Friction [Anthology]

A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Friction Anthology ISBN # 978-1-907010-72-9 Cruising ©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2009 Maximum Exposure ©Copyright Jenna Byrnes & Jude Mason 2009 Yes! ©Copyright Kim Dare 2009 Sorry Charlie ©Copyright Ashley Ladd 2009 Heat of the Night ©Copyright SL Majors 2009 One Night Stand ©Copyright Cassandra Gold 2009 Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright August 2009 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz, Michele Paulin, Christine Riley, Jessica Bimberg Total-E-Bound Publishing This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution. The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork. Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning.

FRICTION ANTHOLOGY

Cruising J.P. Bowie

Maximum Exposure

Jenna Byrnes & Jude Mason

Yes!

Kim Dare

Sorry Charlie Ashley Ladd

Heat of the Night SL Majors

One Night Stand Cassandra Gold

CRUISING J.P. Bowie

Dedication For Phil – always

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Alcoholics Anonymous: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc. Holiday Inn: Six Continents Hotels, Inc. Dramamine: G. D. Searle & Co. Corp. Dumpster: Dempster Brothers, Inc. Venetian Hotel: Venetian Casino Report, LLC Caesar’s Palace: Caesar’s World, Inc.

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6

Chapter One

I stood dockside in Port Canaveral, Florida, gazing up at the ship I would call home for the next six months or, perhaps, even longer. The smartly painted blue and white hull towered over me, its lower decks dotted with portholes, its upper decks with larger windows. As I craned my neck, I felt a quiet surge of excitement and anticipation course through my body. I could make out the white uniforms of the ship’s officers as they strolled back and forth on the topmost deck. I’d later learn this was called the bridge—but as I’d never been onboard a ship before, all of that jargon was still to be learned, along with the protocol and the expected discipline of life afloat, far from the laws and jurisdiction of mainland America. “So, what do you think, Adam?” I turned to look at the guy standing next to me, Tom Hathaway, the man who had hired me to manage the ship’s casino. “Very impressive,” I said, smiling at Tom. “I think that The Maiden of the Seas and I are going to get along very well. She’s just what I need right now—a lady who’ll help me forget all the shit that’s been going on in the last year or so.” Tom grinned. “Are you telling me you’re into ladies now?” “No, you know as well as I do, that’s not going to happen—at least, not in the way you mean. Although, after what Randy put me through, it might not be a bad idea to have a complete change of life, along with a new job, a new home…” “And pussy instead of cock,” Tom added, chuckling. “Well, if you’re really interested, I can fix you up tonight when we get back to the hotel.” I laughed, and smacked Tom lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not that depressed.” I took another long look at the cruise ship. “When do we go on board?” “Tomorrow morning. There’s a crew meeting at nine o’clock, in the theatre.” Tom gave me a serious look. “Just make sure all the dealers are there, and without hangovers if possible. The captain’s a real stickler for the rules and regulations. Howard wants us all to make the right impression from day one.”

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Howard Marsden was the casino concession owner, a Miami attorney who I’d gotten on well with on our one and only meeting but was known to have a nasty temper if those he relied on didn’t come through according to his wishes. I nodded. “Let’s both keep an eye on them tonight. That hotel bar is a well known pickup spot. I don’t want to crimp their style, but you know these guys once they’ve had a few.” I was talking into the wind. After a couple drinks, Tom was just as likely to lead the way to where angels fear to tread—mainly the hotel bar filled with delectable ladies of easy virtue. I only hoped I could keep Tom and the young male casino dealers from getting too drunk and being unable to make the meeting in the morning. The hotel at Cocoa Beach was a lively place after five o’clock, the bar filling up early for happy hour. I spotted two of the dealers already leaning over the bar talking to the pretty bartender. “John, Jeff—a word please.” I beckoned them from the bar entrance. “Hey, boss.” Jeff Edwards, tall, broad shouldered and amiable, grinned at me. “Join us for a drink?” “Not right now, thanks. Listen guys—tomorrow we have an important meeting on board the ship. Howard’s going to be there, and the captain expects us all to be in attendance—no excuses. So please don’t get hammered tonight. I need you all to be on your best behaviour.” “No problem,” John Bowers said. Almost as tall as Jeff, the two had worked together in Vegas, and I was well aware of their reputation as ‘pussy-hounds’. They were both good looking guys with great smiles but as reliable as a broken alarm clock. I was still a little miffed that Tom hadn’t consulted me during the hiring process. John and Jeff were nice enough guys, but I could smell the trouble they’d cause a mile off. “Okay…” I tried to put away my fears. “Tell the other guys what I said. Tom’s taking a nap, but he’ll be down later to take you all to dinner.” “Cool,” John said. “Don’t worry, boss, we’ll be good boys—honest.” “Thanks. See you later.” As I walked away, I hoped that maybe this time they meant what they’d said. Why couldn’t I believe it? I went up to my room and took a long shower. The hot spray on my tense body felt good. It had been a long, couple days spent packing then flying first to LA from Las Vegas

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then on to Miami where Tom had picked me up and we’d driven to Port Canaveral, Tom yacking non-stop. Suddenly Randy and Vegas seemed a long way away, and as far as I was concerned, that was a good thing. The last year had been hell. Randy’s drinking had escalated to a frightening degree. He’d totalled two cars, including mine, and had only narrowly escaped getting a DUI. I had left him after one helluva row when he’d refused to get help from Alcoholics Anonymous. “I’m not an alcoholic,” he’d raged at me. Denial, thy name is Randy, I had mused on more than one occasion. Truth was, I just didn’t want to be involved anymore. I’d fallen out of love with Randy long before the last two incidents and had only stayed around in the hope that I could somehow help him get over his addiction. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want your help. Towelling off, I studied my appearance in the mirror. At thirty-one, and despite the many sleepless nights I’d spent recently worrying about Randy, I guess I didn’t look too bad. My dark brown wavy hair had a stray grey strand here and there, and the lines at the corners of my blue eyes had deepened. Not quite crow’s feet, but getting there. Tom had told me there was a workout room onboard I could use. That would help keep my body toned and in good shape. No reason to go to pot—especially now that I was single again. I slung the towel around my hips and wandered across the room onto the balcony. It was a beautiful night. Mid-March in Florida was obviously a perfect time of year. The sun was just setting, flinging shards of crimson and gold across the darkening sky and onto the shimmering ocean below. “Beautiful,” I murmured to myself, taking in the view. “Ciao…uh, I mean, hello there.” I turned, startled by the voice so near it made me jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” I looked at the young man standing on the next balcony. Wow, what a honey. He was tall and slender. Late twenties, I guessed, tightening the towel around my hips with a selfconscious move. “That’s okay,” I said, smiling. “I was just admiring the view.” And I still am.

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“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The young man flashed me a smile. “Vittorio,” he said, leaning on the balcony rail and reaching across to shake my hand. “Adam Brenner.” The hand I shook was warm and strong, and the eyes I stared into were brown—and beautiful. “Vittorio,” I said. “Nice name.” “Italian. Vittorio Borghese. I just flew in from Milan yesterday.” “Oh—you’re on vacation?” Reluctantly, I released Vittorio’s hand. “Not really—although I think this job might be a pleasant change from the usual. I’m a ship architect. I’ll be sailing on one of the cruise ships to design some renovations.” “Really?” I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His good looks and sexy accent were definitely getting me interested. “I’m working on a cruise ship—The Maid of the Seas. It wouldn’t happen to be…” Vittorio clapped his hands together. “What a coincidence.” His face was wreathed in smiles. “That is the same ship I’m on. We must celebrate our meeting. Can I buy you a drink downstairs?” “It’s a date,” I said happily. “I’ll just go throw on some clothes, and I’ll meet you down there.” “If you insist—about the clothes, I mean.” Vittorio’s flirtatious laugh was infectious. “Uh…” I chuckled then said, “I think I’d better—just so I don’t upset the management.” Not wanting to waste any time, I ran inside, pulled a white T-shirt and blue jeans from my suitcase and dressed quickly, slipping a pair of sandals onto my feet. After a spritz of cologne and a quick look in the mirror, I headed for the door.

**** When I entered the crowded bar, it took me a little time to locate Vittorio. The first sight to hit my eyes was Tom and the dealers already involved in raucous laughter and obviously well on their way to having one bitch of a collective headache in the morning. Oh, well... “Adam!” I looked towards the call and saw Vittorio waving at me from a corner booth. God, but this guy is even better looking than I remember, I thought as I pushed my way through the

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crowd. He was also wearing a T-shirt, ice blue, that showed his nicely defined chest to great effect. “Hi.” I slid into the booth beside him. “You were lucky to get this seat.” “I used a little influence,” Vittorio said, touching my hand. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered us a bottle of champagne. I didn’t know your preference, but champagne seemed right for a celebration.” “I love champagne,” I said, smiling at the handsome man beside me. “I also love the idea we’re celebrating our first meeting.” “Our first date,” Vittorio remarked with a flirtatious wink. “That’s what you said it was.” “I did?” “Yes, I remember it vividly. ‘It’s a date,’ you said.” Vittorio poured the champagne into two glasses. “And now, Adam, our first drink on our first date. Saluti...” “Cheers.” We toasted one another before raising our glasses to our lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off Vittorio’s beautiful face as he sipped his champagne. Our eyes met over the rim of our glasses, and I felt a shiver of delight run the length of my spine and a definite hardening inside my jeans. I got even harder as Vittorio leaned in closer on the pretext of whispering something but instead kissed me under my ear. There was no doubt where this evening was going. The touch of Vittorio’s warm lips almost sent me over the edge. I wanted to jump him right there and then—but we were in a straight bar so… “What do you say we take this champagne up to my room?” I asked, my voice becoming decidedly husky with desire. Vittorio’s smile was captivating. “I say that is a wonderful idea.” I guessed our departure would go unnoticed by Tom and the dealers who were even louder than before. No doubt those guys were going to tear up the town—but right then, I couldn’t have given a toss what their fate might be. On the way up in the elevator, I had a sudden thought. “Uh, would you mind if we used your room? I have a nasty feeling there might be several drunks pounding on my door later.” Vittorio chuckled. “And we can’t have that kind of interruption, can we? My room it is.”

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**** Vittorio’s room was almost a carbon copy of mine with the same tacky floral bedspread, matching drapes and hideous painting over the bed—only in reverse. I couldn’t help shuddering. Any true gay man would have been horrified at this blatant lack of taste. “Awful, isn’t it?” Vittorio said, slipping the Do not disturb sign on the outside of the door. “Maybe I should offer my services after I finish work on the ship.” “They probably couldn’t afford you,” I remarked, watching as Vittorio poured the champagne into two plastic cups. He handed me one with a smile. “Well, sorry about the lack of crystal and ambience, but the company is infinitely better.” Vittorio tipped his cup at me with a seductive smile. We drained our cups then without another word, he began to unbutton my jeans. He gave a grunt of satisfaction as my hard cock sprang out from behind its denim constraints. Yanking my jeans down over my hips, he massaged my butt as he kissed and licked his way down my torso. He dropped to his knees and licked at the head of my cock, murmuring his pleasure as he lapped at the pre-cum that spilled onto his tongue. He looked up at me, smiling and licking his lips. “Molto bene,” he whispered before he slid down the length of my cock and took all of me into his mouth. Oh, but that felt good—better than good, and all I could think was, this is what you need right now, Adam—sex. I’ve always been a fan of sex. It’s probably the only act where you can get down and dirty and not feel that guilty about it afterwards. Getting in touch with your inner animal can be a great release—even better if your partner is into it, too. After the last disastrous attempt at it between me and Randy, I hadn’t even been close to a man, never mind having one suck on my cock. And this guy, Vittorio, was so hot. The only problem was the way his tongue was working me over would make me come long before I wanted to. I pulled him to his feet and delivered a scorching-hot kiss to his lips. He gasped into my mouth then pulled back slightly. “You are hungry for it, yes?”

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“Yes,” I panted. And I was—even hungrier than I’d known. We stripped each other of our clothes then fell on the bed, legs and arms tangled. I almost wrestled with him in my eagerness to taste and feel every part of his body. He was beautiful from his mane of black hair to the tip of his well-formed feet. I took it all in as my lust-filled eyes swept over his superbly defined chest dusted with dark hair and his perky nipples that looked like they were just waiting for me to dive on them. I didn’t make them wait a second too long. Vittorio groaned and massaged the back of my head while I licked and nibbled at those twin points of hard flesh. His groans turned to moans as I slid a hand down the length of his torso and gripped his thick, throbbing erection. He let me take control as I moved over him, kissing a trail from his chest over his hard stomach to his groin where his cock pulsed in my fist. His hips arched upward, and he breathed out a long sigh of satisfaction as I took him into my mouth. He muttered in Italian, and of course, I didn’t understand a word, but it sounded like he was really enjoying what I was doing. ‘Molto bene,’ I understood, and he said it over and over. The rest was Greek to me, but it sounded hot. He squirmed under me, pulling at my legs, shifting us into a sixty-nine position. As his mouth enveloped my straining cock, I groaned then sucked on him even harder, his musky masculine taste and scent making me lose control. I rolled on top of him, driving my cock deeper into his mouth, down his throat. He made happy gurgling sounds, his hips bucked under me, hard, twice then his semen flooded my mouth. I gulped it down greedily, holding him until the last drop was squeezed from him. My own orgasm built inside me, racing through my blood, my body stiffening from the onslaught. With a muffled groan, I climaxed, shooting into Vittorio’s mouth. He took it all with seeming relish as he massaged my butt cheeks like he was forcing my cum out of me. Whoa! Totally drained, I rolled off him, and for a time, we both lay there breathing heavily, my brain spinning dizzily, little pinpoints of light flashing behind my eyelids. Vittorio crawled up alongside me and flopped down on my chest. “Good, eh?” he murmured, running his tongue over my left nipple. “Very good,” I agreed. He had no idea just how much I’d needed what had passed between us. He jumped off the bed, chuckling. “More champagne, Adam, then you can fuck me.”

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I sat up, watching him pour the champagne. He really was a handsome hunk, all sleek and smoothly muscled flesh under olive skin darkened by the sun. The mere sight of him made my cock stir, stretching along my thigh in expectation of his offer. He handed me my plastic glass. “Saluti, di nuovo,” he said, grinning and showing his lovely white teeth. “Cheers, again.” “Cheers.” I threw back the champagne and looked up at him expectantly. He knelt between my legs and took my cock in his champagne-cooled mouth. His tongue swirling over my cock head brought me to immediate and rigid attention. I fell back on the bed, still holding the empty glass and let Vittorio’s mouth work its magic. He was good—better than good really. He was a pro who knew exactly what he was doing, where to touch, how much pressure to exert—all the things guaranteed to bring me to a boil, really fast. I sat up and pulled him up into my arms, teasing his earlobe with my teeth. “You have a condom?” “Si.” He wriggled out of my arms and reached for his toilet bag on the nightstand. I took advantage of his facedown position to dive on his butt, licking and nibbling at the round cheeks while he squirmed with pleasure under me. Without rolling over he handed me a condom and a tube of lube, I guess indicating he wanted me to go for it. I sat astride his thighs and leaned over him, licking his ear while I lubed him up, stretching his tight hole with my middle and forefinger. Once I’d got on the condom, I pulled him up by the hips, and pushed forward, entering him with one long stroke. He moaned, the muscles on his back quivered as his body shuddered under me then he reared up, pressing his back against my chest, squirming down to impale himself all the way to the root of my rock-hard erection. With one hand, I teased his nipples while the other slid down the length of his taut torso to find his throbbing cock. I pumped him slowly, matching the rhythm I’d begun as I thrust deep inside him. He muttered again in Italian, in between turning his head so he could reach my lips for some sloppy kissing. I’d liked to have known what he was saying, but it could wait. A fine sheen of sweat covered both our bodies as we rocked together. He leaned forward and, using the headboard as leverage, pushed his ass hard against me, taking all of me inside him. “Ah, si, Adam,” he moaned. “Fuck me. Let me have it all.”

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I grasped his hips and let him have it all, ploughing into him like there was no tomorrow. “Oh, yes, right there…” He flung an arm around my neck, his lips searching for mine, changing the angle of penetration slightly. His intense groan told me I’d grazed his sweet spot. His ass rammed into my crotch, grinding over my cock. I pulled back, almost completely out of him then pushed back in, giving it to him, hard and fast. His body arched upward, and he fell back against my chest. I held him pressed to me as he came in great jolting spasms, taking me right along with him. Our joined bodies bucked and shuddered in the throes of orgasm, Vittorio letting loose with a string of Italian I could only hope were words of praise. We collapsed on top of one another, our sweat slicked bodies completely spent. “Wow,” I murmured, my lips pressed to his ear. “That was intense.” “Si, yes, it was…intenso and hot.” I chuckled and rolled off the bed, heading for the bathroom to dispose of the condom and clean up a bit. When I got back, Vittorio was lying on his side, looking for all the world like a Roman god come to life. As I stood over him, he reached for my cock and tugged on it playfully. His smiled was wicked. “You don’t think I’ll let you off so lightly, do you?” I leaned over him and tasted his luscious lips. “I was hoping for seconds,” I murmured against his mouth. He pulled me down on top of him. “And thirds…”

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Chapter Two

I woke next morning, in my own room, with a distinct feeling of apprehension. I glanced at my watch. Eight o’clock. The meeting was at nine, and I definitely needed at least two cups of coffee before then. I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As I vigorously soaped myself, I thought about the hours I’d spent with Vittorio and how fantastic that time had been. Vittorio was pure sex. It seeped out of every pore on his body like an intoxicating and sensual honey. I had never met anyone quite like him, and even if we hadn’t gotten into ‘getting to know you’ I had figured he was single. Amazing to think that he wouldn’t have some equally god-like man at home in Milan, but he’d seemed very much into what we’d been doing, and that was most definitely a good sign. After drying off, I shaved quickly then called Tom’s room. No reply. Shit. Surely, he didn’t end up in some stranger’s room last night, too ploughed to remember where he was. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. How Mara, his wife, put up with it, I would never understand. I hunted through my wallet for Tom’s cell number then punched in the numbers. “Hello?” “Tom, it’s Adam. Where are you?” “Fuck if I know. Oh, wait…some hotel or another.” I heard the mumble of voices, one a woman’s. “Okay, I’m at the Holiday Inn.” “Tom, the meeting’s in less than a half hour. I suggest you get yourself in gear and get over to the ship soon as you can. I’ll try and round up the guys.” “Good luck with that. Just go to the meeting. I’ll get there, don’t worry.” I hung up and groaned. Howard, the concession owner would just love this. I dressed then went down the hall to the room Jeff and John were sharing. I noticed that Vittorio’s door was open, and the maid was already in there cleaning up. Too bad he didn’t think to wake me before he went downstairs, I thought. I rapped on the guys’ door, and got what I expected—no reply. I banged on the door. “Come on, guys. It’s Adam. We have to go.”

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Silence. I rattled the doorknob then banged on the door again. More silence. “Shit.” I got the same response at each door. The guys were either still out somewhere or dead to the world. Either way, I would get it in the neck from Howard and, most likely, from the captain. Now I really needed that coffee.

**** When I arrived at the ship, I asked for directions to the theatre from a fresh-faced young man in a white uniform. “I’m Adam Brenner, the casino manager. There’s a meeting…” “Oh, yes. I can take you there.” The young man beamed at me and held out his hand. “Carl Moyer, Assistant Purser. I was just on my way down there myself.” He touched my elbow, steering me towards the elevator. “You’re American, eh?” “Uh, yes. Aren’t you?” “Yes, but they usually hire British casino staff. They’re supposed to be more reliable.” “Oh, yeah?” I couldn’t really argue that point at the moment since so far I was the only casino staff member to show up. As Carl and I entered the theatre, I was heartened to smell brewing coffee, but on seeing Howard’s frowning visage, my heart sank. “Where’s Tom?” Howard asked in a less-than-friendly tone. “He’s on his way,” I replied. “I guess everyone was celebrating their last night on dry land,” I added lightly. “Well, they fucking better show up,” Howard snapped then strode off still frowning. “He’s a bit of jerk,” Carl remarked. I nodded. “I don’t really know him that well, but I’m beginning to feel glad he’s not sailing with us after this first trip.” “I’ll leave you to it then.” Carl gave me a sunny smile then left to join some of the other staff. I presumed they were also pursers. I looked around for Vittorio’s friendly face and saw him chatting with one of the officers. I hesitated, trying to attract his attention. Wait, did he just ignore me? I walked over to get a coffee injection then hovered by the entrance looking for any sign of Tom and the others.

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I groaned as someone announced, “The meeting will commence, ladies and gentlemen. Please take a seat.” Howard signalled to me, making it clear that I should sit next to him. With a last look over in Vittorio’s direction then at the entrance hoping Tom would show, I went to sit by the stone-faced Howard. “Good morning.” The speaker, a tall distinguished man in an immaculately pressed white uniform trimmed with gold braid, stood before us. “I am Captain Borghese, and I would like to welcome you all to this inaugural voyage of The Maid of the Seas.” Borghese. Wasn’t that Vittorio’s last name? I took a quick glance over to where Vittorio sat, arms folded, looking like he was falling asleep. “I would like to introduce the ship’s officers to you, and after that I would like each department head to stand, introduce yourself and tell us a little about your previous experience. We are to be working very closely together onboard this vessel, and I would like us all to get along with one another.” He then introduced his officers, and I had to admit they were a handsome bunch, pretty and pristine in their gleaming white uniforms—all Italian, with names I knew would take me some time to remember. “Before I ask you to introduce yourselves, I would like you all to meet my son, Vittorio. He will be with us on several cruises, redesigning some of the older parts of the ship.” Vittorio stood, treated everyone to his dazzling smile and a cheerful “Ciao!” before sitting down again. I wondered if Vittorio was deliberately avoiding meeting my gaze. Maybe he was a little embarrassed by his father’s introduction or maybe he was a tad hung over—or maybe this was all my fertile imagination. “As you may know,” the captain continued in his accented English, “The Maid of the Seas is not a new ship but has been extensively refitted and is extremely sea-worthy.” That’s nice to know, I thought, glancing behind me for any sign of Tom or the dealers. Nothing. “The ongoing improvements to the theatre, ballroom and restaurants will be under the supervision of my son, Vittorio. Now…” The captain cleared his throat. “The Chief Purser will introduce his crew members to you.” For the next fifteen minutes or so, Howard and I sat smiling and applauding as the heads of each department stood and introduced him or herself. The hotel manager, a blond-

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haired Englishman named Paul Peterson, Bonnie Rapier, a buxom American was the gift shop manager, and Clive Robinson, also English, the food and beverage manager. Then it was my turn. Howard grunted, “You’re on your own,” so I stood and looked around the assembled crew with a self-conscious smile. “Hi, I’m Adam Brenner, the casino manager. Sorry, I can’t introduce you to my team. They seem to be MIA this morning.” One or two sniggers came from the crowd, but the captain caught my attention with an imperious wave of his hand. “Where are they, Mr. Brenner?” “Still asleep, I expect,” I replied as easily as I could. I didn’t want this to turn into a fullblown confrontation in front of everyone on my first day. “They were partying hearty last night and—” “This is unacceptable,” Borghese snapped. “Mr. Marsden,” he directed his angry gaze at Howard, “I’ll make no bones about this. I told the cruise line owners I objected to an American casino crew on board my ship. I’ve had problems with their lack of discipline before on a prior command. I will not have the same problem on this ship. Already they have shown a lack of respect for my authority by not showing up as instructed. Make sure they understand that at the first sign of trouble, I will have them escorted off the ship at the nearest port of call. Have I made myself clear?” “Abundantly clear,” I said before Howard could reply. “We will talk with the dealers when they show up. Is that all?” Borghese gave me a cold look but nodded. “Yes, that is all. Just make sure your team understands that while they are onboard my ship, they will conduct themselves according to my rules.” I bit back the retort that lingered on the tip of my tongue. This pompous ass is going to be a royal pain—and he’s Vittorio’s father? Jeez. Instead, I sat down without a word. Howard plonked his overweight frame heavily onto the seat beside me with a disgusted grunt. The leather cushion hissed in protest under his weight. “Just for the record, Adam,” he muttered. “I don’t like being talked to like an errant kid in front of a bunch of strangers.”

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“Who the hell does?” I hissed. “The guy’s a jackass. If he keeps this up, I’ll be glad to be escorted off the ship at the nearest port of call.” “He’s the captain—” “No kidding. I think we all got that point, loud and clear.” “Adam, Tom told me you were the best man to look after my business.” “And that I’ll do, Howard, but I’m not going to be dictated to by some flunky in a white suit. Last time I looked, this was still America.” “But when you’re at sea, he’s in command.” “Howard, you make it sound like we’re in the Navy. This is a cruise ship, for Chrissakes.” “Just don’t lose your cool with him. I have a lot of money invested in this casino concession.” I sighed. “Okay, I’ll play nice with the captain.” Or at least the captain’s son—but I wonder why Vittorio didn’t mention his daddy was in command? I looked up as a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Tom. Where the hell have you been?” “Sorry, man. Got a bit shit-faced last night.” “Gee, what a surprise.” “Tom.” Howard’s face was even stonier. “We can’t afford to fuck up this early. You know I have a lot of money riding on this venture.’ “I know, I know, and I’m sorry,” Tom said, easing himself onto a seat next to me. “Fuck, but my head hurts.” “I suppose the guys were with you?” I asked. “Yeah, all except Miss Prim-and-Proper.” “Who?” “A chick I hired at the last minute. Name’s Cindy. Good dealer and doesn’t drink, smoke, or do lines...” I chuckled. “Well, I guess I should be grateful for small mercies.” “Lines?” Howard asked, staring at Tom quizzically. “Uh...” I didn’t think it was a good idea that Howard should know ‘doing lines’ meant snorting cocaine. “She’s not into letter writing, I guess.” Tom coughed out a laugh. “Good one, Adam.”

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Howard rose to his feet, his bulk towering over me and Tom. “Well, I’m going to my cabin. Just make sure tonight is a success for us all.” “Okay, Boss, no worries,” Tom said, standing. “Adam, we’d better go find out which cabin you’ve been assigned. I’ll be sharing it with you on this cruise.” Great, I thought, just great. I looked around the theatre for a glimpse of Vittorio, but he was deep in conversation with his father—the captain. Another great. And why the hell had he made such a point of ignoring me? Maybe he thought I was a lousy lay. Maybe all that Italian he’d been vocalising while we were fucking hadn’t been words of praise after all!

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Chapter Three

My initial fear that I might get sea-sick seemed unfounded as the ship slipped smoothly through the ocean on its way to Nassau in the Bahamas. The casino had been lively since it had opened when the ship was three miles out, with some slightly inebriated passengers ready to throw away their money on the tables and the slot machines. The dealers, looking amazingly fresh despite their earlier catatonic state, worked well with a professional air, and I began to feel that maybe, just maybe, this would turn out to be an okay gig after all. The captain had passed through earlier, smiling benignly on his passengers, but giving me and the dealers, except for Cindy, the one female dealer, a superior stare. Well, he’ll just have to get over that attitude, I mused, as I watched the still-handsome older man walk slowly away. Of Vittorio there had been no sign, and I figured the guy had been happy with just the one night of sex. Maybe he had a boyfriend in Milan he’d been unwilling to talk about. I hoped not. One thing I can’t stand, it’s a cheater. Oh, well… Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but feel a vague twinge of disappointment. “Ready for a break?” Tom was at my elbow, his eyes looking slightly unfocussed. “I’ll take over here while you get something to eat.” “Thanks.” Tom’s coke habit worried me. I could only hope that he cooled it while he was onboard. “I’ll grab a quick bite.” “Take your time,” Tom said airily. “I can handle it.” I nodded then left the casino, running down the curved ‘Grand’ staircase that led to the restaurant level. The cruise staff had a reserved area off the main dining room in the Tropicale Restaurant. At this time of night, it was almost deserted, the gift shops being open for business and the entertainment in full swing. Paul, the hotel manager was seated at one of the tables. He gave me a smile and indicated I should sit with him. “Bit of a rough start for you this morning,” he observed in his clipped British accent. I grinned. “You could say that, but I just know the captain and I are going to be fast friends.”

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Paul chuckled. “He’s a silly old bugger and a bloody lush. Absolutely full of himself, but fortunately, this is his last command. He’s retiring in three months, thank God.” “You’ve worked with him before?” “You mean served with him, don’t you? Yes, I have, and we’ve never seen eye to eye. And watch out for that son of his—a backstabber if ever there was one.” “Really?” My stomach sank at Paul’s comment. “He seems very nice.” “Well, he’s not, I can assure you. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him here again after the mess he made on one of the other ships he ‘renovated’. His old man had to have pulled a lot of strings to get him this job. Talk about your bloody nepotism.” “Wow…” I was kind of glad the waiter showed up at that moment to take my order. “Oh, I’ll have the salmon, please.” “Anything to drink?” “A glass of Chardonnay.” “Try the Sauvignon Blanc instead,” Paul said. “Excellent vintage.” “Oh, okay. I’ll have that instead.” “Bloody hell. Speak of the devil.” Paul looked over my shoulder with a sour expression. “Well, I’ll be off. See you next time, chum.” He rose without another word and left the dining area. I looked over my shoulder to see what had pissed him off. “Hello, Adam.” “Vittorio…” Looking up into the Italian’s sunny smile, I found it hard to believe what Paul had said about him. He was just so darned attractive, and the memory of what we had shared the night before—and into the wee small hours—was enough to give me the beginning of a hard-on inside my briefs. “Sorry, I haven’t been to see you earlier,” Vittorio said, sitting beside me and touching my hand lightly. “I have had a hectic day.” “I’m sure.” I returned his smile. “Actually, it’s been a bit of rough day all around.” “Yes, my father was not very nice to you this morning.” “Why didn’t you tell me the captain is your dad?” “I didn’t think it important.” “Really? I would’ve thought it might just have cropped up at some point in our conversation.”

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Vittorio gave me a sly smile. “I was not thinking of my father while you were fucking me, Adam.” “Well okay, I’ll give you that one. So, are you busy later?” “Unfortunately, I’ll have to make an early night of it. I have a morning meeting with the Staff Captain and the engineers who will be making the improvements I have designed. Your casino is open so late…” “Two o’clock.” I shrugged. “Well, maybe tomorrow night?” “Maybe…” Vittorio touched my hand again. “I’ll come to your cabin.” “Uh…I’m sharing it this cruise with my boss, so…” Vittorio smiled. “Would he like to watch—or maybe join us?” “I doubt it,” I said, chuckling. “He’s terminally straight.” “Any man can be tempted.” “You think so? I’d like to see you try with Tom.” Vittorio’s lip curled in distaste. “He’s not attractive enough for me to try.” “Right.” I felt a sudden surge of relief as I saw the waiter headed our way carrying my dinner. Why did I have this urge to be alone? “Ah, food…” “I will leave you to enjoy it.” Vittorio stood and rubbed my shoulder. “Later.” “Um, yeah.” I sighed as I tackled my food. I just couldn’t seem to forget Paul’s earlier warning or the one word that stuck in my mind—backstabber. Had it just been sour grapes on Paul’s part, or was there a hidden dark side to Vittorio?

**** Later, after I had closed the casino and Tom had stowed the night’s takings in the safe, I wandered out onto one of the upper decks. I’d refused Tom’s invitation to join him and the guys for a drink in the disco, preferring to spend some time on my own after the hectic night in the casino. Howard might have been pissed earlier, but his chubby face had lit up with satisfaction as he’d read the figures I’d prepared for him at the close of the evening. Now, standing at the deck rail, feeling the warm breeze on my face, I breathed in the clean salty air and felt I might just get used to this life. Randy, and all the problems he’d brought to the table, seemed a long way off both in miles and in my mind. Having sex with

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Vittorio had felt like the break I’d needed to rid me of the often sad memories I harboured at times. Once Tom and Howard were off the ship and attending to business on shore, I had a feeling I would settle quite nicely into this laid back kind of life. All I had to do was make sure the dealers toed the line. I was suddenly aware of the soft sounds of guitar music being played nearby. I turned from the rail and walked slowly towards the source—a small bar decorated with a Hawaiian motif, bamboo walls and ceiling and lots of palm trees. The bar was empty save for a young man with dark-blond hair seated on a stool, totally immersed in his music, his fingers bringing a sweet Latin melody from his guitar. I climbed quietly onto a stool at the bar to listen, impressed with the guy’s obvious musical ability and very cute look. He was younger than me. I guessed him to be in his midtwenties. I applauded as the final chords died away. He looked up, startled, staring at me through pretty hazel eyes. “Oh hi...didn’t know I had an audience. I thought you were all gone.” I slipped off the stool, walked over to the podium and held out my hand. “Adam Brenner, I’m the casino manager. You play very well.” “Thanks.” He took my hand in a warm grasp. “Brett Jarvis. Welcome to my bar.” “Your bar?” Brett grinned, showing white even teeth. “I’ll be playing guitar here nine to one every night we’re at sea.” “Very nice. I’ll have to stop by to listen when I get a break from the casino.” His grin changed to a warm smile. “That would be cool. Say, would you like a beer? The bartender left me a couple chilling in the fridge.” “I’d love a beer.” He jumped off his stool and went behind the bar to retrieve the beers. I couldn’t help but notice that young Brett had a very cute butt, nicely showcased by the khaki chinos he was wearing. Is he gay? I wondered. My gaydar has never been reliable, and right then, I couldn’t be sure. Still, he seems like a nice guy, and this is a very pleasant way to wind down the evening. “So…” Brett’s smile was shy as he handed me a beer. “Casino manager…isn’t that usually a Brit’s job?”

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I chuckled as we settled back down on the barstools. “That’s what I hear, and this morning, the captain made no bones about the fact that he doesn’t like Americans running the casino.” “Or Americans in general, from what I understand,” Brett said. “Jim, our cruise director, told me to watch out for him. Apparently, he thinks we’re a sloppy lot and lack discipline.” “Well, he certainly can’t complain about your guitar playing,” I remarked, clinking his beer bottle with mine. “Cheers, by the way.” “Cheers and thanks.” We chugged our beer then shared a smile. “Play something for me?” I asked gently. “Sure.” Brett picked up his guitar. “What would you like to hear?” “Something soft and sweet, and romantic.” “Okay.” Brett’s fingers ran nimbly over the strings, and I closed my eyes letting the lilting cadences wash over me like a soothing balm. Just what the doctor ordered, I thought. A late night serenade being played by a sweet-looking young guy. When the last notes of the plaintive melody died away, I murmured, “That was beautiful. What’s it called?” He smiled. “I don’t know. I just made it up.” His eyes met mine as he added, “I think I’ll call it ‘Adam’s Tune’.” For a long moment we gazed at one another, and I had an almost overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss Brett’s full lower lip. “That is so nice of you.” “Hey guys!” We both turned to stare at the doorway where a tall, uniformed security guard was standing. “Sorry, but I gotta lock up here.” “No problem,” Brett said, sliding off his stool. “We were just going.” No we weren’t, I thought. But it was probably just as well we did. We walked out onto the deck together and finished our beers by the rail, gazing out into the moonlit night. “Well, it was really nice meeting you, Brett,” I said finally. “Tomorrow, we’re in port in Nassau,” he told me. “Maybe we could go for a drink? There’s a really cool pub there called the Green Shutters.”

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“Sounds good, but let me get back to you on that. The casino owner and the guy who hired me are onboard, and they just might have business to discuss.” Brett looked away. “Oh, okay.” I touched his arm. “No really, I’m not giving you the brush off. This weekend, I figured I’d be tied up with them—and, believe me, that wasn’t supposed to sound kinky. They’re the ones paying my salary, but after they leave on Monday, I’m all yours.” Brett chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that—after they leave.” He stifled a giant yawn. “Wow, I guess this day is catching up on me. I flew into Orlando this morning from San Diego, so I haven’t really had any sleep in a while.” “Then, off to bed with you, young man,” I teased. “Are you playing tomorrow night?” “Yeah, just for an hour after the midnight buffet.” “I’ll come by then.” Again, I was tempted to lean in for a kiss, but just then a couple of passengers strolled into view and stood near us at the rail, taking in the romance of the moonlight on the ocean. “G’night, Brett,” I whispered. “’Night. See you tomorrow.”

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Chapter Four

I hadn’t expected Tom to actually show up in the cabin we were sharing on that weekend cruise to Nassau, but I was awakened in the wee small hours by him stumbling about in the dark, bumping into my bunk and sprawling on top of me amid a cloud of beer fumes. “Tom, for Chrissakes, get off me!” “Oh, sorry,” Tom giggled then burped. “I thought you were pussy for a minute.” His hand slid over my bare chest. “You feel nice.” “You’re drunk as a skunk,” I muttered, switching on the light. I blinked at Tom as he sat on the edge of my bunk looking back at me with bleary eyes. “I fucked that Cindy,” he slurred proudly. “Got her panties down in record time, my boy. Man, she is one little raver. Who knew?” “So she’s not so prim and proper?” “Well, who can resist the Tomster? Plus, I told her she could have your job.” “What? Tom, you son of a—” “Just kidding. Well, I mean I did tell her that, but of course, I was lying.” I fell back on my pillow. “Tom, you are completely without ethics or scruples or morals or…or…” “All of the above, I know. I’m a shit—but I’m a good fuck!” “I wouldn’t know.” He leered at me. “Well, roll over, and I’ll show you.” “Tom, get on your own bunk and go to sleep.” I glared at him. “I suppose the other guys are all in the same shape as you?” “Worse.” He stood up unsteadily then flopped face down onto his bunk, fully dressed. “’Night. You sure you don’t wanna fuck?” “Goodnight, Tom. Yes, I’m sure.” Jeez.

****

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Next morning, after I’d showered and slipped on a tee and a pair of shorts, I left the comatose Tom on his bunk and went up on deck in search of coffee. It was the start of a beautiful day. The sun shone out of a brilliantly blue sky and the ocean was like glass apart from the waves created by the ship’s prow. “’Morning, Adam.” I glanced at the man standing next to me at the coffee urn. “Hi, Carl. Beautiful day.” The assistant purser smiled. “Glad to see you survived your initiation by fire—you know, the wrath of Borghese.” I shrugged, adding cream to my coffee. “Oh that. I’ve been around my share of bullies. He doesn’t bother me.” “Good but just a word of warning. Once he takes a dislike to someone, or something, he’s like a terrier with a bone. I overheard him tell one of the officers that he’s going to do his level best to get ‘the Americans’ off his ship.” “All the Americans? That’s a bit of a tall order, isn’t it? What about you guys?” Carl grimaced. “He just meant the casino crew.” “Well, he’s going to have a problem with that,” I said. “Howard Marsden signed a sixmonth contract with the cruise line owners—so, tough shit Captain Borghese. We’re here for some time.” “Good luck then.” Carl gave me a tight smile and left. I watched him go, wondering just how much credence I could put on what Carl had told me. It sure seemed as though the dealers and I were not top of the popularity stakes. I found a chair in the sun and sat down to enjoy my coffee. I just couldn’t let all this discord upset me. I had six months onboard the ship and damn if I wasn’t going to enjoy it—every day. “Adam.” I looked up at the growly voice and saw Tom glaring at me and looking thoroughly washed out. “’Mornin’, Tom. How’s the head—again?” “Awful.” He plunked himself down beside me. “You know, you hurt my feelings last night.” “I did?” I couldn’t resist a dig. “I’m surprised you can remember anything at all about last night.”

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“Well, for some reason I remember this—you spurned me last night.” I squinted at him. “I spurned you? What the hell are you talking about?” “You could have had me last night. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to wanting sex with another guy—and you told me to fuck off.” “I did not tell you to fuck off. You were a hundred and seven sheets to the wind, and you didn’t know what you were saying.” “But haven’t you ever wanted to have sex with me?” I looked at him in amazement. Did he really know what he was saying? “Tom, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. We’ve worked together for five years. I’ve known you, Mara and the kids for even longer, and never in all that time have you ever shown one bit of interest in me—at least not in that way. What the hell has gotten into you?” “Nothin’…and not you obviously.” “Tom, for crying out loud, cut it out, or tell me you’re joking.” “Okay, I’m joking.” He laughed out loud. “What? You think I really meant it?” “Well, you had me worried for a moment or two.” “Worried?” He dropped his voice to an almost whisper. “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t want to have sex with me—if I wanted to, that is?” I sighed. “Listen Tom, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I want to jump into bed with every guy I see.” He affected a hurt expression. “I’m not every guy, Adam. I’m your friend.” “Will you please not start this again? I’m gay, you’re straight and married, and as far as I’m concerned, never the twain shall meet. Okay? Besides, I don’t know how much of a friend you are, leaving me to face the captain and Howard on my own yesterday.” “I said I was sorry.” “Fine, but we have to maintain some kind of professionalism. One of the pursers told me Borghese wants us off the ship.” “That son-of-a-bitch,” Tom snarled. “Howard will sue if they try to break his contract.” “I’m sure we’re okay for the six months,” I said. “But I wouldn’t bet on getting an extension after that. Now, can I get you some coffee?” I shook my head in wonder as I poured him a coffee and refilled my own cup. What was it with straight men that made them think they were so irresistible to gay guys? Well,

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not this gay guy. I began to think that if I’d told Tom the truth—that I didn’t fancy him at all—he might just have burst into tears!

**** When I met up with Howard and Tom later, it was obvious Tom had told the attorney about Borghese’s threat. The casino was closed while we were in port so the three of us had dinner off the ship in a restaurant on Paradise Island. I could hardly believe the prices on the menu. Vegas had gotten expensive in the last five years, but Paradise Island was even more ridiculous. I was glad Howard had announced in advance that dinner was on him. “So, that fuckin’ blowhard wants to wreck my chances of making a bundle before I retire, does he?” Howard ranted as he swallowed his third cocktail of the evening. The fat man’s face was ruddy with anger, and I found myself hoping he wouldn’t have a heart attack and fall face down on the tablecloth. “Well, if we show them we’re just as reliable as the British casino concessions, we shouldn’t have any trouble,” I said, trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. “We just have to make sure the dealers don’t piss off the captain.” “That’s your job,” Howard rasped. “And yours, Tom. Maybe you should stay on for a week or two just to make sure everything is okay here.” Oh, God...please no, I groaned mentally. “Can’t do it, Howard,” Tom said immediately, much to my relief. “Mara’s out of town as of Tuesday so I have to look after the kids. Don’t worry. Adam can handle the dealers. They don’t know yet what a tyrant he can be.” “Really?” Howard fixed his stare on me, and I knew what he was thinking. Can a fag really control all those crazy kids who want nothing more than to get drunk and get laid every night? I chuckled. “Look, Howard. They’re like kids in a candy store right now what with all these lovely young ladies strolling about in bikinis. They don’t know which way to look first, but they’ll get used to it. They’ll settle down, and if they don’t, after the first one gets his ass fired, believe me, they will.” Howard grunted and threw back the rest of his cocktail. “I hope you’re both right.” He signalled the waiter over. “Another Manhattan, and let’s eat, guys—I’m starved.”

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I left them later, not wanting to join them at the gambling tables. One thing I’d learned from working in the gaming business, gambling was for suckers. I took a cab back to the ship and wandered up to the bar where I knew Brett would be playing. The sound of gentle guitar music wafted in the still night air as I climbed the stairs to the upper deck, and I smiled, remembering how Brett had sweetly named one of his compositions for me. I stood in the doorway of the bar, looking at Brett over the heads of the mostly attentive crowd, as he played a slow and sensuous bossa nova. He really is a cutie, I thought, watching his dark-blond head bob up and down to the rhythm of the melody. As the tune ended and the audience applauded, I moved over to the bar and ordered a beer. Finding an empty stool, I sat down, looking forward to talking with Brett when he took a break. “Adam, there you are.” The hand on my shoulder squeezed gently. “I’ve been searching the ship for you.” “Hi, Vittorio.” I looked up at the handsome Italian and smiled. “I had dinner with Howard and Tom over at Paradise Island.” Vittorio pouted. “Oh, what a pity, I was going to ask you to join my father and me for dinner earlier.” I almost choked. He must be joking. That’s the last thing I’d want to do. “I hardly think I’d be welcome at dinner with your father, Vittorio,” I said, quietly. “He’s made it quite clear to his officers that he wants me and the dealers off his ship.” “Oh, surely not. Who told you this?” “Just about everyone I’ve spoken to,” I replied, not wanting to name names. “Don’t worry, I don’t hold it against you. I’d loved to have had dinner with you—but not with your dear old dad.” Vittorio frowned. “He’s very nice when you get to know him.” “I’m sure he is, but I don’t think he wants to know me so please don’t go inviting me to have dinner with him. Or, if you don’t believe me, ask him first, and see what kind of response you get.”

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Vittorio’s frown deepened, but I was listening to Brett’s announcement that he was about to take a short break. I wondered if he would come over to join me when he saw Vittorio standing there, but just then one of the pursers walked over to us. “Mr. Borghese, you have a telephone call at the Purser’s office. It’s your wife. She said she’s been trying to contact you all evening, but your cell keeps going to voicemail.” The silence that fell between us was almost deafening. I wasn’t quite sure who was more dumbfounded by this bit of news—me or Vittorio. His eyes did a full right turn away from mine. “Grazie,” he muttered at the purser, his face turning all shades of red. “I’ll be right there.” He had the grace to look embarrassed as he continued to avoid my stare. “Sorry, I must go.” “I just bet you must.” I gave him the look of death. “Your wife? You’re just full of horse shit, aren’t you?” Vittorio fled without another word. “Hi, Adam...” Brett’s sweet face smiled at me. “Tell me something, Brett,” I growled. “Are you married, and is your father onboard this ship?” “Excuse me?” I gave out a half hearted kind of laugh. “Sorry, that wasn’t the way I intended to greet you. This has been a very illuminating time for me.” I gave myself a shake. “Like a beer?” “Please.” His fingers touched my arm lightly. “What’s wrong, Adam?” I ordered two beers then put my lips close to Brett’s ear and whispered, “Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by you telling me you’re gay, and that you’ll love me forever with a passion you can’t control.” He looked startled for a moment, then he chuckled, and his eyes twinkled as he replied, “Well, you’ve got one part right. The other I don’t know about—yet.” “Would you like to find out about the other?” “Very much.” “Then I promise I’ll sit here like a good boy, wait for you to finish your next set and not get drunk.”

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“Good.” Brett’s smile was sensual and seductive. “Because I want you to remember it all, in the morning.” “Will there be a test?” I teased. “You can bet on it.”

**** Brett’s cabin was tiny and without a porthole, yet to me as I held him in my arms and took his lips with mine, it felt like the most romantic place in the world. The kiss was long and sweetly passionate. Our lips and tongues moved together, probing, caressing as if we’d done this time and time again, instead of this being our very first kiss. One I’ll definitely remember in the morning, I thought, tightening my arms about Brett and grinding my hard cock into his crotch. His erection pushed back against mine as I slipped his hands over the round swell of his bottom, pulling him in closer. “Mmm…” His lips vibrated on mine as he voiced his pleasure. “You kiss good.” “You’re good to kiss,” I murmured. And he was. His mouth tasted sweet, his lips were warm and moist under mine, his tongue by turn gentle then fierce in its probing. This was so different from the other night with Vittorio. I told myself not to rush this. It felt so good just to have Brett in my arms and to stand there kissing him over and over. As much as I wanted to tear his clothes from him and ravish him, go down on him and taste his cock, I found myself totally into just taking our time. In fact, it was Brett who murmured with impatience and started pulling at my shirt, freeing it from the waistband of my pants and slipping his hands inside, stroking my torso, his thumbs gently rubbing over my nipples. I let him strip off my shirt, nuzzle me and lick me until he had every nerve ending in my body tingling with desire then I did it all for him. Slowly, teasingly, smiling into his eyes, I unhooked the top button of his chinos, unzipped him then slid my hand inside, gently squeezing his erection through the soft cotton of his briefs. His pants fell about his ankles, and I tugged down his briefs, letting his cock spring free. “Sweet,” I murmured, falling to my knees to claim my prize. He uttered a little gasp of pleasure as I took the head of his long slender cock between my lips and sucked him in, my

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tongue lapping at the hard flesh as I pulled him into my mouth. I took it all in down to the root, ‘til my nose was buried in his springy, sweet-smelling pubic hair. “Oh yes,” he whispered, running his fingers through my hair. “That feels so good…so good…” I cupped his balls in one hand while the other fingered the crack between his butt cheeks. He squirmed himself down on my middle finger, riding it up and down, while little whimpers of delight escaped his lips. His pre-cum pooled on my tongue, and I swallowed it down, relishing the tangy taste. I gazed up at him as I sucked. His slim torso was arched back showing every lean muscle and sinew under his smooth, faintly tanned skin, hairless but for the thin treasure trail of blond down that ran from his navel to his crotch. I released his cock and licked my way up that trail burying the tip of my tongue in his navel before sliding up to take each of his tiny nipples between my teeth, bringing squeaks of ecstasy from him. I kept my finger inside him, letting him continue to ride it as we kissed, our tongues slipping in and out of each other’s mouths, licking and probing as he clung to me. “You gonna fuck me?” he panted, pulling his mouth from mine. “Your wish is my command,” I managed to gasp. “Good, ‘cause I want you inside me like you wouldn’t believe.” We shucked off the rest of our clothes, and in two seconds, I had him flat on his back on his bunk, his legs in the air as I burrowed between them, bathing his hot hole with my tongue. “Oh, Jesus…Adam…” His moans and his obvious delight at what I was doing were turn ons I couldn’t begin to resist. I went deeper, his moans became louder, his body shuddering as he clutched at my head and gasped, “Oh, God…oh…Adam, I’m coming…” And he did, showering himself with his semen. I raked my tongue over his small tight balls and up to the head of his cock, licking at the vestiges of his orgasm. He gazed at me with a kind of adoration. “That was so incredible. No one’s ever done that for me before.” “They didn’t know what they were missing,” I murmured, nibbling on his juicy lower lip. My erection nestled between his thighs. “I still want to fuck you.”

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“I still want you to,” he said. Reaching behind himself, he opened the tiny drawer by his bunk and produced a condom packet and a small tube of lube. “I got these at the gift shop onboard…this afternoon.” I smiled and raised an eyebrow as I rubbed his nose with mine. “Expecting company, were you?” “Hoping.” He kissed me, slipping his tongue between my parted lips, getting me so hard I was fairly fumbling with the condom as I tried to keep the kiss going. His legs went back up over my shoulders as I lubed him up then pressed forward, the head of my cock pushing past his brief resistance. His breath shuddered in his chest as he took me in, his hands reaching up to stroke my hair, a smile of complete bliss on his lovely face. God, but he was so adorable. I felt a momentary twinge of regret that the latex sheath stopped me from getting the full effect of fucking him. I knew he’d feel like hot silk inside, and just the thought of that got me even harder and quickened my strokes, causing him to moan and whimper with pleasure. “Oh Jesus, Brett,” I whispered. “It feels so good inside you.” Sweat beaded on my forehead as I moved over him to a sensual rhythm I could feel all the way through my body. He wound his arms around my neck and raised himself up for a long, long kiss that had us both moaning into each other’s mouths. I knew I couldn’t hold back much longer, and I gripped his rock-hard erection in my fist, pumping it to match the rhythm our bodies moved to. His tongue swirling in my mouth, his hands gliding up and down my torso, the heat we’d created between us, all brought me to an explosive orgasm that wrenched a cry of delirious joy from me. It was echoed by Brett as he stiffened in my arms and released a torrent of hot cum that coated both our chests and splashed up under my chin. I collapsed on top of him, holding him pressed tight to my body as his lips kissed my ear, and he whispered, “That was hot.” Yes, it was hot. Brett was hot, and I couldn’t quite believe how lucky I was to find someone as sweet and loving as him. He curled up into my arms, kissing my jaw, rubbing my nose with his, and just being his adorable self. I sighed with happiness. He yawned and fell asleep in my arms.

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I must have dozed off too, for when I awoke I had a crick in my neck. His bunk was just way to narrow for two. I didn’t mind but looked forward to the time when Tom was off the ship and I had my cabin all to myself—to share with Brett.

**** Sunday and the day at sea on the return trip to Port Canaveral meant the casino was open all day. The weather had suddenly turned foul, the sea choppy, and many of the passengers had taken to their cabins feeling unwell. Despite that, the casino was busy. I had opened all the tables with Tom and me taking turns to relieve the dealers on their scheduled breaks. I found it hard to concentrate, my mind still full of thoughts of Brett and the sweet time we’d spent together. Even the heaving of the carpeted floor beneath my feet as the ship was buffeted by angry waves couldn’t quite dispel the pleasant memories of Brett’s smooth body and passionate kisses. The groans of the players at my table as I turned over my cards to reveal blackjack made me smile. I’d done a deal of groaning last night myself but for very different reasons. I looked up as I swept in the losing hands. Vittorio stood a few feet away, staring at me. What the hell did he want? The revelation that Vittorio had not a boyfriend in Milan but a wife had at first pissed me off. Brett had done a lot to help me out of that frame of mind, but seeing the Italian’s handsome mug with those big brown eyes now full of apology made me want to spit. Surely, he didn’t think I might still be interested? If he did, he was going to be disappointed. Cheating on a boyfriend would have been bad enough—but a wife? Vittorio was a creep, without a doubt—a gorgeous-looking creep, but a creep nevertheless. I glanced at my watch and noticed it was almost five. The casino closed for two hours from five to seven. “Last hand, ladies and gentlemen,” I announced. “Place your bets, please.” After I’d closed the table, Vittorio came over and sat down. I raised an eyebrow. “Table’s closed, sorry.” Vittorio gazed at me sadly. “I want to apologise for last night,” he said quietly. “Apology accepted.” “Then can I see you later?”

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“No, thanks.” “But I want to explain.” I locked up the table. “I’m busy right now, Vittorio,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I have all these tables to count down, and quite honestly, I’m not interested in an explanation. You are married—end of story.” I shrugged and abruptly turned away from him. Tom had been watching us through narrowed eyes. “What’s he want?” he asked as Vittorio pushed himself away from the table and disappeared into the crowd, leaving the casino. “Isn’t he the captain’s son?” “Yes, he is. We had a drink the other night, and he was asking if I was free later.” “You fuck him?” “Tom, that is none of your business,” I hissed, appalled that he would ask me that in front of the dealers. “And I certainly don’t want to discuss this in front of the other guys. Now, let’s get the tables counted, shall we?” Any further discussion was stalled when Tom staggered and fell against me as the ship gave an almighty heave and roll. “Shit, looks like we’re in for a bad one,” he muttered, gripping my shoulders. I shook him off and strode over to look out through the large windows that flanked one side of the casino. I was shocked to see water swirling over the outside deck. Man, if the waves were reaching this high… “Hey Tom, look at this.” Tom and the other dealers joined me at the window. The sky had turned an ominous greenish-black, the clouds heavy with rain. Jeff and John exchanged worried glances while Cindy, looking greenish, ran from the casino. “How could the weather change so fast?” John asked, his nose pressed to the glass. “It was blue skies and sunshine this morning.” “This happens all the time,” Tom said, like he knew what he was talking about. “We’re in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean so you have to expect this kind of thing.” I wondered where Brett was, and if he was prone to sea-sickness. I should go check on him. “Well, I guess they’ll tell us if there’s any cause for alarm,” I said. “Let’s finish up here and take a break.”

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**** Later, I ran below and tapped on Brett’s cabin door. “Come in,” said a weak voice. I opened the door and slipped inside. Brett, lying on his bunk, smiled wanly up at me. “I think I’m sick,” he said, stating the obvious. I sat by him on the bunk. “You poor thing,” I sympathised, kissing his cheek. “Can I get you anything?” “You could shoot me then my suffering would be over.” I chuckled and stroked his forehead. “You’ll be okay. If it’s any consolation, nearly all the passengers are in the same boat, so to speak.” “It isn’t.” He tried for a smile. “But I’m glad you came by, Adam.” “Do you have some Dramamine handy?” “I took it already. Didn’t work.” “It will. Just give it a chance to kick in.” Brett yawned. “I have to work later.” “I think the Dramamine is taking effect. You should try to get some sleep.” “Would you come by and wake me? I have to be in the bar at nine.” “Sure.” I bent to kiss his cheek again. “But if this storm keeps up, I don’t think you’ll have much of an audience.” “Wake me anyway.” He yawned again. “Okay. I’ll come by about eight to see how you are.” “Thanks, Adam.” I kissed his lips and left. I climbed the stairs to the Purser’s deck and saw Carl on duty at the counter. “Hey,” Carl greeted me. “You don’t get seasick?” “I guess not. This is my first time on a ship so I didn’t know what to expect. You seem to be all right.” “I’m fine, but I’ve been doing this for five years.” Carl chuckled. “We’ve cancelled the first sitting in the dining room—just made it all open seating, and that’s if anyone shows up. The smell of food doesn’t go well with mal de mer.”

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“That’s a nice way of saying ‘puking your brains out’.” I left him and went on up to the staff dining room. Vittorio was sitting at one of the tables. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said gravely. “That’s nice.” I sat down opposite him and picked up the menu, studying it intently. “I want to explain.” I sighed and lowered the menu. “What’s to explain? You’re married. I’m not interested in married guys.” “We’re getting a divorce.” “I’m sorry.” Vittorio reached for my hand. “But don’t you see, caro? I’ll be single, free to live my life the way I want.” I pulled my hand away. “I thought you were already doing that. Look,” I locked eyes with him. His expression was one of longing, but I wasn’t about to weaken now. “I just came out of a shitty relationship that went on for far too long. I have no intentions of hooking up with a guy who cheats on his wife or anyone else. There’s an old saying—‘Once a cheat, always a cheat’. Sorry, Vittorio, but I’m not interested. The other night was great, but—” “But there will be other great nights,” Vittorio blurted. “No, there won’t. Well, not between us, anyway.” Vittorio’s face darkened. “You are refusing me?” I smirked. “Refusing you? Yesterday, I was spurning someone, now I’m refusing.” “You can joke about this?” Vittorio sputtered, his eyes growing cold with anger. “I’m sorry, Vittorio.” I leaned back in my chair. “We’ve only known each other a few days, we’ve had sex once, and really, I’m making this easy for you. Your father, the captain of this ship, doesn’t like me. What do you think he’d say if you told him you and I were having some kind of relationship? Does he even know you’re gay, or bi-sexual, or whatever you are?” “Dio, no… He must never find out.” “Well, that’s just one more reason why I have to refuse you, Vittorio. I came out of the closet a long time ago, and I have no intentions of getting back in.” I looked at his handsome

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face, now angry and sullen, then picked up the menu again. Without another word, he rose from the table and left the dining room. “Jesus,” I muttered to myself. Three days on this ship and I’d had enough dramas to last a year. The one bright spot had been meeting Brett. I just hoped he wasn’t hiding some deep and dark secret! “Hey, pardner.” Tom beamed at me as he slipped into the seat Vittorio had just vacated. “I just talked with the Chief Purser who tells me there will be no entertainment on board tonight. That includes us. So, what d’ya say to joining me and the guys in the disco bar?” “No thanks.” “Oh, come on, Adam. Might help to loosen you up a little.” He winked at me lewdly. “No, thanks—and cut out the innuendos. You were joking, remember?” Tom stuck his lower lip out. “You never come drinking with me anymore.” “Because you drink too much,” I told him, “and so do Jeff and John. I’m just not into that ‘getting shit-faced syndrome’ you guys seem to love so much. Putting up with that while living with Randy was enough. I like a beer or a glass of wine now and then, but bingedrinking is not for me, and it shouldn’t be for you either, Tom. Not at your age.” “My age?” He gave me an affronted look. “I’m only five years older than you.” “And you have a wife and kids, and should act more responsibly.” “Shut up, Adam,” Tom growled. “You sound like my fucking father.” “And you don’t pay any attention to him, either,” I said, chuckling. I looked up at the waiter hovering by the table. “Just the chicken quesadilla and an iced tea, thanks.” “I’ll have the same,” Tom muttered. “But, with a beer.”

**** I was glad the entertainment had been called off because of the storm. That meant Brett wouldn’t have to put on a happy face when he felt more like throwing up. I decided I’d let him sleep some more so I waited ‘til closer to nine before going down to his cabin. When I tapped on the door, I got a surprising “Come on in” instead of the sickly voice I expected. Brett was standing in the middle of the cabin, naked but for a towel round his waist. “Hi. Just got out of the shower.”

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“You don’t have to work tonight.” “I know. One of the pursers came by to tell me, but I’m feeling better so I thought I’d shower, just in case I had any gentlemen callers.” “You get a lot of those?” “Scores, hundreds, actually.” He grinned at me. “But you’re the first one tonight.” I pulled him into his arms and kissed his neck, savouring his fresh-from-the-shower, damp skin. “You smell good,” I whispered. Brett placed his hand on my crotch. “You feel good, but you have on way too many clothes.” “Why don’t you take them off me?” “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Brett said, unbuttoning my shirt. “I’m so slow at times.” “Slow?” I trailed my lips over his smooth jaw. “Not a word I’d use to describe you.” He chuckled as he slipped off my jacket then my shirt. “I’m really a shy guy,” he said, kissing my neck. “It’s you who’s making me lose my inhibitions.” “I’ll help you lose some more,” I murmured, pulling off his towel and revealing his rising erection. “Mmm…” I took his hot throbbing cock in my hand and pumped it gently. He fell against me as the ship lurched suddenly. I tightened my arms around him, we kissed, and before you could say ‘land ho’, we were at it full force. As the cabin floor rocked and rolled, so did we, and later he swore he’d never felt anyone so deep inside him as I was that night.

**** Eventually, the storm began to subside while I, nestled in the narrow bunk holding a sleeping Brett in my arms, was content to listen to the thrum of the ship’s engines and the occasional creaking of metal and wood as The Maid of the Seas ploughed its way back to port. It had been quite a day, I mused, and tomorrow I could wave Howard and Tom goodbye— not with any sadness. I’d have my cabin all to myself and could have Brett sleep over with me. I could ask my cabin steward to have the two bunks pushed together to give us more room for lovin’. And, hopefully, Vittorio would take the hint. Could I have made it any

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plainer I was no longer interested? Maybe he’d find someone else to set his sights on. A handsome guy like that shouldn’t have any trouble hooking up. I just wished I wouldn’t keep remembering what Paul Peterson, the hotel manager had called Vittorio—backstabber.

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Chapter Five

Two weeks went by without too many problems, except the usual ones encountered in a casino. Grumpy customers, pissed at losing their money—as if someone had held a gun to their heads and demanded they play cards until all their money had run out. Howard’s mandate didn’t include extending credit to washed-out punters so ‘Sorry’ was all I could tell them as sincerely as I could. Brett and I had been seeing each other every moment we could, and I had to admit those were the best parts of the day for me. We’d explored Nassau together, wandering through the Straw Market on Prince George Dock, finding the English pub, the Green Shutters, and the beaches at either end of the island. The dealers, after I’d given them a firm pep talk had settled down, and so far had managed to stay out of trouble—at least, as far as I could tell. Brett enjoyed scuba diving when we spent the day at the ‘out’ island we visited every cruise, and had been taking lessons from Ed Constanza, one of the dive team pros. Ed had recently taken on a new dive instructor named Andy Remick, a handsome blond hunk who was an immediate hit with all the ladies. Ed told Brett taking Andy on had given his business the best boost it had ever had. After seeing the long line of young ladies at the concession counter all eager to learn how to dive, I could see what he meant. Andy was friendly as well as easy on the eye and he would join Brett and me on port days, either going for a pint at the pub or tagging along to Cable Beach where we would grab some rays and suck down a Bahama Mama or two. Andy was straight as far as I could figure but seemed to really enjoy our company. When I asked if he’d left a wife or girlfriend at home, he told me he’d sworn off getting involved with any one girl. “Safety in numbers,” he said. “I’d just like to play the field for a time.” He never did say much about what he’d done prior to coming on board The Maid of the Seas. I was feeling pretty contented until a crew meeting called by the captain. He had asked the cruise line owners to attend, and after introducing the men as Mr. Al Oppenheimer and Mr. Edward Blaise, the first thing out of his mouth was a litany of complaints about how

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badly the casino was being run and how he had forewarned of this. I listened, my jaw tight with anger as Borghese informed everyone present that he personally had received passenger complaints on a daily basis. “That’s simply amazing, Captain,” I interrupted, standing up. I shrugged as I continued. “I’m in the casino every single night we’re open, and I haven’t received one legitimate complaint. My dealers are courteous, despite having to take rudeness from some of the passengers. If you’re talking about people griping that they’ve lost money—that’s a different story, and frankly not something you should be concerned with.” “I beg your pardon.” Borghese puffed out his chest as he glared at me. “I am concerned with what goes on in every corner of this ship. When people complain to me of the casino manager’s rudeness I have to take appropriate action.” “Then your first step should have been to talk to me about this in private,” I rasped, “rather than to try to humiliate me in front of the entire crew. You have made it quite clear from the very beginning that you disapprove of ‘the Americans’ running the casino. Well, that’s your hang-up. I suggest we ask the cruise line owners if they object to Howard Marsden, who incidentally pays a large sum of money every week for the privilege of running the casino, if they object to Howard’s choice of casino manager and dealers.” “You see?” Borghese turned to the two men sitting behind him. “His arrogance knows no bounds.” Al Oppenheimer, a big robust man with greying hair, pulled himself to his feet. “Well, Captain, what you see as arrogance, I see as a man defending himself, and rather well, against something that he is totally right about. This should have been discussed in private.” “Hear, hear!” I looked over at Paul Peterson who had uttered his support. He was sitting behind Vittorio who turned and gave him a cold stare. Well now, I mused. The sides are being drawn up... Borghese looked stunned. “But Mr. Oppenheimer, I am in charge of this ship—” “Yes, you are,” Oppenheimer agreed. “And I suggest you carry on with this meeting. We have other business to discuss, so we’ll consider the matter you raised noted, and we will deal with it in private so as not to waste the time of the other departments.” He looked over at me. “Can you give us some of your time after we’re finished here?” “Certainly,” I said, sitting down.

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“Well done,” someone murmured behind me, but I couldn’t tell who it was. The meeting progressed with restaurants, gift shops, the Pursers’ office, cabin services all being discussed and changes suggested. I sat in silence, my mind racing as to just what I was going to say to the cruise line owners. Borghese was out to get me fired, no doubt of it—and he still could—even though Howard had signed a six-month contract. There was no guarantee that it had to include Adam Brenner as manager. If the captain was successful in getting me axed, what I would miss the most was not necessarily the job—I could get a job back in Vegas—but Brett. Damn, I was really going to miss him. The thought of that made me feel sick to my stomach. I stole a sideways glance at Vittorio and didn’t miss the smirk on his face. That son-of-abitch. How could someone that great looking be such an asshole?

**** Brett found me sunning myself on the aft deck reserved for employees. “I heard what happened at the meeting,” he said, sitting on the side of the chaise lounge I was lying on. After my meeting with the owners and a sniping Captain Borghese, I figured I needed to get away and fume quietly on my own. Still, I was glad Brett had come looking for me. He ran his hand over my bare chest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.” I took his hand and held it pressed to my lips. “Thanks. I wish you’d been there just so I could have seen your sweet smile.” “How did it go with the owners?” “Okay. It’s hard for them to go against the captain they hired to run their ship, but I think they could see there was some prejudice there. Anyway, I’m not fired—at least not yet. They’re going to have a meeting with my bosses next week, so I’m reprieved ‘til then.” “What will you do if—” “Hey…” I put a finger on Brett’s lips to still his question. “Let’s not get gloomy. Al Oppenheimer, one of the owners, was really great. I think he’ll support my opinion that Borghese is just nit-picking, and we should just get on with our jobs.” “God, I hope so.” He leaned forward and kissed me. “But if they let you go, I’ll go with you.”

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“Brett, you can’t give up your career for me,” I said, although I was touched by his offer. “It may never even come to that. I’m pretty sure Howard and Tom don’t want to start looking around for another casino manager at this stage of the game. Besides, according to Paul Peterson, this is Borghese’s last cruise. He’s supposed to retire in three months.” “Good riddance.” I grinned. “And so say all of us.” Brett tweaked my left nipple. “I’m getting horny sitting here looking at you all naked and oily.” He massaged the bulge in my swim shorts. “Like me to take care of that?” “Like I need to be asked twice.” I sat up and held him, kissing the smooth skin below his chin. “Let’s go below, me hearty, or is it me hardy?” Brett giggled. He had to love me to appreciate that lame joke. “Aye, aye, cap’n.” He leaned in, and we rubbed noses. “You can shiver me timbers and drop your anchor in me any time.” Laughing like idiots, we stood up holding one another, but our idyll went in the Dumpster when we turned to find Vittorio staring at us, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “So, you refused me for this?” he rasped, gesturing at Brett in a dismissive manner. “No.” I cursed mentally seeing the shocked look on Brett’s face. “I refused you because you’re a married man who cheats on his wife.” I gripped Brett by the arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Brett jerked his arm free and stared at me through glistening eyes. “You were with him?” “Just one night, Brett.” “Jesus, how many other one nighters did you have before me?” “None.” I reached for him again. “Look, we don’t want to talk about this here. Let’s go to my cabin and—” “No! I don’t want to talk about this here or anywhere, for that matter. Talk to him instead.” As Brett turned away and started down the steps to the deck below, he jerked his thumb at Vittorio. “Maybe he’s still interested.” Vittorio met my furious stare with a smirk. “Not very understanding, is he?”

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“Fuck off,” I snarled. I ran down the steps after Brett hoping to catch up with him before he made it back to his cabin, but the deck was crowded with passengers watching pool games, and I lost sight of Brett as I tried to push my way through the crowd. Whoa, I told myself. Maybe I should just let Brett calm down a little before trying to talk to him. Right now, he might be too pissed to hear any of my weak-sounding apologies. Not that I’d done anything wrong, really. The night I’d spent with Vittorio, I hadn’t even known of Brett’s existence. Still, I could understand his dismay at finding out about it the way it had just happened. I should have told him about it, if just in passing. Damn. I glanced at my watch. Almost time to open the casino, anyway. I’d catch up with Brett during the dinner break. Maybe by then he’d be willing to listen...

**** I spent the next three hours on tenterhooks. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate on the table games, the vision of Brett’s hurt expression kept appearing before my eyes. I took over at the roulette table for a while, hoping that might help me keep on track, and for a time it did, but I was glad when I could ‘blow the whistle’ and announce, “Last hands, ladies and gentlemen. The casino re-opens at seven.” I toyed with the idea of knocking on Brett’s cabin door to see if he was more in the mood to listen but decided against it. I didn’t want to perhaps end up trying to talk to Brett through a closed door—too many prying ears behind too thin walls. Sighing, I went below to my cabin and showered then changed into my tux ready for the evening shift. Maybe Brett would be in the dining room. Not the perfect place for a makeup conversation, but generally, everyone was too busy yacking about their own problems to notice ours. My heart sank as I noticed Brett’s absence from the room. The dealers had commandeered their usual table and yelled at me to join them. Even though I didn’t much feel like putting up with their straight banter, I sat with them—any port in a storm! Jeff was in fine form, regaling us with his latest exploit in ‘babedom’ as he put it. “Man, she is sweet—barely legal I’d say. Her folks are on the cruise with her. Dad thinks she’s in bed right after the midnight buffet, and so she is, with me.”

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“Jeff, be careful,” I warned. “I don’t want to sound like a party pooper, but dads don’t like to think of their daughters getting into bed with strange young men.” “And they don’t come any stranger than Jeff,” Cindy said, rolling her eyes. “Oh, you’re just mad ‘cause Tommy-boy left you high and dry,” Jeff growled. “Tommy-boy is a married man,” I reminded them. “Look, we’ve had this talk before. I don’t want to spoil your fun, but you have all got to be careful. The first whiff of trouble—a complaint from a parent, or some girl not wanting to get off the ship at the end of the cruise because she’s madly in love you with one of you, and the captain will be on my case quicker than you can say ‘dick’. So let’s play it smart, shall we?” As I got up from the table, I had the distinct impression they all wished they hadn’t asked me to join them. Paul, and Clive, the food and beverage manager, were leaving at the same time and invited me to join them for a drink in the main bar. I accepted just so it would fill in time before I had to open the casino and take my mind off Brett—fat chance, but worth a try. Paul and Clive were nice guys, and had taken my side in my ongoing battle with the captain. Paul was straight and married but had that slightly fey manner a lot of British men seem to project. Clive was a radical queen and made no attempt to hide it. “You look like you need cheering up, love,” he remarked as we settled ourselves in one of the side booths. He’d brought me glass of wine from the bar. “Borghese still being a cunt, is he?” I’ve never used that word to describe any woman I’ve ever known, and it always surprised me when used on a man, but I’d noticed the Brits said it a lot—even to describe inanimate objects. ‘Cunting thing’ was used to describe practically anything that didn’t work, and was said many times at the meetings—much to Captain Borghese’s displeasure, of course. “Well, we’re not exactly hitting it off, but I just have a case of the blues,” I replied. “Brett Jarvis, the guitar player,” Paul told Clive. “Oh…” Clive looked at me with big eyes. I stared at Paul. “How the hell did you know that?” “I overheard Vittorio telling one of my maître d’s. Sorry chum, but the gay network on board this ship is active twenty-four-seven.”

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“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “Shit, I don’t want Brett to know we’re the subjects of gossip on the ship.” “Too late for that, I think,” Clive said, sipping his wine. “Vittorio’s a vicious queen under that smooth and charming Latin exterior. He’s lovely on the outside, but—” “Yeah, well Paul did tell me he’s a backstabber.” “And not in a nice way,” Clive said, giggling. We all chuckled. “Definitely not in a nice way.” But I was worried, and after I left Paul and Clive, I wanted to find Brett and make things right with him. If any of this got back to him, he’d be devastated. I looked at my watch—no time to go looking for him. I had to open the casino. Already there were would-be punters sitting at the tables, anxious to pit their skills against Lady Luck. I bumped into Andy, the dive instructor, on my way to the casino. He looked at me strangely. Oh, oh, I thought, he’s heard about my one night of lust with Vittorio. Probably thinks I’m a shit… “Adam, can I have a word with you?” he asked, taking my arm. “Sure…” I followed him out onto the deck and over to a quiet corner near the lifeboats. “What’s up?” “I need a favour,” he said. “Tomorrow when we dock in Port Canaveral I might be in for some trouble.” “What kind of trouble?” “My, uh…wife called me. She said she’d be waiting with the cops to arrest me.” “Arrest you? What for?” “I haven’t been paying her alimony or the child support she was awarded.” I looked at him in amazement. Another guy who’d never mentioned he was married— and this one was a deadbeat dad to boot! “Well, what is it you want me to do?” I asked warily, hoping he wasn’t going to ask me to float him a loan. “Well, I’ve noticed you usually leave the ship with the other dealers when we get to Canaveral.” “Yeah, we usually go out to Merritt Island for lunch.”

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“Well, I was thinking, if I got in the middle of you guys, maybe I could get through without her seeing me.” “Oh, I don’t know, man…” I didn’t like this one bit. Being complicit in his scheme to cheat his wife and kids out of the money he owed didn’t sit well with me at all. “I don’t know if I want to get the guys mixed up in this.” I knew they probably would go along with it. They all liked Andy and would want to help him, but I still didn’t like it. “Let me think it over,” I said, finally. “Sure, but don’t take too long. We’re in port, day after tomorrow.”

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Chapter Six

About midnight, I asked Jeff if he’d take over for me while I went to the restroom, then I ran like hell to the bar on the upper deck where Brett played to his late night crowd. He usually took a break around then just as the midnight buffet was opening up. I hoped he’d listen and meet me later after the casino closed. I got lucky. The bar was quiet, and he was just about heading out on his break. “Brett…” He looked my way, and for a moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of relief on his face then he frowned. “What do you want?” “To talk to you—later. Just give me a few minutes when I get through tonight. Please?” His eyes studied me for a moment or two then he said, “Okay,” and the breath I’d been holding while waiting for his answer escaped in a long sigh of happy relief. “Great,” I said and meant it. “Here?” “I’ll be waiting.” I just wished he’d smiled, but I guess that would’ve been asking a lot at that precise moment. “See you then,” I said and hurried all the way back to the casino, feeling a lot better than I had earlier. Jeff was glad to see me come back. “That captain guy was here looking for you.” “So, didn’t you tell him I was taking a leak?” “Yeah but he seemed kinda agitated.” He looked over my shoulder. “Oh, oh, he’s baaaack!” “Mr. Brenner.” Borghese’s smooth, accented voice gave me the creeps. Now what? I turned and gave him a small smile. “Yes, Captain, how can I help you?” “A word with you, please. Away from here, if you can spare the time.” Oh, oh... He was being way too polite. I joined him outside the circle of tables, and he ushered me outside the casino onto the wide landing at the top of the ‘Grand’ staircase.

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It wasn’t until I was face to face with him that I realised he’d had a few too many. Paul had told me earlier that Borghese was a lush, but I’d never seen any sign of it ‘til now. “Your lady dealer…” Borghese swayed slightly as he spoke. “She is very attractive, no?” “Yeah, she’s cute.” He frowned. “More than cute, Mr. Brenner. I feel you do not have an eye for the ladies. She is una bella ragazza!” “Okay.” I looked at him as he continued to sway. “And your point is?” “Why, I would like you to introduce me to her, of course.” “Oh…right, I see.” Was he joking? The guy was old enough to be Cindy’s father—on the other hand, some girls like older men, and Cindy might just like the idea of the Captain escorting around in her spare time. Hmm… This just might get him off my back. “Well, Cindy gets a break in about ten minutes,” I told him. “Why don’t I bring her into the bar where you will just happen to be?” He beamed at me as though we were old buddies. “I will be waiting,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. Well, if I’d known pimping was going to make us friends… “Hey, Cindy.” I sidled up to her table when I got back to the casino. “How’d you like to meet Il Capitan?” I asked quietly so the guys at her table wouldn’t hear. “You mean the old guy in white who keeps leering at me?” she asked over her shoulder. “That’s the one.” “Sure. He might ask me to have dinner at his table one night.” Somehow, I doubted that. “When you take your break, I’ll introduce you.” “Cool.” I was glad she thought so. It made me feel less guilty. If she’d turned up her nose or gone “Ew,” I’d have told Borghese no can do. He was still swaying slightly, but he beamed at us as I escorted Cindy into the bar. “Captain Borghese, I’d like you to meet Cindy Horner, our ace dealer.” I made the introductions then stepped aside, not knowing if I could stomach watching him put the make on Cindy. When you don’t like someone, just about everything they do sets your teeth on

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edge. Like the way he bent over her hand to kiss it. Ugh. As I left the bar, I could hear Cindy giggling at something he’d said. Way to go, Cindy. The rest of the evening went without incident. Cindy came back from her break saying Borghese was going to wait ‘til we closed shop then take her for a drink. “He’s kinda cute, really,” she said. “He’s kinda drunk,” I told her. “Just be careful.” “Okay, Dad.” She grinned at me. “I’m always careful.” Yeah, like she was with Tom. **** As I climbed the steps to where Brett said he would wait for me, I felt a cold rush of apprehension. What if he didn’t want to listen and told me to go to hell? What if he wasn’t even in the bar? What if…what if…? I could drive myself crazy with what ifs. He was standing at the deck rail, drinking a beer and gazing out across the moonlit ocean. The bar was dark and locked up, and there was no one else around. “Hey,” I said softly. He turned and gave me a long searching look as if he was trying to remember what it was about me he liked. “Hey.” He held out a beer bottle to me. “Thanks.” I took a long chug from the bottle then smiled at him. “How was your evening?” “Busy. Tips were good.” “That’s good.” This small talk would drive me nuts in two seconds. I took a deep breath. “Brett, I’m sorry.” “For what?” “For what? For…for not telling you about Vittorio—for spending the night with him.” “How was it?” “How was it?” “Yeah—let’s see, on a scale of say, one to ten—one being awful, ten being oh, my god, Oh My GOD! How was it?”

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“Brett…” I gaped at him. I couldn’t believe he’d really asked me that question. “Brett,” I said again, weakly. “I don’t know how to answer that.” “What—you’re afraid I might ask you to compare?” What the hell? I stared at him, experiencing one of those rare moments in my life when I’m actually speechless. This wasn’t going the way I’d expected. Where was he going with this? Wait…did I just see a hint of laughter in those innocent eyes of his? Did his lips just twitch? The little fucker was pulling my leg. Okay, two can play at this game… “Well, now that you ask,” I said airily, “if I was going to compare the two of you, I’d have to give the edge to…” I faltered, not really wanting to play this game. All I wanted was for Brett and me to be on the same page again, holding one another, kissing—and everything else that comes after. Brett smirked. “So, are you going to keep me in suspense all night?” “Okay, let me put it this way. Vittorio and I had sex—sex that was just what I needed at the time. You and I—I like to think of what we had that first night as making love, sweet, passionate love that blew my socks off.” He giggled. The son-of-a-bitch giggled then he threw himself into my arms, almost knocking the wind out of me. The touch of his lips, the feel of his lithe body once again in my arms was enough to send me over the edge. “You brat,” I breathed in his ear. “You just wanted to see me squirm, didn’t you?” “You’re still squirming,” he said, pushing his crotch into mine. “Feels good though— nice and hard.” “So you’re not mad about, you know…Vittorio?” He leaned back a little and looked me in the eye. “I was mad at first—jealous, I suppose, that you’d had him before me. My ego was ruffled. And of course, I kept wondering how I measured up against him. He is pretty amazing to look at, while I’m—” “Adorable,” I said, nibbling on his plump lower lip. “Flatterer.” He kissed me back and smiled. “It was kinda fun though to see you lost for words for a moment or two—Mr. Cool and Sophisticated Casino Manager, just a little shaken up.”

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“Hmm…” I narrowed my eyes, hoping to look somewhat threatening. “I think you need a little disciplining.” I slipped my hand down to his butt and delivered a stinging slap to one of his round cheeks. He writhed against me, his breath warm on my ear. “Oh yeah, spank me…” Well, here was a side of him I hadn’t yet explored. I grinned and rubbed his butt where I’d spanked him. “I think we’d better go below, don’t you?” “Yeah.” He gave me a long, languorous kiss. “You ready to have your socks blown off again?” “I’m ready.”

**** Kissing Brett was something I just knew I would never get tired of. His lips were a work of art, most beautifully formed, the top curving into a perfect cupid’s bow, the lower, plump and delectable. I liked to savour that lower lip, nibbling on it gently, brushing it with the tip of my tongue, making him whimper softly as his tongue tried to push past mine and enter my mouth. We could do this forever it seemed, while our hands undid buttons and zippers then stroked and caressed warm bare skin, bringing us both to a fever pitch of excitement and desire. I let my hands stray over Brett’s sweet bare butt, spanking it gently while he wriggled his hips, grinding his erection against mine. “Mmm,” he murmured. “I could take more of that.” “Really? I hadn’t figured you for the S and M type.” “I’m not—well, not the hard-core stuff anyway. I’m more the S and T type.” “S and T?” I chuckled. “Sounds kinky. What the heck is it?” “Slap and tickle. It’s a Brit expression. I had an English boyfriend once who told me that’s what they call sex over there—except he took it a bit further. You know, slapping and tickling.” He poked me in the ribs for emphasis. I jumped. “Oh no, you don’t,” I muttered, grabbing his hand.

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“Aha, ticklish, eh?” he hooted, pulling me down onto the bunk. He lay on top of me and started tickling me like mad. “Stop it!” I yelled, rolling him over and pinning his arms down. “Yes, Brett, I’m ticklish. And it’s a sure-fire way of killing my hard-on.” “Aw, well we can’t have that, can we?” He smiled up at me sweetly. “Brat,” I whispered, lowering my head to kiss him. He opened to me immediately, and there I was again, lost in the sweet sensations his lips could bring me, making me harder than a steel pipe. “Put it in me,” he murmured, encircling my waist with his legs. “That was the plan.” I reached for my supply of lube and condoms. “We should get tested,” he said, stroking my face gently. “Yes, we should. There’s a clinic on Merritt Island.” “Tomorrow.” “Right, tomorrow.” I kissed him as I rolled the condom over my aching erection. He raised his hips so I could lube him up and gave me a Cheshire cat smile as I entered him. “Oh, yeah…” His sigh of complete contentment said it all. “I love you,” I told him as I sank balls deep, inside him. His smiling eyes met mine and held me in their gaze for a long, long moment. “I love you, too,” he said. “Now fuck me, lover. Fuck me.” And I did, pumping in and out of him with rapid strokes until his eyes glazed over and rolled back in his head with ecstasy. I lowered my head so I could lick his chest and nibble on his nipples. His body heaved and bucked under me as he came with a moaning shout, his ass muscles contracting around my cock, ripping my orgasm from me in jolting spasms. I collapsed on top of him, crushing him to me until our trembling bodies stilled and our breathing returned to normal. Later, as we lay still wrapped in one another’s arms, I told him about Andy wanting me and the dealers to cover for him in Canaveral. “But you’re not going to, are you?” he asked, stroking my chest. “I don’t want to. There’s something scuzzy about it. Makes me wonder if he’s the nice guy we all think he is.” “I’ll ask Ed what he thinks,” Brett said, licking my left nipple.

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I shivered and felt myself get hard again. “Yeah, I wonder why Andy didn’t ask the dive team to back him up.” Brett’s hand slid down over my torso and found my growing erection. “Mmm…there’s more of you guys,” he said, bringing my cock to attention. “You’re probably right.” His lips met mine and that was the end of that conversation.

**** The following morning, I stood on the deck staring at the outline of a space shuttle on the launching pad at Cape Canaveral. In about an hour, we’d be disembarking, and Brett and I would take a cab over to the clinic at Merritt Island. I wasn’t nervous about being tested, and neither, it seemed, was Brett. He’d told me he couldn’t wait for the time we could dispense with protection, and he could feel my hard flesh inside him for real. Just the thought of that was making me hard. I had half-heartedly agreed to let Andy hide in our midst as we left the ship, mostly because Ed had said his divers would join us, providing even more cover for the deadbeat dad. I got the impression that Ed didn’t approve of this either, but was going along with it just so he wouldn’t lose a competent employee. Carl joined me at the rail. “I hear there’s to be an arrest made at the dock when we get in,” he said. I glanced at him, startled. “An arrest?” “Yeah...we got a message from the customs officials. They, and the police, will be checking everyone, passengers and crew, as they get off the ship.” “Wow,” I muttered, and thought, Customs and police for a man who hasn’t paid his alimony on time? Seems a bit over-the-top. “What did this guy do?” “No idea. I don’t even know if it is a man or a woman.” He lowered his voice. “Keep this under your hat. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. See you later.” “Yeah, later.” Something about this was really starting to worry me, and more than ever, I didn’t want my guys to be mixed up in it. As we pulled into port, I saw at least half a dozen black and whites lined up dockside.

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No way, no way. Something’s really wrong here. I ran down below and searched for Ed. He was in conversation with some passengers, but excused himself when he saw me waving at him like an agitated monkey. “What?” He looked pissed. “Have you seen all those cop cars on the dock?” I whispered. “No way can it just be he’s behind on his alimony!” I took his arm and hustled him out on deck. “What the…?” He fairly goggled at the sight of so much police presence. “I’ll tell him not to get off—” “Are you nuts?” I hissed at him. “If they don’t find him when we get off, they’ll search the ship. You want to get mixed up in that? It’ll mean your licence, Ed.” “Damn,” he muttered, looking unsure of what to do next. “Look,” I said. “Andy knows the score. If he gets arrested, you can’t make it your problem, too.” Ed grimaced. “You’re right. We said we’d do him this one favour—after that, he’s on his own.” I took another look at the police cars. “His wife must be awful mad at him.” **** We waited until the passengers had disembarked and filed their way through the watchful stares of the police and custom officials. John and Jeff were hyper with excitement as we walked down the gangway trying to look as nonchalant as we could. We hadn’t gotten ten feet when we were surrounded by cops—cops with drawn guns. Holy crap! Brett grabbed my arm. “Adam? What’re they doing?” We found out in one second flat. The cops headed straight for Andy. “Andrew Sutherland,” one of them barked. “You are under arrest for—” Chaos followed those words. Andy roared at the top of his voice and took off like a bullet, racing across the dock, the cops in hot pursuit. We all stood gaping at one another like fools. What the hell? Of course, they caught him. The ass ran the wrong way—not that it would have mattered—but charging straight into a ten foot high chain fence is not the way to

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escape from armed cops. We watched as he was thrown to the ground and cuffed, then led none too gently towards one of the waiting cars. “Where’s his wife?” somebody asked, as the police cars left the scene. We found out later Andy had no wife and no children. He wasn’t wanted for tardy alimony payments. He was a serial killer, responsible for the deaths of seven women that the authorities knew of, up and down the Florida coast. To say we were all a bit subdued that day at lunch on Merritt Island is to put it mildly. “I just can’t get over the fact we had brewskis together,” Jeff said, in between giant bites of his burger. “He seemed like such a cool dude. Man, who’d have thought?” Who indeed? There was a lesson for all of us there somewhere, but I didn’t want to be the one to start pontificating at that moment. Really, the only one of us who might have been in any danger was Cindy. Apparently, Andy only killed women. I shuddered as I looked across the table at her. Fortunately, the only danger she’d had to face was trying to avoid Captain Borghese falling on her in a drunken stupor. Brett and I left them in the restaurant. Despite all that had happened, we decided we’d still pay a visit to the AIDS clinic. We were in and out in an hour with instructions to come back in a week for our results. After the experience with Andy, my problems with the captain seemed miniscule in comparison. In any case, he backed off from harassing me and the dealers, and Cindy started sporting some nice pieces of jewellery. Coincidence? I think not. We all stayed for the duration of our six-month contract, except for Borghese, of course. He was duly replaced by a new captain who liked Americans just fine. I have to admit, by the end of the six months I was ready to work on dry land again—and so was Brett. We’d both been given a clean bill of health and we’d talked about him moving to Vegas with me, so that’s what we did. Tom found a new casino manager to replace me. The guys I’d rented my condo to had left it a pigsty, so for the next couple of weeks Brett helped me repaint, shampoo rugs and get the scratches off the wood floors—in between bouts of hot sex of course. He got himself a nice gig at the Venetian Hotel, and I’m back at Caesar’s as pit boss. Life is good. For a variety of reasons, I’ll never forget those six months onboard The Maid of the Seas. The captain—how could I ever forget him? I still can see him crying his eyes out on his last

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night afloat. I’d like to have kicked him in the pants, but being the gentleman that I am I shook his hand and wished him bon voyage. His son, Vittorio, had left even sooner, his designs not coming up to par with what the new owners wanted. Paul and Clive had a good chortle over that. I tried to feel a little sorry for him, but if Vittorio was true to form, he probably found someone to soothe his ruffled ego real fast. Then there was Andy—but I’m sure it’s not every cruise ship that harbours a serial killer. That had to be a one off! Best of all, of course—Brett, who turned out to be the man I’d been searching for all my life. Even though I think my friend Tom is scum, he’s still welcome in our home. After all, Tom, as he constantly reminds Brett and me, was really the one who brought us together— and for that, I’ll always be grateful.

About the Author J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company. Emigrated to the States and worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. Currently living in Henderson, Nevada.

Email: [email protected] J.P. loves to hear from readers. You can find his contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by J.P. Bowie My Vampire and I My Vampire Lover The Set Up Summer Bliss Ride ‘Em Cowboy Fabulous Brits: Under the Law Duet in Love Personal Trainers Halloween Angel A Present Christmas Naughty Nooners: Lunches in Laguna The Officer and the Gentleman Blood Resurrection

MAXIMUM EXPOSURE Jenna Byrnes & Jude Mason

Dedication For those who love to watch, and of course, for those who love to perform.

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Coors: Adolph Coors Company National Geographic: National Geographic Society People: Time Incorporated The Sentinel: News Publishing Company Vogue: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc.

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Chapter One

Rob Jenkins climbed into the back seat of the yellow cab and took the first deep, calming breath since he’d gotten off the plane in Chicago. Collecting his suitcase had been a nightmare, as the crowd of meandering travellers at Midway Airport seemed determined to get in his way at every turn. All the time he’d been dodging kids and dazed adults hurrying from one place to the next, he’d had Max on his mind. Their fights, the lack of intimacy plaguing them of late and his own refusal to play naughty with the man he loved. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering the last time Max had tried to get him to ‘show off his goods’. They’d been at one of the local clubs, drinking and partying it up after a long week of work, when Max slid a hand into Rob’s pants, giving his cock a stealthy squeeze. Of course, Rob had gotten an erection. But fear of discovery and ridicule had cooled his ardour almost immediately. Max had been upset, and the evening had ended with them in silent accusatorial anger and frustration. The cabbie interrupted his thoughts. “Where to?” he asked in a heavily accented voice. Rob looked up and saw the man’s dark eyes in the rear view mirror. “The Mason Arms on Michigan Avenue.” He knew the ride would take about twenty minutes in good traffic. He’d thought about the flight from Indiana, the taxi ride and his other plans a million times before finally deciding to join his lover. Being away from him for the whole two weeks of Max’s conference seemed like a bad idea right now. “You attending that big software convention at the Arms?” The cabbie made small talk as he pulled into traffic, smoothly accelerating. “Meeting a friend.” Rob wasn’t in a talkative mood and hoped his clipped reply would shut the guy up. It did, and Rob fell back into his thoughts about Max and the argument they’d had before Max had left—another misfired sexual episode, another denial on Rob’s part—a fiasco extraordinaire.

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He shuddered. He knew something had to change. Max needed those risqué moments Rob kept denying him. They’d been together for six years, long enough for things to become a little dull sometimes, but they could get through it. Spontaneity wasn’t always an option when they both worked long hours, Max on computer software development and Rob on photo shoots. He also knew the roadblocks he’d tossed in the way added to the tension, and he regretted each and every one. I’ll do better. The cab jerked to a stop then lurched ahead, dragging him back to the present. Rob glared out the window just as the cab pulled into the long, curved driveway leading up to the front of the Mason Arms. His stomach clenched. Max. The taxi slowed to a halt before the grand entrance. “Here ya go, mister. That’ll be twenty-three seventy-five.” The man put the car in park and spun to face Rob. He smiled, showing off jagged teeth and a scar running from his left eye to his chin. Rob shuddered, wondering if driving a cab was that dangerous. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small roll of bills. Peeling off two, he handed the man thirty dollars. “Keep the change.” The smile got wider. “Thanks.” He nodded as Rob climbed out, dragging his bags behind him. A few minutes later, Rob stood at the reception desk, camera case over his shoulder, suitcase by his feet. He waited for his room key, again thinking about Max. If he were more sure of himself, he’d have chosen to stay in Max’s room. As it was, he’d decided a room of his own might be safer. There was a slight chance Max might not be happy to see him. Rob prayed that wasn’t the case. He looked at his watch and sighed. He’d get settled first, then he’d find Max. “Here you are, Mr. Jenkins, room three sixteen.” The tall, slender clerk handed him a swipe card. “Thank you.” Rob accepted it and grabbed the handle of his suitcase. “Enjoy your stay with us, sir,” the clerk said. Even before Rob turned away, the man looked at the next person in line.

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Rob strolled to the elevators, absentmindedly noticing the lush décor of the place. Black and gold dominated with the occasional splash of colour breaking it up. Large, vivid prints dotted the walls, mostly scenes from exotic places he’d be able to identify if he tried. He’d been on photo shoots in many different parts of the world and had many of these same types of shots in a portfolio at home. Rob fidgeted. Where is Max right now? And how is he going to react when he sees me? The elevator doors hissed aside and he entered, wheeling in his case. He pushed the number three button. When the door opened a minute later, he stepped out. At the end of the hall, he stopped and swiped the key card in the lock. He let himself inside and glanced around, admiring the spacious room. A cabinet caught his attention. He opened it then smiled when he saw the assortment of liquor displayed. A large bowl of mixed fruit and munchies sat on the lower shelf, and a small fridge nestled underneath. “Sweet,” he murmured. He dropped his camera case and the key card on the bed and went to check out the balcony. When he took a step outside, he saw it went right around the corner. His smile broadened. Great view. Max’ll like this. He returned inside, found the phone and dialled the hotel operator. When a woman answered, he asked, “Could I have Max Armstrong’s room, please?” “Certainly, sir.” Rob waited and counted four rings. Max must be out. He looked at his watch again before setting the receiver down. Close enough to dinner time to go down to check out the restaurant. And, I could use a beer. Before leaving, he hung up some of his clothing and tossed his toiletry bag into the bathroom. Ready at last, he slung his camera bag over his shoulder, grabbed the key and headed out. When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, he was met by a crowd of people milling in the lobby. He had to push his way through the throng. About halfway across, he spotted the sign he’d hoped to see and veered to the left. He searched for Max among the inhabited tables in the sparsely populated restaurant. Nothing. The bar drew his attention, and he wandered towards it, beer still in mind. He settled onto one of the stools, sliding his elbows across the polished surface.

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A handsome, young bartender approached, glass in one hand, cloth in the other. He wiped the counter then began polishing the glass. “What can I get you?” he asked in a low drawl and set the polished tumbler down. “Beer, whatever you’ve got on tap,” Rob answered. “Coors all right?” The man slung the rag over his shoulder and retrieved a mug. “Yeah, just as long as it’s cold.” Rob looked into the mirror behind the bar, checking the door for newcomers. “Do you want me to run a tab for you?” The frosted mug sat on a coaster in front of him when he looked back. “Can you have it put on my hotel bill? I’m staying here, room three sixteen.” Rob took a sip of the cold brew. “Sure can. You got your key with you?” Rob produced it. The man swiped the card through his register and handed it back. “Got it.” He moved along the bar. Rob again checked out the mirror. Max—tall, good-looking, his tightly curled black hair shining in the soft light of the bar. His group of half a dozen men talked and laughed as they headed for a corner table. Rob’s heart lurched. His palms were suddenly clammy, and he again wondered at the wisdom of his plans. It was Friday, and he knew Max wouldn’t be required to attend meetings all weekend. They were two hundred miles from home, which made it a perfect place to take the leap he feared so much. But, am I ready? Even after being together for six years, he’d never let Max completely bowl him over with the fetish the man craved. Yet, the idea did excite him, he had to admit that. He downed the rest of his beer and watched his lover and workmates settle themselves around their table. All of them were dressed in suits, but they’d pulled their ties off and unfastened at least one or two buttons at their necks. They were all relatively young and seemed ready to party. “Another?” asked the bartender, who’d become busier as the place filled with members of the convention coming out of meetings.

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“Yeah, thanks,” Rob replied and hunched forward, his thoughts in turmoil. How to approach Max? The question preyed on his mind. “Here you go.” A clean, frosted mug replaced the empty. “I’ll put it on your tab.” “Good. Thanks,” Rob replied, absentmindedly. He looked again at Max’s table and took a sip of fresh beer. It tingled and burned its way down his throat. Three women joined Max’s group but only for a few short minutes. When they rose, three of the men did, too, until just Max and a couple of others remained. “Now or never,” Rob muttered and got up from his stool. Beer in hand, he turned and walked towards Max. His knees felt like rubber, and his stomach churned. The camera case seemed enormously heavy. To his surprise, his cock stirred and thickened in his trousers. When he reached their table, Max, along with his two companions, looked up. “Rob, what the hell?” Max gaped for a brief moment then smiled. “I thought I’d surprise you,” Rob said and cringed when his voice broke. “Surprise?” Max said in an incredulous voice. “Well, you sure as hell managed that.” The fellow sitting to Max’s left shifted to another chair. “Here, join us,” he said and smiled. Rob really wanted to say something to Max alone, first, but saw no way to do it without sounding incredibly rude. So, he weaved around the empty chairs and sat beside his lover. “Thanks,” he said and put his glass on the nearest coaster. Max leaned close and whispered, “What the hell are you doing here?” Rob turned and said in a low voice, “I wanted to see you. Can we talk somewhere?” His lover’s dark eyes met his and held his gaze. “Is everything all right?” “Yes, fine. Honest,” Rob reassured. His belly did flip flops. In a few minutes he’d spill the beans and pray he wasn’t being a jerk. Max stared at him a moment longer then nodded. “Okay.” To the others, he said, “Steve, Dean, give me a minute.” The man who’d given Rob his chair said in a loud voice, “Take your time. Business is officially over for the evening. Let the drinking begin!”

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Rob gazed at the wiry beanpole of a man wearing glasses. He seemed friendly enough. The other guy, to Max’s right, didn’t look as happy. The handsome fellow with thick, blond hair and a cleft in his chin wore a small scowl, and an ugly pair of mirrored sunglasses hung from his front jacket pocket. Before Rob could decide what to make of the guy’s attitude, Max rose and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Back in a few,” Max told the others and headed for the bar, Rob in tow. When they were out of earshot, he slowed his pace. “Now, what’s going on?” Rob stood facing Max, his heart in his throat. He looked around, making sure no one was within hearing distance. “I wanted to spend some time with you. Can we sit at the bar for this?” He wasn’t sure he could discuss something so personal in the middle of the room. Yet, if his plan came together, a lot more would be out there. “Sure.” Max again grabbed Rob’s arm and dragged him to the end of the bar. The room still wasn’t anywhere close to crowded so they had a certain amount of privacy. He pushed Rob onto a stool and perched on the one beside him. “Okay, what gives? Middle of a business trip and you show up? Just doesn’t happen.” “Yes, I know.” Rob glanced around. No one seemed to be paying them any attention. The two men Max had been talking with were busy yucking it up, totally ignoring them. He looked into Max’s face and took a deep breath. “Max, I love you. I know I’ve been a real jerk about…well, your fetish or whatever you want to call it. I’m here to try and change that.” Max’s eyes widened. “You mean…” “I mean, I have a game in mind.” Rob cocked his head and tried to look sexy. “If you’re interested.” Max blinked and opened his mouth as if to speak. He closed it again and swallowed. He looked around then back at Rob. “What brought this on all of a sudden?” Before Rob could reply, he added, “What game? Why now?” “It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Our last fight put the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. So ‘why now’? Why not? We’re far enough away from home to be pretty sure if anyone does see what’s going on, it won’t hurt either of us. Right?” Max nodded. “Yeah, as long as you don’t count the several hundred software people here. Many of whom I know.” He looked around the room. The crowd had grown.

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“True, but we don’t have to stay in the hotel.” Rob reached out and slid his hand around Max’s neck. He ached to pull him close, to take the kiss he so desperately wanted. Just thinking about it sent chills down his spine and started his cock throbbing. “Actually, the possibility of getting caught is part of the thrill, isn’t it?” Max smiled warily. “And the game? What exactly have you dreamed up?” “I know you like to tease me in public.” Max nodded. “Yeah, and when I do, you get weird, and we fight.” “I know.” Rob released Max and gritted his teeth, determined to get through this. “Will you let me talk for a minute?” Max remained silent for a moment then said, “Yeah, sorry.” “I thought we could have a little competition over the weekend. I have to be back in town Sunday night, so that’d leave us tonight and all of Saturday. My flight for Sunday isn’t until four in the afternoon, so we’d have until, say, noon.” “Noon Sunday. And what is this competition?” Max looked dubious. “We’d see who could make the other come in public.” Max gaped. It seemed to take him a moment to get his thoughts together, but at last he asked, “And if someone sees us?” “As long as we’re left alone, and we’re not going to get arrested, we carry on with whatever we’re doing.” Max reached out and grabbed Rob’s hand. “I’m not sure you understand what you’re suggesting.” “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Believe me, it wasn’t easy for me to come here. I just know you’re worth it. Our relationship is too important to let it slip away.” “Now you’re being ridiculous.” Max shifted on the stool, looking uncomfortable. He fidgeted and glanced around and avoided meeting Rob’s gaze. Rob squeezed the hand Max tried to pull away. “Look, I know you love me. That’s never been our problem. It’s just me…trying to wrap my mind around this thing you wanted. What the hell. Do or die.” Max grinned suddenly, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s not like you’re going to die, you big dummy.” He leaned forward and slid a hand up Rob’s inner thigh. “You’ve always taken yourself way too seriously. It’s a little bit of harmless fun.”

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The bartender approached. “Get you boys anything?” Max’s hand dropped away. “No, thanks.” Rob shook his head. “Thanks.” He watched the man turn and wait on another couple before he gave Max a knowing nod. “See how easy it is to get caught? You always think I’m paranoid.” Max chuckled. “As you said, all part of the thrill, my dear. So, you never told me. What does the winner of this competition receive? Better be something good.” “I thought, maybe, a weekend of pampering. Breakfast in bed, massages, blowjobs on demand, that sort of thing.” Rob waggled his eyebrows. “Sounds intriguing. Providing I say yes, when does this thing start?” “Oh, you’ll say yes. If I know you at all--and after six years, I think I do--you’ll jump at this opportunity. I’m ready whenever you are.” The words were out, and his stomach hit the floor. At least, that’s what it felt like. Yet, his cock pulsed, and a thrill of excitement made him shudder. Max glanced at the table where his two friends continued drinking. “I should make my apologies. We’d planned to have dinner.” “If you’d rather go with them, I can hang out in my room.” Rob extended the offer, knowing Max would never accept it. “I didn’t say that.” Max stood and adjusted the waistband of his slacks. “You got a room? In this hotel?” Rob shrugged. “Yeah. I thought it might be for the best. I don’t know about yours, but mine has a huge balcony.” “The company paid for mine, so it’s pretty bare bones. We might have to check out that balcony. Come on.” Max strolled over to Steve and Dean. He pulled some cash from his wallet and tossed it on the table. “You’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I just had an offer I can’t refuse.” “Aw, no!” the man with glasses complained a little too loudly. “We were going to dinner! Bring him along. The night’s young.” His voice carried, and Rob winced. “Better slow down there, Steve,” Max said. “Dean, you’ll make sure he gets back to his room okay?”

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“Yeah.” Dean studied Max intently then nodded towards Rob. “Or I suppose he could always come to dinner with us. The more the merrier, I guess.” Dean didn’t sound as inebriated as Steve, but the man seemed less than friendly to Rob. Rob fervently hoped Max wouldn’t consider their offer. “I’m sorry.” Max smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for sure.” He turned to Rob. “The hotel’s throwing a barbecue, some kind of big bash. Everyone’s going to be there.” Dean gave Rob the once-over. “It’s supposed to be for convention-goers, but they might let you in, since you’re here, and all.” Rob shot a cool look right back at him. The guy looked so uptight, it would have been hard to pull a needle out of his ass. Whatever. Rob wasn’t there to see the needle-bum guy. He intended to seduce his man. “A barbecue sounds great. Wouldn’t miss it.” Max took his arm. “See you all tomorrow.” He led Rob towards the exit. They approached one of the men’s rooms, and Rob paused. “Can we stop in here a minute?” “Sure.” Max followed him in. One other man faced the long row of urinals. Rob stopped at the sink to kill time. He washed his hands, glancing in the mirror at his closely cropped, brown hair. There wasn’t much he could do to it, but he patted down the sides and pretended to examine his reflection. Max shifted from one foot to the other. “Are you going to…” He nodded to the urinals. “Hang on,” Rob whispered. The third man completed his business and washed his hands before walking out. The place stood empty. “Now!” Rob grabbed Max’s arm and dragged him to the far end of the room, into one of the two large, handicapped-access stalls. He locked the door and shoved Max against the wall. “Here we go, nice and private.” A smile slowly spread across Max’s face. “What the devil are you doing? We have a room—hell, we have two rooms upstairs. Let’s just go there.” Rob shifted the camera case from his shoulder to the hook on the back of the door. He dropped to his knees and unbuckled Max’s brown leather belt. “Well, gee, that’d be nice. But remember our game? I’m getting you in the mood.”

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The hotel rooms beckoned him, but this was what Rob had come all the way to accomplish. Adventurous sex that would please Max and make things right between them again. He unfastened the button and zipper then shoved Max’s trousers down to his knees. The sexy, white briefs bulged with the perfect outline of his lover’s erection. “Mmm, you’re already in the mood.” Max bucked his hips. “Fuck, yeah. Ever since you first mentioned it.” Rob grinned. He pressed his lips to the white, knit fabric about halfway along Max’s shaft. The man’s cock twitched, pressing itself more firmly against his mouth, the thin material all that kept it separate. Rob sucked it through the briefs and slid his lips along the length, pulling the head into his mouth. “Hey, cut that out. I’ll have to walk around with wet skivvies.” “Hmm, I might just make you come in them. Then they’ll be really wet.” “I don’t think so, stud.” Max grabbed Rob’s face and turned it up towards his. “I intend to come in your mouth. Get these briefs off me, and we’ll get this show on the road.” Rob chuckled and lowered the man’s tight underpants. Max’s thick cock sprang forward, its slight lean to the left a familiar and comfortable sight. I love his cock. I know every inch of it so well. The bulbous head, with the perfect little slit, begged to be sucked. Engorged veins pulsed along the shaft. All the blood his lover could spare pooled right there. Rob exhaled, blowing a warm breath over the solid erection. He was thrilled that Max still got hard for him so easily. There is hope for our relationship. I know there is. He just needed to be bold and play the game he’d created to make his man happy. Max shuddered, his dick bobbing lewdly. Rob flicked the slit with his tongue. “You want it bad, I can tell. Been a long week without me, hasn’t it?” “Yeah.” His lover thrust his hips forward, inviting more attention. “Do something. You’re making me crazy.” “Something like what?” Rob teased. He licked the knob ever so lightly, inhaling the musky scent of his man, and smiled when the cock bounced even more frantically. Max’s hands returned to Rob’s face. “Hold still and open up. I need to fuck your mouth now.”

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“Tempting as that sounds, I don’t mind doing the work, here. But I want you to ask for it, and I ‘d like you to be specific, please.” “You know someone might come in,” Max reminded him, a tremor in his voice. “Are you sure about this?” Rob perked up, listening intently. “No one’s here now. It’s your golden opportunity.” Max groaned. “Bastard. Okay, we’ll do it your way. Lick my cock from base to tip until I’m dripping wet. Then suck the whole thing into your mouth. Swallow me down until it hits the back of your throat. Take it all. I know you can do it. You’ve done it before. Suck me. Suck me hard.” “That’s more like it.” Rob dragged his tongue along the length of the shaft. He licked around the base, grazing the ball sac with the flat of his tongue. As he worked his mouth back up the hefty rod, he lavished it with long, wet strokes. The dick would be nice and slick, as requested. “Fuck, yeah.” Max rubbed the back of Rob’s head. “That’s it. Sounds great. Feels even better. Now, suck it! Take it all.” An exterior door opened and closed. Rob heard voices in the men’s room. “Damn, I needed to piss,” one man said. “Fucking A,” said another. It grew quiet except for the splashing of urine hitting porcelain. With an ornery grin, Rob chose that moment to take Max’s cock down his throat. Max gaped at him wide-eyed and groaned.

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Chapter Two

Rob sucked Max’s cock vigorously, despite the fact they were no longer alone in the men’s room. He latched on and held tight, causing his lover to squirm. Max smacked Rob lightly on the side of the head, apparently to get his attention. He shook his head and widened his eyes. Rob grinned around the shaft and sucked harder. Another swat stung the side of Rob’s head—nothing painful, but Max seemed desperate to remain quiet. Max squirmed away, but the wall behind him left him nowhere to go. He clutched at the bricks and shifted his feet, which made an audible, scraping noise. Rob paused again and listened. On the other side of the stall, running water splashed for a few moments then the door opened and closed again. He gazed up at Max and raised his eyebrows. Max shrugged and pushed his cock deep, again seeking the pleasure of the blow-job Rob gave him. Rob fought the gag reflex, swallowing Max’s cock even farther, all the way to the balls. He mimicked the shrug and resumed his merciless sucking. His lover wanted adventure and a touch of exhibitionism. Max would certainly get it. We don’t need to get arrested to have some fun. He fondled Max’s balls as he continued to deep-throat the mouth-watering cock. Still primed and ready for him, it pulsed mightily as he worked his throat muscles around the monster. He couldn’t breathe yet refused to pull away until his need for air forced his withdrawal. Still sucking, he backed off the man’s rod until just the tip brushed his lips. He licked at the crown then took the head back in. Max sighed and again bucked his hips forward, driving his dick into Rob’s willing mouth. When Rob eased off his lover’s penis the next time, he murmured, “Come on, come for me.” He kissed the tip, slid his tongue along the slit and delved into its tight opening, tasting the musky flavour. He craved more. The rest of the man’s cock head slipped in with a gentle suck, and the shaft followed a moment later. Warm ribbons of pre-cum flowed down his throat, rewarding him for ‘a job’ well-done.

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Max groaned a low, barely discernable moan. “Now,” he whispered in a deep, raspy growl. Rob’s insides churned with excitement. His cock felt like an iron rod inside his trousers, throbbing with its own need. He shifted, repositioning his erection to a more comfortable position as he welcomed the oncoming rush spurting past his tongue. After two healthy pulses, he pulled back and let the last of the cum pool in his mouth. He savoured the saltysweet nectar while he delighted in his lover’s panting quivers. When Max stopped shuddering, Rob licked him clean and repositioned his briefs and trousers. He rose to his feet. “We should go.” It took Max a moment to catch his breath. When he did, he slipped a hand around Rob’s neck and drew him close for a kiss. Tongues darted, tasted, sharing the last remnants of Max’s offering. They separated, and Max nodded. “You’re right. As much as I’d like to reciprocate, maybe we can try somewhere else.” He winked and smiled, obviously enjoying their play. “We can go up to your digs, if you like. Get room service or something.” Every molecule of Rob’s common sense told him to jump at the chance, yet he knew that wasn’t going to win Max over. He took a deep breath and realised he was so horny his balls ached. “Hell, no.” Rob grinned, shouldering his camera bag. “I’m having way too much fun. Let’s go out for dinner and see what you can come up with to surprise me.” “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Max gazed into his eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ve never been more serious. Round one goes to me. I hope it felt as good as it looked…and tasted.” A wicked smile spread across Max’s face. “It felt fucking fantastic. Come on, let’s see if we can get a table in the restaurant.” Rob pushed the stall door open a crack and peeked through, making sure the men’s room was vacant before they slipped out. They proceeded into the bar. Rob felt eyes on him but wasn’t sure if they were real or imagined after the adrenaline rush he’d just experienced. The erection in his trousers didn’t help, either.

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Max glanced around and murmured, “Maybe we should find a restaurant out of the hotel.” “Might be an idea. We wouldn’t want to press our luck,” Rob agreed and sighed with relief. They kept walking, out of the bar and through the lobby. Once they were outside, Max asked, “Which way?” He looked up and down Michigan Avenue then smiled at Rob. “You’ve been here a week. Have you seen any place you want to check out?” “Yeah, about two blocks this way,” his lover replied and tucked his arm through Rob’s. “A place called The Pasta Factory looked interesting.” Rob let himself be led towards a section of town he hadn’t seen on his trip from the airport. Theatres and art galleries lined the streets, but the alleys weren’t quite so bright and vibrant, and the people he spotted looked a little shabbier. “This way.” Max veered down a side street that looked a little garish under the bright lights. When they had walked about half way along the block, Rob spotted the sign above a wide set of double doors. “The Pasta Factory. This would be the place you were curious about.” He looked over the front of the building, glancing at a menu full of Italian dishes posted in the window. “Yes, this is it. Pretty cheesy, but it looks like it might be fun.” Max steered him towards the door and through it. “Yeah, cheesy, but what the hell.” Rob peered around the vestibule, surprised by the dimly lit dining area beyond. A middle-aged man in white shirt sleeves and black trousers approached them. “Do you have a reservation, gentlemen?” he asked in a civil tone. “No, sorry. Do we need one?” Rob hoped they weren’t going to chase from one place to the next because they hadn’t called ahead. “No, it’s fine. We’re not busy, yet.” The maître d’ reached for two menus piled on a small table. “Just the two of you tonight?” “Yes, two of us. Something private, if you have it,” Rob added. The man looked at him then at Max. Nodding, he replied, “An alcove, perhaps?” “Yes,” Max said almost before the maître d’s words were out. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

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“This way, please.” The man turned and walked into the dimly lit dining room. They followed him, Max behind Rob. It took a moment for Rob’s eyes to become accustomed to the muted lighting, but when they did, he smiled. The smallish room appeared less than half full, and most of the tables held couples sharing a meal. The man guided them to a corner where a dark green, velvet curtain partially shielded an alcove. The linen-covered, round table had a bench seat running along the back. Tall candles in crystal holders sat in the centre of the table, and while they watched, the maître d’ lit them. The man stepped aside and bowed. “I hope this will be satisfactory.” He placed the menus on the table. “This will be fine.” Rob slid into the secluded semi-cave. He felt the cushion shift and knew Max slid in right behind him. “May I get you gentlemen something from the bar?” “Beer for me. Coors,” Rob answered. He looked around their small sanctuary. His heart raced. Perfect. Once the curtain was drawn, they’d have complete privacy. “Same,” came Max’s reply. He moved closer to Rob, their thighs bumping each other. “Very good,” the man said and backed away. He unfastened the gold tie securing the drapery open and held it as he said, “Your waiter, Kenneth, will be with you in a moment.” He let the curtain fall into place Rob nodded and turned his attention to Max. “I like it.” “It’s perfect for our needs.” Max reached up and slipped a hand behind Rob’s neck, drawing him forward into a kiss. Their lips melted together. Soft, wet tongues flicked out and found each other, the lingering taste of spunk still coating Rob’s. “Mmm, yeah,” Rob groaned into his lover’s mouth. “I’m hard already.” “Lean back and let me get at your fly.” Max pushed him until Rob leaned against the soft cushion. An instant later, Max’s hands were at Rob’s groin, nimbly unfastening his trousers. With them unbuttoned and the zipper whirred down, Max’s fingers delved into their warm confines. He pushed Rob’s underpants aside, and in no time at all, Rob’s shaft felt the tug and squeeze of a familiar hand. His dick pulsed its welcome, and Rob sighed his pleasure.

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“Lift your bum,” Max urged and gave the unfastened trousers a tug. “The waiter’ll be here in a minute,” Rob said, nervously. “So?” Max winked and gave another tug. “The table cloth will cover you. Just lift your ass.” Fear clutched at Rob’s heart, but a surge of excitement sent a shiver of lust racing straight to his cock. He did as requested, his cotton-clad rod butting against the underside of the table in his eagerness to comply with Max’s wishes. He thrust down his trousers, taking his underpants along with them. His erection caught on the waistband, but just for a delicious second before it sprang free. The chill air enveloped him, and the drop of pre-cum anointing his crown cooled instantly. He settled down on the seat and shuddered at the unfamiliar feeling of the material. Suddenly, in a heart stopping move which sent terror down Rob’s spine in a flash, the waiter drew the curtain aside. He stood in the opening, all six-foot plus of rugged man-flesh that at any other time would have encouraged a lusty look or two from both Rob and Max. In one hand, he balanced a tray holding two chilled beer mugs filled with golden brew. Rob’s face burned with embarrassment. He clutched the tablecloth to his groin, terrified the man could see his erection and guess what they were doing. For a moment, he couldn’t catch his breath and thought he’d simply die right there, cock tapping on the table. “Good evening. I’m Kenneth, your waiter. Here are your beers.” The hunk’s voice sounded calm and unsuspecting. “Have you had time to decide what you’d like from the menu, or should I come back in a few minutes?” Come back? My God, he can’t come back! “Steak and salad for me.” The words came out of Max’s mouth as if he’d planned them, rehearsed them, and this was finally their debut. “Strip loin, eight ounces, medium rare. Large, green salad and your house dressing.” Rob wasn’t quite so cool. “Yeah, the same. I guess,” he sputtered, unable to look the man in the eyes. “Would you like garlic bread with that?” “Yes. And could you bring a small bowl of honey?” Max smiled at Rob, who could barely breathe. “Certainly sir. Would you like that with your dinner or…”

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Rob glanced up and saw the mystified look on the man’s face. What the hell does Max want honey for? “Could you bring that right away?” Max asked. He slid a hand along Rob’s thigh, moving it ever closer to the nakedness around his crotch. Rob sat frozen, unable to move, to push Max’s hand away or do any of the dozen things his mind told him to do. Instead, his cock throbbed, the thrill of their game and the chance of someone seeing him making him wild with excitement. He sat, his face burning, dick throbbing, and watched the waiter innocently nod his handsome head then turn and leave, a calm, “Yes, sir,” tossed over his shoulder. The curtain swung into place, and Rob gasped for air. His thoughts reeled. What the hell have I gotten myself into? “Great. Now lean back again.” Max looked at him, winked and smiled his wicked, sexy smile. Rob closed his eyes, wanting this all to end. Yet, he admitted to himself, he loved the rush. He pressed against the soft cushion and pushed the tablecloth away. His thighs trembled. Hot wetness engulfed the head of his cock. His eyes flew open. The back of Max’s head lay against his stomach, his mouth had him by the dick. The man’s tongue slid around the head, flicking back and forth into the slit, then raced around the rim, nearly driving Rob insane. Rob clenched his jaw to keep from cursing or begging or crying out his need. He didn’t know which. Fingers curled around his shaft, and his hips thrust forward, an automatic reaction. “Fuck yeah,” he grated through his teeth. He thought he knew Max well, but Max understood his likes and dislikes just as intimately. We’re the perfect couple. He’d do anything to make his lover remember that. Including endure this wild, crazy and oh-so-delightful torture in a semi-public place. The hand tightened and slowly moved up his cock. As fingers dragged at the loose flesh, the man’s mouth descended at the same time and at the same deliciously slow pace. Tight lips and wet tongue tormented him until he could scarcely get a breath. Excitement soaring, Rob clenched his fists and prayed for release. Suddenly, Max pulled his mouth off and sat back, a wicked smile on his face.

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An instant later, the curtain parted and their waiter stood there, a small bowl in his hand. The man looked at Max, then his gaze went to Rob. “Your honey, sir,” Kenneth said. He blinked and regained his composure quickly. He didn’t say another word, just placed the bowl on the table, turned and took a step out of the alcove. Rob saw him shudder, then the man turned his head and, over his shoulder, said, “Your salads will be along shortly.” Kenneth released the curtain and left. Beside Rob, Max chuckled. When Rob regained some modicum of control, he gazed at Max and blinked. “You’re killing me. You know that, right?” Max’s laughter escalated, and Rob could only sit there and wait. His erection waned but didn’t vanish. His heart still raced, and he wanted nothing more than to grab Max and drag him into some quiet corner where he could fuck the man senseless. A few minutes later, Max had calmed down and reached for the bowl sitting in the middle of the table. Sliding it closer, he dipped a finger into the golden nectar and looked deep into Rob’s eyes. “Time for some fun.” “What are you talking about?” Rob asked, watching the honey-covered digit warily. “Push the table cloth away and make sure your trousers are clear.” With his clean hand, Max helped Rob push his slacks down to his knees. “Okay, what now?” Rob couldn’t take his eyes off the honey-slick finger. “This,” Max said and raised his hand over Rob’s groin. A drizzle of honey fell from Max’s finger in a long, slender ribbon of translucent gold. The end of it kissed his cock head and sent a shudder down Rob’s spine. It oozed along the slit, heading towards the rim and shaft. Max moved his hand, minutely, and the honey drizzled around the knob. Rob strained to keep still, ached to move, to thrust and shudder, and prayed he could be quiet. “Mmm, nice,” Max whispered. The ribbon of honey came to an end, and Max lowered his hand. Using just that one finger, he smoothed the glaze over the slit of Rob’s dick. “Fuck, oh fuck,” mumbled Rob, the teasing finger sending flashes of pleasure like lightning along his shaft. His balls shifted and moved up closer to his body.

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“Can’t fuck you, not yet,” Max teased. He lowered his head, blocking Rob’s view. “I can do this, though.” Rob’s mouth sagged open when Max’s lips wrapped around the honey-slick head. The man sucked and lapped at him, his fingers still playing along the shaft. When he reached further down and cupped Rob’s balls, it was almost too much. Rob’s cock pulsed, and he tensed. Every muscle in him grew rigid except his buttocks. He clenched them, pushing more of his length into Max’s voracious mouth. “Yesss,” he hissed as the crown touched the back of Max’s throat. The man swallowed, the muscles clamping down on his dick, trapping him in a warm prison of pleasure. Rob relaxed for an instant, and Max swallowed again, taking him even closer to the abyss. He gasped, and his buttocks clenched again. A rhythmic clenching and swallowing progressed, the pace perfection. Max knew him too well and refused to let him climax until Rob’s mind reeled and his muttered ramblings threatened to bring the wait staff running. Rob knew the noise grew louder, but he couldn’t stop it. Finally, Max took pity and sucked him hard. Max’s head bobbed, and his teeth raked the sides of Rob’s cock in just the right way. Gasping, unable to control himself, Rob exploded into Max’s mouth. He groaned, and Max echoed him. Rob’s cock shot another stream of cum into the deep heat of his lover’s throat, and he groaned again. The world could have tramped in to watch, and he wouldn’t have been able to stop, and he didn’t care. Another spasm shook him. Max laved his cock with the flat of his tongue, cleaning the honey away as well as the last oozing nectar Rob produced. Max turned his head, peering along Rob’s belly and chest, and smiled. “Damn!” Rob said in a rough, exhausted voice. Sweat trickled down his sides. He felt completely used up and spent. “I got this one,” Max said and sat up straight, abandoning him. For a moment, Rob didn’t have a clue what he meant. Then it clicked, and he grinned. “Yeah, you got one.” He reached down and tugged at his trousers, pulling them up. Footsteps from the other side of the curtain encouraged him to hurry, and he’d just fastened his zipper when the curtain fluttered.

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The waiter drew the velvet drape and set a small, folding table stand in the alcove. On it he placed a large, round tray. “Your salads.” He set a plate in front of each of them and a covered basket in the middle of the table. “Here’s some fresh, homemade garlic bread. Would you care for grated Parmesan on your salads?” He held up a shaker. “No, thanks.” Rob mumbled. His breathing had barely returned to normal. He wanted the man out of there. Max smiled at the waiter. “Yes, I believe I would.” Bastard. Max obviously enjoyed Rob’s predicament. Kenneth leaned forward and sprinkled cheese over Max’s salad. Rob took a deep breath, forcing a calm façade he really didn’t feel. It’s okay. His pecker remained hidden, securely tucked back inside his pants. The only thing the waiter could see, at that point, was his flushed, sweaty face, complete with one hell of an embarrassed expression, he felt sure. “A little more, please.” Max directed, purposely prolonging the man’s stay. The dark-haired server complied then straightened. “Anything else right now?” “No, thank you.” Rob sputtered. Max shook his head, the smile still planted firmly on his face. “Thanks so much.” With a raised eyebrow, as if suggesting he knew something fishy was going on, Kenneth retrieved the tray and table stand then backed out of the alcove and allowed the curtain to fall. Max picked up his fork and dived into his salad. “Mmm, you should have gotten the cheese. This is great.” “Still trying to kill me, I see.” Rob shot an irritated look at his lover but couldn’t be too angry. Public sex had been his own idea—no, Max’s idea from its conception—but Rob had been the one to instigate it this weekend. It seemed to be working. Max appeared happier than he’d been in a long time. I feel happy, too. Who wouldn’t after the blowjob he’d just received? The thrill of possibly getting caught had added to the excitement. Yet, one thing nagged at Rob. How in the hell am I ever going to top this scene? “Eat!” Max encouraged. “This is great. Try the bread. It’s warm, and there’s not too much garlic. Just the way you like it.”

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Rob took a piece of bread and worked on his salad. Max knew so much about his likes and dislikes. They were the perfect couple, and he’d be damned if he’d let the man slip away like he’d felt slowly happening at home. Whether Max admitted it or not, Rob had sensed it. The thought of losing Max made his gut ache like he’d swallowed a boulder. After two bites of the salad, he shoved his salad away, tossing his napkin on it. “What’s wrong?” Max moved his empty plate from the edge of the table. “We were having a good time, and now you’re all funky on me.” “No, I’m not.” Rob shook his head, aware he was suddenly melancholy. He needed to snap out of it. “This was your idea, remember.” A note of annoyance sounded in Max’s voice. “You shouldn’t have come all this way if you were just going to—” He stopped when the curtain drew back. Kenneth and his large, round tray appeared again. “Your dinner. Two strip loins, medium rare. A side of fresh asparagus and another of The Pasta Factory’s famous linguini.” He set the plates down and took the salads away. “Can I bring you any steak sauce? Freshen your drinks?” Rob looked at their nearly full beers. In all the excitement, they’d neglected them. He wasn’t thirsty anymore. He waved a hand over his glass. “I’m fine.” “Nothing for me, thanks,” Max said. “Buon appetito.” Kenneth nodded and stepped out. “This looks great.” Rob picked up his knife and fork. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.” Max eyed him warily but followed suit, picking up his silverware. He’d eaten a few bites of everything before he spoke again. “You okay?” Rob glanced up at him and smiled. “I’m great. Happy to be here with you. What do you say after dinner we take a walk? I’d like to get some shots of the city at night.” “Might as well, since you drag that camera with you everywhere you go,” Max teased him good-naturedly. “You love my pictures,” Rob needled him right back. “Especially the ones I take in the bedroom.” He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “Digital cameras are kind of like you. They offer immediate gratification.”

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Max laughed. A spontaneous, full-belly guffaw, which usually happened only when he was truly amused. The sound of it filled Rob’s heart. He vowed, at that moment, to do whatever it took to keep the smile on his handsome hunk’s face. “I should get some shots of you tonight. We’ll see how sexy we can make them, right out in the open.” “You’re so bad,” Max murmured, returning to his meal. Rob saw the flush of excitement on his lover’s face. He’d struck a chord with that suggestion, and it cheered him immeasurably. They were going to have a great weekend. He finished his meal, listening to stories of the software convention and telling Max about things at home. They talked, ate and drank until the food and beer were gone. Kenneth returned to the alcove. “Are we in the mood for dessert this evening? Or was the appetiser enough?” Rob’s mind raced. We didn’t order appetisers. He looked up at the man with the smarmy expression and realised what the comment meant. Max’s automatic smile returned. “Oh, I’d say it was more than enough to satisfy, Kenneth. We enjoyed the dinner, too. I’ll take the cheque whenever you have it.” “Yes, sir.” The waiter set a black leather folder on the table. Max opened it and looked the ticket over before withdrawing a credit card from his wallet. He inserted the plastic into the folder and handed it over. “I’ll be right back.” Kenneth nodded and left. Still shocked, Rob glanced at Max. “He knew all along?” Max shrugged. “We’ll give him a big tip and get the hell out of here.” “Works for me.” Rob adjusted the waistband of his slacks, hoping everything would fall into place when he stood up. The waiter returned and handed back the leather folder and Max’s card. “Thank you for dining at The Pasta Factory. The manager hopes you’ll come again soon. I told him that most likely wouldn’t be a problem.” Rob swallowed and watched Max sign the cheque with a flourish, adding an enormous tip for the server. “Thank you, Kenneth. The service has been excellent.” Max looked at Rob. “Ready?” “Sure.” Rob followed Max’s lead and slid off the bench.

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Kenneth stepped aside. Rob had just started to breathe again when they turned a corner, and Max ran directly into another patron. “I’m sorry!” Max clutched the man’s arm to steady himself. The blond-haired man grasped each of Max’s biceps. He smiled. “No, my fault. I should pay more attention to where I’m going.” Rob studied the fellow with the death grip on his man and the ugly reflector sunglasses hanging out of his jacket pocket. He realised he’d seen him before. “Aren’t you—” “Dean!” Max exclaimed and broke into a smile.

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Chapter Three

Rob watched Max and Dean as they continued to grasp each other’s arms. Max chuckled and pulled his co-worker into a quick hug. “Son-of-a-bitch. I guess if I have to bowl someone over, I’m glad it was you. What are you doing here? Small world!” “It sure is.” Dean gazed at Rob coolly as he returned the embrace then separated from Max. “Steve had a few too many and started getting rowdy. I escorted him back to his room first chance I got. But I figured, hey, just because my plans were ruined, doesn’t mean the evening has to be a total wash. Might as well get something to eat and see a little of the town.” “Our thoughts exactly,” Max said. “So, have you eaten?” “Yes. Just finished. You?” “We’re done, too. We were going out to have a look around. Maybe…” He looked at Rob and stopped talking. Don’t say it. Rob felt incredulous Max would even consider inviting Dean along with them. The man was obviously cool towards Rob, and besides, they’d planned to have some private fun. “Really?” Dean beamed, his voice teeming with what sounded, to Rob, like fake enthusiasm. “What a coincidence.” Max nodded, still looking at Rob uncertainly. “Rob’s a photographer. He thought he could get some good shots of Chicago at night. There are some amazing buildings between here and the river.” Rob did his best to shoot darts out of his eyes. Max swallowed. “Perhaps we should make it another time. Rob just flew in today. I know he’s tired. If we’re going to visit the Navy Pier or Millennium Park tomorrow, he might want to hit the hay.” “Sure. I understand.” Dean nodded. “Walk back to the hotel with you?” Rob tried to get Max’s attention with no luck. “Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Max nodded towards the front door. Dean walked ahead of them while Max and Rob exchanged glances.

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Rob widened his eyes. What are you doing? Max shrugged and looked guilty. His expression seemed to reply, what could I say? Rob strode ahead, manoeuvring the camera bag on his shoulder past seated guests. He reached the front door just as Dean opened it. He stomped past the annoyingly good-looking man and stepped onto the sidewalk. The two men followed him, making small talk, as Rob headed towards the hotel. Slow down and wait for them. Join them. His mind told him one thing, but his heart said another. Not usually the jealous type, Rob felt green rage ooze through his system. He’d entered the lobby of the Mason Arms before he slowed his pace. He paused to let the others catch up and heard a snippet of their conversation. “You’re going to the Navy Pier tomorrow?” Dean asked. “I’d love to see that.” Rob thought his head might explode. Max glanced at him then back to Dean. “We’re not really sure what our plans are, yet. Might take it on the fly, see what happens.” “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.” Dean smiled and touched Max’s forearm. When he walked away, he called, “See you, Ansel Adams,” over his shoulder in Rob’s direction. “’Night,” Max called and turned to Rob, who stared at him. “What? I got rid of him as fast as I could.” Rob squeezed Max’s arm hard and mimicked, “See you later.” He moved towards the elevators muttering, “Ansel Adams, my ass.” He heard Max trotting to catch up with him. “Look, I know Dean’s kind of an odd duck, but he’s an old friend. When he lived in Indiana, we were assigned a few software projects together. He’s a good worker. I hated to see him go. He lives in Seattle now, works at the corporate office. Frankly, I was surprised to see him here. I don’t know most of these people, and it’s nice to have someone from home to hang around with.” They reached the elevator and stopped. “Besides,” Max continued, “Ansel Adams was a great photographer. That’s actually a compliment.” Rob punched the ‘up’ button. “I know. He just said it in such a freaking snotty way. The man obviously doesn’t like me. Please don’t tell me you’re considering spending time with him tomorrow.”

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They entered the elevator, and Rob hit the button for the third floor. The doors closed, and they were alone. Max stepped forward and pressed him against the wall. “He likes you. Why wouldn’t he? He barely knows you.” Rob opened his mouth to protest. Max pressed a finger to Rob’s lips and continued, “That sounded bad. Never mind. And no, we won’t spend the day with him. I thought our plan was to see how much trouble we could get into—or stay out of—on our own.” He leaned in and kissed Rob until the elevator stopped. Rob smiled. “Damn. Now I wish we were riding to the ninth floor.” Max backed up as the doors opened. He smiled. “To be continued. What room are you in, anyway?” “Three sixteen.” “Let me grab some stuff, and I’ll meet you at your place in a few minutes.” “Want me to come with you?” Rob leaned in, wishing he could continue the kiss, but he knew better. “Nah. Go get comfortable. I’ll fetch a few clothes and my shaving kit. Back in five, ten minutes tops.” “I suppose I can wait that long.” He stepped off the elevator. “See you.” Max smiled as the door closed between them. Rob pulled the room key card from his wallet and opened his door. He entered, flicking on a light switch, and saw everything as he’d left it. It was a relief to deposit his camera bag on the table. He flexed his stiff shoulder then unbuttoned his shirt. Wonder if I have time for a quick shower? Time or not, he’d take one. Max’s fault he felt sticky, anyway. Damn honey. He smiled and stripped, laying his clothes over the back of a chair. Rob grabbed a miniature bar of soap and the tiny bottle of shampoo before stepping into the spacious tub. He remembered the door locked automatically and Max didn’t have a key, so he made short work of his shower and climbed out quickly. With a towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands scrubbing at his hair, he strolled into the main room and over to the door. He peeked out, but the hallway was empty.

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Whew. Rob took his time drying off, moisturizing his skin and applying the spicy cologne Max loved. He brushed his teeth and rinsed with minty mouthwash, hoping to rid himself of any hint of the garlic he’d eaten earlier. Finished, he turned back the bed. Should I put something on? He thought about Max and smiled. Why bother? Rob glanced at the clock and found thirty minutes had passed since Max had left him at the elevator. Must be having a hard time deciding what to bring. On a good day, Max was particular about his clothing. Every other day, he was downright finicky. Rob yawned and stretched out on the bed, waiting for his man. He closed his eyes, just for a moment. Loud pounding on the door jarred him awake. What the hell? He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock. Did I fall asleep? Max should have joined him an hour ago. Insistent knocking indicated his presence now. Rob stumbled to the door and asked, “Max?” “Of course it’s me. Let me in.” He opened the door and Max pushed past him, huffing in irritation. “Where the devil have you been? I must have knocked for ten minutes.” Rob locked the deadbolt. “I fell asleep, waiting for you. I should ask where you’ve been.” Max dropped his travel bag and turned to face him. He smiled at Rob’s nakedness and the look of annoyance left his face. “I’m sorry, babe. I ran into a bunch of guys from the convention and had a hard time getting away.” He moved closer to Rob. “I should have thought about what waited for me and tried harder to escape.” Rob stepped around him and yawned. “Nothing ‘hard’ here to rush back to, that’s for damn sure.” “Look.” Max wrapped his arms around Rob from behind. “I said I was sorry, and it’s true. But you have to understand, I’ve been at this convention for a week. I have another week to go with these guys. I couldn’t just blow them off.” Rob’s shoulders tensed as he resisted the embrace. “Nice choice of words.” Max hugged him tighter, murmuring into his ear. “Stop it. You know what I meant. Now come on, let’s crawl into bed and snuggle ‘til we fall asleep. You’re bushed, and I’ve had it, too. It’s been one hell of a long day.”

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Rob turned his head sideways and looked at Max. “Are you sorry I came?” “Of course not.” Max steered him towards the bed. Rob crawled in, his exasperation dwindling. He watched Max tug off his clothes, piece by piece, hanging them neatly on the back of a chair. When it came to his briefs, though, Max kicked them across the room before reaching for the light switch. “I said a long day, not a bad day. This evening was fucking great. Just like tomorrow’s going to be. Let’s get some sleep and start fresh in the morning, all right?” He doused the lights and climbed into bed. “Come here, handsome.” He pulled Rob into his arms and kissed his forehead. “I love you, ya big lug. Now go to sleep. You’ll need all your energy to keep up with me tomorrow if you have any hopes of winning this little game you started.” Warmth heated Rob’s chest when he heard the words. How long had it been since Max said ‘I love you’? He couldn’t remember. Too long. Music to his ears. A soothing calmness settled over him. He nestled into his lover’s arms and closed his eyes. “I love you, too.”

**** Sunlight in his eyes woke Rob the next morning. He stretched and craned his head, looking for the alarm. Right, not at home, dumbass. Max. He turned over and spied the curves of his lover beside him. He rolled carefully out of bed and went for his morning piss, his semi-erection making a job of it. Done, he brushed his teeth before returning. Back in bed, he gently rolled Max onto his back. The man’s snores softened, but he didn’t wake up, and that suited Rob just fine. He pushed the blanket down, revealing the rise and fall of his lover’s chest and his washboard-slim belly. Lower, the base of Max’s cock came into view, Rob’s mouth watered. The wiry, pubic hair curled around it, and as Rob pushed the covers down even more, he exposed the shaft and the lusty, round balls. Watching the gorgeous, slumbering body without touching it felt like he was teasing himself. For a moment, he thought about dinner the night before. The waiter had known or

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seen, and that knowledge excited Rob. At the time, it’d been a little scary. But now, he loved it. Finally, the head of Max’s cock showed itself. Rob leaned down and nuzzled against the base, inhaling the luscious scent. With the tip of his tongue, he traced a wet line up the shaft, circled the crown then took it between his lips. His tongue never stopped, flicking along the slit, lapping at the soft dome and pushing into the moist opening. He hungered for his man and couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Max groaned and shifted, spreading his thighs, laying his hand on his belly. Rob paused in his play. He simply held the man’s cock, savouring the taste and texture of the flesh. When he was sure Max was under again, he renewed his mouth action. Tightening his lips, he eased backward and forward, almost as if he were fucking just the crown. Another groan came from his lover, and a hand slid across Rob’s head, coming to rest on the back of his neck. “Yeah, baby,” Max’s husky voice murmured. He thrust his hips upward and tightened his grip on Rob’s hair, holding him. “Mmm,” Rob moaned and eased his mouth lower, sucking the smooth, firm shaft deeper. His own cock pulsed into full hardness. For a moment, he thought about flipping Max onto his belly and lifting his bum for a good fucking. The game and the balcony came to mind. He sucked at the lovely cock and slid his fingers along the remainder of the shaft. When he felt Max’s balls against the back of his hand, he moved it lower. He cupped them, coddled them gently as he worked his tongue around the shaft. Legs spread barely wide enough to allow access suddenly moved even wider apart. “Fuck, yeah,” Max moaned. Instead of completing the blow job, Rob pulled his mouth off and sat up. He looked down into Max’s eyes and smiled at the unrestrained lust he saw there. “Remember the game?” he asked. He leaned forward and kissed Max’s dick head and smiled when the rod bounced, tapping him on the lips. “Yeah, I remember.” Max thrust his hips up, dragging his wet shaft over Rob’s cheek. “What about it?” “The balcony. I want you out there.”

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“Damn, you realise it’s daylight, and there might be someone around, right?” Max reached for his cock, giving it a couple of rough strokes. “Course I do. But, like we said, we’re not likely to be recognised.” Rob climbed off the bed, his erection bobbing towards Max. Max followed him, his hand still on his cock. “I’m so damn horny, I feel like I’m going to explode.” “Good. That’s the way I like you.” Rob walked across the floor and opened the sliding glass door. The sunlight streamed in, accompanied by a warm breeze. Stepping outside, Rob faced the sun and inhaled the clear morning air. The balcony seemed even bigger than he remembered as it stretched around the front of the building. He took the couple of steps to the iron railing. His heart beat like a wild animal’s. He’d never dared expose himself like this before, but the exhilaration amazed him. “Very sexy,” Max said from behind him. Rob turned his head, seeing his lover at the doorway. “What do you think? Sex al fresco?” Max looked across the balcony and smiled. “Can you spot anyone walking along Michigan Avenue?” Rob turned around and looked down at the street below. There wasn’t anyone out and about, not walking, anyway. But there were cars, and he wondered if anyone would look up at him and Max. “Looks good to me.” Max’s voice came from directly behind him, low down. “Now, hold still. Better yet, put your hands on the railing.” Rob smiled and did as he was asked. He didn’t need to be told to spread his legs, he simply did it. “Aren’t you the horny slut?” Max placed his hands on Rob’s shoulders, pushing him forward and down. “You bet. Your horny slut.” Rob wiggled his ass and eased his feet a little further apart. His balls shifted, moving up in their sac. His cock felt enormous, dangling freely in the air. “And you want it, don’t you?” Max’s large hands gripped his buttocks, spreading them wide.

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Rob looked back and saw his man kneeling behind him. Max had spread his knees, allowing his cock its own freedom. “Yeah, I want it. I want it bad. You know I do.” Rob turned his attention back to the avenue below. He saw a small group of people coming around the corner at the end of the block. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Would they look up? A finger trailed along his ass crack, slowed at his anus and circled the nerve-filled spot before heading south. His testicles twitched as if to meet the tormenting hand. Rob bit his lip to keep from begging for a touch. “Remember the game,” came Max’s soft voice. “Can I make you come? Out here in public where anyone could look up and see you?” “Bugger! Who died and made you boss? My balcony, and it was my idea,” Rob growled, although he would have yelled it if there’d been no chance of discovery. Max chuckled and, before Rob could take a deep breath, the man’s tongue found his balls. The fingers toyed with his anus, and Rob’s world imploded. “Yeah, I’m a bastard, but you love me.” Max nipped a cheek. “Don’t you?” Rob held his tongue, determined to concentrate on controlling his orgasm. He peered down at the avenue. Cars and taxis crawled by. The group of people he’d spotted a few moments ago were gone. More walked the streets, heading for work, shopping, meeting friends for breakfast. He scrambled away from the thought of the meal he’d shared with Max the night before, but not quickly enough. His cock pulsed, and he gazed down at it. A long strand of pre-cum dangled from its tip. The waiter had known about it. Had the man seen? Did it matter? He revelled in the memory once more. “Hey, you love me, don’t you?” repeated his man, punctuating the question with a stiffened tongue pressed to the puckered opening of his ass. “Yes, fuck yes.” Rob groaned and clenched his ass. “Bastard, yes, oh fuck.” “Yes, I plan to fuck you.” Max nipped at Rob’s bum then again pushed his tongue into the warm depth of his anus. He fucked Rob with his tongue, entering him just enough to drive him insane with lust. Rob’s sphincter ring loosened, and his inner muscles clenched on the slippery, wet tongue. He ached for someone to stroke his cock, yet he desperately wanted to win the game.

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Max’s hands and tongue left him, and Rob shuddered. He peered back at the man. He wanted more. “I have to get lube and rubbers. Don’t move a muscle.” He watched the lusty brute walk away, saw the sliding glass door move along its track. He waited, frustration mounting. The time dragged. He knew it wasn’t long, but it felt like hours he stood bent over, desperate. Footsteps behind him padded across the deck, then Max was there. The man’s lovely cock bounced, and his fingers touched the flesh of Rob’s ass. The cool, slick digits entered Rob moments later. Max started with two then three, stretching Rob and opening him for his use. “That’s it, breathe it, relax and let me in,” Max crooned. It didn’t take long before Rob pressed back against the man’s hand. He knew he should fight his desire, but his arousal was simply more than he’d expected. A car horn honked, and he glanced frantically down at the street. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Yet, his blood raced. Max pulled his fingers free, and Rob bit back the threatening sob of emptiness. “You’re not going to be able to hold off,” Max teased. “I know you too well. I can tell how excited you are. Your cock is dripping. You’re fucking close, man.” “Shut up. I fuckin’ know it,” snarled Rob. Behind him, he heard foil being torn and knew Max donned a rubber. Any second he’d feel the slick head of his lover’s cock. He waited, breathlessly, for the soft brush of the tip against his hole. He clenched his ass, trying to tempt Max to hurry. An arm wound around his waist, holding him tight. “Ready, babe?” Max whispered in his ear. Rob nodded. “Yes, fuck yes.” Max pressed against him, the soft dome entering him easily. Max waited, giving Rob time to get used to the feeling. When Rob pushed back, Max responded with a forward thrust. Speared on the hard flesh, Rob gasped. “So good. So tight.” Max pushed ahead. His belly finally lay flat against Rob’s back. The hand below Rob crept downward and took hold of his bobbing erection.

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They stood frozen in time. The sun beat down on them, warming flesh never before seen by the sun. The wind cooled Rob’s skin, drying his sweat and exciting his balls. “Hold tight now, babe. Here we go,” Max said as he worked his hips in and out. Slowly, he withdrew until just the tip kissed Rob’s outer ring. He held there for moments before sinking back inside. In and out, the forceful pace of lustful fucking gained momentum with each glide. Rob met each thrust with one of his own. His grip on the rail tightened as the speed increased. Thankful for the handhold, Rob used it to his advantage, trying to force Max to climax first. His own orgasm loomed near, yet he still craved the win. His lover’s fingers worked their magic, and he gasped desperately, his release so close he could taste it. Max slammed into him, grunting with effort and madly stroking Rob’s dick. “Come for me, babe. Show these city people how a man comes. Show them all.” Rob groaned. His cock pulsed wildly, and a long stream of cream spewed from him. Grunting, he thrust forward and sent another stream flying through the air, down to the cement floor of the balcony. “Oh yeah, fuck yeah,” he sobbed as the last of his cum oozed over the head of his cock. Max tightened his grip on Rob’s shaft then pounded mercilessly into his ass. He slammed in then held still as his climax struck. Heat filled the condom buried inside Rob’s ass. He sighed as Max leaned forward, kissing his back wherever he could reach. “Love you, babe,” Max finally whispered. For a horrible instant, Rob wondered if Max had been with Dean like this. Is that why he’s being so lovey-dovey? Feeling guilty? He shook the thought aside and eased away from Max. He needed to get inside. Max wrapped an arm around him, and together they walked back into Rob’s room. The door slid closed easily, and Max tossed the used condom into the trash on the way to the bed. The two men sprawled across it. “Fantastic,” Max whispered, again leaning forward and kissing Rob’s shoulder. “Yeah, it was.” “You know I won that one, right?” Max smiled and made a one in the air, as if adding points to a score board.

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“Yes, I know you won this one.” Rob chuckled, but for some reason, he felt troubled. Was Max cheating on him? Is that where he went yesterday evening? An hour instead of just ten minutes. And it had been Max who’d suggested we should just go to sleep. “What’s wrong, babe?” Max asked, a concerned look on his face. “You’re awful quiet all of a sudden.” “Nothing. Just thinking, I guess.” Rob rolled onto his belly and tucked his arms beneath his head. “Do you want to try for that tour around the city, get some pictures, maybe? I hear the Navy Pier is something else, and there’s a park. Lots of photo ops.” “A shower first.” Max rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “Then we’ll get a bite to eat. Hotel’s got a decent restaurant.” Rob’s stomach clenched. Will Dean be there? Is that why Max wants to stay in the hotel? Again, he forced the thought from his mind. He was there to recapture his man, not to put obstacles in the way. He clambered from the bed and followed Max into the bathroom.

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Chapter Four

Rob looked through the lens of his camera and adjusted the manual focus. The Cloud Gate sculpture in Millennium Park loomed huge. Impossible to capture the whole thing on camera and still distinguish the people standing in front of it. He took a few shots of the socalled ‘Bean’, intrigued by the way its mirror-like exterior reflected the buildings around it. Amazing. Also astonishing were the throngs of people milling around. He and Max hadn’t been anything close to alone since they’d left the hotel restaurant after breakfast. What did I expect? On a beautiful, warm Saturday, the popular stretch of Michigan Avenue dubbed the ‘Magnificent Mile’ was sure to be a popular attraction. Max strolled towards him. “Got enough pictures here? This crowd is incredible.” “Yes.” Rob clicked off a few more shots and replaced the lens cap on his camera. He dialled the small knob to ‘off’ and returned the instrument to its case. “We should have realised how busy this place would be.” Max glanced around. “Lots of families…and cops. You ever see so many police officers? On foot, on bicycles—they’re everywhere.” Rob shouldered his camera bag and smiled. “Precisely why we should keep our peckers in our pants. I’m not interested in adding the local jail to our list of sight-seeing attractions.” “Going to be awful hard to play the game,” Max teased. Rob shrugged. “We’ve got lots of time. My flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. There’s always tonight and that big party you were talking about at the hotel.” “The barbecue.” Max nodded. “The Mason Arms is putting on a big shindig for the convention. We’ll want to be especially careful there. I’ll know a lot of those people.” Wicked ideas of masturbating Max under the table in a crowd of people floated through Rob’s mind, and he smiled. “The perfect time for me to try to even the score.” “Yeah, we’ll see.” Max waggled his eyebrows. The expression on his face led Rob to believe the possibilities tempted his lover, as well.

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Rob looked at the mass of people, some admiring the statue or just sitting there, others passing them by. “How about we head for the Navy Pier? I doubt it’ll be any less packed, but I do want to see it.” “Sure. A bellman said it took about twenty minutes to walk from there. We can hoof it, or we can grab a cab, if you’d rather.” “Nah, let’s walk.” Rob elbowed Max’s arm affectionately. “It’s nice being together without time constraints. At home, it seems like there’s always something one of us should be doing.” “You’re right,” Max said simply, not elaborating. They ambled along in silence for a few minutes until a thought struck Rob. “Did you go to the Pier with that group of guys?” Max smiled. “What makes you think they were all men? There are women at the convention, too, you know.” “When I got here, you were having drinks with a few other men. I just assumed you hung with a certain crowd.” Max nodded. “I guess I have been. But there hasn’t been time for much sight-seeing. We were lining up some stuff to do this weekend.” Rob’s heart sank. “I interrupted your plans.” Surprising Max had been a mistake. I’m such a fool! “Of course you didn’t.” Max squeezed his hand quickly and released it. “I wasn’t going to sit in the hotel all weekend. If you hadn’t showed up, then yes, I would have gone out with the others. But this is so much better.” Rob hadn’t interrupted any big plans, and last night Max had said he wasn’t sorry Rob showed up. But he never came right out and said he was happy to have Rob there. Am I reading too much into it? He couldn’t be sure. Uneasiness niggled at his gut, and for some reason, he couldn’t ignore it. “Penny for your thoughts?” Max nudged his arm as they walked. “Nah.” Rob shook his head, trying to clear it of disturbing images. “Not worth nearly that much.”

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“I’ll be hungry by the time we get to the river. You think we should look for some quaint, little restaurant to eat in?” Max grinned, apparently remembering their dinner last night. Rob laughed. “Sure. Why not?” That’s what I need. If he immersed himself in the game, Max would be the only thing he could think about. Being with him, loving him, was all that mattered.

**** Rob kicked a rock into the street as they strolled the last few blocks to the Mason Arms. It’d been a pleasant afternoon if different from the one they’d planned. Every restaurant they’d stopped at had overflowed, and they’d ended up eating Chicago-style hot dogs loaded with mustard, relish and onions as they walked along the pier. The carnival-like atmosphere had buzzed enticingly, and they’d splurged on doughy, soft pretzels and ice cream cones before the day ended. A ferry ride down the river had highlighted their tour, and Rob fought lethargy by the time they arrived back at the hotel. “What a day,” he murmured. “No kidding.” Max stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders. “That last walk nearly killed me. I almost caved and flagged a cab.” “Shall we go back to the room and catch a ‘nap’ before the barbecue?” Rob smiled. Max glanced at his watch. “Not sure we have time, babe. We probably need to get cleaned up and get out there. It’d be quicker if we each showered in our own rooms. Dress casual. I’ll meet you at your place in twenty or thirty minutes.” Rob frowned. I’ve heard the ‘twenty minutes’ line before. “Sure that’s all we have time for?” They stepped into the elevator, and he pushed the button for the third floor. “If we showered together, it’d save water.” Before Max could answer, the elevator doors, which had barely started to close, popped open again and three men stepped on. They nodded friendly greetings to him, and he smiled back. “Hey, how’s it going?” Max turned back to Rob. “I’ll just meet you in a while, okay?”

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Rob’s gut clenched. He knew Max couldn’t continue their conversation in front of the others, but it seemed like an abrupt turn down. “Sure.” One of the men punched the button for the second floor, and when the elevator stopped, they all got off. Max smiled back at Rob. “See you soon.” Rob nodded as the door closed between them. He mentally kicked himself for being so needy. In his whole life, he’d never been this way. He’d had other relationships before Max, casual, passionate affairs that were good while they lasted and ended amicably. Being with Max felt different. I’m different. He’d go to the mat for this relationship. He’d do whatever it took to hang on to Max. The elevator doors opened on three, and he stepped off, perturbed. Why am I obsessing like this? Rob entered his room and peeled out of his clothes. Under the warm spray of the shower, he lifted his face to the water and let it drench him. I’m making myself nuts. Max hadn’t done anything to warrant his suspicions. He needed to snap out of it before Max caught wind and they had a serious argument on their hands. Out of the shower, drying off, Rob turned his focus on the game. Max had the ‘sex in semi-public’ fetish. Let’s see how he handles it, tonight. Rob dressed in crisp, khaki shorts and a button-down plaid shirt. He’d just slipped into a pair of loafers when a knock sounded on his door. He glanced at the clock. Barely twenty minutes. Pleased, Rob opened up and smiled at his handsome lover, freshly scrubbed and in attire similar to his. “Hey. You clean up good.” Max grinned back at him. “Not much I can do with my hair, but it’ll have to do.” Rob leaned against the jamb and eyed the slick, wet curls. “I love your hair. I love running my hands through it, fisting it when you’re kneeling in front of me.” Max groaned. “Damn, I love that, too. Are you ready? Let’s get out of here before my hard-on makes it impossible to walk.” Rob felt around in his pocket for his wallet and nodded. He pulled the door closed behind them and fell into step with Max. “You have a hard-on? I can fix that, you know.” “Yeah, promises, promises. I’ve been hearing that all day.” Max rang for the elevator. Rob reached over and cupped his crotch. The car arrived, and Rob jerked his hand away. Four people inside, going down. If they’d seen what he’d been doing, he’d have been too embarrassed to ride to the lobby with them.

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“Hey.” Max stepped into the car. “Come on,” he nodded to Rob. “Let’s get this party started.” Rob shuffled into the elevator, muttering, “Exactly what I tried to do.” Max was already chatting with someone else. Rob had the sinking feeling he’d be odd man out for the rest of the night. He followed Max and the others to a courtyard behind the hotel, an area he hadn’t seen, yet. Huge, lush and green, the grounds were festively decorated with lanterns and brightly coloured party decorations. A bar stood off to one side, a couple of buffet spreads on the other, with lots of clean, white tables and chairs in between. “Hey!” Max called to another group, who were apparently his friends. “Come on,” he said over his shoulder to Rob and headed for the bar. “Steve, Dean, Tony, Michelle, and…” Max raised his eyebrows at a pretty redhead in a blue dress that barely held in her assets. “Donna,” she supplied, leaning in to squeeze his arm as if he shouldn’t have forgotten. “Donna!” Max snapped his fingers. “I won’t forget a second time, I promise. Everyone, this is Rob, a friend from back home.” A friend from back home? Rob nearly swallowed his tongue. He looked over the group, not thrilled to see Dean in the mix. “Hey, Rob,” several people murmured. Dean looked at Max. “You have a seat, yet? We were just going to snatch this one.” He motioned to a round table nearby. “Perfect!” Max grabbed a chair. Dean took the one next to him. Rob secured the seat to Max’s left and felt someone brush against him as they sat. “Howdy, fella! I remember you!” Steve, the tipsy man from the previous night, plopped down next to Rob. He’d apparently found the bar again. A stiff drink might hit the spot. If the evening held this in store, Rob wondered if he could get quietly drunk and force time to pass more quickly. “Hi,” he smiled at Steve then turned to Max. “I could use a drink. How about you?” “Absolutely. I’ll get us a couple of beers.” Max stood before Rob could say anything. Suddenly, Dean got to his feet. “I’ll go with you. I’m ready for a refill. Anyone else?” Donna held up her bottle and waved it from side to side.

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“Gotcha. We’ll be right back.” Dean steered Max by the elbow towards the bar. Irritation shot through Rob. Dean acted awfully familiar with his man. Worse yet, Max allowed it. He watched them standing at the bar, talking like old pals. Max said something that apparently had been funny because they both laughed. Dean patted Max’s forearm, and the touch lingered much too long for Rob’s liking. “So, Rob, what do you do?” the redheaded woman asked. “Are you in computers, too?” He forced his gaze away from the bar. “Umm, no. I’m a photographer. I work for a newspaper called ‘The Sentinel' back in Indiana and freelance for several magazines.” “How fascinating!” she gushed. “Anything I’d know?” Rob tried to focus on the conversation, but his gaze kept returning to the bar where Max and Dean continued to get chummy. “I, uh, had a series in National Geographic one time.” “Ooh! That’s amazing,” Donna replied, looking slightly bored. “Do you ever do anything for Vogue or People?” Rob closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He opened them again and smiled. “No, actually, I haven’t. They’re very good magazines, though.” “I think so, too!” She turned to the woman next to her. “Did you see the article last week on Brad Pitt? Lord, he looked hot!” Michelle, he recalled, took the bait and joined the conversation, allowing him to back out. He could throttle Max for leaving him to discuss Brad Pitt with a table of women and one guy, whose main concern seemed to be getting the cherry in his drink unstuck from the ice. “Here we go.” Max set a beer in front of him and took his seat, Dean in tow. “What are we talking about?” He twisted off his bottle cap and took a swig. “Brad Pitt,” Rob replied in a voice he hoped conveyed his annoyance. He opened his beer and took a long pull. “I loved his last movie,” Max said, enthusiastically. “Me, too,” Dean agreed. Naturally. Rob sighed. Max looked at Dean. “Did you ever see the one where he played the spy? I can’t remember the name.” “Oh, yeah!” Dean slapped the table. “A fantastic movie. I liked the gladiator one, too.”

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Rob slipped his hand under the table and squeezed Max’s knee. To his utter amazement, Max pulled away and continued talking to Dean. No fucking way. Rob placed his hand firmly on Max’s thigh. Max turned to him and whispered, “Not now. Later, okay?” Rob pulled his hand away. He fought back his disappointment and attempted to put himself in Max’s place. Max had gone to classes and meetings with these people all week. Tonight, they had the chance to talk about something other than work. They all just wanted to relax and unwind. That’s reasonable. That’s bullshit. Perpetually horny, Max never resisted Rob making a play for him. Something wasn’t right. He tried to concentrate, but the conversation Steve, Donna and Michelle were having about the best places to sightsee in Chicago drew him in. “The Navy Pier was awesome,” Rob agreed and decided to go with the flow for a while. Maybe he was being too rigid and uptight. If he made an attempt to enjoy himself with Max’s friends, perhaps Max would notice and appreciate it. Two beers and half a barbecued chicken dinner later, the theory didn’t seem to be working. Max had a grand old time, talking with Rob just enough to be polite. His main focus seemed to be Dean, and the admiration society appeared mutual. Max didn’t make a move without Dean right behind him. The man followed Max through the buffet line and even took the same types of food as Max. Rob had no intention of making a scene, but he and Max would definitely talk about Dean later. They were just finished eating when a silver-haired man approached their table. “Evening, everyone. Enjoying the party?” “Mr. Sloan, good evening,” Max said politely, and the others murmured their greetings. “Max, I wonder if I could steal you for a moment. I talked with Jacobs about the idea you had for the bug in the new software design. He’d like to hear your thoughts.” “Certainly.” Max deposited his napkin on the table and stood, whispering to Rob, “The boss.” Rob nodded and watched Max walk away with the older man. “Sloan likes him,” Dean observed aloud. “I hear he’s going to offer Max a position in the Seattle office.”

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“Seattle?” Rob blinked, trying to process the information. “Max will never move to Seattle.” “Are you sure about that?” Dean twisted his face into a tight-lipped, unfriendly smile that came nowhere close to reaching his eyes. Donna leaned across the table. “We’re going to get some dessert. Anyone want to come along?” “Sure.” Steve stood with Donna and Michelle. “No, thanks,” Rob murmured. Dean shook his head, his gaze still firmly planted on Rob. The others left Rob alone with Dean. Rob hadn’t wanted to make trouble, but he couldn’t resist speaking the words that had been on his mind all evening. “Max is in a committed relationship, you know.” “Is that so? Sometimes, it’s hard to see things that are right in front of your eyes.” Rage bubbled in Rob’s gut. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think a couple of weeks of shaking your ass in front of Max is enough to make him fall for you? He’s got more class than you’ll ever have. And he has more integrity than you give him credit for.” Dean pulled a hotel key card from his pocket and flipped it over in his hands. “Sound pretty sure of yourself. But I have to wonder, if Max is so honourable, why is he sharing a room with me?” Rob’s heart lurched, and his face burned. “He’d never do that.” Dean tossed the card so it landed in front of Rob. Rob picked it up, furrowing his brow. How do I know this is Max’s room? A boulder settled in his stomach. If this guy was to be believed, Rob thought he might be sick. He resisted the accusation. “This is bullshit. You have Max’s card.” “No, that’s mine. Go ahead, use it. You’ll see how many people are staying there. If you really stop and think about it, you’ll figure out what plans we had for the weekend. Your inopportune timing interrupted everything.” Dean flashed his vicious smile again. “Well, almost everything.”

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“You’re a lying prick.” Rob clutched the key card and stood. If I truly believe Dean is lying, why am I heading up to Max’s room? The only thing he knew for sure was he had to get away from Dean. The blond-haired man leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “See for yourself.” “Oh, I intend to.” Rob escaped the crowd of happy convention-goers and entered the hotel. His mind raced as he rode the elevator to the second floor and used the key card Dean had provided to enter Max’s room. He stepped into two ten and glanced around. Unlike his room, a single, this one featured two queen-sized beds. Rob recognised one of Max’s jackets folded neatly over the back of a chair. He opened the closet and spotted a familiar suitcase and more clothes belonging to Max. He rifled through them until he came to a section of clothes he didn’t recognise. Another suitcase, a black leather thing he’d never seen before, rested underneath the strange items. Rob closed the closet and stepped into the bathroom. Two toothbrushes beside the sink. Two sets of toiletries lined the counter, looking much like his bathroom at home. Obviously, two people were staying there. “Fuck!” Rob swore and stomped back into the bedroom. A pack of gum and a few coins lay on the dresser next to the TV. And one pair of sunglasses. Mirrored, reflector sunglasses. Rob’s head pounded, and his heart beat wildly. He chucked the key card into a trash can and started to leave when another idea struck him. Like a crazy man, he dug through the refuse in the small can, looking for evidence of Max’s indiscretion. He did the same to the one in the bathroom. Both cans were nearly empty save for a few scraps of paper and several tissues. When Rob straightened up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and was shocked at his red face and wild eyes. So this is what it’s come to. Digging through the trash for used rubbers. Rob washed his hands and rushed out. Head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone, he hurried back to his room and closed the door. Leaning against it, his breath came hard. I’m losing it. I have to get out of here.

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He flung open his closet door and grabbed his travel case. He shoved things carelessly into it. He’d sort it all out later. His cell phone rang, a distinctive tune announcing Max. For a moment he debated not answering then decided he owed Max at least that much. “Hello,” he said gruffly into the phone. “Hey, babe. Where’d you go? I’m sorry Sloan grabbed me, but there wasn’t much I could do.” “I’m in the room, my room, packing. I went to your room, or should I say Dean’s room. He gave me the key. I think he was pretty pleased with himself.” “Stay there, I’m on my way,” Max said sharply. “Don’t bother. Look—” “Stay there, God damn it!” Max snapped and disconnected the call. Rob finished packing and set his bag by the door. He made one last cursory check of the drawers. He didn’t want to leave anything in his rush to leave. Max pounded on the door. “Rob, open up.” Rob obliged, feeling calmer than he had all evening. He’d made his decision. He simply had to follow through. “I’m going home, Max. I’m going to the airport and arranging an earlier flight.” “Can we go in and talk about this, please? I’d like a chance to explain.” Rob stared into the eyes of the man he’d loved for a very long time. “I’m not sure there is an explanation. You lied to me.” “I never lied.” Max shook his head. “I never—” “A lie of omission is still a lie. We talked about Dean several times. You knew how I felt about him, yet you didn’t bother to tell me you were rooming with him. God knows what else you were doing with him.” Rob shuddered. Remembering how he’d dug through the garbage looking for evidence made him feel almost as lousy as Max’s lie had. “Nothing happened, I swear it. The company is paying for the rooms, and we all had to share. Dean and I are just friends, Rob. Look, I’ll take a lie detector or whatever it takes for you to believe me.” Rob smiled. Max excelled at making offers he couldn’t follow through on. Where the hell would we get a lie detector? “If nothing happened, why did you keep it a secret? Why didn’t

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you tell me about your roommate when I got here? Or for that matter, when you checked into the hotel and called me at home? You could have told me then if it was so innocent.” Max’s face blushed red. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d act this way. You’d go all nuts, worrying about me sharing a room with another guy. You never used to be the jealous type, but these last few months…” Max shook his head. “You’ve changed, Rob. I’m not sure I like it.” Rob laughed out loud. “I know I don’t like it. I followed you here this weekend, willing—no, wanting—to do anything to save our relationship. Now, I‘m wondering if it can be saved.” “That’s ridiculous!” Max exclaimed. “No, babe. The only ridiculous thing is the way I’ve been acting. I used to be a strong, independent guy. All of a sudden, I’m a simpering church mouse, afraid of losing you— afraid of my own shadow. I don’t like the person I’ve become, Max. I need to go home and think about things.” “Leaving now would be a mistake,” Max said firmly. “You have some thinking to do, as well. Is it true Sloan offered you a job in Seattle?” Max’s eyes widened. “How do you know that? He just did it, not thirty minutes ago.” Rob shrugged. “How else? Dean.” “Dean knew?” Max looked puzzled. “Dean seems to be in the know about a lot of things.” Rob leaned down for his bag. He shouldered his camera case and stood upright. “Let me know when you’ve decided, will you?” He pushed past Max and strolled into the hall. Max’s voice shook as he called, “Robert Jenkins, if you leave now, I truly believe you’re making a big mistake.” Rob hesitated for a moment, wondering the same thing. He loved Max with all his heart. Walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. An old saying flitted through his mind, ‘if you love something, set it free’. Followed by some other nonsense, ‘if it comes back to you, then you know it was yours.’ I always hated that saying. Unfortunately, he knew it was true. He had to do this. If we’re going to have a shot at making it, leaving now is the only thing to do. He squared his shoulders and kept walking.

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Chapter Five

Rob folded towels as he took them out of the dryer. There weren’t as many in the load as usual with Max gone. It seemed like forever, but was exactly a week since their argument in Chicago. They hadn’t spoken, the silence a killer. Max. Rob held a towel to his face and inhaled the fresh scent while he stared absently through the window. The conference had ended Friday. Now, it was Saturday, and he hadn’t heard a word. Rob took another deep breath and exhaled it. I’ll survive. If he’d figured out anything during the past week, it was that no matter what happened, he could withstand the blow. Losing Max would be like a knife to the gut— lots of bloodshed, lots of pain, but not a fatal blow. He’d strive to remain standing, his self-respect intact, and carry on. He’d done well all week, only one bad episode of wondering if he could go it alone. He’d been in the shower, remembering the blowjob Max had given him in the Italian restaurant. The memory of Max’s face had been so vivid, so full of mischief and love. Rob had stroked himself as he’d recalled the amazing evening and fought back tears as he’d spewed cum over the shower wall. Better get used to that. With Max gone, he’d be left to take care of business himself. Rob couldn’t imagine how long it would take until he felt ready to go out with someone new. He sighed and folded the towel he held, turning to place it in the stack on top of the dryer. “Hey,” Max’s voice came from the doorway. “Shit!” Rob jumped, his heart leaping into his throat. He hadn’t heard anyone sneak up behind him. “What the hell are you doing here?” Max, leaning against the doorjamb, smiled. “Last I knew, I still lived here.” Rob struggled for composure. He picked up the armload of towels as if putting them away was an important job he needed to finish right then. “Excuse me.” Max stepped aside and followed him to the hall closet. When Rob opened the door, Max reached for the towels and placed them on the shelf. “There. Is that how you like them?” Max’s voice sounded different. This can not be a good thing.

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“Fine.” Rob closed the closet. “I figured if you were coming home, you’d be back yesterday.” “Okay, you and I need to talk.” Max took Rob’s hand and led him to the living room. He pushed Rob down on one end of the sofa and sat next to him. “What is this ‘if I was coming home’ business? Do you really think I’d give up on our relationship that easily?” Rob shook his head. “I honestly didn’t know what to think. Things haven’t been right with us for a while. My sad attempt to improve them backfired.” Max smiled. “The weekend started off pretty great, didn’t it?” Fighting off a smile, Rob said, “Yeah. Until I found out you were rooming with Mr. Mirrored Sunglasses. I didn’t like that guy from the first time I met him, and I could tell he didn’t like me. Now I know why.” “Let me tell you about Dean. We had it out that night, after you left. He did have an interest in me. I was too dumb to see it until you pointed it out. I thought he was just being a really cool friend. He works in the head office, and he arranged a lot of things to suit himself. Our rooming situation, for one thing. And my job offer, for another. He put a bug in Sloan’s ear that I might be willing to move. That’s why I had to stay an extra day. Sloan and I met for dinner last night and talked about my future with the company.” “Your future?” Rob held his breath. “Yes. My future here, in Indiana. I’m not moving to Seattle. Sure, the offer appealed to me. Maybe someday, if you’re looking for a change, we’ll move. But only when it’s right for both of us. And I’m not moving anywhere near Mr. Sunglasses. He was an ass, and I let him know it.” Rob exhaled and allowed the first hint of a smile. “Are you serious?” “Fuck yes, I’m serious. He treated you badly, and I wasn’t going to stand for that. He moved to another room that same night. I had the place to myself for the rest of the week.” “Really?” Gushy, blubbery feelings welled up in Rob, but he tamped them down. “Really.” Max nodded firmly. “You never called.” “You never called me, either,” Max countered. “Truthfully, I thought you needed some time to think. I knew I was taking a chance, you know. I’d have been sick if I’d come home and found you gone.”

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“I’m not going anywhere.” Rob slid into Max’s arms. “This is the only place I want to be.” “Me too, babe.” Max kissed his forehead. “I love you. I’m so glad I’m home.” Rob held the embrace for a moment then straightened up. “I love you, too. But the problems we had before you left—” “Were miniscule,” Max told him. “Besides, I think you may have solved those problems. What would you think about planning one weekend a month, just you and me, going away? We’d choose different cities, different hotels…” He grinned wickedly. “And continue playing the game?” Excitement welled in Rob’s chest. It sounded like the perfect arrangement. Max nodded. “I’m ahead, you know. We’ll plan to go away next weekend and see what you can do to catch up.” Rob reached for Max’s belt and pulled his lover into a prone position on the sofa. “That sounds great. But I’m not waiting until next weekend. I want you now.” “Great minds think alike. I’m so with you on that idea.” Max unsnapped Rob’s denims and slid one hand down the front. Rob sighed as Max fondled his burgeoning erection. His worries faded away and suddenly things felt right, normal, just as they should be. He smiled and hurried to kick out of his jeans.

About the Authors Jenna Byrnes could use more cabinet space and more hours in a day. She’d fill the kitchen with gadgets her husband purchases off TV and let him cook for her to his heart’s content. She’d breeze through the days adding hours of sleep, and more time for writing the hot, erotic romance she loves to read. Jenna thinks everyone deserves a happy ending, and loves to provide as many of those as possible to her gay, lesbian and hetero characters. Her favourite quote, from a pro-gay billboard, is “Be careful who you hate. It may be someone you love.” Email: [email protected] Jude's imagination frequently leads her astray, and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble, or at least, not get caught. For those of you who know her, you'll know that's not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. Her male characters run the gamut from the dominant male ruling his women with an iron fist, to a simpering purple-clad boy-toy whose only desire is to please. As diverse and as richly depicted, her women find themselves in a myriad of exotic and erotic situations. Email: [email protected] Jude Mason and Jenna Byrnes love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

Also by Jenna Byrnes and Jude Mason Untamed Hearts: Feral Heat Untamed Hearts: Bear Combustion Untamed Hearts: Wolfen Choice Kindred Spirits: Ethan’s Choice

Also by Jenna Byrnes Unexpected Love: Nothing to Lose Convincing Cate Second Time Around Carnal Collision Unexpected Love: Worth the Risk Taking Control Unexpected Love: Having It All Cattle Valley: Truth or Dare Secret Santa My Secret Valentine: Secret Rendezvous Rose & Thorn Society: Switching Seth Cattle Valley: Fool’s Gold

Pleasure Bound: Aloha Kaua

Also by Jude Mason Ghost of a Chance Naughty Nooners: Lunch Is Served Night Games Pleasure Bound: Selene’s Awakening Jacob’s Pony

YES! Kim Dare

Dedication To everyone who is willing to fight for what they want – and especially to those who fight dirty!

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Chapter One

“Are you calling me a slut?” “I’m merely making an observation,” Kevin’s friend corrected. “You seem to have trouble saying no to men.” He swallowed a mouthful of his coffee and set the mug down on the low table between them. Andrew Holt raised an eyebrow. He took a sip from his own steaming mug and carefully considered the young man sitting opposite him. He was certainly the type of man Andrew would enjoy saying yes to. If he hadn’t turned up on Kevin’s arm, Andrew was quite sure he would have said yes, along with far more interesting things, to him weeks ago. However, while Andrew might not be willing to admit to having many morals, he did have standards. Poaching his friend’s lover was beneath them. A bit of harmless flirtation on a quiet Saturday morning was quite a different thing, he reassured himself. There weren’t any other attractive men in the coffee shop—Kevin would understand how easy it was to get bored in that situation. “No.” Andrew smiled across the coffee table. “I appear to be quite capable of saying the word to you.” Kevin’s friend met his eyes and held his gaze for several long seconds. “I’ve never asked you anything that would tempt you to say yes to me.” As serious as he was obviously trying to appear, a hint of a smile continued to play around his lips. Andrew sighed. For all his faults, knew when the ice was getting thin. It appeared Kevin’s new guy really was Andrew’s favourite type—cheeky, cute and ready to play. If he wasn’t very much mistaken, there was also something about Kevin’s friend that hinted he had the potential to be a very interesting dominant in a few years’ time. Andrew set his coffee mug and his inclination to give in to temptation aside. “He may be a submissive, but Kevin would still have your balls on a platter if he found out you were screwing around behind his back. Mine too, if I was the one stupid enough to help you cheat on him.”

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The guy’s gaze didn’t falter. “Kevin has no interest in any part of my anatomy—on a platter or otherwise. And I don’t think you’re his type, are you?” Andrew brushed the issue of his own relationship with Kevin aside. Perhaps two submissives could find a way to have some fun with each other, but he’d never been particularly interested in finding out what sort of fun that was. But if Stephen wasn’t involved with Kevin…that really could make things interesting. “Kevin’s aware that he has no interest in you?” Andrew studied the other man’s responses very carefully. His friend had certainly seemed taken with the guy last time he saw him. There was no hesitation, no guilt. The guy nodded. “That’s right.” Andrew nodded, filing that little snippet away in a file marked—yippee! “What was your name again?” “Stephen Phillips.” Andrew looked Stephen up and down. With his limbs all folded up in the complicated arrangement required for a man his height to sit on the very low coffee room chair, he wasn’t shown to his best advantage. It would have been easy to miss the fact that he was pleasingly tall, at least several inches taller than Andrew’s own six foot. At least the posture didn’t hide the fact he was gloriously broad across the shoulders. He looked wonderfully athletic, Andrew decided. He probably worked out a lot. Strength and stamina. A few delicious possibilities began to rise in his mind. Behind his fly, his cock began to rise too. “You consider yourself to be a dominant?” he asked, although he was already pretty damn sure on that score. “Yes.” Straight forward and to the point. He might not be willing to rush in and agree with the other man’s assessment of himself, but Andrew had heard far worse answers. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as an unpleasant thought struck him. If Kevin hadn’t made a move on a man who was both stunning and inclined towards dominance, it might be for a bloody good reason. “How old are you?” “Nineteen.”

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“You look younger.” From the neck up anyway. He had a man’s body, a man’s muscles, but his smile was boyish and the chestnut hair flopping down into his eyes betokened a student rather than an office worker. “Apparently I’ll be very grateful for that in twenty years’ time,” Stephen said, with a forced smile that said he’d heard the same thing from a lot of guys and was thoroughly sick of it. “Fed up with getting carded at the door?” Andrew asked. “I’ve a mind to ask for proof you’re legal myself.” Stephen took his wallet out and handed his driver’s licence across the coffee table with something that sounded suspiciously like the noise a man might make while trying to hold back a long suffering sigh. The card tallied up with his claim to nineteen. He might have been a few years younger than Andrew’s twenty-six, but he was certainly old enough to know what he was doing—for vanilla anyway. Andrew passed the driver’s licence back and made a mental note to check back in five or ten years to see if he grew into an interesting dominant. For now, there was plenty of vanilla fun to be had with a man who looked like Stephen. “Where were we?” Andrew mused, leaning back on the low sofa and stretching his feet out under the coffee table. “Oh yes, you were explaining why I’m a slut?” “I didn’t say that,” Stephen corrected, perfectly politely. “I said you find it easier to say yes to men than to say no to them.” His eyes raked up and down his body as Andrew presented it for his inspection. They’d look good together, Andrew decided, as he returned the other man’s analysis. Stephen’s darker colouring would only serve to make his blond hair and blue eyes appear even more angelic. His fairness would go a long way towards making the other look deliciously brooding. When Stephen met his gaze, there wasn’t a single trace of embarrassment in his expression. He made no attempt to deny he’d been admiring what was being so subtly displayed for his appraisal. There wasn’t a trace of submission in him, Andrew noted, just confidence that hinted he might be a bloody brilliant dominant when he finished growing up and got a lot more experience under his belt. The last of Andrew’s boredom melted away.

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“So, Dr. Freud,” he said. “How do you suggest I should be cured of such a grievous affliction? Sex as therapy is always popular with the amateur psychologists, isn’t it?” He still had the rest of weekend free. Bending over a psychiatrist’s couch for Stephen would fill that time up very nicely. “I’m not a psychologist, amateur or otherwise. And if it’s a choice rather than a compulsion, I don’t see why it needs to be cured.” “You suddenly find my promiscuity healthy?” Andrew grinned. It really was amazing what the prospect of getting laid could do to a man’s perceptions of the world. Stephen shook his head, still doing his part in pretending they were having a serious conversation. “No, I don’t think it’s healthy. And I’m not so sure it’s not a compulsion either.” “You don’t believe that I can say no when I want to? I’ll have you know I don’t screw everyone who makes a pass at me. I do have some standards,” he added, along with a chuckle to show that there were no hard feelings. “I’m sure you have standards. What I don’t believe is that you have the self-control to say no to someone who you want to have sex with.” Andrew shrugged. “Where’s the fun in saying no when you want to say yes? Masochism never was one of my strong points.” “Nor is self-control,” Stephen reiterated. Andrew sat up a bit straighter, no longer finding his lounging sprawl on the sofa entirely comfortable. “My self-control is more than adequate when I choose to exercise it,” he informed the other man, suddenly impatient to skip this bizarre form of flirting and move on to the bit where someone got screwed. “Really?” Stephen’s tone of voice wasn’t a challenge as much as an insult. “Prove it.” Andrew relaxed when he saw the obvious trap. It was just a game. That was okay. He was good at games. “And how would I prove something like that?” he asked, pushing his moment of impatience aside to play along a little. “A simple bet. If you can say ‘no’ to me for twelve hours, you win. If you say ’yes’ to any question I ask you at any point then I win.” “And what would the loser forfeit?” Andrew asked. Stephen shrugged. “I decided the terms, you decide the stakes.”

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“So sure you’ll win?” He couldn’t have even the mildest pretensions to dominance and still be comfortable giving a stranger that sort of control over the bet if he wasn’t. “Yes.” Andrew studied him very carefully. He certainly seemed confident. “I’ve been watching you for weeks, Andrew. You’re beautiful and you know it. Men have probably fallen over themselves for you your whole life. If someone offers you something appealing, you take it. If you want something, you get it.” “And you’re going to teach me a lesson? Stop me from taking advantage of the poor people who keep giving me things,” Andrew asked, his tone cooling with each word. He sat up straight in his seat. “I may be a slut, Stephen, but I’m no whore.” That was a completely different accusation. Even more annoyingly, he found himself completely unable to work out if this was supposed to be some fun bit of role play or a bizarre attempt to screw with his mind. Stephen shook his head. “I know you’re not a rent-boy,” he picked up his mug and blew on surface of his coffee. “Like I said, I’ve watched you. I’ve asked around about you too. You screw around, but only with people who know the score and who are free to do the same. You’re not hurting anyone but yourself.” “I’m not hurting myself, either. Your description of my life didn’t sound painful, darling, it sounds like a bloody good time.” Andrew pushed his hair back from his face, no doubt ruining the careful style he’d put in place before he left the house. The realisation did little to improve his temper. “But sometimes you do wish that life was a bit more of a challenge, don’t you? Sometimes, you smile at a guy in a bar and a tiny bit of you hopes he’ll make you work for it.” “I’m not sure you’ve been watching the right person,” Andrew said, although a quick scan of his memories couldn’t bring to mind the last time a guy he’d wanted hadn’t leapt at the chance of receiving whatever he offered them, be it simple sex or his submission. Stephen ignored the interruption. “I don’t think it’s ever occurred to you that you should try saying no to yourself. A bit of self denial makes the final success all the sweeter.”

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“And I suppose you practise this sack cloth and ashes lifestyle, yourself?” Andrew was very tempted to snap the words, but it turned out he had more self-control than Stephen gave him credit for. The words sounded as polite as any he’d ever uttered. “I’ve watched you for weeks without trying to get into your bed,” Stephen reminded him. “And in doing so, denied yourself the chance of something you want?” “Yes. I wanted you and your submission the first moment I saw you,” Stephen admitted with an honesty and an intensity that made Andrew slightly uncomfortable. “So, you wasted the last few weeks.” Andrew shrugged and did his best to brush the issue aside. “It’s a pity, we could have had a lot of fun.” “We still could. And it will be more fun now I’ve let the anticipation build.” “I’m not sure if you’re some sort of crazy genius, or just crazy,” Andrew said. He ran the conversation over in his mind as he took another mouthful of coffee and played for time to work out his next move. Pushing the issue of self-control aside for a moment, Andrew knew he didn’t possess the strength to walk away from the game Stephen was offering to play. “And when do you plan to enact this bet? Does that have to be set aside, so we can savour the anticipation of that too?” “Do you have any plans in the next twelve hours?” Andrew smiled. “No.” He found a peculiar thrill in saying the word to Stephen right then. The younger man pointed to the clock on the coffee shop wall. “Noon until midnight.” It was five minutes to the hour. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do for the rest of the day. Andrew nodded his acceptance. “Choose a safe word.” Andrew raised an eyebrow. “We’re playing a game, not a scene. My submission isn’t part of the deal. I don’t play with novices.” Stephen stared at his coffee for several seconds before he looked up. “You’re going to say no to me a lot—even when you want to say yes. I need to know when you are saying it as part of the game and when you really mean it. At times I won’t pay too much attention if it’s the former, the latter is a different matter.”

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Andrew watched as the guy glanced back down at his mug and then lifted his eyes again to meet his gaze square on. “I’m well aware that you don’t submit to any man who hasn’t got a very well established reputation on the local scene. But I won’t risk putting you in a position where you don’t have a clear way of calling a halt to the bet if you need to. Pick your word.” There was a certain sort of logic to that. Andrew studied him very carefully. “Just in case you missed any of the important points when you were taking all that time to ask around about me,” he said. “Here are the highlights. Yes, I’m a submissive. But I submit as and when I choose—and only to the dominants I choose. So, don’t expect me to defer to you just because you’ve suddenly decided you’d like to boss someone around when you have sex with them. I expect a damn sight more than that from a dominant and, at your age, there’s not a chance in hell you’ve got what it takes to bring me to your heel.” Stephen gave one jerky nod—not so much an agreement as an acknowledgement that he’d heard what Andrew said. He looked back to his coffee mug. “And your word?” “Red.” Stephen nodded again. This time it appeared to be a far more relaxed gesture. “You also need to state the forfeit.” Andrew was just as sure as Stephen was that he would be the winner. There was no harm in keeping his options open. “A simple truth or dare,” he decided. Stephen raised an eyebrow. “If I lose you can ask me anything or ask me to do anything—no limits, no outs. If you win, you get a simple guarantee that I will answer you honestly or do whatever you challenge me to do, without complaint,” Andrew said. “Although I won’t guarantee it will be without sarcasm. That might be testing my limited self-control a little too far.” “I’ll remember to bring a gag with me, just in case,” Stephen said. “And if I lose, you can decide if you want to use it on me instead.” Andrew bowed his head once in acknowledgement, willing to risk a little bit of bondage now he was sure Stephen understood it wouldn’t come with a side dose of submission. The younger man glanced at the wall clock and then at his wrist watch, checking they were in sync. They both watched the clock tick around until both hands pointed straight up.

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The moment it hit twelve, Stephen stood up and tossed a tip on the table. Not a ‘aren’t I generous, aren’t you impressed’ tip, Andrew noted, just a regular one. “Ready to go?” “No.” Their eyes met across the table. Andrew gave Stephen a disappointed look, wondering if he really thought he could trick him into an early defeat that easily. Unrepentant and seemingly a million times more relaxed now the game was on, Stephen grinned. “It was worth a try.” Andrew left his own tip next to his empty mug and shrugged. The game had started. He was going to win. School boy tactics weren’t going to worry him. In fact, he was sure his biggest challenge would be deciding what to dare Stephen to do when he collected his forfeit from the younger man. He looked the honest sort. It would be a waste to ask him a truth, but admiring Stephen’s body as he followed him from the shop, Andrew could think of so many wonderful things he could dare the man to do. There was always something special about twisting things around on a would-be dominant and taking the control away from him for a little while. It did them good to be reminded that they weren’t all powerful gods at an early stage in their kinky career. It made them better dominants in the end. Anyway, there was plenty of time to work that out. For now, all he had to do was remember one word. No. How hard could that be? Andrew smiled quietly to himself as they walked out of the coffee shop and into the car park along side it. He’d seen Stephen several times over the last few weeks, but as they made their way through the car park, Andrew realised he hadn’t seen his ride before. A sports car gleamed in the sunlight. When Stephen stopped next to it, Andrew knew he had to be joking. Stephen clicked open the central locking. “Did you steal it?” Andrew whispered. Stephen smiled. “I have a weakness for fast cars.”

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“And being so into self-denial you obviously resisted the temptation,” Andrew said, still keeping his voice slightly hushed in deference to one of the most beautiful pieces of machinery he’d ever seen. The car screamed out to be stroked. Only the idea of finger prints marring the black metallic finish stopped him from reaching out and touching it. “Do you want to drive?” Andrew’s jaw actually dropped a little. He swallowed, looking over every stunning line of the car and imagining what it would be like to get behind the wheel. He was almost shocked into giving his answer without thinking. Just in time he realised what he’d been about to do. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, trying to convince himself to say the right thing. “Andrew?” Stephen held up the keys and shook them slightly to catch his attention. All he had to do was reach out and take them. All he had to do was say… Andrew bit his lip. “No.” Stephen grinned and shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He slipped into the driver’s seat without another word. Andrew forced himself to get in the other side and to try and look at least vaguely content with the passenger’s seat. It was the newest model. It still had that amazing new car smell. Andrew took a deep breath and arched his back against the leather seat. Turning his head, he looked enviously at the wheel. Stephen’s hands wrapped around the curve and his fingers stroked the delicate stitching. “If I’d given a different answer, would you have actually let me drive?” Andrew asked. “Of course. I don’t believe in offering anyone anything I’m not capable of providing.” Stephen turned the ignition. The engine purred to life. “And that goes for everything you offer today?” Andrew checked. “Of course.” Stephen glanced in the mirrors and guided the car out of the parking space. The thrum of the engine rolled through Andrew’s body. The car wasn’t important, he told himself. It was just a chunk of metal balanced on four circular bits of rubber. It was impractical. It was polluting. It was loud. Andrew sighed. It was a wet dream on wheels, and he wanted it.

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He could have it. Andrew had no doubt that if he told Stephen to repeat the question, one word could have him behind the wheel and tearing through the countryside in it for the next eleven hours and forty five minutes. He came within an inch of giving in to the temptation, but a sideways look at Stephen’s smug expression had Andrew resting his elbow on the lower edge of the car window and subtly covering his mouth with his hand. He was not going to give the guy the satisfaction of being that right about him. “Do you want to know where we are going?” Andrew cast him another look. “No.” Stephen nodded contentedly and didn’t offer any further information. “You could tell me anyway,” Andrew pointed out after a while. “Where would be the fun in that?” Andrew tapped his fingers on his knee. They were out of the city now. Taking note of the sign posts and trying to guess their destination wasn’t helping. They were going west, but there were a hell of a lot of places Stephen could intend to stop at before they ran out of land and hit sea. By nature, Andrew didn’t believe himself to be a control freak. He was generally content to go with the flow. When he was with a real dominant who knew what he was doing, he was consistently happy to put himself in a dominant’s hands and accept whatever fun happened next. If Stephen hadn’t asked if he wanted to know, he was sure he could have had a very comfortable journey without ever worrying himself over their destination. “Have you eaten yet?” “No.” At least it wasn’t a backward worded question designed to starve him. It seemed likely that Stephen might let him eat at some point during the day. When they pulled up outside a gorgeous restaurant an hour or so later, the day seemed to be looking up. He’d skipped breakfast the same way as he always did. The aroma as they stepped into the restaurant reminded him he should have bought something to eat when he stopped off at the coffee shop for his caffeine fix. The restaurant was already busy with a lunch time rush. While they waited to be seated, Andrew studied the framed menu on the wall. So many fantastic options available for his enjoyment and so little time to try them all.

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Andrew smiled at all the possibilities. A good metabolism and a healthy interest in competitive sports kept him trim and healthy. While he could get away with eating sixteen ounce steaks followed by double chocolate fudge cakes, Andrew was more than content to let salads happen to other people. A waiter carried an order past them to a nearby table. The steak looked mouth wateringly tender. The ale pie smelt delicious too. Another waiter walked past with a lobster dish. Lobster was one of his favourites. Andrew’s tongue slipped past his lips and moistened them in anticipation. He felt Stephen step up behind him and consider the menu over his shoulder. The heat from the other man’s body seeped through Andrew’s clothes. Stephen leaned in even closer to whisper in his ear. “Do you want to order for yourself, Andrew?” Order for… The glass covering the elaborate calligraphy on the menu offered a very slight reflection. Andrew met Stephen’s eyes in the glass. Did he want to order for himself? Of course he bloody well did! “Answer the question, Andrew. Do you want to order for yourself?” Stephen whispered, settling his hand on Andrews’s waist and stroking his finger tips along the waistband of his trousers. “No,” Andrew bit out. “No problem, I’ll order for you.” For the briefest of moments, he pressed his lips against Andrew’s jaw, just where the muscle clenched with knotted tension. Andrew glared at the smug expression in the other man’s eyes. “No,” he said. Stephen’s reflection smiled. “That wasn’t a question. I already gave you the option, you said no.” Andrew ground his teeth together. “Would you like me to ask the question again so you can change your answer?” “No.” “Table for two for Mr. Phillips?” “That’s us.” Stephen led the way and held out Andrew’s chair for him when the waiter indicated their table. Andrew sat down and waited until the waiter walked away before he spoke. “Nice manners, but I’m not actually female,” he said politely.

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Taking his own seat, Stephen’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ll be sure to check and make sure later.” It wasn’t a question. Andrew wasn’t compelled to say no, so he said nothing. He was starting to wonder if that anatomy check was the most fun he would have until he called in his dare. “And,” Stephen said, picking up the menu, “male or female, you are my date for the next,” he checked his watch, “ten hours and thirty seven minutes. You don’t mind if I make my own rules, do you?” Yes, he bloody well did. “No.” “How many food allergies do you have?” “How many?” Andrew frowned. Then he realised it wasn’t a yes or no question, Stephen actually needed an honest answer before he ordered. “Would you believe I have a serious allergy to any sort of healthy food?” Stephen grinned. “Very unlikely.” “Then I don’t have any.” There wasn’t any point in reading the menu when he wasn’t allowed to pick what he wanted. He watched Stephen read through it very slowly instead. Boredom quickly settled in. Andrew tapped his finger tips on the table top until he saw Stephen smile at the gesture. Snatching his hand away, Andrew put both his hands on his lap out of the other man’s sight. He looked around the restaurant. They were seated in a quiet, out of the way, part of the room. Not having anything better to do, Andrew amused himself by wondering what they could get up to without anyone noticing two guys getting it on in the corner. The waiter came back to take their order. He didn’t look the type to be easily shocked. If he came to check on them and found one busy under the table, he probably wouldn’t be scarred for life or anything. He was quite cute too. Not compared to Stephen, admittedly, but still. Andrew offered him an inviting little smile, just in case he was gay. “One steak with all the trimmings, medium rare, and one chicken salad. For dessert, one of the chocolate indulgences,” Stephen said. The waiter stopped smiling back at Andrew and wrote down the order. “Chicken salad?” Andrew asked, when the waiter had left. “Would you prefer to swap for the steak?”

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Andrew took a deep breath. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” “Yes,” Stephen rolled the word around in his mouth, obviously savouring his ability to say it whenever he wanted to. “If this wasn’t a nice polite restaurant, I’d have a few other words for you.” Stephen grinned. Andrew was winning the game. He was saying no at every opportunity. Stephen was being proved wrong—he was losing. Therefore Stephen shouldn’t be enjoying himself that much. Andrew frowned at the basic unfairness of it all. “You have this all planned out, don’t you?” The waiter chose that moment to bring their lunch. Andrew didn’t even feel inclined to flirt with him right then. He looked across the table and watched Stephen begin to tuck into his steak with obvious enjoyment while he picked at his salad. He didn’t like salad. He didn’t like chicken. The fact that those pieces that he ate were deliciously cooked and the chicken practically melted on his tongue, were minor factors that he wasn’t going to let get in the way of his deprived feeling. Stephen kept up a steady stream of conversation, asking a score of questions that couldn’t be answered yes or no. Andrew, after realising he’d been pouting like a two-year old for the last ten minutes, finally joined in. By the time the waiter came back to clear the table, Andrew was very surprised to find he’d eaten every scrap of the food from his plate— even the lettuce. Feeling somewhat guilty, he decided it was time to get in the spirit of the game. His time for revenge would come soon enough. The dessert the waiter placed in front of Stephen a few minutes later made it hard to stick to his resolution. The thick slab of chocolate fudge cake was topped with chocolate sauce, and cream, and white chocolate, and ice cream, and fudge sauce and pretty much anything else that a reasonable person could put on a piece of cake. He wasn’t hungry. It didn’t make any difference. He still wanted it. Andrew leaned back in his chair and settled to watch Stephen eat it with as much good grace as he could muster. The guy didn’t seem to feel even the tiniest twinge of guilt. Twirling his spoon through the cake to catch up the sticky trails of toffee and sauce, he murmured his delight around the first mouthful. His eyes dropped closed as he took a deep

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breath, evidently savouring every morsel on his tongue. His eyes stayed closed as he swallowed the sweetness down. “Glorious,” he murmured as he blinked his eyes open. Andrew met his eyes across the table. Yes. With his head tipped back and his eyes all hooded with pleasure, the younger man certainly was glorious. All thought of food gone, Andrew fell to wondering when he would have the opportunity to taste the main course. His eyes traced the path the next spoonful took to Stephen’s mouth and watched as his lips caressed the chocolate from the spoon. Licking his own lips at the possibilities, Andrew only just resisted the temptation to lean across and kiss some of the sweetness from the other man’s mouth. Stephen’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed more of it down. Andrew’s fingers itched to stroke the strong lines of muscles down his throat to where they disappeared into his shirt. He formed his fingers into a fist under the table and pressed the heel of his hand as subtly as possible against the erection swelling in his trousers. He couldn’t look away. Even reminding himself over and over again, that getting up from behind the table would soon be very embarrassing didn’t help. “Would you like a taste?” Hell, yes! Andrew didn’t care if he was talking about the dessert or something even more decadent. Andrew wanted it all. He wanted the latter so badly, he had to close his eyes for several long moments before he could make himself say the word. “No.” As he forced his eyes open and flicked his tongue over suddenly dry lips, Andrew saw Stephen was watching him with just as much lust as he felt. Stephen loaded up his spoon and held it out to him across the table. “I said no.” He had. Hadn’t he? In that moment, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what words had passed his lips. The whispered word hadn’t been any sort of competition for the yes, yes, yes, echoing around inside his mind. “I know that you said no. Humour me and try a little bit anyway.” Leaning forwards Andrew took Stephen’s spoon between his lips and slid his tongue against the smooth metal as he pulled away. Chocolate and sugar, cream and toffee all swirled together on his taste buds. Andrew kept his eyes open and his gaze locked with Stephen’s.

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It was all a game, he reminded himself. Letting another man feed him like a damn pet had nothing to do with submitting to him. It was all to do with getting a taste of the chocolate—and it was much better than he had ever imagined. The coordination needed to eat off a utensil held in someone else hand wasn’t quite there. A smudge of chocolate lingered on the corner of Andrew’s lip. Lifting a hand up to wipe it away, Andrew found Stephen’s hand wrapped tight around his wrist. With his other hand, Stephen gently wiped the smudge away with his thumb and licked the digit clean himself. Swirling his tongue around the pad, he sucked it into his mouth and visibly savoured the mixed taste of Andrew and the chocolate. “Good?” Stephen asked. Reluctant to look down and give the other man the impression that he felt the least bit submissive towards him, Andrew still couldn’t meet his gaze while he lied to him. He turned his attention to the table top. “No.” Stephen shared the rest of the dessert with him anyway. Their coordination improved beyond all recognition when Stephen dispensed with the formality of the spoon and made the most of their secluded spot to feed them both with his hands. He slid his fingers into Andrew’s mouth as he fed him. Andrew licked and sucked around them with genuine enjoyment. There was no reason to hide that pleasure from Stephen, not when he knew every murmur around a chocolate covered finger tip made Stephen all the more likely to keep feeding him the sticky sauce. Andrew pushed away the part of him that wondered if the younger man knew his responses were about sex and chocolate rather than submission. It wasn’t a problem, he told himself. If the guy fell into the wrong impression, he would find out just who was calling the shots when he ran out of chocolate. By the time the other man wiped the last of the sauce from the plate and slipped it between his lips, Andrew might not have been feeling particularly submissive, but he was hard as hell and aching with frustration. “Are you turned on?” Stephen asked. For the first time, Andrew realised that while he’d been paying attention to more important and erotic chocolate matters, Stephen’s chair had migrated around the corner of the table, so he sat close to Andrew’s side.

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“No,” he said, for form’s sake. Stephen grinned. “Are you telling me the truth?” he whispered in his ear. Andrew laughed. “No.” “Good, I’d hate to be the only one trying to hide a tent behind my coat on the way out of here.” “All your forward planning didn’t foresee this problem?” “We could have gone straight to my place, but I don’t think you’d have found my culinary skills quite as appropriate.” “Beans on toast?” Andrew asked. “Not quite that bad. I sometimes manage cheese on toast too. Or there is the really adventurous option—scrambled eggs on toast.” When the waiter arrived and presented them with the bill, Andrew aut