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Authors: EM Lynley

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BOOK: Dirty Dining
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Throwing caution to the wind, Jeremy opened the top two buttons of Green’s shirt. The guy almost stood up and dropped him on the floor. Jeremy got to his feet, leaving his nipples at approximately eye level for Green, and his gaze lingered there.

“It’s cake decorating sugar,” Jeremy said. “One of the other guys did it for me. Too much?”

“They’re… pretty.”

The way Mr. Green’s lips formed a circle when he voiced the
p
got Jeremy’s loincloth fluttering. God, did Jeremy want that man’s hands and mouth all over him.

The moment of truth came during after-dinner drinks, course number six. All eyes were on them as Mr. Green moved to unfasten the thin gold cord on Jeremy’s loincloth. His fingers trembled against Jeremy’s flesh, heating Jeremy from head to toe.

“Kind of like Christmas,” Green said as he fumbled with the knot.

“Except you’ve already seen what’s inside.”

A shy, genuine smile flashed across Green’s face, lighting up his eyes, and he laughed.

“Is it what you wanted?” Why had he asked that? God, he was being such a slut tonight.

Green stared at Jeremy’s cock, then met his gaze. “It’s just about perfect.”

Just then, Rand grabbed Jeremy’s hand and pulled him a few steps from Green.

“Go on, give everyone a good look.” Then speaking to the others, he asked, “Isn’t that a nice view?”

So Jeremy stood there while fourteen people stared at his hard-on.

Well, Thomas had said the job was to take his clothes off and let people look at him. Six gentlemen, five boys, two guards, and Thomas, who hovered at the doorway to the inner hall.

Jeremy wouldn’t have described himself as particularly big, but he’d never gotten teased or laughed at in the locker room, and he had gotten plenty of compliments from previous lovers. But until today, he’d never gotten a round of applause.

He expected it to wither and embarrass him, but here, in this place, it only got him harder. Deep down, that reaction shamed him, but his body put his brain on hold.

He turned back to Green and straddled one leg, the way Kit had advised him. Now his cock pointed right up at Mr. Green’s face. They both looked down at it. Jeremy desperately wanted Green to take hold and not let go. So far several of the boys had already gotten hand jobs or blowjobs from their gentlemen.

But Jeremy had told Thomas he wasn’t interested in doing anything tonight. He couldn’t ask Green, because that would be solicitation. And though Green looked at Jeremy’s cock, glistening with drops of precome, with true longing, Jeremy knew he wouldn’t ask.

So, the seven-or-maybe-eight-inch gorilla stood between them. Jeremy pressed himself against Green’s firm abs, and Green pulled Jeremy closer with an arm around his waist.

It wasn’t enough for either of them, but they stayed like that, sharing a glass of cognac that served to speed up the sensations zinging around inside, while they listened to moans and heavy breathing around them.

Jeremy just had to break the silence.

“So, how about those Giants?”

Green laughed, and it sent shock waves up Jeremy’s cock and made his balls ache even more fiercely.

Then the gong sounded.

Dinner was over.

Chapter THREE

 

 

A
FTER
DINNER
,
the boys filed back out of the dining room, waving and blowing kisses. Remy had only given a shy smile when he slid off Brice’s lap and followed the others to the door. Brice didn’t want him to go, but he needed a break from the unbearable heat and desire zinging between them.

No one stopped to collect their discarded costumes.

“Would anyone like a nightcap?” Thomas asked as the men sipped at their after-dinner drinks.

Brice didn’t need any more alcohol. A few men nodded, and Thomas bent for a whispered conversation with each one. Watkins gave Brice a thumbs-up signal, and he responded with a shrug. He’d nurse this cognac until he could make a move that wouldn’t insult Watkins. Thomas, however, didn’t seem to be serving any of whatever the men had ordered. Finally, he came to hover at Brice’s shoulder.

“I’m fine. Nothing more to drink for me.”

“Mr. Watkins has already arranged your nightcap with Remy. Anything else is between you and the boy, but the room is yours until 10 a.m.”

“What?” Brice realized he’d spoken loudly when several others turned toward him.

Thomas leaned so his mouth was an inch from Brice’s ear. “A nightcap here means spending the night with one of the boys—as long as it’s mutually agreed upon. We provide the room and no questions asked.”

“But I—” Brice stopped as he noticed Watkins looking at him. Apparently, he better accept the offer and then figure out what to do with Remy later. The whole situation was uncomfortable. What had he been thinking coming here with Watkins? He liked to keep his private life private. Was this preferable to being dragged to a strip club with women dancers and being expected to ogle and jeer and make derogatory comments? It was more honest, but Brice still felt like he was exploiting the boy who’d served him, no matter how turned on Remy was or how hot he got Brice.

But Remy had agreed to spend the night with Brice. Maybe the boy was a lot less innocent than he appeared.

“How would you like him? Please point to your preference.” Thomas opened a menu—Brice was getting used to these tonight—with options: dressed, undressed, hard, prepped, in bed.

Fuck. Not very subtle, was this process? He pointed to “dressed.” Thomas nodded and straightened up.

Thomas left the room, and two of the guests followed him. When he returned he placed a key in front of each of the remaining men. Brice received a key marked only with the numeral 4. It was an old brass skeleton key, gleaming on the table, with the numeral painted in gold on a leather tag.

“In order, please, gentlemen,” Thomas said from the doorway. The man who presumably held key number 1 stood, and Thomas escorted him from the room.

“You got yourself a shy one there, Brice. But cute and one hell of a boner.” Watkins’ voice boomed through the quiet room. “You know, I just assumed you’d want
him
. Did you want one of the others? Or two?”

One of the other men joined in with Watkins’ laughter.

“No. He’s fine. Perfect.” Brice smiled and acted like he was used to ordering boys for the night the same way he ordered a pizza.

Watkins left the room next, and then a third man followed. Brice was the last to leave.

“Third floor, sir.” Thomas pointed to an old-fashioned elevator with a black wrought-iron grill. He opened the door and ushered Brice in, then closed it. The elevator rose slowly through the floors, and at the top Brice had to unlatch and open the door, then close it behind him. The key felt heavy in his hand as he made his way to Room 4. He stood outside the door for a moment, planning what he’d say when he entered. He imagined the other men opening the door to hard, naked boys, lubed up and ready to go, or whatever they’d ordered off the nightcap menu.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. The room was dim, lit by low lamps giving off a warm glow with the ambiance of a Victorian brothel, if his impression of a brothel were accurate. He noticed a leather armchair—big enough for two, just like the dining benches—a couch, and a four-poster bed. A door off the left led to a bathroom. Brice took in the furnishings as he scanned the room and came to rest on Remy, leaning against a polished wood dresser. The boy was fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a dark blue long-sleeved T-shirt. At his feet sat a blue-and-yellow gym bag with the familiar “Cal” logo and the image of a bear—the UC Berkeley mascot.

“Hi, Remy.”

“Hi, Mr. Green.” Remy’s mouth curved in a half-smile, but he didn’t meet Brice’s gaze. In fact, he looked as uncomfortable as Brice felt. Brice went and sat on the couch, a frilly Victorian number. Remy moved away from the dresser and sat next to him. It was more of a love seat, and their thighs pressed together. Here they were, alone in a room, both fully dressed, when half an hour earlier Remy had been naked and aroused as he perched on Brice’s lap, feeding him morsels of beef and delicious tiny squares of cheesecake.

Brice shifted as he felt his own arousal begin again. He did not want to be attracted to this man. He didn’t want to use another person this way. He’d never paid for sex in his life, and he wasn’t about to start. He noticed Remy glancing at his crotch, and he shifted his weight again.

“Remy, I have to be honest. I don’t want to sleep with you.”

Remy glanced at the telltale bulge again before returning his gaze to Brice’s face. “You don’t?” The tone sounded as if he were insulted. Could he possibly be disappointed? Then it dawned on Brice.

“I’ll pay whatever you’d make if I did. I just won’t pay you for sex. I won’t do that.”

“You won’t pay for sex, but you’ll pay me
not
to have sex?” Remy stared, eyes wide.

“Doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?” Brice laughed, and Remy joined in.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I’m here because of my coworker. I’m new to the firm, and he thought it would be a treat to take me here. But it’s just not my kind of place. He ordered you and the nightcap, and I can’t just be seen to refuse.”

“You’re not into guys?”

Brice laughed again. “I am into guys. I’m just not into putting my private life on display.”

“So you want your coworker to think you fucked me? That’s better than just telling him you’re not into this kind of thing?”

Brice shook his head. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s ridiculous. I should tell him the truth.”

“That you’re not into this?”

“Right. Just tell me what I owe you, then you can go home.”

“They have rules here about nightcaps. Since I’m new I don’t know what happens if you break them. But I can’t take your money. They pay me in the morning when I leave. Just for the night. Less if you only stay part of the night.”

“You’re kidding?”

Remy shook his head.

“So, if you leave early or leave before I do, then you don’t get paid?”

“I don’t think so. Like I said, I’m new, but that’s how Thomas explained it to me.”

“Then I can stay the night. I’ll sleep on the couch. You take the bed.”

Remy glanced down at the frilly love seat. “No, I can’t take the bed. I’ll sleep here. Can I use the bathroom first?”

“Sure.”

Remy took his bag and walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and shut the door. Brice noticed the bathroom had modern fixtures, even if the color scheme echoed the bedroom. He listened to running water, and a few minutes later, Remy came out wearing heather gray boxer briefs and smelling of toothpaste. The hair framing his face was damp. He sat on the sofa next to Brice, and Brice hoisted himself up and went into the bathroom.

It was clean, with a Jacuzzi tub and a large separate shower stall, everything in elegant dark green and brown tones. Big fluffy red towels hung on racks. The modern room broke the old-fashioned image set by the dining room and the bedroom, but Brice could see the attraction to the large tub and imagined what the other couples might be doing in the shower at that very moment. He washed up at the sink, then brushed his teeth. The Dinner Club provided toothbrushes—still in the package—and a variety of soaps and creams. Everything was top quality from Armani.

Should he disrobe in here the way Remy had? He wanted to hang his suit up, so it made more sense to undress in the room by the armoire. He opened the door and walked out. Remy silently watched as Brice removed his jacket and hung it up, then did the same with his trousers. He unbuttoned the shirt and added it to the armoire before turning back toward Remy, who still sat on the love seat.

“I’ll take that, Remy. You take the bed.”

“I don’t feel right letting you sleep here. You’re the gentleman.” He grinned at the term and so did Brice. “I should be helping you hang your clothes up, too. I’m sorry.”

“I only expected you to serve me dinner, and to be honest you went far beyond anything I expected.” Brice glanced away. It was awkward discussing this now, especially after they’d been so much more intimate earlier in the evening, each aware of the other’s arousal. Had he met Remy in a different place and time, he’d gladly have spent the night with him and not in separate beds.

“I liked serving you. Really.” It was Remy’s turn to look uncomfortable and break his glance away. “I wasn’t sure what to expect from this job. But it was fun. Serving
you
was fun. Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

Remy blinked, his long lashes brushing his cheeks. Brice stood in his briefs, staring at him. The room was cool, and Remy’s nipples stood up darker than they’d seemed earlier and no longer sparkly. “No glitter now?” The words were out before Brice could stop himself.

Remy ran a hand across his chest, fingers brushing one nipple and making it stiffen further. He gave a shy grin again. “It’s this special food coloring for making cake icing. Would you believe that? The guys paint themselves in all sorts of places. And it’s all edible.” Remy chuckled.

Brice licked his lower lip, trying not to think of how it would have tasted to lick the sweet glitter from Remy’s pretty pink nipples. He’d wanted to. But not in front of five other men. Even now he imagined how they’d feel plump and hard in his mouth, and he felt warmth and heaviness at his crotch. Remy’s gaze moved lower, and Brice recalled he was wearing boxer briefs that revealed his thoughts and urges. He’d better stop these thoughts or he’d wish he felt differently about the decision he’d made regarding Remy.

“I’m glad you didn’t expect anything from me,” Remy said. “I saw what the other boys did in the dining room, and what they said in the dressing room. They have lots of options on their menus, but I don’t think it’s the right thing for me. I never understood why guys would pay for sex when they know the other person is only saying and doing those things for money.”

“Yeah. I know.” Brice shook his head, moved toward the bed, then got under the covers before his ache turned to a full hard-on. Why the hell was he suddenly so much more attracted to Remy? But the truth was he’d been attracted to him the whole evening, and he kind of hated himself for falling under the spell of this place and this boy. It went against so many things he’d believed about himself, but maybe underneath he was just like those men who paid pretty boys or girls to treat them nicely.

BOOK: Dirty Dining
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