Rewind Boxed Set

by Rowan Shaw

  Chapter 20

  ADRIEN

  I was still fuming when we entered the apartment and carried all the packages to the kitchen.

  "Are you always that irascible?" Raphaël asked. "Because I'm serious, man. You're doing all queers a disservice, making us all look like pricks."

  I huffed. "Those who hate us don't need me to form their opinion. They've already judged us all before we've even met."

  "You don't know that," Raphaël replied.

  I sighed as I sorted through the food and put it away. He was so damn naïve, it was getting truly exhausting. "Yes, I do know that."

  Raphaël grunted unhappily as if I were the one wrong here.

  I looked at him after opening the fridge. "I am happy for you that your life is filled with wonderful people who’ve all accepted you as you are. Congratulations!"

  "You can be such a dick sometimes, I swear," he snarled and slammed the kitchen door on his way out.

  "Sure, don't help me with the groceries or anything," I called after him.

  "Qu'est-ce qu'il m'fait chier, putain!" he cursed and stormed right back in to help, quickly handing me item after item in fast, angry movements. His face was taut, his hazel eyes darker than usual.

  "Are you sulking right now?" I asked. I couldn't believe him.

  "I don't sulk, just so you know."

  "Oh really?" I shook my head. "You know what? I was about to ask you to come with me to that Mylène Farmer concert in Bercy in two weeks, but if that's how you're going to be, I think I'll pass."

  He froze. "You said nothing about a Mylène concert before."

  I smirked, hiding behind the door of the fridge, feeling its cold air on my face as I stacked all his chocolate yogurts next to my strawberry ones.

  "Must have slipped my mind," I lied.

  I knew I had him hooked. He listened to her songs all the time. I was ready to bet he had all her albums. She was probably the only queer icon he actually worshipped. There was no way he could resist the temptation of a concert. Her shows were legendary. I'd heard her fans were hardcore. Not a single one of them would pass on an opportunity to see her. Mentioning the concert after an argument was a low shot on my part, I knew that. I was baiting him, but I didn't feel one ounce of guilt.

  "I can't afford the ticket," he lamented.

  "I already bought the tickets. It's a gift."

  "I don't take charity."

  "I didn't say it was charity," I replied, closing the fridge and grabbing the grocery bags to store them in the pantry for the next time we'd go shopping. "I said it's a gift. To myself actually," I lied. "You’re doing me a favor. I hate going to concerts alone. You'll keep me company. I didn't celebrate my birthday, remember? I figured we could go together."

  That was bullshit. I only knew her songs because they played on the radio. I'd bought the tickets specifically to spend some time with him.

  "You don't have any friends to go with you?"

  I shook my head. My friends weren't what he thought they were. They didn't do things for me. I did things for them.

  "Okay, but I'll have to think of a way to pay you back."

  I shrugged. "As you wish."

  I could tell he was trying hard to hide his excitement, but the glint in his eye had already betrayed him.

  "When's the concert?"

  "On a Wednesday in two weeks."

  "Fuck!"

  "What?"

  "In two weeks? I have a presentation around then." He flicked his hand within seconds. "You know what? Fuck that. I'm not missing Mylène. I'll just have to splurge on coffee to stay awake."

  I gave him a wink and closed the fridge. "In the meantime, what would you like for lunch?"

  Chapter 21

  RAPHAËL - TWO WEEKS LATER

  I couldn't believe my eyes. Adrien had insisted we leave early and wait forever outside the arena to get the best view of the stage. When the staff finally let us in, we ended up so close that I feared we might get crushed by the hysterical crowd, especially once the concert started and everyone went wild. The set was huge, the music so loud I thought I might lose my hearing, and the choreography was beyond fabulous. I stood there staring like an idiot for over an hour, sweating buckets, nearly crushed by the crowd, before Adrien elbowed me in the ribs.

  "You okay?" he mouthed.

  "Yeah, of course. You?"

  He gave a tiny lopsided smile and wrapped his arm around my neck. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

  When I looked at the crowd, I felt right at home. The place was queer as fuck.

  "If you were to pick a dancer, which one would you choose?" Adrien asked in my ear, his gaze fixed on one of them.

  "I'm with Charlotte, remember?"

  He gave me a weird look.

  "What?" I shouted so he could hear me over the music.

  "I thought you said you were in an open relationship," he shouted back.

  "No, I said she seemed to imply we're not exclusive. And she gave me the green light if I ever meet someone I fancy. It doesn't mean I want to sleep around."

  Adrien wouldn't stop observing me, then he nodded and raised his hands in the air. I watched as he lip-synched the entire lyrics by heart. Why wasn't I surprised that the only song he seemed to know was the one about sodomy?

  Chapter 22

  ADRIEN

  Still soaring from the concert, Raphaël pulled me into a huge hug the second we exited the Bercy arena, patting me on the back, his strong arms almost crushing me to his chest. The cold made him shiver, the skin of his forehead still pearling with sweat from standing in the crowd for hours.

  "It was so awesome. I can't thank you enough," he gushed, sliding his jacket on.

  I shook my head through a laugh, my mouth quirking into a sideways grin. "You don't have to thank me. I should be the one thanking you for a great late birthday. I really needed this." I tilted my head toward the parking lot. "Come on, even with the motorcycle, we might be stuck in traffic for a while."

  Raphaël was still beaming at me when I felt someone grab my upper arm and pull, tapping me on the shoulder at the same time. I turned my head and knitted my eyebrows.

  "Adrien! I knew it was you," some guy exclaimed like I was supposed to know who he was.

  I froze for a second, trying to place his face before I finally recognized him. My blood ran cold.

  Raphaël stopped in his tracks, the three of us standing outside while more of the crowd kept pushing out the door. Without asking, the man ran his fingertips over my arm like I belonged to him. I pulled away not so subtly, grinding my teeth.

  "You remember me?" he asked and smiled in a lascivious way that gave me chills. "Arthur."

  Yes, I remembered him. A bit too well, actually. He was by far the lamest fuck of my life, and the worst pervert too. When I thought about the things he'd forced me and Kevin to do to each other while he watched, I wanted to punch him in his damn snarky face.

  "You doing anything tonight?" he asked. His gaze caught on Raphaël and raked over him. "Are you on the site?" he asked him, making me ball my fists. "I don't remember seeing you on there."

  Raphaël looked at me, confused.

  "I'm not against threesomes, you know?" Arthur added with a wink. "Adrien knows that. Especially with a specimen like you."

  He extended his hand to stroke Raphaël's cheek, but I moved in the way. "Not tonight. You know how things work. I'm busy."

  Arthur leered at Raphaël over my shoulder, and then something clicked in his brain as he locked his eyes on me.

  "Oh, you're on the job? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude." He cast another quick glance at Raphaël. "The threesome still stands though...if you don't mind sharing the merchandise."

  My fists tensed so much, my nails dug into my palms. I was no damn merchandise. I didn't fucking belong to him. And he sure as fuck wasn't getting anywhere near Raphaël—not tonight or ever.

  "What is he talking about?" Raphaël asked, his brow furrowed. "What site?"


  Arthur gazed at us in turn, his mind adding two and two before his eyes bulged and he beheld Raphaël with hostility.

  "Wait! You get to fuck Adrien for free?" He stared at me. "Is that it? Is this a date?"

  Shit. This was not how I wanted to address this issue with Raphaël.

  "Let's go," I told him and grabbed his wrist, trying to push by the throngs of people, but he pulled away.

  "No, I don't understand. What's going on?"

  Arthur burst out laughing and looked at me with wickedness quickly replacing the lust in his beady eyes. "He doesn't know you get paid to fuck?"

  I closed my eyes. When I reopened them, Raphaël was staring at me, his mouth open in a silent O.

  "What does he mean?" he croaked.

  I didn't reply. I couldn't.

  "I mean Adrien is a whore," Arthur shot back, still laughing.

  It took all I had not to break his goddamn face.

  Raphaël was still staring at me, frozen on the spot. "Adrien...?"

  "Let's go." I ushered him away before casting one last glare at Arthur, who was laughing at the pile of shit he'd just dumped over me. So much for me getting a nice birthday for once.

  We found my motorcycle, and I drove Raphaël back home. I had no idea how to deal with this situation. Most people I knew were acquaintances or friends I'd made through my job. They knew the deal from the start.

  Raphaël remained quiet when we reached the neighborhood and got off my bike. Though he waited for me to park, then followed me upstairs, he wouldn't look at me.

  "What was that about?" he asked once we crossed the threshold.

  "What?"

  "That guy. What was that all about?"

  I sighed and locked the door behind us, then headed to the living room, where I sat on the leather couch, taking off my shoes and setting my feet on the table. If we were going to have this conversation, I might as well be comfortable.

  Raphaël walked in barefoot and sat by my side, his back straight, his face closed off.

  "That was a former client of mine," I said and cleared my throat.

  Ila joined us and jumped on my lap. I was grateful for her attention; petting her always calmed me down.

  "A client?"

  I looked him straight in the eyes. "What job do you think I do, Raphaël?"

  "You told me you work in online marketing and customer service. Obviously, that was just another lie."

  "I mostly work nights and on the weekends. What does that tell you?"

  "How about you tell me?" he grunted.

  "Raphaël, I'm an escort."

  His hazel eyes widened; the judgment filling his gaze pissed me off.

  "I offer people my companionship for a price," I added.

  "Is that a euphemism for sex?"

  "Not really, no. Not always. Technically, I'm not allowed to sell sex. That's illegal. I offer my company."

  "You're trying to make me believe your job doesn't involve sex?"

  "I didn't say that. I'm just saying that's not the description of my job. But if things go well, yes, the evening might end with sex."

  "So let me get this straight, you're a..."

  He didn't say the word, though I knew he was thinking it.

  "A whore?" I asked. "Is that the word you're looking for?"

  "No, I didn't say that," he defended himself before something clicked in his head. "Wait! When you went to New York, you said that was for work? That was for sex?"

  "Like I said, my job description doesn't involve sex. But sex did happen that weekend, yes."

  Raphaël sat there, speechless for a while, so I decided to take it easy on him. "Do you have any questions? Is my job going to be a problem?"

  He shook his head slowly. "What? No. I mean...I don't know. I wasn't expecting that, but it’s your life. You do what you want."

  I nodded. For some reason, his words reassured me. I didn't know why I even cared what he thought of me, but I did.

  "Do you work with men or women?" he asked after a few more minutes of silence.

  "Both. I have some non-binary clients as well. My agency only offers male services, though. Some of my coworkers are gay; some are straight; some are bi or pan."

  "Do bi and pan workers get more work?"

  I laughed at that. "No. The client has to accept that I'm bi first. I think we both know that's not everyone's cup of tea. I guess I do get more work than straight guys, though."

  "Does a client ever turn you away when they find out you're bi?" he asked.

  "No. My profile shows my orientation. Some do hire me because bi guys are a fetish of theirs, though."

  Raphaël made a face. "That doesn't bother you?"

  I shrugged. "As long as I get paid for the job, I don't care."

  "Does it happen that people don't pay?"

  "They have to pay up front when they book my services. So no, it doesn't happen that they don't pay. It has happened that they wanted me to stay longer than they booked me for. When that happens, they have to pay right away for the exact time they want me there. I also need a confirmation their card was accepted for that amount first."

  "Okay... So how much did you make for that weekend in New York? Is that okay to ask?"

  I smiled. "Yes, that's okay to ask. I made over five thousand euros."

  Raphaël sat there as if glued to his seat. "Say that again!"

  "My client also paid for the hotel, all the meals, and the plane. First class."

  "He must be pretty loaded."

  "She is a woman, actually. Head of the marketing department of a big cosmetics company."

  "Okay, then..." His eyebrows shot up. "Why did she want you to join her in New York? She couldn't wait to get back home to have you? Or does she live there?"

  "Some clients ask me to join them on business trips because they want to relax after work. It's part of my job to make sure they have the best time possible when they're off for the day. Again, it doesn't always include sex."

  "Okay. But this time, it did, right?" he commented.

  I gave a tiny grin. I knew it was a lot to digest. "My client had a thing for the head of another department. They had to attend a conference together all week. She wanted me to break the ice for her."

  "Oh...she wanted you to flirt with the guy for her?"

  "No, she wanted me to flirt with her female coworker for her. My client is cis and bi. Her coworker is transgender, but my client didn't know if she might be straight. I worked on enticing her during the entire flight. Turns out she's pan. By the time we landed, she wanted in my pants so bad, she accepted my client's presence in a heartbeat when I offered a threesome."

  "You had a threesome? With two women? During your trip to New York?" He wouldn't stop staring, his eyes wide as saucers.

  "Considering how many times we fucked, I'd say it was more than one threesome." I chuckled and licked my lips.

  "Damn! And you got paid five thousand euros to fuck two women all weekend? Wow!"

  I hid a smirk. "I should have charged extra for my client's coworker, but my client is a regular and a friend. I wasn't going to turn down a threesome with two women."

  "How much more would you have charged?"

  "It would have been twice the rate. I don't do discounts."

  "Why the hell didn't you charge for that?"

  I laughed at his dismay. "Do you know how often I get to have threesomes with two women? I wasn't going to overcharge for something that was as much of a gift to me as it was to them. My boss doesn't know about the other woman who joined in. He thinks it was just me and my client."

  "Because he would have charged them more?"

  "Yes."

  "You said she was a regular. How long have you known her?"

  "Six years."

  "Six years? When did you start this job?"

  I cleared my throat. I knew the answer would make him uncomfortable, so I worked my way around it. "She was a virgin when she hired me. She was thirty-five and desperate."

  "Yo
u took her virginity? So if I'm calculating correctly, you started the job at twenty?"

  I didn't reply. Raphaël barely seemed to notice. He was too enthralled by the conversation. "You meet her often?"

  "About twice a month." Marion suffered from vaginismus. Intercourse was often painful for her. She didn't trust other men to be patient enough to deal with her condition. Even if penetration did happen at times, I made it my job to ease her into sex and release her in other ways first.

  "How much does it cost when she meets you?"

  "She likes it when I spend the night."

  "How much is that?"

  "One thousand and five hundred euros."

  "For one night?" he exclaimed, sitting up straight.

  "Yes."

  "That's more than some people make in a month."

  "Yes, I know."

  "What do they get for that price?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "What sexual services?" he asked.

  "I don't sell sexual services," I insisted, anchoring my gaze into his.

  "Okay, but let's say sex happens, are you allowed to refuse certain things?"

  "Technically, yes, since I am not selling sex. I can legally refuse anything I don't want to do."

  He pursed his lips. "Come on, man! You won't make me believe that's good for business."

  "I didn't say I refused anything. I said I could. There's a difference."

  "Do you?"

  "No, I've never refused to do anything. But once again, I charge extra if they bring other people. And if they push my buttons, I decline all other opportunities to work with them."

  Like that jackass Arthur, for example. Kevin had begged me to call Daniel and have him completely blacklisted from the company. I didn't out the guy as a perv, only because some other escorts were into the kind of shit he was into, but I told Daniel that Arthur wasn't to hire me or Kevin ever again.

  "How many people have you fucked at once?" Raphaël asked.

  "On the job? Three." I didn't tell him about Daniel's parties. I figured there was only so much information he could handle for one night.

  "So, a foursome?"

  "Yes, a foursome."

  "Is that the maximum you accept?"