he wasn’t taking any more classes. He needed to discuss these problems with his adviser, but Dr. Morrell had been scarce around the department and he wasn’t returning emails or calls.
To make matters worse, Jeremy found himself thinking of Mr. Green. He was sexy in a sort of shy way, like he wasn’t aware of how hot he was and didn’t want anyone else to pay attention to his looks. But Jeremy could tell he was smart. Smart enough to find the artifice of the Dinner Club a little overwhelming. The other boys poured on the sex appeal and compliments, and their gentlemen ate it up like it was foie gras.
Jeremy sensed that Mr. Green wouldn’t want that kind of treatment, and it wasn’t Jeremy’s personality to lavish unearned praise on anyone. Even for money. Though it would certainly work better for tips at the Dinner Club than it did with the venture capital firm that had supposedly cut funding to the grant that financed Jeremy’s research. Too bad he could just fawn all over the VC guys and get his grant back.
He’d spent most of Sunday at the lab, and finished two experiments. The results looked pretty good and he was eager to analyze the data and show them to his adviser. Maybe another month of progress would mean he could move back to a more-favored status and get more lab time or additional funding. In this haze of semi-celebration Jeremy raced down the steps—all six floors, because the elevators were a little untrustworthy and the last thing he needed was to get stuck in one on a weekend—and out the front door of the lab building, realizing it had gotten dark while he was working.
He turned right and headed for the bike rack. There had been four other bikes when he’d arrived hours ago and now there were two. But neither of the two were Jeremy’s.
“Fucking bike thieves!” He kicked at the metal rack and pain shot up his leg and continued to radiate through his foot. Stolen bikes were one of the major issues on campus. Last thing he needed right now. He dug in his pocket for his cell phone to open the app for campus shuttles. The last one had come by five minutes earlier and the next wasn’t due for an hour. He’d just walk back home. He could use the fresh air and exercise after being cooped up in the lab all day.
He’d have to waste hours the next day with police reports and he didn’t relish the waste of time. Especially because it was his morning to work at the clinic. With the probability that he’d need to buy a new bike looming over him, he wondered if it was worth the time. Stolen bikes were rarely recovered.
He wound his way through campus rather than walking along the perimeter. The paved paths were deserted and the scent of pine trees and grass calmed his frazzled nerves. His stomach growled; he couldn’t remember the last meal he’d eaten. Breakfast probably. He’d make something when he got home, rather than stop at one of the tempting restaurants. Ramen or pasta or salad. That’s what was in the kitchen. Not very appetizing.
By the time he arrived at his apartment—located on a quite tree-lined street just three blocks off the northern perimeter of campus—he’d formulated a plan. He could get a new bike and at least one decent meal this week. He just wanted to sleep on the idea and decide whether it was the way he wanted to go.
The next morning he knew. He called Thomas at the Dinner Club and asked if there were any open slots this week.
“Glad to hear from you, Jeremy,” Thomas said as if he meant it. “I have one on Sunday and… oh, hang on. Steve can’t do his shift tomorrow. Do you want to fill in for him?”
“Sure. I can make it tomorrow.” He hesitated for a second, wondering if he should ask whether Mr. Green might be there, then decided against it. “Thanks, Thomas.”
“No problem. Let me know if you want the Sunday shift too.”
“Yeah, I’ll take that one. See you tomorrow.” He put the phone down.
It was done. He wouldn’t second guess himself or his motives beyond needing cash. He wouldn’t spend the next twenty=four hours wondering if he’d see Mr. Green again or not. But if he did… well, best not to contemplate what he’d do—or how far he’d go—if Mr. Green was dining again the following night.
Jeremy had to set out earlier to get to the city Wednesday night. Without the bike he took the campus shuttle to BART and arrived on time at the staff dressing room. Three guys from his previous shift were here: Kit, Rand and a slim Asian guy named Law—short for Lawrence.
“Hiya, sweetie, nice to see you back again.” Kit came and gave Jeremy a European-style double kiss, though the second one landed on his mouth and not on his cheek. “Have fun last time?” He asked with innuendo dripping from each word.
“Fun enough.” Jeremy grinned and gave the other two he knew a wave.
“Glad you’re back,” Rand said and introduced Jeremy to the two boys he didn’t already know. “Tonight’s costume theme is sailor boys.” He handed out costumes. They were all variations of blue and white, with caps and blue or white shorts. He had a handful of sailor scarves in different colors but he held onto those. “Need to get the assignments first. You’ll get a scarf to match your gentleman.”
Jeremy went to one of the stations and slipped into his: A sleeveless white shirt with buttons down the front and a blue bandanna to tie. He had a little white cloth cap and very tight white shorts. He practiced sitting in them so he could find the most comfortable way and not risk pain and damage to his balls. Kit noticed and came over.
“You can let your cock hang down past the shorts, or…” He paused and cupped Jeremy’s dick through the shorts. “Or you can arrange it so it points up and over the waistband when you’re hard. You’re big enough for that. The little guys look better hanging down.” He gave Jeremy another wholly unnecessary squeeze. “Get you started.” He winked and went back to fixing his own costume.
Like last time some of the guys lubed up or played with dildoes or butt plugs before getting dressed. Jeremy again passed. He hadn’t decided what would be on the menu tonight.
“Remy!” Kit came back over. “Your Mr. Green’s here again tonight. He was delicious. Probably tasted as good as he looked, huh?”
Jeremy felt his cheeks warming. He shrugged. He hadn’t exactly tasted Mr. Green, but he’d certainly like to. “Am I assigned to him?”
“Can’t see the assignments yet. But usually you’ll get the same gentleman unless they didn’t like you. But if that happens they generally don’t schedule you at their table again. Avoids any uncomfortable situations.”
Rand came in. “Thomas needs to know if you’re on the menu tonight, Remy? Any extras at the dinner table this time? Kissing, hand job, blow job, boy-on-boy play?”
Jeremy hesitated. He looked to Kit. Not that Kit was any sort of role model. He seemed to enjoy anything and everything. But he did enjoy working here and playing with the gentlemen and the other boys. “Yeah, okay.”
Rand handed him the signup sheet. There was a list of activities and how much he would be paid for each one. He could easily get a new bike if he signed up for two or three. He checked off a few boxes and signed his name at the bottom of the sheet. He sure wouldn’t mind kissing any of the other boys or hand jobs. And he’d certainly enjoy a hand job from Mr. Green. It wasn’t certain the guy would want that, but if he did it would be a win-win-win situation. Getting paid was really just icing on the cake.
Thomas came in and took the scarves from Rand. “We had to switch a few boys around. Here’s your assignment.” He handed out the first four scarves and had a sky blue one and the green one left as he approached Jeremy. He gave Jeremy the blue scarf.
“Hang on, I thought I’m getting Mr. Green again.”
Thomas looked at Jeremy head-on. “Sorry, Mr. Green asked for someone else tonight. I double checked because I thought you two worked out well last time.” He spoke softly so no one else could hear, but the others could see which scarf he had been given. It was obvious what had happened. Kit looked away.
Jeremy’s stomach felt like it sank through the floor and kept going. “Didn’t he like me?” He whispered the question, ashamed to have his rejection so public, despite Thomas’s obvious attempt to spare his feelings.
“Yes, he did. But he wanted variety. We can discuss this in private later if you want.”
Jeremy blinked. Why did he take this so personally? This was supposed to just be a job for quick easy cash, not a matchmaking service. He wondered if he’d like some other man putting his hands on him. “Shit, I signed up for extras. I don’t know now…”
“Mr. Sky Blue is a regular. He’s nice and he keeps his boys happy.” Thomas winked.
“I like him a lot,” Kit said. He came over and put a consoling arm around Jeremy. “You’ll like him too.” Kit cocked his head. “Despite what you think I don’t like everyone.”
“Jeremy, if you work here you don’t get to choose. The gentlemen choose who they want,” Thomas said. “You need to understand that. But we do have strict rules here and the men are all approved. He’s a regular and if he likes you he’ll be a good client.”
Jeremy nodded. He knew what he’d signed up for. When he scheduled the job tonight he didn’t even know that Mr. Green was coming. It had been a nice surprise, but now he felt the pain of rejection he hadn’t expected. “I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll get used to this.”
“If you do like it, that’s understandable and you don’t have to come back. Not everyone is suited to this job,” Rand said and Thomas nodded.
“We start serving in five minutes, so get yourselves ready to go,” Thomas said and left the dressing room.
“I feel like an idiot,” Jeremy said as he tried to tie his scarf. His hands shook. Law came over and helped him tie it.
“I’m sorry. If we could switch I would.” Law rubbed Jeremy’s upper arm. He pulled at his own scarf—the green one. “That’s against the rules. Only Thomas can change assignments.”
Jeremy nodded. He shouldn’t take this out on Law or any of the others. He’d do this one night and then decide if he could keep coming back here and taking the luck of the draw.
Kit sprinkled a little glitter over Jeremy and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You look great. We’ll have fun tonight. Don’t worry.”
“Servers, line up!” Thomas called and they filed out of the dressing room. The dinner gong sounded and they were on.
The prospect from Missouri, Red Cathcart, was excited about the dinner from the moment Brice picked him up from his hotel in a taxi.
“You been here before, right?” he’d asked before he’d even shut the taxi door.
“Yes. Just once.”
“What do the boys do?”
“Serve dinner and they take off a piece of clothing—”
“Yeah, I know that. What else do they do?”
Brice tried to hide his frown. “It depends on the boy. You’ll get a menu of activities and you choose what you want to do.”
“Can you fuck ’em at dinner?” His tone was half-shocked and half-excited.
Cathcart’s face showed disappointment. “No fucking?”
“Not at dinner. After dinner, if you want.” Brice sighed. “You do whatever you want. I’ve arranged an overnight room for you.” He put on a brighter smile than he felt. “Have fun. That’s what tonight’s all about.”
“I will. I’m gonna have a great time.” He clapped Brice on the shoulder and started whistling.
The taxi dropped them off and they entered the club where a young man wearing a bow tie and apparently nothing else greeted them from behind a podium. “Good evening , gentlemen. Welcome to the Dinner Club. Your colors?”
Brice told him. Cathcart rubbed his hands together in a disconcerting manner. “I like this color code name thing. Fun. Mysterious.”
The host—who was wearing tiny black shorts—escorted them to an office off the entry hall. Brice had been here his first time for a short discussion before dinner. Thomas, the dining room host, greeted them. He welcomed them into his office and explained the ground rules to Cathcart then turned to Brice.
“Just wanted to double-check with you about the boys. You didn’t want to have Remy serve you? Is that correct?”
Mention of the name stirred something in Brice’s chest. that had to be a bad sign. “No. Just want some variety.”
“Fine. I’ll keep that in mind with the seating arrangements tonight. Sometimes it can get awkward.”
“I’ll put his gentleman at the other end of the table to minimize any contact. Don’t worry.”
“Remy’s working tonight?” Brice felt that stirring settle lower, into his gut. He hadn’t expected Remy here tonight.
“Yes. I’ve got it under control.” Thomas handed each of them a colored lapel pin: a hunter-green one for Brice and a mauve one for Cathcart.
As Brice attached his pin he turned over his options in his mind. He could still ask for Remy after all. Should he? Before he had a chance to say anything the front door host entered and asked them to follow him to the dining room. Brice paused in the door way but Thomas was gone—he’d apparently left out of a back door to the office.
Brice and Cathcart sat at the table as the gong sounded. This time Brice asked to sit next to Cathcart, with the boys in between, so he wouldn’t have to watch or be watched.
As they waited, Brice wondered if he’d made the right choice. He remembered how Remy felt sitting in his lap, feeding him, the warmth of his body through the fabric of Brice’s pants. Whose lap would he be in tonight? Who would be touching him the way Brice wanted to touch him, but hadn’t. Was it out of prudishness or some misplaced respect for Remy?
He glanced around the table at the other men’s faces. Which one of them might share his bed with Remy that night? Brice remembered how he smelled and how he’d felt cuddled up during the night. Why did he have these thoughts about a guy who took his clothes off–and probably more–for money?
Next to him, Cathcart sipped a single-malt scotch and grinned like he’d won the Powerball jackpot. Maybe Brice was just a different kind of whore, bringing a client here so he could close a big deal for his firm.
The gong sounded and Cathcart put his glass down with a thunk that caused some of the liquid to slosh onto the table. The men turned their attention to the door at the far end of the room. Cathcart grabbed Brice’s knee. “Oh, the boys are coming now!”
The first one entered, wearing a blue-and-white sailor suit and a dark blue scarf. Cathcart sucked in his breath. “Which one’s mine?”
“He’ll be wearing a scarf the color of your lapel pin.”
So far Remy hadn’t entered the room. He’d been last when he came in with the green armband destined for Brice. Which one here would have him tonight? He didn’t think it would be Cathcart. Thomas seemed to realize that wouldn’t be very acceptable to anyone. The second boy out the door, a lithe blond, wore a mauve tie. He brushed a hand along Cathcart’s shoulders as he filed past on their circuit of the room before they would sit down with their gentlemen.
“Oh, he’s pretty. I like him.”
Four boys had entered. So far Brice hadn’t seen either his green boy or Remy. Then a slender Asian boy entered wearing green. Brice recalled him from the previous week. He was as attractive as all the others, and his exotic looks made a few of the gentlemen let out a soft gasp. Last was Remy, wearing sky blue. Brice couldn’t take his eyes off him, and not just because the tight sleeveless shirt or the tighter white shorts showed his anatomy to its best advantage.
Brice’s gaze followed Remy around the room. As Remy was opposite him their gazes met for a flicker of a second. Brice had to look away, but he hadn’t missed the hurt he saw there. Could it be real? Or just another ploy these boys used on their clients? Brice broke the eye contact first but wished he hadn’t. He watched the boys move around the room, smiling and showing off their costumes. Then the green boy sat down and Brice couldn’t keep watching Remy.
“Hi, Mr. Green. I’m Law,” the Asian boy said with a sweet smile.
“Short for Lawrence.” He grimaced, clearly not enamored with his given name.
Law sidled up to Brice so their thighs were pressed together. “Here’s my menu.” He leaned forward and picked the small leather folder from the table and handed it to Brice. “And night caps.” He whispered the last into Brice’s ear with a warm breath and a soft brush of lips against the lobe of Brice’s ear. It was a sexy touch. Before Brice’s brain could process the physical stimulation, Law was gone.
Cathcart’s boy had gone too, to bring in the first course, and he grabbed at Brice’s elbow. “Jee-sus we don’t have anything like this back home. Nothin’! My boy’s called Kit.” Cathcart held Kit’s menu out. “Look at what he’ll do. Damn, I don’t think I’m gonna have time to eat.”
Brice laughed. He couldn’t help it, despite finding his prurient interests somewhat disconcerting. But down at the other end of the table, Brice wondered what the man with the sky-blue lapel pin was reading in Remy’s menu. Last time he didn’t have one, but tonight, apparently he was prepared to do more than serve dinner. Trying to ignore those thoughts, Brice opened Law’s menu.
It wasn’t extensive. Hand job, blow job and some boy-on-boy action: kissing, hand job, blow job and toys. Brice hadn’t planned on ordering anything during dinner, but he wouldn’t completely rule it out.
As the first few courses were served, Cathcart got into the swing, removing his boy’s clothes between courses. Brice left him to his own devices and chatted when the boys weren’t in the room. If Cathcart’s enjoyment had any correlation to his interest in investing with Brice’s firm, they were set for at least the $50 million and possibly more.
Brice kept his attention on Law who straddled his lap and fed him seafood—in keeping with the nautical theme. He avoided watching Remy, but couldn’t completely ignore him since the boys made a circuit of the room with each course, slightly surprised when Cathcart asked his boy if he would go and kiss the pretty sky-blue boy.
Remy nearly stopped in his tracks when he spotted Mr. Green at one end of the able. He wore another well-tailored dark suit with a brightly colored expensive-looking silk tie—Versace?—not that Jeremy knew one designer from another. But it was a contrast to the somber look of the suit. Jeremy made sure not to look directly at him. He couldn’t bear that. Instead he looked for his gentleman.
The man with the sky-blue lapel pin had well-cut salt-and-pepper hair and a wide smile. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he gazed at Jeremy. He had on a navy suit and a tie with green and blue dots. Did that have some meaning? Kit would know. Even if it didn’t, Kit would make something entertaining up. When he moved around the room, Jeremy found Green watching him. Their gazes met for a split-second before Green glanced away. Jeremy pretended it never happened and tried to act interested as he sat down and introduced himself to Mr. Sky-Blue.
Sky-Blue shook his hand then brought it up to his mouth and planted a soft kiss on the back of Jeremy’s fingers. Then he turned the hand over and placed another kiss on the palm as he looked up into Jeremy’s eyes. It was a look full of pleasure and lustful promises. The caresses sent pleasant tremors up his arm, and Jeremy couldn’t pretend he wasn’t intrigued by what this man might do next. He sat down and Sky-Blue smiled and traced a line up Jeremy’s thigh from knee to crotch with gentle fingertips. Despite the possessiveness of the movement, Jeremy felt a thrill travel to the base of his spine and his cock thickened and felt heavy. Oh, damn. If the man could do that with a single touch, would else would happen at dinner?
As Sky-Blue traced his way back down Jeremy’s thigh, he couldn’t wait to find out.
At the first course, Jeremy’s gentleman had him remove his shoes, then at the second course he pulled off the socks. The cap came off at the third course.
In between, Jeremy sat on Sky-Blue’s lap, letting the man touch him through the thin fabric of his shirt and shorts. The caresses were firm, but gentle. He unbuttoned the top button of the little shorts but didn’t move to grab at Jeremy’s cock. Across the way, Mr. Brown had his hand down Rand’s shorts while he sucked at Rand’s nipples, his shirt long ago discarded. Kit wore only his scarf and cap and socks. His gentleman was Green’s guest and he’d gone directly for the shorts and barely let go of Kit’s cock the whole time Kit sat with him.
Then it happened. An order off Jeremy’s menu. Mauve wanted Jeremy and Kit to play. Sky-Blue gave Jeremy permission and the whole table watched as Kit and Jeremy moved together at Jeremy’s end of the table and started kissing. At first just a soft kiss.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you.” Kit winked and gave Jeremy a very sweet, sensual kiss. The kiss deepened and he put his arms around Kit’s waist and slid one down along Kit’s ass. That’s what Kit had told him to do if he got invited to kiss. Then Sky=Blue told Kit to unbutton Jeremy’s shirt and Mauve wanted Jeremy to play with Kit’s cock.
Jeremy was embarrassed at first to enjoy having his new friend touch him—and more embarrassed to be stroking Kit’s dick. But he soon released his inhibitions and got into the play. The gentlemen cheered and commented as they played and Jeremy was almost impossibly hard by the time the bell sounded for the next course. Kit winked and tweaked a nipple as they pulled apart.
Sky-Blue grabbed Jeremy’s hand as he moved toward the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t make you wait too long.” He slid a hand up Jeremy’s thigh and stroked his balls. The small touch sent additional stimulation that Jeremy hardly needed, but it felt good. Too good. The tiny shorts felt like they’d shrunk another two sizes as he noticed his cock stuck out a good inch over the waistband.
Jeremy wasn’t sure what Sky-Blue’s comment meant as he made his way back to the kitchen.
“Good job, Remy.” Rand came up to him as he grabbed the plate for the next course, coconut shrimp with a spicy dipping sauce. “You and Kit were great. You feeling okay then?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy glanced at Kit, who was smiling slyly. “It was fun.”
“It’s supposed to be fun,” Kit said and gave Jeremy’s scarf a little yank. “You’re a good kisser. Thanks.” He winked again. Kit’s cock was still hard, standing nearly straight up and bouncing with each step. He gave himself a few tugs before he reached the dining room.
Jeremy glanced over at Law, who was wearing shorts, his scarf and cap. He had dark brown nipples that looked even bigger because he had small areoles. He was only half-hard. The little white shorts didn’t hide anything. Mr. Green hadn’t been pawing at him, apparently. Law rubbed himself and let out a soft sigh. “I don’t think my gentleman’s really into me. Remy, he’s been watching you.”
“He has?” Remy glanced down at his erection straining to escape his shorts and felt a twinge of embarrassment. Well, Mr. Green could have had him.
“Ready, boys?” Thomas called them to attention and opened the door.
Back in the dining room Remy slid into Sky-Blue’s lap and fed him shrimp, letting the gentleman feed him a few pieces. The food here was delicious. Sky-Blue tugged on the scarf and pulled Jeremy in for kiss. It was spicy and not sloppy or aggressive. He opened his mouth and enjoyed the kiss as Sky-Blue pinched a nipple. His cock swelled even more and he let out a little moan.
“Those shorts are just too small for you, aren’t they?” Sky-Blue asked playfully. “Time to remedy that situation. Stand up.”
Jeremy backed off his lap and stood in front of him, breath catching in his throat as Sky-Blue slowly popped open the buttons on his shorts and finally freed his aching cock. He yanked the shorts and they slid down Jeremy’s legs. A little cheer echoed around the room as Sky-Blue moved Jeremy around so he faced the rest of the room. The gentlemen always cheered or clapped when someone’s shorts came off, admiring the boy’s cocks and extra cheers for impressive hard-ons.
Jeremy felt Sky-Blue pulling him back onto his lap, back to Sky-Blue’s chest and Jeremy’s legs straddling his.
Oh shit. Now what? Jeremy wondered as Sky-Blue slid his hand under the shirt and across his back, then around the front and started moving down his abs.
* * * *
Brice tried to look away but it was impossible. Remy was the center of everyone’s attention, even before his gentleman pulled his shorts off. He’d been aroused from the first course and Brice couldn’t suppress the jealousy coiling through him as Sky-Blue slid his hands along Remy’s skin. Brice remembered how soft that skin was.
Not that Law wasn’t attractive or very touchable. He had smooth, nearly hairless skin and dark hair at his crotch, visible even though the shorts. Brice had kissed him and stroked his chest and nipples, though it hadn’t done much for either Law or Brice. But watching Remy with Kit and then with Sky-Blue had Brice squirming as his pants got increasingly tight around his swelling cock.
Now he watched Remy settle back against Sky-Blue’s chest, legs straddling the man’s thighs. Sky-Blue moved his knees apart, opening Remy’s legs even wider, showing his cock and balls to everyone. And everyone was watching. At least Brice didn’t feel like the only voyeur. Law shifted on his lap, no doubt keenly aware of Brice’s hard-on. He slid a hand up Law’s thigh so the boy wouldn’t feel ignored and Law pushed another bite of seafood into Brice’s mouth. He chewed without tasting the morsel.
Remy’s eyes were shut. Sky-Blue wrapped one hand around Remy’s thick shaft and stroked a few times, then whispered to the boy to his right who splashed some olive oil onto his palm. He returned to smooth, slow strokes. With the other hand he cupped and squeezed Remy’s sac, rolling it around and even at the other end of the table Brice could hear Remy’s soft sighs. The sight of that pale hand sliding up and down the hard swollen flesh made Brice’s breaths shorten. Then Sky-Blue let go of Remy’s balls and played with his nipples, causing Remy to arch into the touch. Brice imagined how they’d feel between his fingertips and his own nipples hardened and ached at the sight.
Then Sky-Blue grabbed an ice cube and slid it up Remy’s thigh, just grazing his balls and up his abs, leaving a shining wet trail before circling each nipple. Already tight and hard, Remy’s nipples reacted and his entire body shuddered at the obvious pleasure Sky-Blue lavished on his body. His chest heaved and his eyes fluttered. His sighs became gasps and pre-come trickled from his cock-slit.
Brice licked his lips. He glanced around and saw everyone else’s gaze still glued to Sky-Blue and Remy. As he stroked, Remy’s balls swung back and forth, low and heavy. He speed up and slowed down the movements and Brice could see him whispering against Remy’s ear and Remy smiling and nodding, ecstasy plain on his face, even with eyes closed.
Any remnant of jealousy had long since passed and Brice was overcome with growing desire and pleasure at the sight of Remy’s enjoyment. He’d also given up any sense of shame or modesty at becoming completely aroused at the scene playing out a few feet away. Video porn had never done much for him, but watching live was completely different.
Sky-Blue’s strokes sped up, and Remy’s balls tightened. He trembled and shuddered and nearly everyone else sucked in their breath with anticipation. A few slow strokes and a sharp intake of Remy’s breath before he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and the fireworks started. The lids fluttered open for a split-second and Brice realized Remy was staring at him, a glimmer of something darker than passion—shame or regret?—flickered before he shut them again and his body’s reactions overpowered him.
Sky-Blue watched intently as the first thick splashes hit Remy’s chest—one nipple and his chin, then he grabbed his empty Champagne flute and angled Remy’s cock so the rest of the pearly strands went into the glass.
He squeezed Remy dry, which took at least another dozen strokes. Brice wondered if he’d come in his pants watching. Law wriggled again, providing friction but Brice didn’t want that. He’d booked a room purely for show again, but now he considered the possibilities with Law. Later. He turned his attention back to Remy.
Remy lay limp and spent in Sky-Blue’s lap, leaning against his chest. He sucked in gulps of air. Another boy poured Champagne in Sky-Blue’s glass, mixing with Remy’s semen and handed the glass to Sky-Blue. He took a few sips then held the glass to Remy’s lips and helped him drink.
Brice wasn’t sure if that was the hottest thing he’d seen tonight—or the most depraved. The consensus around the room seemed to be the former. The men turned their attention back to their own boys, pinching and stroking and playing while Brice watched Remy recover.
* * * *