Open Seating (17 page)

Lying prone on the massage table in a private room illuminated by a tiny mood lamp with soothing background music was the perfect environment for introspection. He was a little light-headed from rushing through the last hour, not to mention the satisfying interlude that put both Bryce and him in the right frame of mind for more sensual pampering at the hands of a qualified masseur. He’d requested a male, as did Bryce, simply because he wasn’t comfortable getting naked with a female. He knew he was being silly—after all, women were just as good, if not better than men in this profession—but the last time he’d been butt-ass naked with a female was at age fifteen. He’d been experimenting with his neighbor, Jenna, and the afternoon had turned into a fiasco when he couldn’t respond to her touch. He left her bedroom more certain than ever that he was gay, accompanied by her mocking laughter in the background. Thinking about it made him shudder.

“Does that hurt?” Roy, the masseur, asked immediately, attuned to every nuance of Seth’s body. It was his job to make sure his clients were relaxed and not vibrating with tension.

“No,” Seth murmured.

“How’s the pressure? Too hard or not hard enough?”

“It’s fine, Roy. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Is there any particular spot you’d like me to focus on?”

“My neck and arms,” Seth said. “I’m a writer and spend too many hours in front of a computer.”

“Say no more,” Roy replied. “I know exactly what you need.”

“Do you see this a lot?”

“Yeah, but not only with writers. Anyone who’s on the computer too long ends up in that gooseneck position, which puts a lot of strain on neck and shoulder muscles. What I’m going to do is apply some pressure on the knots and try to loosen them up. Let me know when the pain gets too intense. It should hurt a little, but I don’t want it to be excruciating. That would defeat the purpose.”

“How do I know if it’s too much?”

“You shouldn’t let the pain go past seven on a scale from one to ten.”

“Okay.”

Seth closed his eyes and let Roy do his thing. The guy had a great touch. He knew where to linger, pressing down on spots Seth didn’t even realize were pinched. As Roy applied increasing pressure with his fingers, the area grew noticeably warmer, and Seth could feel a low thrumming under his skin as if Roy had his fingertips right on Seth’s heartbeat. It pulsed steadily, and after a minute or two, the pressure eased and the pain slowly faded. It was hard to know if it was magic or the power of suggestion, but he felt he was in good healing hands.

When the hour-long session was over, Seth was half-asleep. Roy nudged him awake gently and handed him a glass of cool water flavored with a slice of lemon. He urged him to try to drink as much water as possible during the course of a day to cleanse his body and keep himself hydrated.

“It helps with the inflammation,” Roy said.

“Does it have to be water?”

“You can mix it up with fruit juices or an occasional soda, but there’s nothing like water.”

“I’ll try,” Seth said. “I’d like to see you again. I’m booked for two more spa visits. Would you please check and make sure the appointments are with you?”

“No problem,” Roy said.

He walked Seth out to the reception area and checked the appointment book for future visits. The bookings
were
on Roy’s schedule, so that was one less thing to think about.

Seth slipped him a ten-dollar bill before leaving the spa. “Dollars okay?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Roy replied. “Thank you, Mr. Wilder.”

“Call me Seth.”

“Will do. See you in a few days.”

Bryce was waiting for him at the exit. His eyelids drooped a little, and his thick hair was tousled. There were crease marks on one side of his face from lying on the paper table protector in the same position too long. He looked a little loopy. Bryce smiled, sending signals straight to Seth’s cock while his heart beat double time. There was something so deliciously appealing about the man, Seth would have willingly followed him into a cubicle for a quickie.

“We need to figure out a way to carry these guys home in our suitcases,” Bryce decided.

“That would be fabulous, wouldn’t it?”

“Did your guy make you feel like a puddle of warm goo?”

“Yup, plus he knocked the kinks out of my neck for good measure.”

“I hope he left a few for me,” Bryce replied mischievously. “I’d hate to see your kinks wasted on someone who can’t enjoy them.”

Seth swallowed his gasp, and the blood rushed to his cheeks as he realized what Bryce meant. “I don’t have kink one.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously, Bryce. I’m the most vanilla guy you’ll ever meet.”

They were taking the stairs down to their floor when Bryce stopped midstride. “Don’t tell me that bondage scene in
Mastering My Mistress
was a figment of your imagination. It was too authentic to be created through research alone.”

“You read it?” Seth asked, seeing Bryce in a whole new light.

Bryce ducked his head. “Uh-huh,” he murmured, moving again.

Now he was taking the stairs two at a time, trying to outrun Seth, who wanted to ask more questions. In frustration, Seth yanked on Bryce’s arm and watched in alarm as he teetered on the steps before grabbing the railing to steady himself.

He spun around and glared. “What the fuck, Seth?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up.”

“Let go of my arm.”

“Answer my question first. How many of my books have you read?”

“All of them,” Bryce retorted savagely. “You got a problem with it?”

Taken aback, Seth dropped his arm. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m just surprised and really flattered. Why haven’t you mentioned it before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“I have readers from all walks of life, Bryce. Assuming anything about the men and women who choose to read my books would be unfair.”

“So long as we’re clear; I don’t believe in love or happy endings, but I do like your writing.”

Seth shook his head. “Admit it, Bryce. You’re a total fake.”

He lifted one eyebrow and gave Seth a rakish look. “You think you know me, Mr. Wilder?”

“Maybe not all of you, but I’ve caught a glimpse of your softer side. I’d like to believe love isn’t just a word in your vocabulary. Perhaps you haven’t met the right guy? Why else would you waste your time reading novels that are dripping with one romantic scene after another?”

“I wanted to support your work.”

“Thank you for the kind gesture, but I don’t believe it stops there. You wouldn’t have read
all
my books if you didn’t actually enjoy the experience.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Bryce murmured. “It’ll totally ruin my reputation.”

“As an unfeeling hardass.”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

Bryce continued down the stairs, and Seth followed silently, trying to process what he’d heard. Had he just uncovered something significant about Bryce, or were his reading habits only another layer to an already complex personality? Seth’s broad statement about Bryce believing in love could be nothing but wishful thinking. He had to stay away from such thoughts or it would only lead to heartache. He had to accept what Bryce had to offer—great sex and companionship—and stop trying to read more into every single word or gesture that came out of the man.

When they got to their cabin, Bryce went straight to the bathroom, and after a few minutes, Seth heard the shower. He looked at the time and realized dinner would be served in under an hour. Tonight was Captain’s Night, one of two formal nights aboard ship. It meant they’d have to dress in a suit, and he could already hear Bryce bitching and moaning about the need to follow such a useless tradition. On the other hand, Bryce couldn’t possibly blame Seth when he’d been willing to change their dining arrangements. Insisting on assigned seating to cave to Jeannie’s request would come with certain stipulations and dressing to the nines was one of them.

He riffled through the clothes in the closet and was relieved to see that Bryce had two suits in plastic garment bags. One of them would definitely work for tonight.

“Snooping?” Bryce asked, standing in front of Seth in a white robe he’d barely knotted at the waist. Seth was able to make out the silky chest hair that gleamed with drops of water falling from Bryce’s wet hair.

“Don’t you ever dry off before walking out of the bathroom?”

“I prefer drip-dry,” Bryce quipped. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure you have a suit for dinner,” Seth explained.

“A suit? Why in hell would I wear a suit to stuff my face?”

Exasperated, Seth pronounced, “Because it’s Captain’s Night.”

“Meaning—?”

“It’s a cruise thing,” Seth said. “One of three formal nights is named after the captain. I’m not sure why.”

“I’ve got a suit.”

“I can see that. Black on black,” Seth pointed out. “Do you have to look like a Sicilian mobster, or do you have a colored shirt to break up the monotony?”

“Hey, be happy that I’m dressing up. What do you care what I look like?”

“I don’t want people to think I’m dating an assassin or, worse yet, an undertaker.”

Bryce glared. “We’re not dating, Seth.”

Seth stepped back, brought up short by the unwelcome reminder. “Right, I forgot. Wear anything you want.”

“Can I ditch the suit?”

“That stays, unless you want to eat at another time.”

“No,” Bryce said definitively. “I promised.”

“Do you always keep your promises?”

“The only time I’ve broken a promise was out of my control.”

“Care to share?” Seth prompted.

“Nah… not that important. Come on, Seth. Hop in the shower.”

“The robe looks good on you,” Seth said, stalling for some reason. “You know we can buy a brand-new one and even get it monogrammed.”

“Sounds good.”

“Shall I order two?”

“Sure,” Bryce agreed.

“Do you want your initials or your name on the front?”

Bryce rolled his eyes. “Does it really matter, Seth?”

“Of course it does,” Seth noted. “If you have this embroidered back home, it’ll cost you. Take advantage of the service while you can.”

“Who the fuck’s going to see my robe?”

Seth faked a smile. “The hookups who pass through your revolving door.”

“Right. Okay, have them put HMFIC in block letters.”

“What does that mean?” Seth had no idea and he was pretty well versed on acronyms.

“Come on, you’re a writer. Aren’t you up on urban speak?”

“I’m afraid that’s not in my vocabulary,” Seth replied stiffly.

Bryce smirked. “It means head motherfucker in charge.”

Seth gawped.

“Shut your mouth, Seth, or I’ll stick something in it that’ll put us both in a better mood.”

“You’re vile.”

“Get in the shower.”

“Going,” Seth said sullenly. He wanted to slap Bryce for being such a pig, but he’d be lying if the dirty talk didn’t make his knees weak and give him a semi. In the shower he scrubbed his hair savagely, and his other body parts, ignoring his cock, which had plumped up, seeking attention even more. Looking down at himself, he frowned in disgust.
Fuck you, you traitorous bastard.
He was becoming a slave to his hormones. This was so far outside his comfort zone he felt like he’d been body snatched by a Martian.

This was not the first time he’d compared his change in outlook to being invaded by someone from outer space. Perhaps he should try his hand at science fiction next time. He certainly had enough material for a short story at least. Maybe by the end of the trip, he could actually pen an entire novel about some innocent dork who fell in love with an alien. Not much of a stretch considering he was already halfway there.
Head motherfucker in charge. I’ll say….

When he opened the bathroom door, Bryce was already dressed in his
Penny Dreadful
suit. He’d conceded on the color request and was wearing a navy blue shirt instead of black. Not exactly what Seth had in mind, but at least he’d tried.

“You… look nice,” Seth stammered. He didn’t know why he was so tongue-tied suddenly. Maybe because the semi he’d clubbed into submission under the cold shower was back and raring to go. Bryce looked hot, and the way he was staring could only mean one thing.

“You look good enough to eat,” Bryce remarked.

“Stop it.”

Bryce zeroed in on his crotch, which was embarrassingly on board with the plan. “Mind if I have an appetizer before we go to dinner?”

“You’ll get your pants creased.”

“No, I won’t.” He sat on the edge of the bed and held out a hand. “Get over here.”

Like a mindless zombie, Seth crossed the room and stood in between Bryce’s splayed legs. This was a scene straight out of a book. The well-dressed stranger having his way with the innocent but willing plaything. As soon as Bryce engulfed him in his mouth, he stopped thinking about fiction and turned all his concentration on the incredible feelings being drawn out by the real-live man enjoying every inch of him.
God, I’m so screwed….

BRYCE WOULD
have given anything to have a casual dinner with Seth in one of the specialty restaurants. Instead, they were packed into the main dining room with a bunch of overdressed geriatrics, buying into the whole Captain’s Night extravaganza. He wasn’t sure why this evening was deemed special. There were no dancing monkeys or fountains overflowing with champagne. Everything looked the same as it did last night, except for the centerpiece of fresh orchids replacing yesterday’s roses. The menu wasn’t that impressive either. He was in the mood for a huge steak and a baked potato with all the extras, but it wasn’t an offered selection. His choices were salmon, roast chicken stuffed with rice and portabella mushrooms, or tenderloin tips.

“So, what’s the big deal about tonight?” Bryce murmured under his breath. “There’s nothing on this menu remotely interesting.”

Seth, seated to his right, agreed. “I was also expecting more.”