Fifteen Shades of Gay (For Pay) (21 page)

“Mind if I shower first?”

* * *

During breakfast at a French-style bistro down the street, they each had a phone call. Cormac’s came first, just after they ordered, at the equivalent of six a.m., Pacific time. “I’ll send it to voicemail,” Cormac told Andrew. But when he saw the name on his mobile, he accepted the call.

“What’s up, Martin?”

Watching the pedestrians pass and enjoying the crisp morning air, Andrew paid no attention to Cormac’s side of the conversation. When the other man disconnected, stashing the mobile back in his inner jacket pocket, his frown was startling.

“Hey. Cormac. Is everything okay?”

“Not really. That was Martin Fontaine. You recognize the name?”

Andrew shook his head.

“He’s in the House of Representatives. A friend of mine, a mentor, really. He’s planning on running for governor of California in the next election. When he does, I’ll run for his seat in the House.”

“What did he need?”

“An alibi.” Cormac shook his head. “Martin’s married, but to be honest, I always thought he was in the closet, just like me. We never discussed sex, not in five years of friendship. It was just a feeling I had. Anyway. He said he had a long weekend with a
Fatal Attraction
type. Now the woman is threatening to come forward if he doesn’t pay her off. He wanted to be sure he could count on me to say we were together, having a boy’s night out or whatever, if he has to explain himself to his wife.”

“Oh.” They fell silent as the waitress brought their plates: oatmeal with baked apples for Andrew, a ribeye with two fried eggs for Cormac. After the server withdrew, Andrew said, “Will you cover for him?”

Cormac sighed. Cutting his steak with forceful strokes, he mixed the meat with the eggs, creating a mess of yellow, white, and brown. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to be a good public servant. An honest one, when it comes to money and the law. But yeah. If he needs help, I’ll probably lie for him. I mean, there but for the grace of God, right? What if the tables were turned? What if I were the one who needed help?”

They ate in silence for awhile, Andrew forcing himself to pick at the gooey, overly-sweet oatmeal, Cormac attacking his plate as if it had personally insulted him. Andrew was relieved when his own mobile chimed, giving him an excuse to push his bowl aside.

“Andrew. How are you?”

“Fine,” he said noncommittally. “Sorry, this connection’s not the greatest. Who’s calling?”

A chuckle. “Sven.”

“Oh. Hi.” Andrew didn’t know what else to say. Clearly Paresh had no qualms about giving out a private number, and Sven thought nothing of calling before many city dwellers clocked in for their morning shifts.

“Sorry to call so early. But I wanted to catch you before you accepted an assignment from Mr. Wasserman. You
are
free tonight, aren’t you?”

Andrew looked across the bistro table at Cormac. He was staring into space, frowning at something, probably his own thoughts. “It looks that way. Why?”

“We’re having a pool party tonight. Very exclusive. Paresh and I would love to have you.”

“Oh. Um. Isn’t it a little cold for that?”

“It’s a heated pool. And we have those free-standing patio heaters. It’ll be comfortable, I promise,” Sven said.

“Well, sure.” Remembering his early days, when shucking his swim trunks and serving drinks in the nude had seemed like a prelude to apocalypse, Andrew’s confidence surged. “I’ve done the pool boy thing before.”

“Yes, but this will be a different kind of party.”

“Oh?” The surge of confidence faded.

“Yes. Don’t worry, you’ll be my… helper. My apprentice, of sorts. We’re going to to play a different kind of game. One with very potent rewards. Not to mention twice the money you earned last time.”

Andrew fought not to react. “What’s the game?”

Sven didn’t conceal his pleasure. “I call it, How Long Can You Hold Your Breath?”

* * *

Andrew had to wait outside the iron gates for several minutes before Paresh finally buzzed him in. When Paresh opened the front door, he was dressed more casually than Andrew had ever seen him—jeans, polo shirt, and ball cap. Looking surprised and more than a little frazzled, he didn’t invite Andrew inside.

“Andrew. The party doesn’t start for—” Paresh looked at his watch. “Almost five hours. Why are you here now?”

“I want to talk to you. Is Sven around?”

“No. Just the cleaners and my chef, making tapas for tonight.”

Andrew hesitated, analyzing Paresh’s demeanor, unsure if he could take the other man’s word for anything when it came to Sven. The Toyota van parked in the driveway was probably owned by the cleaners; the sporty red coupe behind it might belong to Paresh’s chef, but it could just as easily be Sven’s.

“That spot looks nice.” Andrew pointed to a stone table and two chairs positioned beneath an oak tree. “Can we sit down and talk? I won’t keep you, I promise.”

Paresh frowned. “I… I don’t think so. Andrew, our relationship is well-defined. You’re an employee. You don’t call on me in the middle of the day, demanding a chat. That’s not how it works.”

Steeled for an initial rebuff, Andrew ignored Paresh’s disapproving tone and mildly condescending words. Instead, he noted the other man’s body language. How Paresh crossed his arms over his chest in a self-protective gesture, even as his breath sped up.

“So I take it Sven calls the shots even when he’s not around? He’s the Dom twenty-four/seven?”

Paresh’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. You Googled BDSM and now you think you’re an expert? I happen to know you got off on spanking me every bit as much as I did, if not more. Did the experience shatter you so badly? Convince you to rush over here and save me from myself?”

“I did get off on spanking you.” Andrew shrugged. “You wanted it. I wanted it. It was a sex game and it worked.”

“But…?” Paresh prompted, arms still folded tight.

“But. What Sven plans for tonight worries me. I thought I should—”

“You thought you should tell me how sick I am. Tell me everything that’s wrong my private choices, my personal decisions.” Paresh advanced so suddenly, Andrew took an involuntary step backward. “
You!
A prostitute, a butt boy, daring to judge me, to compare my life to your fucked up vanilla world!”

Andrew didn’t think Paresh would take a swing at him. Still, he took another step back in hopes of calming the other man.

“I never said any of those things. You did. Whoever you’re arguing with, it’s not me.” Andrew kept his voice level. “I came here to ask you just one question. Are you afraid of Sven?”

“You have five minutes to leave my property before I—”

“Please. Paresh.” Andrew held up empty hands. It was an instinctive gesture as old as the human race—
no weapons, no tricks
—that he hoped would get through, even if words did not. “You helped me once, whether you know it or not. I’ve always been attracted to men and women, though I didn't always admit it, but my teenage years were pretty messed up. If you hadn’t chosen me—seduced me—I would have missed out on something really good.”

“Sven chose you,” Paresh said. “Saw you on the CC TV cameras, wandering around the house, and told me to follow you.”

“Maybe. But still, you helped me break through a barrier, and I won’t forget that. So if you’re not afraid of Sven, please, say so. I’m worried about you.”

Paresh’s shoulders relaxed, but he looked no happier. “I’m glad I helped you. Growing up in my culture, coming to terms with who I really am, was hell. But Andrew, this is a world you don’t understand. The rules are different.”

“Are you afraid of Sven?” Andrew persisted.

“My fear is my problem.” Paresh’s tone was firm, but his eyes pleaded for understanding. “My relationship with Sven is consensual. The discipline is consensual. When I stop disappointing Sven, I’ll stop fearing him.”

Andrew worked hard not to let his emotions, his knee-jerk inner response, show on his face. “Okay. But tell me this. What happened the last time you disappointed him?”

“Just a spanking.”

“
Seriously
disappointed him?”

Paresh pressed his lips together. His gaze wandered away.

“Is that what tonight’s about? Punishment for something you did, or didn’t do?”

“It’s called breath play. Edge play….”

“But Sven told me you’re highly claustrophobic. Afraid of your swimming pool.”

“I’m not afraid of the pool. I can swim,” Paresh snapped, looking embarrassed. “I just have to keep my head above water. Sven is helping me overcome it. Once I beat my phobia, I can share the things he enjoys, like snorkeling and scuba diving.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never heard of claustrophobics wearing latex slave hoods to overcome their fear of suffocation. Much less being held underwater,” Andrew said. “Suppose you panic? How can you say the safe word if he’s keeping you under?”

Paresh sighed. “Andrew. I’m sorry I got so defensive. I think you’re sincere.” He offered a weak smile, very different from the wide, avid one he’d often flashed in the bedroom. “I’m not accustomed to sincerity. If the people in my real life knew what I enjoy, they’d commit me to a mental hospital, or stand me up against the wall and shoot me. Even so, you don’t understand. Sven and I have a very special relationship. Our rules are different.”

“Then explain. I’m listening.” Gently, Andrew touched the other man on that forearm, hoping Cormac’s method of outreach might help. “You got through to me once. In the tub. You made so much possible for me, without hurting me or threatening me. So make me understand how it is between you and Sven. Is he your Elijah Black?” Andrew asked, referring to the handsome, controlling billionaire from Marie’s “mommy porn” trilogy.

For a moment, Andrew thought Paresh would refuse to answer, retreating inside his beautiful house and slamming the door. Instead, he closed the door behind him, leading Andrew into his front yard and down to the stone table. The chairs were uncomfortable, but the breeze felt good. This was autumn’s last hurrah, shaking the final leaves off every last tree before another New England winter came to call.

“I met Sven online,” Paresh said. “I was checking out the BDSM scene from a distance, trying to decide if I could enter without being caught. It started when my first boyfriend spanked me with a hairbrush.” He chuckled. “Quite tame, really, but it showed me a hidden side of myself. I wasn’t sure how to proceed, but Sven took over. He told me what tools to buy and how to use them. That bedroom with the carved door? His design. I commissioned it to please him.”

“Did you make other friends in the BDSM community?” Andrew asked, pretending he didn’t already know the answer.

“I started to. But Sven had some bad experiences with other Doms, so he asked me to focus on him alone. He’s a lone wolf.” Paresh smiled fondly. “My real life is filled with people. But in my secret life, there’s only him.”

How convenient for Sven
. “Is that why you hire guys from Wasserman’s service, instead of inviting other people from the scene?”

Paresh nodded. “People dependent on a salary tend to do what they’re told. Except for you. Sven thinks you have the makings of a natural Dom.”

“Maybe sometimes.” Andrew remembered the thrill of being overpowered by Cormac, the strength in that long, lean body. “But submitting can be good, too.”

“It can,” Paresh said eagerly. “You asked me about a safe word. We don’t use one. That’s how much I trust Sven. I have to, if I want to be with him. Sven demands everything from me and he never relaxes his grip. But in return, I’m taken care of. Attended and loved by a man who would defend me to the death.”

That time, Andrew didn’t succeed in controlling his expression.

“He
would
.” Paresh’s voice rose. “I’m his number one priority. Admit it, wouldn’t you like to be someone’s absolute first concern?”

Andrew almost let the question go. But knowing he’d made little or no headway, he decided to err on the side of candor. “I’m already someone’s absolute first concern.”

Paresh waited.

“I’m my own number one priority,” Andrew said, tapping his chest. “I’m my own absolute first concern. Take away my talents, my money, my family and friends. What do I have left? Me.”

“Oh, Andrew. That sounds so sad.” Paresh shook his head. “But no. You’re not that selfish. You wouldn’t be here now if you were.”

“I’m selfish in that I take care of myself,” Andrew continued, despite his near-certainty Paresh didn’t comprehend. “But that gives me the strength to take care of others, when I need to. As for your party, I appreciate the invitation. I’ll understand if you get offended. If you decide to complain to Wasserman. But I can’t watch Sven hold your head under water. Probably not even if it was your favorite thing in the world. But definitely not if you’re claustrophobic.”

“I understand,” Paresh said. “But I hope you reconsider. The invitation remains open. Come for a few minutes. Leave if you get uncomfortable. Who knows, maybe a little exposure to edge play will free you the way that very first spanking freed me.”

* * *

Andrew returned to his apartment with no intention of attending the pool party. He didn’t think Paresh would blackball him again, not of his own free will, but if Sven took his absence personally, all bets were off. Maybe if “gay for pay escort” was taken off the table, Andrew could venture into the phone sex industry? Or erotic photos, assuming he didn’t mind their emergence if and when his acting career ever took off?

I could always finish my book
, Andrew thought, glancing at his laptop.
As long as I change Cormac’s personal details enough, he won’t mind. And Marie will be blown away.

He expected to spend the afternoon with Marie, but Connie Reynolds had taken her daughter to Sloan-Kettering for a chemo infusion and a round of doctor’s visits. So Andrew was still at home, fighting to write about his childhood flashbacks while being paddled and blushing to an empty room, when Marie’s text came through.

OMG there’s a clin tri that will actually enroll me! Looks like pot in pill form can stop aggressive tumors. Can U believe? All this time I was smoking it.