If I ever felt any urge, I might write them a letter. Perhaps.
“And this still amazes me. I wouldn’t have thought you capable.” Alexandra reached up and nudged my collar open farther. Two weeks ago, I hunted down an artist who tattooed a sprawling series of clockwork gears and vines down the side of my neck. Black, gold, and tangerine ink now obliterated Rother’s brand.
“Rother is gone. I wasn’t about to wear his mark for the rest of my life. This is something I can live with. I wish I’d done it sooner.”
“Was it especially painful?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“It’s very bold.”
I paused, feeling the light inside me. It shone bright enough to lift me into the sky. “I feel bold.”
And there was Alexandra’s dazzling smile. Bursting with pride, since I’d put it there by finding myself and loving each tainted part. It bolstered my self-worth. Something my family and marriage had left in doubt.
The door chime rang. Back in Deilia, I would have stood ten feet away and waited until the butler arrived to open the door. It’s what would have been expected of me. I lived in Marisol now. I opened the door myself.
At the threshold stood a sturdy young man in a wool suit, a touch nicer than expected for this time of morning. In his meaty hands he wrung a matching cap, exposing a bright thatch of copper hair. A well-scrubbed dockworker in fine clothes. There was nothing threatening about his posture or the smooth shave of his jaw.
“Good morning, Mr. Billiard. What can I do for you?”
“Um… well… I came by to see…. Um….”
His eyes were a bit too wide, his stance too tight. The young man was petrified. Of what, I couldn’t be sure, since he couldn’t articulate his thoughts, so I figured it would be in my best interest to nudge the conversation along. If I didn’t, his poor hat might not survive.
“You realize we’re not open for business until tomorrow night.”
Mr. Billiard’s presence confused me. He’d been coming to the house for weeks now, and while he’d paid to socialize inside, he’d never rented any of the available men or women. The first night he stepped into the house, Mr. Billiard made it plain he expected to hire a companion. It felt forced, as if he was trying to assuage his loneliness and convince himself this was the solution. But something changed his mind before he could go through with the transaction. Physically domineering, Mr. Billiard was careful and shy. Originally I thought he would never come back, but he returned almost every evening without ever asking to purchase services again.
“Yes, sir. I know, sir…. Um… I… um….”
“You’re not making much sense.”
“I know…. Um… sir….”
Right then, Harston walked through the foyer, his arms filled with what I assumed were my bedsheets. Mr. Billiard perked up, his bright gaze fixed. Finding his courage, he blurted it out, louder than necessary.
“I was hoping to speak with Harston, if I could… sir.”
The volume startled us all and brought Harston to a halt. “Me?” His voice sounded meek and plagued with doubt. Something I did not expect at all. Not sure where Mr. Billiard would go next, I felt the need to clarify.
“I’m afraid Harston’s time is not for rent.”
Mr. Billiard’s eyes went wider than before. “No, I know, sir. No… I don’t want to… rent Harston. I’d like to see him.”
“You would?” An undertone of hope tinged Harston’s words.
“Yes, sir.”
Harston chuckled… and blushed. “Don’t call me sir. We’re practically the same age.”
“I’m sorry. Are you free? I… I’d like to call on you.”
“Well… I have chores to do….”
Mr. Billiard’s massive shoulders deflated as fast as his expression. “Oh. All right… I understand….” With a polite nod, he started to turn and leave.
“Wait!” Harston nearly rushed forward. “I could be free for dinner tonight.”
Mr. Billiard spun. The smile on his face was so pure, I couldn’t help but cheer him on inside. “You could? I’d like that.”
“I’d like that too.”
They stared at each other, too awkward to speak more. Was I ever so innocent? The irony of this, playing out on the doorstep of a whorehouse, was not lost on me. However, I was not so jaded I would do anything to harm either man’s chances.
Swooping in, I placed a hand on Mr. Billiard’s shoulder. “If you’re going to take my butler, who happens to be my dearest friend, out on the town, I would suggest you go make some plans to impress him properly. I’ll make sure he’s available. Come by at eight this evening.”
Grinning like a fool, he shook his head enough to worry me. “Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll see you tonight, Harston.”
“Yes, Mr. Billiard.”
With a fresh energy, Mr. Billiard began to leave, stopping to speak over his shoulder to Harston. “Call me Fergus.”
“Yes. Fergus.”
Mr. Billiard left with a jaunty step. I was more surprised he didn’t whoop his way down the sidewalk. Harston watched him leave, mesmerized for a long moment even after he’d gone out of sight.
“Harston, are you planning on standing there all day showing my dirty laundry to the public?”
You’d swear I pricked him with a knife, Harston jumped so high. “Oh! I have work to do!”
“Yes, you do.”
I’d never seen Harston move so quickly, bolting back into the house and disappearing. It made me laugh, overjoyed. If anyone deserved to be treated like royalty, it was Harston. I would do what I could to improve his night, in any fashion.
“That was very sweet of you.” I wondered if Alexandra knew I would never tire of her approval. It was a thing I could spend a lifetime working toward.
“I just realized he’s been pining over Harston this whole time, and it took him this long to gather the mettle to ask to court him. Such as he did.”
“I imagine Harston likes that Mr. Billiard isn’t really so much a customer as a hopeful man. I think he’s looking forward to tonight.”
“I hope so. He can be too devoted to service at times. I think it comes from having to care for me for so long. It’s the least I can do to steer things along if necessary.”
An amused sigh drifted to me from her. “Mr. Billiard does seem to excite our poor butler.”
“How could he not? You saw the size of the man. If they’re a good match I can likely use Mr. Billiard as a new bouncer.”
“That’s more conniving than I expect of you.”
I shrugged, feeling a bit conspiratorial. “I don’t want Blythe to be engaged every night we’re open, all night long. There are times I may want to pretend he’s my own client.”
A gruff voice spilled across my ear. “I like the sound of that.”
I didn’t need to turn to know Blythe had been eavesdropping. Stealth should not be a skill of a man his size. “You couldn’t even mention he was standing right behind me, could you?”
“Now where would the fun be in that?” Alexandra’s laughter drifted away as she sauntered deeper into the house, leaving Blythe and I alone.
I stood with my arms crossed, giving him my back. “I thought you were working upstairs.”
“I heard Harston just fixed the bed, so I decided to take a fuck break and dirty up the new sheets.”
I spun around, less aghast at the suggestion than I would have been a year ago. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s not a no.” Blythe nodded at the front door. “So was that the chump Harston’s been mooning over for the last month or two?”
“Yes. They’re having dinner tonight.” I was a touch embarrassed that Blythe knew of Harston’s apparent infatuation with Mr. Billiard when I was supposed to be so close to him. Another habit I needed to work harder to break.
A devilish chuckle rolled out of Blythe. “I can’t wait to tell him about how Harston likes to squeal.”
“You wil
l do no such thing.” I stabbed him in the chest several times with my finger. “If I ever find out you’ve done anything to interfere with Harston and Fergus, I will book you a session with Alexandra in the basement. Several sessions, in fact.”
Blythe leaned forward, the throaty rumble shivering down my ear and neck. “Then you better give me a better option. Something that might distract me from my dastardly impulses.”
A fierce shudder raced down my body, straight into my groin. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“I’ve always been partial to a nice, hot bath.”
“A bath?”
Blythe continued to whisper in my ear, allowing his jaw’s coarse stubble to burn my skin in a decadent way. “I’m feeling a little dirty. I have places I can’t reach. I might need a little help.”
“And what would be in this fine offer for me?”
“I bet I could be talked into helping you reach those hard places too.” Lips grazed my neck, and the wet tip of his tongue drew a teasing line. Damn him for nearly making me stammer.
“You didn’t get enough of me this morning?”
“I can never get enough of you.”
I leaned back, catching his eyes shining with unresolved tension and the truth he couldn’t hide. Blythe’s thirst for me was unquenchable, beyond the scope of simple desire. It was enough of a declaration for me. Blythe could entice me to perform depraved acts, perverse acts. And as long as I had him to enjoy them with, I would follow along, hypnotized by his lusts.
My life had changed from the sheltered noble boy whose family offered him up to save their name. The hypocrisy of my upbringing might have crushed me had I not found the people here. This man here. I chose this life. I chose this complicated man who drives me to distraction.
For now. Forever.
“Go draw the water.”
While spending years more focused on visual arts, J. ALAN VEERKAMP never let go of his innate passion for storytelling, wanting to write and draw comic books when he grew up. Once he discovered M/M fiction, a whole new world opened filled with possibilities. Why couldn’t you have fantastic and dynamic sexy tales with an M/M cast? He started reading the online tales of authors like Night Tempest, Rob Colton, and Alicia Nordwell, which only fueled his need to create. Eventually he found GayAuthors.org, and with a little coercive nudge, started sharing his tales with an unexpected level of positive response. The experience and support gave him the courage to cross his fingers and aim for the world of M/M publishing.
Born and raised in Michigan, J. Alan continues to type away, wishing it was practical to use a noisy old-fashioned keyboard that clacks with each strike, if only to annoy his loving partner and spoiled miniature dachshund.
Blog: jalanveerkamp.wordpress.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/jalanveerkamp
Twitter: @jalanveerkamp
Instagram: www.instagram.com/jalanveerkamp
By J. Alan Veerkamp
Innocence and Carnality
Published by DSP PUBLICATIONS
www.dsppublications.com
Published by
DSP PUBLICATIONS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Innocence and Carnality
© 2019 J. Alan Veerkamp.
Cover Art
© 2019 Tiferet Design.
http://www.tiferetdesign.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact DSP Publications, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dsppublications.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-193-1
Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64405-194-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018961349
Digital published April 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Innocence and Carnality Page 40