Dirty Dining (5 page)

Remy stretched out and dangled his legs over one arm of the love seat, settling his head against one of the cushions. The thing was too short for him, and he’d probably wake with a sore neck and aching back. If the poor guy even fell asleep in the first place.

“Look, Remy, this bed’s huge. There’s room for both of us. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” Brice shifted over to one side of the bed and patted the other.

“Well, if you’re sure.” Remy didn’t make a move yet, as if weighing the options. “Okay. Thanks.” He got up and moved toward the bed. Even in the low light, Brice could see the outline of his cock against the thin cotton of his shorts. Remy lifted the comforter and slid under, then turned so he faced away from Brice.

This was going to be one hell of a long night, Brice realized.

J
EREMY
SLID
into bed and turned away from Mr. Green—hell, he still didn’t know the man’s real name. Was that part of the rules, too? He hid his disappointment Green wasn’t more attracted to him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let Green fuck him or suck him or get him off or get himself off, but maybe Jeremy’s pride was a little wounded. He’d wanted Green to at least ask him for something, tell him how hot Jeremy was and how he made Green crazy and
please
? But instead, Green seemed like a nice, honest guy. On the other hand, Jeremy was in bed with him. And Green had the makings of another nice hard-on when he’d gotten undressed and headed for bed.

Jeremy would be happy to fuck or be fucked by Mr. Green. For free. If they’d met in a club or a bar, he’d pass all of Jeremy’s tests for a casual fuck mate. All the activity at dinner had Jeremy far more turned on than he’d ever expected to be. He liked sitting on Green’s lap and feeding him. He liked watching the boys playing and sucking each other off, and he even wished he’d been brave enough to let Green know it was okay to play with him during the meal. And now, Jeremy had just agreed to spend the night with Green, hands off, despite the fact that Mr. Green was apparently as attracted to Jeremy as Jeremy was to him.

Well, it was a long night, and maybe somewhere in the middle, they’d both come to their senses and give in to the urges they both pretended to ignore.

A
T
SOME
point during the night, at least part of Jeremy’s wish came true. He woke up to discover he’d rolled over and was pressed tightly against Mr. Green’s back, enjoying the contours of Mr. Green’s shapely, firm ass.

“Uh, sorry,” Jeremy whispered and pulled away. He needed to pee and moved carefully toward the bathroom in the near darkness. He hoped Green hadn’t woken. When he got back to bed, he discovered he was wrong. Green was lying on his side, eyes open and glinting.

“It’s cold without you,” Green whispered. Jeremy felt a little warmer at the words and slid in under the quilt.

Green moved close and took Jeremy into his arms. He’d taken his shorts off, so his erection pressed against Jeremy’s hip and he radiated body heat. They were skin to skin above the waist, so Jeremy slid his own shorts off. Nothing in between them now but the self-control they’d both ignored.

Jeremy rolled onto his back, and Green lay on top, mouth quickly finding a nipple even in the near dark.

A loud pleasurable groan escaped from Jeremy’s lips, and Green sucked harder. Jeremy was rock-hard now. He bucked up against Green’s firm muscles and soon felt a strong, but gentle, hand wrap around his cock.

“Is this okay?” Green said, lips slippery against Jeremy’s chest.

“You have to ask?” Jeremy panted the reply.

“I need to ask. Is that a yes?”

The man must be a lawyer
, Jeremy thought with the last shred of clear thought. “God, yes.”

Mr. Green slid down and tongued Jeremy’s cock into complete submission. Finally, he took Jeremy deep into his mouth. The heat and pressure was too good. It didn’t take long before Jeremy lost control.

“Merry Christmas,” he said as he came down Mr. Green’s throat.

J
EREMY
LEFT
just after 8:00 a.m., in line with the morning rule—stay past eight and the gentleman paid the room charge. He wanted to leave before Green woke up again. Why hadn’t he asked his real name? Of course, real names were against another of the strict rules. The gentlemen stayed anonymous for many reasons. Some weren’t out, some were married, others might be embarrassed if their Dinner Club activities were discovered. And the club had the practical purpose of keeping the boys from meeting the gentlemen elsewhere, thus depriving the club of its reason to exist. They thrived on repeat customers who wanted to see their favorite boy, or so it seemed from what Jeremy had heard from the others in the short time he’d been at the house.

He took BART across the San Francisco Bay to Berkeley, then cycled home from the station and tossed his bag into his room once he got into the apartment. He lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling trying to process the night before. He needed to get to the Life Sciences Building and check on some lab work that would finish around eleven, but he was in no hurry. He was reluctant to wash away his memories of the night with Mr. Green. He wanted to keep Green’s scent close, think about how his body had felt against Jeremy’s. His hands and mouth—God, that mouth!—on Jeremy’s body…. No, he had to stop thinking about this. Too late. His cock thickened and tension hummed through his body, the familiar ache tightening his balls and quickening his breath.

Why not? He slid one hand into his jeans and grasped his cock, imagining Mr. Green’s hands on him, Green’s mouth sucking at a nipple. The ache grew, and Jeremy slid his pants and shorts down, not bothering to remove shoes or socks. He started with long smooth slow strokes, eyes closed to heighten the fantasy of Green pleasuring him. He heard himself groan, quickened his strokes, and let go as the first wave of pleasure shook him. He shot thick spurts onto his torso and gave in to the overwhelming sensation of physical bliss.

Afterward he lay panting, remembering fantasies weren’t really bliss, just a quick respite from the reality of his lonely life.

Serving Mr. Green had been another pleasant detour. He’d enjoyed taking care of his gentleman, knowing he got the man so worked up and surprised by his own arousal in the overtly sexualized environment of the Dinner Club. He’d gone only for the chance to earn some money, expecting the worst, assuming he’d feel used and degraded in the process. But Kit and the others clearly had a good time, enjoyed getting each other off for their own pleasure as much as for the amusement of the gentlemen. Was there really anything wrong with it, if everyone consented every step of the way?

Even the nightcap had been no pressure. Jeremy had wanted to do far more than he’d originally agreed to, and it had been awkward. But what was wrong with any of it?

Nothing.

Jeremy decided then and there if Thomas would have him back, he’d work again at the Dinner Club. And he’d loosen up and have some fun. Not all the gentlemen had been as handsome as Mr. Green, but Green had said he wanted to come back too. A win-win, right?

Jeremy spent another twenty minutes fantasizing about having Mr. Green’s hands on him at the dinner table and letting the other boys watch Jeremy’s gentleman ordering from the menu. God, how ridiculous their code phrases were, but Jeremy wanted to be on Mr. Green’s menu and wanted to perform whatever the man might ask.

Let’s just hope he asks.

L
ATER
THAT
day Thomas called to let Jeremy know he’d performed well enough to become a regular. He needed to let Thomas know his availability. Which days could he work, and how many nights a week did he want? Jeremy agreed to one night a week and told Thomas which days were best and how far in advance he needed to schedule around his academic commitments. Now all he had to do was wait.

B
RICE
WOKE
up alone in the room. Sunlight flickered through the edges of the heavy drapes, but there was a chill anyway. Remy’s pillow bore an indentation, but it was cold. He’d gotten up and left long ago. He glanced toward the bathroom, but it was wishful thinking. Remy was gone. His sports bag wasn’t in front of the armoire, where it had been the night before.

Brice checked the clock on the night table—an old-fashioned one with a second hand that clicked its way around the face. It was after 9:00 a.m. Remy only had to stay till eight to get his payment. Was the money all he cared about? Despite both their comments to the contrary, Brice thought they’d connected on more than just a physical level, though the physical had been satisfying. He sat up in bed, craving coffee. It was Saturday, and he wouldn’t need to go into the office. He’d just check e-mail. Reluctantly he crawled out of bed, visited the bathroom, and grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket as he made his way back to the bed.

He sat there for a few moments, then crossed the room to the armoire and began dressing. He checked his reflection to make sure he looked presentable and then slipped into the hallway. The elevator was on his floor already, and he rode it down slowly, then got out at the ground floor. He didn’t know if he was supposed to check out. He left the key on a table near the door, then slipped out of the Dinner Club and into the bright, clear sunshine of a San Francisco autumn morning.

He’d taken a cab with Watkins the night before, and he walked toward the next main street—Mission—stopping along the way at a tiny grocery store for their largest cup of coffee. The Starbucks across the street would be packed, and he didn’t fancy standing in line wearing yesterday’s suit, his dress shirt unbuttoned, and his tie rolled up in a pocket. He didn’t like announcing he hadn’t been home the night before. Coffee in hand—and after ignoring the judgmental stare of the turbaned man behind the counter—he hailed a cab and headed for home.

B
Y
M
ONDAY
Brice realized he couldn’t get the thought of Remy out of his brain. He found himself far too obsessed with the young man. Ten times during the weekend he’d considered calling the Dinner Club for another reservation, and ten times he stopped himself. Thankfully, the number was unlisted, or he might not have had the necessary willpower. He certainly couldn’t call Watkins on the weekend to ask for the number. He’d never live it down.

Brice had been in his office less than an hour Monday morning when Watkins slipped in, carrying a large Starbucks cup with half a dozen instructions penned on one side. Figured this guy would be high maintenance, even when it came to his coffee.

“So, Martin, how’d you like the club?” Watkins oozed into one of the leather chairs opposite Brice’s desk, wearing an improper sneer.

Brice had steeled himself for this conversation. He smiled and nodded, hoping he looked knowing and suitably debauched from the activities. It wasn’t how he felt, but he had to keep up appearances.

“Loved it. Thanks for taking me.”

“Loved it? That’s all you’re gonna say?” Watkins leaned forward, one hand on the edge of Brice’s desk.

“Yes.”

“Well, you’ll need to loosen up a little next time. Maybe we can….” Watkins’ voice trailed off as he must have realized Brice wasn’t into anything involving the pronoun “we” and naked serving boys. Watkins nodded and grinned again. “Kit’s a pistol. Took me most of Saturday and part of Sunday to catch up on my sleep.”

“I think he’d be a little too much for me.” Brice made sure to sound like he envied Watkins’ sexual prowess and might save the knowledge for future use.

“That Remy, he’s nice and fresh. Kind of like the boy-next-door quarterback of the high school team. Nice change from the pretty boys. Should I give him a run next time?” Watkins paused but not long enough for Brice to answer. “I usually like ’em squirming a little more in my lap, you know? Like to get a real feel for a boy during dinner. Remy’s new and maybe he’s a little shy—or maybe he’s just uptight—otherwise you two could have had some real fun at dinner and treated the rest of us to a little show. Well, he won’t last long if he’s a prude. Thomas likes the boys to be a little more
active
during the meal service. But maybe he saves his energy for the nightcaps.” Watkins gave Brice another lecherous grin.

Brice felt a heaviness in his chest. He hated the thought of Watkins with Remy. At least based on what Brice thought Remy was really like. Maybe the guy had only acted shy for Brice’s benefit, and the following night he’d gone down on every other boy in the room? The idea of Remy sucking off the other boys both repulsed and slightly aroused Brice, and he felt a little sick over his reaction. Whatever Remy was really like, Brice wouldn’t wish a night with Watkins on him.

A low buzz sounded, and Watkins grabbed his chest pocket, then pulled out a cell phone. He glanced at the screen and replaced it without answering. “Gotta run. Need to get some signatures on a contract. I’ll be back later to have you check that everything’s A-OK on the paperwork. What time you here till?”

“Till at least five. Buzz me when you’re on the way back if you’ll be later.”

“Gotcha!” Watkins rose and gave Brice a salute and a conspiratorial leer before heading out of the office.

He’d left his ginormous coffee on Brice’s desk, and Brice waited a few minutes to see if Watkins would return. When he didn’t, Brice dumped the contents out in the kitchen sink and tossed the cup in the compost bin.

The rest of Monday and most of the week passed without incident. Unless one counted that Brice wanted to see Remy again so badly he was ready to get the number of the club from Watkins. He managed to make it through Friday night by heading to a favorite bar just off Castro with some friends and getting drunker than he usually did. He stuck to beer to minimize the aftereffects the following day, then went for a long run in Golden Gate Park on Saturday morning.