As Green As Onie Glass

As Green as Onie Glass

By Kara Larson

In the three months Jon had been at Carterhaugh, he had written over forty proposals and marketing documents for them. As a contractor, he'd never been more confounded by a company. His assignment was only supposed to last another month or so, and he had yet to figure out exactly what the corporation did. Freelancing wasn't the best way to make money, especially since it sometimes brought you into a creepy purple hell like Carterhaugh, but Jon wasn't complaining. The walls were various shades of purple and lilac, the furniture was upholstered in glaring purple leather, and the light reflecting

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off of a thousand mirrors gave him a headache. He liked purple -- such a royal color -- as much as the next guy, but this gaudiness overwhelmed him. Still, because of this job, his rent would be paid 'til the end of the year and maybe even beyond, and he was saved from eating ramen noodles for a while. He couldn't really ask for more than that, unless it meant he could spend more time with the CIO, Tam Roxbrugh. Tam was another one of the corporation's great mysteries. He was technical spokesman for Ms. Faye, the erstwhile founder and CEO of Carterhaugh, and because of this, there was an aura of mystery about him. It might've been the exotic features, since Tam carried his half-Chinese heritage in his strongly-angled face and in the tilted set of his gray eyes. The thick dark hair and strong build -- supposedly from a Scottish ancestor, if the company gossip was right -- weren't much to sneeze at either, even if Tam did move with all the grace of the usual technogeek. Tam was soft-spoken and a little detached until you got to know him, and then Jon found that the man often couldn't be shut up. Not that Jon cared, mind you. He'd listen to Tam's velvet voice all night, even if he didn't understand half of the technical processes that Tam talked about. They'd been out to lunch a few times, driving far away from the office and staggering their times to make sure that Ms. Faye never suspected anything. While Jon thought he was exempt from the 'no interoffice dating' rule, since he wasn't technically an employee, neither of them wanted to tempt fate. Tam himself seemed oddly frightened of his boss, something Jon couldn't quite understand. The one glimpse he'd caught of the woman was of a powerful personality packed into a tight, curvaceous little body with a shock of red hair. She was usually surrounded by a coven of fartoo-beautiful people, all tall and willowy and unearthly in their androgyny. Looking at them for too long gave him a headache, too, because they seemed to shine for some reason. Too bad he didn't swing that way, and too bad he couldn't have gotten past her bodyguards, otherwise Jon might've gone after the elusive Ms. Faye himself. "Hey, Jon," Tam said softly. Jon snapped out of his reverie and smiled at the CIO. "Coffee fresh?" "Just made it," Jon answered, trying to sound as slick as he pretended to be, and failing miserably. He pushed a hand through his short blond hair, almost scrubbing at his scalp with rattled nerves. Something about Tam just seemed to light his insides on fire, and while he hadn't tested their chemistry yet, he looked forward to it. "Got any plans this weekend?" Tam looked right and left, as if he was scouting out the area for hostile fire -- or hostile eyes, as far as the CEO was concerned. "There was a movie I was interested in seeing, if you wouldn't mind... That new James Bond flick is out." They hadn't made it beyond a couple casual dinners and a short goodnight kiss or two. You bet Jon wouldn't mind.

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"What time?" Jon managed to squeak out.

"The proposal's due at noon, so we might have to work over this weekend." Tam's voice

suddenly shifted to his more professional tone. "Think you can come in?"

"It's cutting close to Halloween, but that shouldn’t be an issue. I want to make sure that Raycroft

Corporation loves what we're here to sell them," Jon replied, making sure his voice carried just

as loudly.

Tam shot him a grateful look. "Saturday then? You've got my cell?"

Jon nodded. "Saturday."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the reclusive Ms. Tanya Faye, all perfectly-coifed

red curls and luscious curves. There were beautiful women, and then there was Ms. Faye. If he

swung that way...

At least there was Saturday.

***

When it was over, Jon didn't remember much of the movie. He'd spent too much time plastered

to Tam's face, tasting those full lips and trying the best he could to get into Tam's well-tailored trousers. Jon could actually feel the quality of the cloth, even in the dark. "Dinner?" Tam panted, prying Jon off as soon as the credits began to roll.

"Home?" Jon countered, hoping he wasn't being too forward. The hunger in Tam's eyes was clear,

though.

"Home," was Tam's decisive answer.

He was never sure how they made it back to Jon's apartment, but somehow they did. Jon kicked

the door open, hauling Tam in by his green tie and the back of his neck.

"Nice tie," he said in a rush, doing his best to untie the knot and fling it to the ground.

"Green as onie glass," Tam moaned, rubbing up against Jon's thigh for all he was worth.

"Matches your eyes. It's expensive. Probably silk."

The expensive, probably silk tie fell to the floor before Jon could make the comparison.

"Hair like gold," Tam said as Jon parted the creamy silk shirt, then sucked at one of Tam's brown

nipples. "Uhn, Jon... Jon Carter, no relation to Carterhaugh."

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"Not unless my father forgot to tell me something," Jon said with a grin before turning his attention to Tam's other nipple. Those perfectly-tailored slacks soon joined the shirt and green-as-onie-glass tie on the floor, along with Jon's sweater and jeans. Jon tried his best to drag Tam to the couch, but Tam seemed content enough for them to sixty-nine on the floor. Sated, they lay in a tangle of sweaty limbs on Jon's natty brown carpet. "Sorry it's not the Taj Mahal," Jon said, rolling into the warmth of Tam's bronze-colored skin. Damn, the man looked phenomenal, even against his ugly-ass floor. "You think I'm used to the Taj Mahal?" Tam bit back a bitter laugh. "I was a flunky like you, three months ago." Jon sat up, sure his eyes were about to bulge out of his head. "How--" Rumors had said that Tam enjoyed a phenomenal ride to the top. He hadn't thought it'd been that good. Tam obviously had other ideas than to spill his guts about his career drive. "Later," Tam promised, kissing Jon's chin. "I think we have... other avenues to explore." "Mmm, tell me more about these other avenues..." Riding Tam was as thrilling as Jon had hoped; his lover was built like some kind of fairy stallion and with the endurance to match. Jon lost count of the orgasms, vaguely wondering if he'd wandered into some steamy romance novel for the weekend. By turns unleashed and considerate, Tam's gentle loving and fiery touch took Jon to new heights. Jon had done his best to reciprocate, glad to know that, over the years, his talent for both hand- and blowjobs hadn't diminished. He played Tam's fat cock like a Pan-pipe, one complicated blow after another. All in all, it was probably the best 'working' weekend Jon had ever had, and for once, he didn't even mind that he wasn't getting paid for it. The soft look in Tam's eyes and his delicious moans were payment enough. Jon wasn't prepared for the hostility that met him at work on Monday. It was as if the whole office knew. It wasn't like they could smell the sex on him. He and Tam had showered two or three times -- on Sunday alone. "Mister Carter," a haughty voice said from behind him. Jon nearly jumped out of his skin, only to find Ms. Faye, CEO extraordinaire, suddenly focused on him. Jon shivered at the power that flickered in her eyes. It was almost... inhuman, even moreso than the aura of her usual accompaniment of flunkies clustered around her. "Mister Carter," she repeated, in an accent that sounded vaguely Irish or maybe even something older. "You'll stay away from Tam Lin, hear me?" "Who?" Jon blinked. "You mean, Tam Roxbrugh?"

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"Tam Lin of Roxbrugh is mine." To Jon's surprise, the woman actually hissed this. Jon halfexpected Medusa-like snakes to pop out of her head and turn him to stone. "Don't underestimate me, Jon Carter. Not this close to All Hallows." And without another word, Ms. Tanya Faye stalked off like an unearthly queen, flunkies trailing in her wake like a train. Fucking hell. What bitch thought she had any right to control his private life? He wasn't breaking any nepotism rules within the corporation, and he'd read them all just to be sure that pursuing a relationship with Tam was even legal. For a moment, he wondered if he could gather enough data to bust Carterhaugh for something -- anything. Just because he couldn't explain what they actually did in ten words or less didn't mean anything. Maybe Tam could, using words that didn't involve human, capital, and process. Jon hightailed it to Tam's office as soon as he could, all but slamming the door behind him. "What's with that woman?" he asked, ignoring the fact that Tam was on the phone. Tam's eyes widened and he quickly cut off whoever he was talking to, hanging up the phone. "Did Tanya hurt you?" he asked, his voice full of concern. The obvious distress in Tam's voice surprised Jon; few people actually looked at him like that. "She didn't hurt me, but she did warn me off you," Jon said, utterly confused. "What's with her, Tam? And why'd she call you Tam Lin? Is that your middle name?" Tam sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's my folks' idea of a pun. Dad's Scottish, and Tam is a form of Thomas, my dad's name. Lin is my mother's maiden name, since she's from Fujian in China. It means 'forest,' so literally, Thomas of the Forest, except they didn't realize what a bad joke it--" Probably noticing the fact that Jon was utterly lost, Tam changed directions. "Have you ever thought about Ms. Faye's name?" "Tanya Faye?" Jon repeated with a shrug. "Other than to think it sounded like some bad Southern Baptist porn name?" Tam chuckled, which eased Jon's fears a little bit. "Think about it. Tanya Faye. Does that... remind you of anything?" Jon struggled to remember what he'd little attention he'd actually given the liberal arts portion of his education. "Is it supposed to?" he asked, eyebrows almost furrowed in knots. All that thought would be bad for his forehead. He didn't want any more lines there than he already had. "Tanya," Tam repeated. "Tanya Faye. Anything from A Midsummer Night's Dream?" Jon just blinked at him, noticing that Tam wore his green tie again. "What's this onie glass you talked about?" Now it was Tam's turn to blink. "Onie glass? It's an old Scottish way of saying green. My dad used to say it. Green like glass, green as any glass. A kind of green you don't find just

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anywhere." He shook his head. "Never mind. Focus." When Jon continued to give him a blank look, Tam sighed. "Nothing about the way Tanya glitters in the light? Or how she looks at you?" "Like she's going to chew me up and spit me out?" Jon crossed his arms. "Damn it, Tam, I don't have time for this crap. Just tell me, okay?" Tam's gray eyes, serious as life or death, stared into Jon's. "Look, it's Titania, okay? Titania, Queen of the Fey." Jon knew that should mean something to him, something that reminded him of a cartoon he'd watched as a kid, with gargoyles that came to life and an evil rich guy allied with some secret society and some seriously psychotic in-laws. "Isn't she, like, the fairy queen or something? Those Shee people that the Irish are always going on about when they get drunk?" Something about their beauty, about the way they burned, even though Jon was sure he hadn't taken any psychedelics in the past fifteen years. "Glitters," he muttered. "Radiant energy, like the dawn's redeeming grace." "Sidhe," Tam corrected. "Titania -- Tanya, our CEO -- is the queen of the fey. The fairy folk. The little ones who live under the hill." "They could probably landscape it, if they had the right permits," Jon said absently. It made sense, when he thought about it. No human woman was that rich and that powerful and that beautiful without belonging to Hollywood and a thousand plastic surgeons. No one else would have surrounded herself with bodyguards and admins and staff who were just as perfect and just as blindingly bright, unless she was so sure of herself and her own power... Then it hit him. "Fairy," he choked out, sinking into a chair. "Little people and wings?" Except pixie people seemed so much more benign than Ms. Titania Fey, queen of the cutthroat corporate world or not. The world started to spin around him and he found Tam trying to spill water down his closed throat. "Easy," Tam soothed, fingers carding through Jon's hair. "Easy. She can't hurt you." Jon looked up at Tam Lin Roxbrugh, taking in the bags under those gray eyes and the paleness of the vibrant skin. "But she can hurt you," he said slowly. "Stupid bitch." "Halloween," Tam said in a lifeless tone, sitting down in his own chair. His hand caught Jon's. "There's this sacrifice she makes to Hell every seven years as a price for her power. She chose me this year." From the way Tam swallowed, from the guilt that radiated from his tired face, Jon started to wonder if Tam had known the price of dabbling in corporate magic, in fairy politics. It was all starting to come together. "Because you wanted the job," Jon said, making the connection. "The job was worth the price, you thought." He pulled his hand out of Tam's, slapping Tam with it. "You idiot! What the hell did you think you were playing with?"

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"Insanity," Tam said in a strained voice. "Getting walked all over in too many jobs, spending too much time at the low end of the totem pole, getting pissed on by everyone else. Nothing mattered, and then she offered me the chance." Tam's gray eyes were earnest now, almost begging Jon to believe him. "I didn't think she'd actually do it, for one. And the reward seemed worth the limited time I'd get to enjoy it. It wasn't like I had anything else to live for." When Tam paused, Jon thought he knew what the next words would be. "Until I met you. Golden Jon." Jon sighed. Fairytales were one thing, and explosively good sex was another. "So, how do we beat the bitch?" Damned if he was going to give up the most beautiful lay he'd had in a while -best looking one at that, even if the man didn't have too much sense in that sleek black head. *** The plan was simple, really. All Jon had to do was attend the elite Halloween party, wait for the black and the gray convertible to pass by, and then grab Tam from the white one. He'd know Tam because of the white convertible. Why that made a difference, Jon didn't know, but then again, who was he to question the ways of the fey? With all the research he'd done, he still wasn't prepared for the opulence of the party, even standing where he was in the hotel lobby, waiting with the rest of the paparazzi for the guests of honor to arrive on the red carpet. Granted, it was at the swankiest hotel in town, but still. The plant-lined glass walls and the intricate skylights in the vaulted ceilings were beautiful, but they just seemed oppressive now, hemming him in until he felt like he was trapped in some kind of demonic forest. Only making matters worse was the 'required' outfit for the night. Jon adjusted the hem of his velvet doublet self-consciously, wondering why in hell he had to wear tights that itched and made his cock feel like it was wrapped up like a sausage. Tam had mentioned something about 'traditional dress,' but this was ridiculous. He wasn't auditioning for some Elizabethan play. Maybe if the outfit hadn't involved the silly green cape… Others arrived, each more stunning than the last and all garbed in the same fancy fabrics that had to cost a pretty penny at the fabric store. He thought he recognized a few of them, but it was hard to tell, even unmasked and vulnerable as they were. Maybe it was the fabrics they wore: coppershot blue velvets, silver silks and brocades so intricate that they made Jon's eyes hurt and head spin. No one wore green, though, and Tam had said to look for the green tunic. They seemed to surround him like a flock of exotic birds, all swaying and perching anxiously, waiting. Waiting. No corporate peons, no matter how power-hungry, ever looked so anxious or filled with such anticipation. And the cars drove up the long, horseshoe-shaped drive to the hotel. The crowd around him pushed outside to the forecourt of the hotel, into the driveway itself like an army of valet parking attendants. First, the black convertible, its passengers so vividly there that they blinded Jon. Then the gray, occupied by more beautiful people whose images burned themselves into Jon's retinas. Finally, the white. He thought he recognized Titania, but it was hard to tell, for all the radiance the occupants threw off. Sucking in his breath, Jon ran for the convertible, and when his vision cleared a little, he grabbed the only green tunic in it, and held on for dear life.

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All Tam had said was to hold on tight and not let go. To trust that Tam wouldn't hurt him. To trust in Tam's love. That had taken Jon a-back, but he didn't question it, not even when Tam's heavy body tumbled toward him, sending them both to the ground. But then it wasn't Tam anymore. It was a snake, black and hissing, wriggling ominously in Jon's hands. A snake, somehow looking at Jon with Tam's own gray eyes. Jon bit back a scream, but held on tight. Tam trusted him on this, put his very soul on the line for Jon. The least he could do was hope that he didn't get bitten by a poisonous snake. Maybe fairy snakes weren't poisonous. As the snake lunged for his face, the figure in his arms shifted until his hands were buried in thick, greasy, smoky-smelling fur. Carrion-smelling breath roared in his face and he stared into the jaws of a bear that was trying to bite his head off. This time, Jon didn't bother trying to hide his scream. He just buried his face in the oily fur and prayed, his grip never slipping. The fur became shorter, thicker, rougher, now almost the same gold as Jon's hair. The roar was much louder now, the weight heavier against his body. Where the bear was clumsy, the lion was sleek and power and the pure embodiment of hunter and death. Jon thought about The Lion King and hoped Simba'd had dinner at some point. The lion's twitching tail stung against his tights-clad legs, but before he could say a word, his hands began to burn. There was now a red-hot shaft of iron in his hands, and he could smell the very flesh burning off. It smoked, and tears of pain ran down his face and hissed on the heat of the iron rod. Clenching his teeth, he held on for dear life. Then the rod shrank into itself, forming a small, red-hot coal. By now, his hands were black and he was almost beyond the pain. This, though, was what he was waiting for. Struggling to his feet, Jon searched frantically for some kind of liquid. He could hear the clink of glasses and the popping of a cork, so he ran for the black convertible. There, lying on the seat next to one of the calm-faced flunkies, was an ice bucket and an open bottle of champagne. He dumped the coal into it. The bucket burst apart, showering ice everywhere, and the occupants of the convertible scattered in fear. Jon found himself staring at Tam's naked body, now splayed over the wet black leather seats. He threw his green cloak -- so that's why he needed the cloak -- over Tam's shivering body, and hauled Tam out of the car, holding him close. "It's okay," he whispered, trying to ignore the burning in his hands. "It's okay, I've got you." Tam's long arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. Jon could feel the stares of the others around him, not knowing what to say. Luckily, Ms. Tanya Faye herself took care of that for him.

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"Had I known," she said suddenly, appearing larger and more clearly than anyone ought to, even here in the driveway of a swanky hotel. "Had I known, Tam Lin, the events of this night, I would have done better than to take those two gray eyes of yours and turn you into a tree." Not wanting to look at the plants in the hotel lobby, Jon thought instead about the huge collection of rare and expensive plants in the atrium of the Carterhaugh corporate offices and shuddered. "Had I known," she continued, in a voice that rolled with the power of thunder, "that you'd fall as quickly as this, I'd have taken out your heart and replaced it with one of stone." Again, the implications of that were almost too much for Jon's brain to bear. He'd never been in her private offices, nor did he want to consider what sort of 'collections' of powerful talismans she might have in there. "Had I known just months ago -- years ago -- that your heart was taken," she said finally, diminishing until she no longer radiated light like a nuclear blast, "I'd have paid my tithe to hell seven times over, before your heart was stolen away." She appeared human again -- as human as she ever would -- and almost lost, to Jon's eyes. He had to feel some sympathy for her there, at the price of her own power. He'd heard of selling souls to the devil, but never really thought about the cost. Yeah, she had phenomenal, cosmic powers, but it also meant that Titania, Queen of the Fey, had to sacrifice someone that she probably cared about every seven years to the very fires of hell. Everyone knew that a sacrifice of something you loved was far more painful than something you hated, and the fairy queen seemed to have prized Tam quite highly, if her reaction was any indication. Jon stood, helping Tam to his feet. He hesitated, then held out a hand to the small red-haired woman, now drooping with fatigue. The crowd of flunkies seemed to hold their collective breath, and he could feel the very fear and trembling in the air, as everyone waited to see how their allpowerful queen would respond. And she took his burned hand in his, using it to support her slight weight. The blindingly-radiant crowd sighed, and the light seemed to dim a little. It made him wonder if they fed off her power, and how this loss of a tithe would affect them all -- though part of him wanted to run for the hills as fast as possible. "The price of your love," she said softly in a voice that sounded as old and exhausted as time, touching the ruined flesh. Jon hissed at the burn, but then was surprised to find his hands now completely healed. "The least I could do." Jon pushed back Tam's damp black hair, holding him close. "Should I... thank you?" he asked, suddenly feeling awkward. "I feel like I should apologize." Or at least submit his final invoice and start looking for a new job. Maybe two new jobs -- one for each of them. The fairy queen gave him a puzzled look. "It's not the first time I've lost," she said suddenly. "But usually--" She put a perfectly-manicured finger to her lips, looking thoughtful. She touched

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his face lightly, peering up into his eyes. "Green as onie glass," she said in an off-hand way, then turning to Tam. "Did he turn ill when he found out, my Tam? Though his eyes do shine as emeralds now, bonnie lad." Tam blushed, squirming a little and clutching his cloak all the tighter around him. "Usually?" Jon prompted, losing patience with all this fairy magic and wet tights and richness

that burned his brain with its opulence.

"Usually, it's a pregnant woman," Ms. Tanya Faye said slowly, a trace of her usual arrogance in

her green eyes.

Jon sucked in a breath, but then shrugged it off. "Don't think you'll get me that quickly," he

warned, then began to walk away.

"Thank you," Tam whispered into Jon's ear, kissing his face lightly. "You have no idea..."

He smiled slightly. "I think I have some idea, and it might involve you and me and a bed, and not

leaving it for a week. I think we both have some vacation time coming up anyway."

Tam chuckled. "Looks like we'll be looking for new jobs."

"Not sure how to explain the termination of this contract," Jon added with a laugh. Then he

stopped, suddenly worried about something. "Tam, how powerful is fairy magic?"

"Look at your own hands," Tam said, sounding more and more like himself. "Why?"

Jon crossed one arm over his belly. "Nothing..."

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As Green as Onie Glass Copyright © 2008 Kara Larson All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680 Printed in the United States of America. Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / October 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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