Copyright 2013 EM Lynley. Please do not share or repost without author’s permission.
Jeremy’s a grad student who’s always short of money. When his fellowship gets canceled he’s tempted to take a job at a men’s dining club as a serving boy. The uniforms are skimpy and he’s expected to remove an item of clothing after each course. He can handle that, but he soon discovers there’s more on the menu here than fine cuisine. How far will he go to pay his tuition, and will money get in the way when he realizes he’s interested in more from one of his gentlemen?
“You want a lap dance next course?” Law offered, grinding his ass against Brice’s erection. “Or we can go upstairs now if you want me to suck you off. I’d love to, but we’re not supposed to do that in the dining room.” Law slid his hands under Brice’s shirt and played with his already-sensitive nipples. Law let out a little moan and leaned to suck one through the fabric of Brice’s shirt.
“You are evil. Evil.” Brice nearly grunted out the words and forced his overheated body back under control. He threw a quick glance at Cathcart who only had eyes and hands for Kit. Brice pulled Law onto his lap straddling him chest-to-chest and enjoyed the curve of Law’s ass. But over Law’s shoulder he still watched Remy who tried to stand but his knees gave out and Sky-Blue pulled him back into his lap.
When the bell sounded for the next course, Law slid sinuously down Brice’s body and shook his ass at Brice before parading out of the room. Sky-Blue kept Remy on his lap, fingertips caressing him and whispering into his ear. Remy kept his eyes shut. Brice wondered what the man was saying. Planning their night upstairs? Offering more pleasure, or listing what he wanted when they’d be alone? Brice shook his head to rid his brain of the thoughts. Remy didn’t belong to him, no matter how much Brice wanted him and regretted not asking for him. He wanted to be the one giving Remy such pleasure, but not in front of a room full of other men. Remy deserved more respect than that.
Another boy brought in Sky-Blue’s last course and it was time for the fifth article of clothing to be removed. Law had returned with all the buttons already undone on his shorts, his cock harder and partially visible. It was that or the hat.
What the hell, Brice decided and pulled the shorts off. Law grinned and did a little pirouette that made his cock bob and bounce. Brice reached out and wrapped his hand around it, feeling the hot flesh harden in his hand. He wasn’t as long or thick as Remy, but playing with him was fun and Brice had shed his inhibitions.
Across the table, Sky-Blue pulled off Remy’s shirt, leaving him wearing just the pale blue sailor scarf tied around his neck. Flaky white streaks covered Remy’s chest and the tails of the scarf were still damp from Remy’s ejaculation. There was something possessive about Sky-Blue leaving Remy wearing the colored scarf proclaiming that this serving boy belonged to him. Remy now sat across his gentleman’s lap, back facing Brice as he reached down to the table and up to feed Sky-Blue.
During the last course—dessert—Remy kept his gaze down, not looking up at anyone, even his own gentleman. He did the circuit of the room but without his former charm and bright smile. Brice didn’t have trouble imagining what Remy might be feeling or thinking. Even when the other boys had their final clothing removed and were completely nude for dessert service, Sky-Blue kept that damn scarf on Remy.
Cathcart and Kit had left the dining room before dessert was served and two of the other men made their boys come as part of the last course. Then the boys left as the gentlemen gave Thomas orders for night caps.
Even though the room’s atmosphere had cooled off, remembering Remy’s body responding to Sky-Blue’s skillful hands kept Brice hard and aching until he got his key for the night.
Room Number Four. Again.
With the metal from the key hot in his hand Brice left the dining room and headed for the stairs. He didn’t want to wait for the damn elevator this time. He was unbearably horny and he saw nothing wrong with taking care of it with Law. He adjusted his trousers but his erection still made an obvious tent as he climbed the first steps.
He glanced down as he heard footsteps in the entry hall. It was Remy. He was in jeans and carrying his Cal sports bag. He was chatting to another serving boy who only wore underwear. “See you on Sunday, Remy!” the other boy called out and waved as Remy headed for the front door.
So he wasn’t staying the night with Sky-Blue? That surprised Brice. He moved to the next step and it creaked, causing Remy to look up. Their gazes met, and this time it was Brice who had to look away in shame as Remy took in his arousal as he went upstairs to meet Law. Brice sped up his steps and it was only as he put the key into the door of Number Four that he let himself analyze Remy’s expression, a mixture of disappointment and surprise.
The hypocrisy of that didn’t dawn on Brice. He felt as if he’d somehow let Remy down. Just because Remy let Sky-Blue jack him off for an audience, Brice spending the night with Law was somehow worse. A heavy sense of shame washed over Brice as he opened the door.
And then he saw Law, wearing the green scarf and the tiny white shorts—unbuttoned so Brice could see his cock springing out of a nest of silky black hair.
“Hey, sailor,” Law said with a wink and put his cap on Brice before slamming the door shut. He wrapped himself around Brice, arms and legs twined around him so their bodies made contact in a thousand different places.
Law kissed Brice and let go, tugging him toward the full-length mirror. He slid Brice’s jacket off and hung it up in the armoire. Then he came up behind Brice and reached around under his arms and slid his hands up along his chest and down his abs, just palming Brice’s aching cock through the fabric of his trousers. Law started again with Brice’s hands, sliding his own hands up Brice’s arms, with firm pressure along his forearms then biceps and up his shoulders. He slid his hands to Brice’s neck, leaving a path of tingling heat everywhere he touched. He pulled Brice’s tie off and tossed it onto the chair.
Then he slid his hands along Brice’s back and over the shoulders, keeping the same heat and contact and pushing Brice’s arousal level to its limit. He undid the first button of Brice’s shirt, then slid his palm along Brice’s chest, friction across his nipples and back to the next button. Fire burned through Brice’s core, under his balls and his ass tightened with each touch. It took Law five minutes to get Brice’s shirt off, massaging and tormenting his chest and abs. All the while, Brice watched Law’s hands in the mirror and saw how his cock reacted.
With the shirt off, Law reached around again and applied the magical touch to Brice’s bare nipples. If he could do this with his fingers, how would his lips and tongue feel? Brice wasn’t sure he could handle any more stimulation. Behind him, Law pressed his cock against Brice’s ass or hip or thigh.
“Take my pants off already,” he practically growled and Law grinned behind him and their gazes met in the mirror.
“All you need to do is ask.” Law winked and slid his palms down toward Brice’s belt. Once Brice’s pants were down he could feel Law’s erection sliding along the cleft of his ass. The front of Brice’s boxer briefs had and embarrassingly large wet spot. He’d probably been dripping pre-come since before Remy’s shorts came off.
Unable to wait, Brice yanked his own shorts off and behind him Law continued to rub and press against Brice’s naked skin, the fabric and buttons scraping pleasantly as he reached around and grasped Brice’s cock with both hands.
“Mmm, Mr. Green, very nice.” Law slid his hands loosely up and down the length. Brice liked how Law made him feel he was huge, even though he thought his cock was pretty average, at least compared to his previous sex partners. “Please let me suck it.”
How could Brice say no to that? He didn’t. He just nodded and Law slid around and onto his knees in nothing flat. He smiled and looked up from under thick dark lashes and took Brice’s cock with both hands and brought the tip to his lips. Damn, but this boy was a tease. Just a little tongue flick into the slit then he pulled back. A little lick on the underside. A few more teasing tastes before a lick to the sensitive spot just under the head and Brice’s entire body shuddered.
Law positioned himself between Brice and the mirror so Brice could watch his cock slipping between Law’s lips and still get a gorgeous view of Law’s ass as the little shorts slid down his hips, revealing most of his bottom, probably the sexiest ass-crack ever. In front, Law’s erection jutted out of the open shorts and bobbed as Law sucked away at Brice’s cock.
With one hand Law pulled Brice’s hand onto his head and squeezed his fingers through Law’s hair. It didn’t take Brice long to catch on. He gripped Law’s head by the hair, firmly but gently, and took more control of the speed and depth. Law glanced up with obvious pleasure and made encouraging noises around Brice’s cock. He also did some incredible things with his hands and tongue to Brice’s cock, balls and ass, keeping Brice just this side of the edge. Every time he thought he’d come, Law would ease off and prolong the pleasure. Brice watched Law’s cock, planning to return the pleasure at some point later.
Before Brice even realized it had started, his orgasm ripped through his entire body, starting from his balls and core and thundering up his cock, till he pumped his release down Law’s throat. He hadn’t even asked if that was okay. But the smile on Law’s face as he swallowed was all the answer Brice needed. Law kept sucking and massaging his cock.
Finally Brice pulled himself free. His dick was too sensitive for any more contact or stimulation. Law was still on his knees. Brice needed a moment to recover then he’d get to work on Law. He stepped back into a warm puddle on the carpet.
Law blinked and looked up through those silky lashes again with a sly smile. He’d already shot his load without any more stimulation than Brice’s cock down his throat. That was certainly flattering.
“You took away my fun,” Brice teased as he pulled Law up from his knees. He reached down and tugged at Law’s cock a few times. It was half-hard and still looked very attractive hanging out of the shorts.
“You want me to keep these on?” Law put a finger through a belt loop.
How did he keep reading Brice’s mind? It was spooky. But the boy was good at his job.
“Shower or bath?”
Brice would fall asleep in a tub. “Shower.”
Despite Law’s best efforts to turn the shower into another pleasure overload, Brice kept it short and productive. He slid under the sheets warm and dry and Law eased in beside him. Brice curled up on his side and felt Law spoon him from behind.
The next thing Brice knew it was morning. Sun peeked through the drapes and the clock showed eight thirty. Brice shifted his weight and Law slid an arm around him and went straight for his cock.
“Good morning, Mr. Green.” A warm squeeze emphasized the sentiments. “Do you want some breakfast in bed before breakfast in bed?” The question was inviting and so was Law’s warm flesh pressed against Brice’s back.
“Would you fuck me, please?”
No one had ever asked so politely. “What?”
“Not for a tip. I don’t want the tip. But I really want your cock in me. It’s just so perfect.” Law slid across Brice’s body and started playing with him. It didn’t take long for every inch of Brice to wake up and agree with Law’s plans.
Brice lay back to consider the possibility. Law shifted to give him a nice view of his ass. “Please? You can do it on that little couch and we can both watch in the mirror.” He blinked slowly and the lush eyelashes started to work their magic along with the view of Law’s ass and his active hands.
Then Brice glanced over to the little couch and he remembered Remy offering to sleep there and not fitting. Remy. Why had his face popped into Brice’s mind at that moment? The effect was immediate—Brice’s cock thickened and throbbed. Law noticed and moaned before returning his full attention to Brice’s morning wood.
But Law’s touch somehow backfired and Brice felt himself softening. Law’s hands did nothing for him now. Brice’s brain had short-circuited his body into craving Remy and not Law.
“I knew that was such a good idea. I have to get to work for a meeting. But uh—” What am I supposed to say to him? Maybe next time? I’ll call you? Brice was really a neophyte at this stuff. “Thanks for serving me last night.” God, that was lame. But this wasn’t a date. He didn’t have to impress Law to have him again—if Brice wanted. And if he didn’t, no one’s feelings would get hurt.
If he wanted Law. But Brice knew he didn’t want him again, even though he’d provided pleasure and distraction the night before. Distraction was the key word. Brice hadn’t wanted Law. He’d wanted Remy and Law took the edge off that desire, but didn’t satisfy him. Brice had hoped he would. Hoped playing with someone else would get Remy out of his mind, but now he knew for certain that no one would. Not until he could make Remy his.
Brice hopped out of bed, used the bathroom, cleaned up and got dressed. Law watched from the bed, lazily stroking himself as Brice dressed and left the room.
As he rode in the taxi home he thought again about Remy. Brice had never been this obsessed about anyone before and he couldn’t explain it. It was ludicrous to contemplate anything beyond the physical, and Brice wouldn’t have kept thinking about Remy if he hadn’t seen that flash of remorse and shame in Remy’s eyes when he’d looked at Brice in the dining room, sitting on Sky-Blue’s lap and on the verge of coming. And then there was Remy’s disappointment at seeing Brice heading upstairs afterwards. The only reason for Remy to display those emotions would be if he had some interest in Brice, beyond simply playing at dinner. At least that’s how Brice rationalized what he’d seen.
Jeremy ran toward the BART station, hoping he wouldn’t miss the last train to the East Bay. Without his bike he’d be stuck in SF until the first train around five in the morning. He could probably go back to the club and crash in the dining room or an unoccupied bedroom, but Jeremy couldn’t stand the idea of walking back in there tonight.
Or possibly ever again.
He felt his cheeks flaming at the recollection that he’d been the evening’s main entertainment—for the gentlemen and the other boys. He wished he hadn’t glanced over at Mr. Green right at that moment, right when he started coming. God, that was humiliating. Jeremy wasn’t sure which was worse, that he’d actually enjoyed what Sky-Blue was doing to him or that Mr. Green had seen him enjoying it. For some crazy reason Jeremy wanted Green to see him as more than a plaything for a few hours or a night.
Any chance of that was gone. Green hadn’t wanted Remy to serve him that night, but he’d kept his gaze on Remy for a good part of the evening, not just as he was getting jerked off. Well, that’s the way Green wanted it. Why did it bother Jeremy so much? The thought of Law with him, touching him, pleasuring him in an upstairs room after dinner. Green had been pretty aroused watching Jeremy and he still had an impressive hard-on as he climbed the stairs to Law.
Stop thinking about him! Jeremy practically shouted the words. He must have said something out loud because an old homeless woman ahead on the sidewalk turned around and scuttled out of his way. If he’d scared her, then he’d been acting really crazy.
Back home in his apartment, with the bedroom door locked, he finally summoned the courage to look at his tip folder. A thick wad of cash lay inside and he pulled it out. His dinner fee would be direct deposited—the club wanted to look legit for taxes—but the tips for extras at dinner were paid in cash by the gentlemen. Jeremy pulled out a pile of crisp, new twenties and his heart raced as he counted.
“…twenty-five, twenty-six….forty-nine, fifty!” He stared at the money. A thousand-dollar tip on top of the regular dinner fee. There was another envelope in there with some crumpled twenties—extra tips from the other gentlemen, two with Post-Its giving their “colors” and an invitation to serve them in the future. Rand and Thomas had told him he’d done well and could expect requests from now on. Jeremy wanted to talk to Kit about it, but he’d run off with Mr. Green’s friend before dessert. Kit was probably getting a tip that very moment, one way or another, but probably every way possible.
Jeremy laughed and lay back on the bed, tossing the cash into the air and watching the bills flutter down to the bed and floor. He certainly could afford a new bike now. A very nice bike, and still have money for rent. When he added in what he’d earned the first night, he was okay for at least another month even if he didn’t get any part-time work. If he worked once a week at the club, he’d never need to worry about cash until he finished his degree.
A knock at the door startled him. The doorknob turned, ineffectually. “Dude, whatcha doin’ in there with the door locked?”
“I wouldn’t have to lock it if you didn’t try to come in!” Jeremy hopped off the bed to let his roommate in, forgetting until he turned back around about the cash bonanza all over the floor.
“Jesus, Mary and a baked potato!” Doug crashed onto the bed and handed Jeremy a beer. “What the hell did you do to get this much money? How much is it?” Doug stared at the bills as Jeremy rushed to collect them.
“About thirteen hundred.” Jeremy shrugged as he stuffed them into his backpack.
“Fuck. That’s what you made this week, for two dinners?”
Jeremy sucked in a breath.”No, just for tonight.”
“What did you have to do for that much cash?” Doug shook his head and put a hand over his eyes.”Don’t tell me. I might not be able to handle the truth.”
“The guy took my clothes off, like usual. This time I kissed another serving guy and just touched him some.”
“That seems like a lot of money for playing with a guy’s cock.” Doug stared Jeremy down.
Jeremy didn’t reply, debating on how much to reveal. “Then, my gentleman, uh, jerked me off while everyone else watched.” He stared back at Doug, waiting for the inevitable disgust.
“Okay, then. It’s still a lot of green for that. Nothin’ that hasn’t happened before, just maybe not in public.” Doug glanced up at Jeremy.”Has it? In public, I mean? Oh, sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“No. Not in public for someone else’s entertainment.” Jeremy paused. “It was kind of embarrassing, actually.”
“Then you earned the money. But what was so embarrassing? Having an audience? Couldn’t you get it up?” Doug grinned.
“Yeah, they liked the goods just fine, thank you. But I don’t think I want to do it again.”
“Really? Even for that much money?”
“Yeah. Especially for that much money. It makes it feel really wrong.”
Doug settled onto the bed and Jeremy felt grateful. He needed to talk about this and he trusted Doug.
“Did you like what he did, Jer?”
“Yeah, that’s part of it. It felt good. In some ways, it’s fun going there and playing with the other guys, just throwing out the usual inhibitions. No one forces you to do anything, and the gentlemen want to get you off. They seem to get their own satisfaction out of that.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It kind of scares me that I liked most of it. Just seems wrong. I wouldn’t tell my mother what I’m doing, and for me, that’s the test.”
“Do you tell your mom that sometimes guys suck your dick or that you put your dick up another guy’s ass?”
Jeremy sat up straight and shook his head.”Of course not.”
“I rest my case. You don’t tell your mom everything and you shouldn’t.”
“Okay, clearly there’s more to your dilemma. Just get it out.” He tipped his bottle. “I need a refill. You too? Then we’ll get to the meat of the problem.” Doug hopped off the bed and returned with two more bottles and settled back down. “Spill the beans, dude.”
“Yeah, there is something else.”
“Something?” Doug winked.
“Someone. Mr. Green, remember him?”
“How can I forget? You talked about him continuously for two days after the first night.”
Jeremy blinked a couple of times. Had he talked about Green that much? “Well, he was there last night.”
“Oh, nice. Was he the one?” Doug made a jerking-off motion and raised his eyebrows.
“And that’s a problem?”
“Yeah, I felt kind of weird with him watching.”
“Jer, dude, he was watching. If he didn’t like it, he wouldn’t have come back, right? I still don’t get it.”
“He told them he didn’t want me tonight. He wanted someone else.”
“You’re feeling rejected? Would he have paid you that much?”
“No, I don’t think so. But he wouldn’t have done that to me there, in front of everyone.”
“You said he didn’t do anything even when you spent the night together. I’m really confused, Jeremy. I’m not sure if I need more beer, or you do.” Doug broke out laughing but stopped when Jeremy didn’t join in.
“I’m really confused too. I felt some kind of… thing with him. Like he was above all the sex play stuff.”
“Jeremy, I’m not sure what advantage there is to a guy who doesn’t want to have sex with you. Did we wake up in a Victorian romance novel or something?”
Jeremy shrugged again. He was a scientist, not an English major. Words weren’t his forte. “I can’t explain it. Like sex is more than these games to him. I know it doesn’t make sense. I-I… Hell, I don’t know.” Jeremy took a few long pulls at his beer and held the bottle to his chest as he leaned back against the wall. “I’m supposed to work again on Sunday. What should I do?”
“You’re asking me?” Doug shifted his position so he was sitting next to Jeremy. “Give it one more chance. If you don’t enjoy it, then give up. You’ve gotten some money and you had some fun. Forget about the Green guy. Decide on here—” he touched Jeremy’s head. “—not here.” He touched his chest. “Well, maybe here too.” Doug pointed to Jeremy’s dick. “Two out of three.”
“Okay, two out of three.” Jeremy held up his bottle and Doug clinked his against it, then they both drained their bottles.
* * * *
The next morning Brice made it to the office just before eleven. He hadn’t been at his desk five minutes before Ron came in and sat down. He leaned toward the desk and peered at Brice, making him very uncomfortable. He’d checked his appearance twice before he left home, to make sure he didn’t show any signs of his evening activities.
“Well, how’d it go? Or should I ask, how’d it come?” Ron let out a loud bark of a laugh and sat back in the chair. “Seriously though, news?”
“Cathcart left dinner early and I haven’t heard from him.”
“Left early? He wasn’t having fun?”
“On the contrary. He was having plenty of fun. He and his server left before dinner. I imagine he’ll call when he gets back to his hotel.”
Ron wiped a hand across his brow dramatically.”Thank God. That club almost always works when the client asks specifically for me or someone else to take them.”
“You’ve taken others there? To that club?” Brice raised his eyebrows. He didn’t know Ron swung both ways.
“Well, not the Men-only club. They run another one with women servers, also for male clients. I take people there if they ask.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Why don’t you just take the rest of the day off. You look beat.”
Brice sat up straight. “I do?”
“Yeah. Go home early. Unless you hear from Cathcart and he wants to go out again. I’ll need you in fighting fit for that.”
“Oh, please no. Don’t make me take him to go-go bars in the Castro or—“
“Go-go bars? They have those?” Ron grinned. “He said something about leather…”
Brice got a sinking feeling in his gut. He was not taking a client to a leather bar. He’d quit.
“You fuckwad.” Brice picked up a nerf ball and tossed it at Ron’s head.
“Am I missing all the fun?” Watkins stepped into the doorway, a giant coffee cup in his hand. “What’s up? Did Cathcart sign yet?”
“Not yet. He wants to visit a leather bar first. Got any suggestions?” Brice asked, giving Ron a sideways glance.
“Oh, sure. There’s 440, or if he wants to go a step down—“ Watkins stopped and glared at Brice, who tried not to laugh. “Fuck you, Martin. And the fucking horse you rode in on!” He spun on his heel and stomped down the hallway.
Ron was shaking his head and wiping tears out of his eyes. “Well, if Cathcart really does want leather, we know who to ask.”
Brice’s cell phone buzzed, indicating a new text message. He glanced at Ron, then picked up the phone. “From Cathcart.”
“Go on, read it.” Ron drummed his fingertips on the armrest of his chair.
“’Start chillin’ the champagne, boys’” Brice read. “Be there by two.”
“Yowsa. All right!” Ron leapt to his feet and high-fived Brice.
“Not so fast, Ron.” Brice sat back down. “It could just mean he and Kit are engaged or something.”
“Probably not. Cathcart is married. I thought you knew.”
Brice shook his head. He felt a little sick over the whole concept of sex sealing the deal. And he didn’t condone cheating, especially what he’d seen Cathcart get up to, not even considering what might have gone on in the privacy of his room. “Yeah, I guess it doesn’t surprise me.”
“Not everyone’s into monotony—I mean monogamy—like you are. But you had a good time too, I hope.”
“I’m not in a relationship, Ron. If I were, then you wouldn’t catch me in there.”
“Then I’ll have to hope you if you ever find someone else you end up with the most understanding un-jealous guy ever. Because I’m sure we’ll need you in the trenches again.” Ron leaned forward and punched Brice’s arm playfully. “Look, I know what will cheer you up. Why don’t you go over the contract again and make sure everything’s in shipshape before Cathcart gets here. I know legalese gets your motor racing!” Ron chuckled as he walked out of Brice’s office and all the way down the hall to his own.
Brice got up and shut the door. He settled into the chair and leaned back so he could put his feet upon his desk.
Someone else. Ron hardly ever mentioned Brice’s ex. He’d been with Greg since law school, then a couple of years ago, Greg got an offer he didn’t refuse: partnership in his firm, but only if he went to work in the DC office. Brice had given up his own partner-track job in a big patent-law firm to join him, but the move had destroyed their relationship. Between Greg’s additional job stress and Brice’s inability to find a job in his field—there was nowhere near the demand for his particular type of legal expertise on the East Coast—they’d decided to call it quits. Brice moved back to Silicon Valley, but he’d lost his spot at his old firm and starting somewhere new meant additional time to make partner. That was when Ron had made him an offer to join his VC firm. With Brice’s patent-law expertise, he helped them avoid outsourcing certain legal tasks, and he’d come in with the promise of partnership within two years.
Except for losing Greg, Brice had landed on his feet.
Losing Greg. Had he lost Greg or had their inability to weather stress meant their relationship hadn’t been very strong in the first place?
Brice had no interest in rehashing that mental debate. He pulled up the Cathcart contract and focused his attention on work until a loud knock on the door startled him—several hours later.
Cathcart burst into the room, with Ron trailing behind. He flourished a bottle of pricey Champagne in each hand. “The party is here, fellas. Where do I sign?”
“That’s great news!” Brice stood up and moved to the center of the room to shake hands with Cathcart, then Ron. “Assuming there are no changes to the contract, we can take care of that right now. Brice glanced toward Ron, who shook his head.
“Terms’re what we discussed over the past week, Brice. That’s not what was holding back the decision…” Red Cathcart grinned. “You Silicon Valley boys know how to entertain a guest.” He plopped himself onto the couch at the far end of Brice’s office.
Brice leaned over to his intercom and buzzed his assistant. “Susana, can you print up the Cathcart contracts for us, please?” He moved toward the couch where Ron had also settled himself. “She’ll bring the binders for your signature in about twenty minutes.”
“Let’s get started on these.” Red thrust the bottles at Brice.
“Maybe we should wait until the business is concluded….” Brice started.
Cathcart shook his head. “No need. I’m gonna sign. You’re gonna sign. We already know what’s in there, right?”
Ron shrugged and nodded. “The man makes sense to me.” He grabbed for a bottle and Brice opened the cabinet that held a variety of glasses and two bottles of single-malt scotch. He grabbed Champagne flutes and brought them to the table. He tried not to remember the last time he’d seen one—the previous night as Sky-Blue sipped at a glass of Champagne and Remy’s come, before having Remy drink the rest.
As Ron popped the cork on the first bottle, Brice put the second one in the small refrigerator in the corner. Then he sat in the chair near the couch and waited for Ron to hand him a glass.
“To new partners!” Cathcart said as he raised his glass.
“New partners,” Ron and Brice echoed, and they all sipped from the flutes.
“Once the paperwork is signed, how about we call in the rest of the senior team to share the second bottle?” Ron asked Cathcart.
“Great idea. Shoulda brought a six-pack of ‘em.” He grinned and drained his glass.
Brice sipped but he raised an eyebrow toward Ron, who shrugged again.
“Yes, I’ve enjoyed my visit here. Especially last night. Thank you, Brice, for taking me along.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.” Brice smiled.
“Oh, yes I did. Got myself a membership this morning’ before I left.” He poured more bubbly into everyone’s glasses. “Going back there again tonight. I wanted to schedule dinner with that sky-blue boy who put on such a nice show last night.
Brice choked on his Champagne and started coughing so hard that Ron jumped up and smacked him on the back a few times. When he’d stopped coughing, Brice took a few deep breaths to steady himself.
Cathcart hadn’t noticed, and kept talking. “Oh, but wouldn’t you know, he’s so popular he’s all booked up, or so they told me. No surprise there.” Cathcart made a sound so obviously sexual that had even Ron’s ears turning red.
Brice wasn’t sure he could speak, and didn’t quite know how to respond if he did. Thankfully, Susana arrived with an armful of leather-bound folders. “Here’s the contracts. Thank you, Susana.”
She eyed the Champagne bottle as she set the folders down on the table in front of the couch. She pulled three pens out of the inner pocket of her suit jacket and handed them to Brice, then she turned on her heel and headed for the door again, but she directed a disdainful stare at the back of Cathcart’s head.
“Wonder if she heard what I was sayin’.” Cathcart laughed and emptied his glass. He didn’t offer an apology if she had.
Ron glanced over at Brice and raised his eyebrows. She’d heard all right. Brice just hoped Susana hadn’t connected Brice with Cathcart’s activities. He wouldn’t want her to know he’d been at the Dining Club.
“Brice?” Ron’s voice cut into Brice’s thoughts. “The man wants to sign.”
“Yes, let’s just go over a few points…”
* * * *
Jeremy went to his class Wednesday morning on auto-pilot. Despite the beers, he hadn’t slept well. He’d put all the money back in the folder and stuck it in a dresser drawer. He needed the money, but it still felt dirty to him. Eventually he’d put it in his bank account, but he wasn’t ready yet to accept how he’d earned it.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket twice before noon, but he avoided checking the messages. At the third call he turned off the vibration. After class, he walked back to the apartment for lunch and while he waited for toast for his tuna sandwich, he pulled the phone out. Ten texts, all from Thomas. The last one: Call me, you idiot.
Jeremy chuckled and dialed.
“Jeremy, where the hell have you been?”
“Okay, fair enough.”
“What’s up?” Jeremy’s stomach gurgled and he didn’t know if it was from hunger or something else.
“Dude, I’ve had ten requests for you already this morning. Can you work tonight?”
“Tonight? No. I’m scheduled for the lab every night this week.”
“Well, reschedule something. Everything. You’re a hot commodity and you want to take advantage of it while it lasts.”
“I don’t understand.” Unfortunately, Jeremy worried that he understood too well.
“After last night’s little performance, members are requesting you. Some of them are very keen and they’re offering bonus tips just to get on your schedule.”
“Really?” Should he be flattered by that? That a bunch of rich guys wanted to get their hands in his pants? “Just for dinner? Or you mean night caps?”
“Dinner only. The nightcaps are up to you. I couldn’t schedule them in advance, not legally.” Thomas’s voice somehow conveyed a wink, and Jeremy tried not to laugh.
“Ten?” Jeremy’s curiosity bubbled in his gut. Was Green one of them? He wouldn’t ask, no matter how much he wanted to.
“Yes. No. Actually four more came in while we’ve been on the phone. You’ll need to decide who you want to serve, and when. Do you want to come by and check their profiles?”
“Yeah. Once you start getting requests, you get to choose, instead of it being random. Usually it takes longer for new boys to collect a clientele, but you’re already a star.”
A star. Jeremy didn’t feel like a star. He felt like a whore. What if someone at Cal found out what he was doing? Fuck. Maybe he should look at the profiles, so he didn’t end up serving someone he knew from school. “Okay. I can come by this afternoon. Give me an hour and a half. My bike got stolen and—“
“I’ll send a car to your apartment to pick you up. Forty minutes.”
Jeremy gave Thomas his address and hung up. The toast had popped while he’d been talking, and it was cold now. He slid two more slices into the toaster and mixed mayo into a can of tuna while he was waiting. He ate, changed into a nice pair of jeans and a decent shirt and was dragging a comb through his hair when he heard a car horn out in the street. A sleek limo waited for him downstairs. He grabbed his backpack and raced down the stairs.
Thomas offered him a drink when he arrived and Jeremy chose coffee over beer. He pulled up a chair next to Thomas at the desk so he could see the monitor clearly.
“I’ll scroll through the photos, and give you some information about each guy. It’s completely up to you how you choose. I don’t care. It’s important for you to feel comfortable with the clients, and not feel obligated to serve anyone. If you do, then you won’t enjoy it, and the gentleman won’t either.”
“Okay.” Jeremy felt overwhelmed. Thomas had a list of twenty men requesting Jeremy already and it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the last dinner.
The first photo showed a middle-aged man with a nice smile. He looked like he could be a high-school principal.
“That’s Mr. Chamois.”
“Chamois? Is that a color?”
“Not exactly. He’s a member of the Leather Couch Club, an offshoot of the main dining club.”
“We have leather nights, BDSM-themed dinners, that sort of thing.”
“Oh.” Jeremy knew next to nothing about BDSM. He swallowed, but it sounded more like a gulp and echoed through the office.
Thomas turned to him. “I don’t suggest you select him, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I appreciate your advice.”
“Okay. I don’t want to overstep here, but Chamois does like the dom-sub and S&M aspects of the Leather group. I suspect you’re not interested in–or ready for—that right now.”
Jeremy didn’t know how to respond. “Let’s see the next guy.”
They scrolled through ten profiles and sure enough, Jeremy spotted one of his old professors. He hadn’t even known the man was gay, much less interested in a place like this. Such a small, perverted world.
By the end of the list, Jeremy had selected three maybes. “When do I have to decide?”
“Tomorrow at the latest for Sunday, unless you want to add any more dinners before then. I can match up your approved list with their schedules and consult you if there are two requests for the same night.”
Jeremy chewed his bottom lip. “I need to check my schedule.”
Thomas sat back in his chair and turned to Jeremy. “What’s the problem here? You have plenty of offers and you can’t reject all of them. Not if you want to keep working here. I am running a business. I need servers who want to work and who I can rely on. I want clients to have a good time and come back. That usually is because they like a specific boy. It makes your life easy because you know who you’re going to get, in advance.”
Jeremy nodded. What was holding him back? Had he really expected Mr. Green to be on the list? “Are those all the requests?”
Thomas shook his head and let out a loud sigh. “I’ll check.” He picked up the phone. “Liza, any more request for Remy?… E-mail me the list.” He turned to Jeremy. “A few more. Ah, here’s the e-mail. Hmmm.”
“What? Some good ones?”
“Yes, actually. Quite a few I think would suit you well.”
“I’m sorry if I’m being picky. It’s just….”
Thomas turned back to him. “I know you’re new to this and you’re still adjusting to how things work here. You want to be with someone who’ll treat you well. A lot of the first group to call this morning probably expect more from you than you feel comfortable with at this stage. I understand. That’s part of why I’m helping you choose, because I know each one of these men and how they’ve treated boys in the past.”
“I’m not like Kit or Rand.”
“I know. Not every gentleman wants to be with a Kit or a Rand. Some never order from the menu or take night caps. But others would fuck you into the table if we allowed that sort of thing.”
“Isn’t there another subset of dinners that do? The Roman Orgy Club?”
Thomas laughed. “They’d probably be popular with a certain set of clients. Maybe I’ll consider that. Thanks for the idea.”
“I don’t think I’ll sign up for that one.” Jeremy grinned, feeling more relaxed. Thank God Thomas understood what he was thinking and didn’t hold it against him.
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
* * * *
Dirty Dining has been contracted by Dreamspinner Press and will be released in January 2015.
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If you liked what you read here you will also enjoy Bound for Trouble a gay BDSM thriller. You can download a long sample here: