by Andrew Grey
"He always does this,” the bouncer explained as he helped Stan to his feet. “The man never knows when to stop.” Gerald thanked him and asked if he needed help, but the huge bouncer shook his head and led Stan to what Gerald hoped was a safe place where he could sober up for a while.
Gerald looked back at the dance floor and saw that the dancer had turned around. Gerald saw big blue eyes and a head of blond hair, made red in the light, but he knew him. Finishing his beer, Gerald stood up and walked across the club as the music ended and the dancer stopped his movements, waiting for the next song. Gerald knew he only had a few seconds. “What would your Gram say if she saw you now?"
Dieter whipped around, the fire burning in his eyes quickly turning to pain and hurt. He'd only been teasing, but Gerald realized he'd accidentally hit on a source of pain. “Sorry, I was only kidding,” he added hastily and saw Dieter's expression soften. “I only wanted to get your attention.” It appeared he'd done that, and he'd also answered the question of whether Dieter was gay. He must have changed clothes, and Gerald took in the slim-legged jeans and tight shirt that hugged Dieter's frame. Dieter wasn't muscular, but what Gerald saw turned him on like nobody's business.
The music began again, and Gerald moved away, expecting Dieter to begin dancing, but he seemed to be following him. Of course the table he'd had was gone, so Gerald found a small area of unoccupied space. “What are you doing here?” Dieter asked, but he didn't seem upset any longer.
"I just needed to let off some steam, I guess,” Gerald confessed. “I could ask you the same thing,” he countered.
"Just dancing,” Dieter answered matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I saw,” Gerald said almost yelling now over the music. “I'm sorry about my crack about your Gram. I didn't mean anything by it.” He really hadn't.
"Thanks,” Dieter yelled back. Gerald figured any sort of conversation was nearly impossible, so he stood there looking at Dieter, who looked back at him, as confused as Gerald was about what to do next. “Wanna dance?” Dieter asked him before practically pulling him toward the floor. Gerald had two left feet and couldn't dance to save his soul, but he let himself be led to the floor, and when Dieter began to move, Gerald went along, following his lead, trying not to embarrass himself too much. “Just move your body to the music,” Dieter told him when they were standing close. “Don't be self-conscious and don't worry about what anyone thinks, because it doesn't matter. Just let yourself go.” Dieter began to move, and Gerald closed his eyes, letting the music inside. At first, Gerald simply swayed to the music, but then he began to move more and more. When Dieter put his hands on Gerald's hips, Gerald forgot about everything but where those warm hands touched his body. Then he was dancing. It might not have been pretty or even very good, but Dieter smiled at him, and they danced.
Time seemed to move independently of them, especially since he spent the rest of the evening looking into Dieter's eyes and with a perpetual hard-on in his pants. Every time he felt Dieter's touch, a jolt of desire zinged through him, but Dieter made no move to do anything other than dance. Not that Gerald should have been surprised—it's what Dieter seemed to do, although judging from the puzzled and jealous looks of the other people in the club, it was true that Dieter usually danced alone.
The song ended and a bell sounded, the lighting in the club increasing. Gerald blinked a few times, having gotten used to the dimness, and he realized it was last call. Dieter stopped moving, standing on the dance floor as people moved around them, most of them trying for a last hookup before the night ended.
Gerald looked deep into Dieter's eyes and saw him lick his lips, that pink tongue making an appearance once again. Gerald leaned closer, wondering how Dieter's lips would taste and how quickly Gerald could move to sampling the rest of Dieter's mouth and everything else he could get his tongue, lips, and hands on. Right now, the whole thing about Dieter being a client was far from his mind. All he saw right now was the most enthrallingly sexy man he'd ever met in his life, and Gerald had rarely wanted anything as much as he wanted to get Dieter into his bed. And if the look he was getting were any indication, Dieter seemed to want that too. Gerald moved closer, his lips parting, and he saw Dieter's eyes drift shut and his head tilt ever so slightly.
Someone bumped into Dieter as they passed, excusing himself as he went by, and Dieter looked away for just a second, but it was enough to break the spell. Gerald realized what he'd been about to do, and Dieter seemed to as well. In the light, Gerald saw Dieter color and look away. Gerald stepped back to give Dieter some space. “I think we should be leaving,” Dieter said, and Gerald nodded, not quite sure what he meant, but he felt a glimmer of hope well inside.
Dieter led the way to the door, and Gerald followed him outside. “Do you need a ride home? Or....” Gerald left it open-ended.
Dieter studied him for a few seconds before pointing and saying, “My car's over here, and I haven't been drinking, so I'm fine.” Dieter began walking toward his car. “Good night, Gerald,” Dieter called warmly.
Gerald watched him walk away, feeling unexpectedly disappointed. Once he saw Dieter turn the corner, Gerald walked to his own car. After driving home, he lumbered up the walk and into his small bungalow-style home. Placing his keys on the table, Gerald yawned wide, remembering to lock the door before padding to the bathroom. Gerald loved his house. It had been built in the twenties and had all the original unpainted woodwork, which had been a requirement when he was looking for a house. He'd bought it about a year earlier and was working to fix it up on the weekends.
After cleaning up, Gerald undressed, taking care of his dirty clothes before crawling into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It should have been easy after a long workday, combined with the fact that it was after two in the morning, but sleep wouldn't come. His mind kept conjuring up images of Dieter dancing in the center of that club. Giving up on trying to sleep for now, Gerald pushed back the covers. Reaching to the nightstand, Gerald found the lube and squeezed a little on his hand before closing his eyes, running his hand down his frustrated length.
Dieter danced for him, but now, instead of in tight jeans and shirt, Dieter was naked, his swinging arms high above his head, stomach tightening. In his mind, Dieter turned around, swinging his tight butt for Gerald to see. His breath coming faster, Gerald stroked harder, faster, as Dieter crooked his finger for Gerald to come closer, and he imagined the feel of smooth, hot skin.
Gerald's stomach clenched and he came, clamping his eyes closed so he could milk everything from his fantasy before it faded. Opening his eyes again, Gerald reached for the box of tissues to clean himself up. Throwing the tissues away, Gerald pulled up the covers and closed his eyes, quickly falling to sleep, figuring he'd see Dieter dance for quite a while whenever he closed his eyes.
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Chapter Three
Dieter fished his cell phone out of his pants, pulling his attention from the program he was working on just when he was close to finding the error that was causing him all the problems. “Hello,” he answered quietly, so he wouldn't disturb the other people around him.
"Mr. Krumpf, I'm Carolyn with Prince, Graham, and Associates, and I'm calling for Gerald Young. He asked me to see if it would be possible for you to come into the office later this afternoon. He has an opening at five, and he'd like to speak to you about your case.” It sounded to Dieter as though she were talking to him and doing something else at the same time because she seemed to pause between thoughts. “He knows it's short notice,” she clarified.
"No. Five will be fine,” Dieter said with a bit of relief. It had been almost two weeks since the evening he'd first met Gerald and gone to dinner with him, and later danced with him at the club, and he was curious to see if Gerald had something for him.
"Excellent. I'll add you to his appointment calendar. Thank you.” She disconnected the line, and Dieter set the phone on his desk before returning to work, trying not to let his thoughts roa
m to the handsome man who'd danced with him that evening. Gerald hadn't been a graceful dancer, but he'd tried, and it looked to Dieter like he'd had a good time with him. He knew Gerald was interested in him, or at least he'd been interested in taking him home for the evening. But Dieter didn't do that, and if that was all Gerald wanted, then Dieter was relieved he hadn't given in. He'd thought about it but figured if Gerald was really interested, Gerald could call him like a regular person—he had his telephone number. But he hadn't called.
"Who was that on the phone?” a familiar voice asked from behind him, and Dieter turned to face his friend. “Was that the attorney you danced with at Dance All Night?” Reed asked with a wry smile.
"No. That was his secretary making an appointment for this evening.” Gerald could at least have called himself, but maybe that was too much to expect. They'd only danced together for a few hours. It wasn't as though anything else had happened.
"Oh,” Reed said before moving closer so no one else could hear. “You like him, don't you? You must, you actually danced with him.” Reed answered his own question the way he usually did. “Did he invite you home with him?"
"He may have, but I don't do that sort of thing, and you know it,” Dieter retorted with a touch of anxiety. “I didn't approach him, he approached me. Besides, just because I like to dance and I'm good at it doesn't mean I'm some tart who'll go home with any guy I see,” Dieter added accusingly, knowing that Reed wouldn't have hesitated the way Dieter had.
"Come on, you don't have to be mean.” Reed pouted for a split second. “I just wish I'd seen this guy. He must be special if he's still got you riled up after two weeks,” Reed teased, and Dieter sighed, knowing Reed was right. He usually was when it came to things like this.
"I wouldn't say he was that special. After all, he treated me just like all the other guys do,” Dieter groused, his voice getting a little loud, and Reed reminded him to quiet down with a glance toward the offices in the corner.
"Dieter, there are times I regret that I ever took you there. I know you like to dance, but you turn on every guy in the place with the way you move. I know you don't mean to and that you're just having a good time, but you can't blame them if they want you."
"I suppose. But I guess I thought he might be different,” Dieter confessed softly. “Anyway, I have an appointment with him after I leave the office,” Dieter explained, and Reed smiled knowingly, then left Dieter's work area, walking back to his own desk, and Dieter went back to the offending computer program, trying to remember where he'd been.
At lunchtime, Dieter found Reed, and they ate together like they usually did. He'd met Reed when he'd started working at Sunbird Funds two years earlier, and he knew right away that he'd found a kindred spirit, or at least the only other gay man in the office. “Do you want me to go with you to your appointment in case he tries anything?” Reed asked after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich.
Dieter smiled. “No, Mom. I'll be fine. I think he's really a nice guy.” Dieter would be happy if he could figure out why Gerald seemed to get under his skin, but he did, and Dieter would have to deal with it because he certainly wasn't going to do something as L.A. Law—as ridiculous as having an affair with his lawyer. He and Reed finished their lunch, talking about other things until it was time to go back to work, and thankfully the rest of Dieter's day was quiet, except for a few moments of excitement when he finally figured out what was wrong with the program he'd been working on.
Just before five, Dieter walked through the doors to Prince, Graham, and Associates, letting the receptionist know he was there and taking a seat to wait like he had before. “Dieter,” he heard Gerald's voice say, “Come on back, please."
Dieter stood up and followed Gerald to his office, taking the same chair he had the last time. Gerald sat behind his desk and lifted the phone, making a brief call before hanging up again. “I explained what I found to Harold Prince, and he asked to be included in this meeting. He'll be about ten minutes if that's okay."
"Of course,” Dieter answered and sat staring at Gerald, who fidgeted a little in his chair before getting up. Dieter followed him with his eyes as Gerald closed the door.
"I wanted to apologize for my behavior the other night. I hadn't expected to see you at the club, and you're a client. I certainly shouldn't have expected... or asked....” Gerald seemed at a loss for words, and Dieter sat quietly letting him struggle. “I shouldn't have...."
"What? Danced with me? That's all you did, you know. We didn't do anything else."
"I know. But I'm also sorry for my crack about how your Gram would feel if she saw you. I meant it as a joke, but it was in poor taste, and I'm sorry. I saw that it hurt you, and I didn't mean to."
"You didn't hurt me, just startled me, I guess,” Dieter responded softly, grateful that they were at least talking about what happened.
"Did you ever tell your grandmother?” Gerald asked, and Dieter shook his head.
"Gram was very old-fashioned. I did tell Auntie Kate, though. I must have been seventeen, and I told her one afternoon after I'd had my first heartache. She hugged me and told me that I was who I was and that she loved me, and things like that weren't really important.” Dieter smiled at the memory. Auntie Kate had always been supportive of everything he did, no matter what. “After that, she told me to sit down and brought me a plate of cookies, just like she always had. We both looked at each other, smiling through our shared secret. Then we both said at the same time, ‘Don't tell Gram.'” Dieter's smile turned to a chuckle that faded quickly. “Gram was set in her ways, and she would never have accepted me as gay. I knew that very clearly, so I hid it from her and never told her who I really was."
"How do you know? People can surprise you,” Gerald told him sincerely.
"Not Gram, at least not in this. She clung to some old ways and ideas. Heck, when she died, she still referred to guys with long hair as hippies.” Dieter saw Gerald look at him in surprise for a second before laughing.
"You're kidding?” Gerald said though his chuckles.
"Nope. Gram was wonderful, and I know she loved me, but I know she would never have accepted me as gay. Oh, she wouldn't have kicked me out or anything, but she wouldn't have understood. I knew that, so I never told her. Does your family know?"
"Yes. I told them a while ago. I can't say they were thrilled, and it only added to my black-sheep reputation, but they know. Not that we ever talk about it. My family tends to see things the way they want to."
A soft knock on the door interrupted their discussion, and Dieter turned around to see an older, distinguished man walk into the office. Dieter stood up and shook the offered hand. “I'm Harold Prince and I knew your father very well,” the man said before clasping Dieter by the shoulder. “You look so much like him."
"Thank you, sir,” Dieter answered.
"There is one thing that puzzles me. I know you were just a boy when your father died. How did you know to call me?"
"Mark Burke recommended you. He said you'd been helpful to him. I didn't know you knew my dad. But maybe you could tell me about him sometime. I was four when he died and don't really remember much about him."
"I'd like that. Your father was something else,” Harold started to say, and Dieter thought he was going to tell him a story about his dad, but he seemed to remember where he was and his expression changed, becoming more formal. “Why don't I have Gerald set up a day next week, and we can meet for lunch. I'd love to tell you about your dad. He was a good friend."
Harold took the chair next to Dieter's, and Gerald pulled a chair around to join them as they seemed to get down to business. “I did some research, and I have some good news and some not so good news for you,” Gerald began. “First, I was able to verify that you are indeed the clear heir to your grandmother's family. That means that you have standing under the law, that you can indeed bring suit to recover the paintings, if you like.” Gerald looked alternately at him and Harold. “However, since the paintings ar
e in Austria, you'll need to bring suit there, and that's the difficult part. In order to bring this type of suit, you need to put up a bond that equals the value of the property in question."
Dieter gasped before swallowing hard. “I can't do that. Mark said those paintings are probably worth millions. I don't have that kind of money.” He should have known this was a fool's errand, anyway. But he'd wanted to get those paintings back for his grandmother, and he'd allowed himself to hope. He should have known better.
"We know you don't,” Harold said soothingly. “The issue is that we'd need to bring suit in Austria. We've requested copies of some of the records regarding the paintings from the Belvedere and the Austrian Cultural Ministry, and they are not cooperating. What we'd like to do is find a way to bring suit in the United States, but with the paintings physically in Austria, that's going to be problematic."
"So I should just give up?” Dieter asked. It sounded to him like that's what they were saying. “These people stole my family's legacy, and there's nothing I can do about it?” Dieter felt his temper rise. “There has to be something we can do. Even if I could put up the bond, is there any way I could get a fair hearing? No. They'd rule to keep the paintings where they are because they think they're theirs, but they're not."
"Dieter,” Gerald interjected levelly. “We've not given up hope, and we're still looking into possibilities, but we wanted to tell you where things stood.” Gerald didn't sound particularly positive, either.
"Well, I want to thank you both for looking into this for me,” Dieter said as he stood up. “I'd like to take my photo album if I could.” Dieter waited while Gerald opened a door in the credenza behind him, retrieving the album before handing it to him.
"Look, I wish we had better news, but don't give up hope.” Gerald stepped around the desk.
"Will you send me the bill?” Dieter asked.
"Son,” Harold said. “All the work we've done up till now has been on us. Your story was so compelling, and having known your father, I was hoping we could find a way to help.” Dieter saw Harold look at Gerald and then back at him. No matter what their mouths said, their eyes said they'd given up hope, and that told Dieter all he needed to know.