Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Ryan declared. “If this doesn’t get her panties moist, I don’t know what will.”

  Corey suppressed a smile. “Let’s hope it has, ah, the desired effect.”

  “I’m so fucking nervous,” Ryan said. “What if she says no?”

  “She isn’t going to say no,” Corey responded in his most soothing tone of voice. “You told me the two of you are already living together. You’re crazy about each other, aren’t you? You’re not just in love, you’re best friends. You know and you understand each other. You get along together. You want to have a future together. And look at yourself, buddy. You’re successful, you’re ambitious, you’re hot. If I were a woman, I’d fuck you.” Actually, Corey had to admit to himself, I’d fuck you anyway, if you were gay or if you at least swung both ways! “And when she sees this ring,” he went on, “and sees all the trouble you went to, to find the perfect ring for her—take my word for it, man, that’s going to be the deal clincher. You can’t lose.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so. I do this for a living, remember? I’ve worked with a hundred guys who were every bit as nervous as you, and trust me, it’s always turned out all right. You’re not going to be the one to break my winning streak. Now, when are you going to pop the question?”

  “Tomorrow night. We’re going out to dinner in a fancy restaurant. She asked me, ‘What’s the occasion?’ and I said, ‘No special occasion, I just want us to have a nice evening out together.’”

  “So far, so good.”

  “I was thinking of giving her the ring during dessert. You know, bribing the waiter to hide the ring in the dessert or something like that?”

  “No,” Corey said firmly. “I wouldn’t make it too cute if I were you. I’d order the desserts, and then, while you’re waiting for them to arrive, I’d say something like, ‘I’m really enjoying being here with you. I wanted this to be a special night. Because, well, maybe this can do the talking for me.’ And then I’d just take out the box, kind of casually, not making a big performance out of it, and put it down on the table in front of her.”

  “Jesus, Corey, you are a fucking genius!”

  “I’ve had a good deal of experience at this sort of thing. It’s all been indirect experience, admittedly. But still, I have a pretty good success rate, if I do say so myself.”

  “Okay, and when she opens the box and sees the ring?”

  “Give her a minute to let it sink in, and then, for God’s sake, don’t do any of that cornball stuff like getting down on the floor on one knee. Just reach across the table and take her hand and look her in the eyes and say something like, ‘You will make me the happiest man in the world tonight if you’ll say you’ll marry me.’”

  “Genius. Sheer fucking genius!”

  “Keep it simple and sincere. Oh, and expect screaming and tears. That’s one advantage of doing it in a public place, like a restaurant. The audience is going to be on your side. Don’t be afraid to be embarrassed. Just go with the flow. Order champagne to go with the dessert. Having the waiter bring the bottle on ice and pop the cork will give the other diners something to look at while your fiancée calms down and it sinks in.”

  “If she says yes, I’m going to do something for you, buddy.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. If you’re satisfied, I’m satisfied.”

  “No, we’ll go out on the town together, to celebrate, just the two of us. We’ll get good and drunk.”

  Well, that sounds kind of intriguing, Corey couldn’t help thinking. It has possibilities. Although I’m not sure what the fiancée will think about her guy going out and getting drunk with a gay man!

  “I do want to know how things turn out,” Corey said. “Call me, if you want to, and let me know how it goes.”

  “Can I? Call you, I mean?”

  “Of course. Here at the store—or wait, here’s my cell-phone number.” Corey gave Ryan one of his personal business cards. Unlike the store’s business cards, this had his personal number printed on it.

  “When can I call you?”

  “Any time.”

  “I’m really fucking nervous.”

  No kidding! Corey was tempted to say. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. Now, remember, if for any reason at all she isn’t happy with the ring, you bring her to the store, and I won’t let her leave until she’s not only happy but positively thrilled. We’ve got plenty of other beautiful stones and settings to choose from.”

  “I don’t see how we can miss with this one.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  “Dude, if you were a woman, I’d kiss you.”

  “If you weren’t a man who’s about to be engaged to be married, I’d let you.”

  Corey found Ryan amusing but also strangely touching. Corey felt protective toward him.

  It’s too bad more gay men aren’t that eager to please. They could take lessons from the straights. I’d like to meet a gay guy who’d feel that way about me. Well, maybe not necessarily a guy who’s ready to marry me, but one who’d get all anxious and flustered, like that, over me.

  Two nights later, Corey was in bed, with the lights off, and starting to doze off, when his cell phone, which he’d deposited on the nightstand, buzzed.

  “Who the fuck?” he muttered, as in who the fuck could be calling me this late at night? It was unlikely to be one of his close friends, most of whom knew his schedule. Corey was not, as a general rule, a night owl.

  He was tempted not to answer the call. But then it occurred to him it might be some member of his family calling long-distance to notify him of some emergency. Or it might some old trick or fuck buddy calling from a bar where he’d been cruising but had struck out and who was now looking for some quick alternative action. Depending on how hot Corey remembered the guy as being, he’d either tell him to fuck off or invite him over for a late-night romp.

  He groped for the phone and brought it to his ear. “Yeah?”

  “She said yes!” a male voice, tense and pitched unnaturally high with excitement, shrieked at the other end of the connection.

  “Ah, let me make a wild guess,” Corey said, more than a little drowsily. “This must be Ryan?”

  “Yes! Hell yes! I love you, man! Not only did she say yes—we just had the best sex ever!”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Ryan.”

  Corey had only himself to blame. After all, he’d told Ryan to feel free to call him “day or night.” But he hadn’t expected the guy to take the invitation quite so literally!

  “I still can’t believe we’re actually engaged,” Ryan babbled on.

  “It sounds as though the dinner was a success. Where are you calling from? Not the restaurant, I assume.”

  “No, the bathroom. We’re back home. We just had the best sex ever,” Ryan repeated. “You wouldn’t believe the head I just got, buddy! And then, when we finally fucked—oh my God! I was so excited I came too fast the first time. But when I started apologizing, all she said was, ‘It doesn’t matter! Keep it in me! Fuck me again!’ which I did. We came together that time. I thought I was going to fucking die, I shot off so hard!”

  “Congratulations—I think. I gather she liked the ring?”

  “Man, she fucking loved it!”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “When I told her if she didn’t like it we could come down and pick out another one, she told me, ‘Are you out of your mind? I’m never going to take it off!’ And that’s when we started making out.”

  “I’ll let you in a little trade secret, Ryan. Diamonds can have a definite aphrodisiac effect on women.”

  “You mean they make them horny?”

  “In plain English, yes.”

  “No kidding. It’s having an effect on me, too, believe it or not. I think I’m springing another boner just sitting here on the john talking to you.”

  “Glad I could be of service.”

  “I may have t
o fuck her again before the night’s over. See what you’ve started?”

  “My apologies. Although I bet you can rise to the occasion.”

  “You’re damn right I can. And listen. We’re going to set the date, tell the relatives, get everything organized, and then we’re going to come down and you can help us pick out our wedding rings.”

  “I’ll be delighted to. Just call me when you’re ready to make an appointment.”

  “It’s a date. I love you, man. If you were here, I’d kiss you.”

  “If I was there, I’d let you. Although your fiancée might not like it.”

  Ryan giggled. “I am so fucking drunk. I can’t believe I can get it up, let alone keep it up and perform with it.”

  “Well, maybe you’d better strike again while the iron is hot.”

  “You’re damn right I will. Listen, I’ll call you.”

  “Please do.”

  “Thanks, buddy. Thanks a million! I’m going to go back into the bedroom and get laid. Again.”

  “Go for it,” Corey advised. “Tear off a piece for me while you’re at it.”

  Eventually, Ryan did return to the shop with his fiancée, Jeanette, to select their wedding rings. They were an attractive couple, and Ryan was obviously infatuated. And he and Corey did go out for that celebratory drink one night.

  It had been a successful sale, then, in every sense. Thinking about it, even all these days later, as he sipped his coffee and concentrated on his laptop’s screen, Corey had to suppress a smirk. It still struck him as ironic that a gay man should be promoting the cause of heterosexual marriage. At the same time, he experienced a curious melancholy. When was somebody going to play matchmaker for him? Would he ever meet that one man he’d be willing to spend the rest of his life with?

  Corey happened to glance up from his keyboard just at the moment when a young man entered the coffee shop.

  He was the kind of young man who turned heads when he entered a room, and had Corey not in fact been facing him as he came through the door, Corey’s head would have been among them.

  Corey often amused himself by furtively observing other men in public places, speculating about exactly who they were, what they did for a living, and what their sexual preferences might be, assuming that wasn’t obvious at first sight. This young number offered fertile ground for such fantasies. He was casually dressed to the point of slovenliness. His tight-fitting jeans, faded and softened by hundreds of launderings, were threadbare at the knees and the cuffs, and they clung to every bulge in his ass and thighs. His bright yellow T-shirt looked as though it, too, had shrunk a size in the course of repeated washings and dryings. As a result, it was made to measure to show off its wearer’s broad shoulders, well-developed chest, and bulging biceps. It was no surprise that the young man had a gym bag slung over one shoulder, and an expensive pair of training shoes on his feet. He might as well have been wearing a sign that said gym rat.

  Corey estimated his age at about twenty-five. He was dark, with rather-long, neatly styled glossy black hair and a thin mustache. At the moment, his chin and cheeks had a dusting of beard stubble. It was a pleasantly masculine face, with a wide mouth that revealed two rows of strong white teeth when he smiled, which he was doing at the moment. He was very deeply tanned, a clear bronze color.

  He happened to meet Corey’s gaze, and that dazzling smile broadened. A bit flustered, Corey acknowledged their eye contact with a slight nod before he returned his attention to his laptop.

  Now he took pains to watch the young stud out of the corner of his eye.

  The object of his scrutiny got his coffee at the counter, added milk and sugar to it, and stood aside, taking a first cautious sip of the hot brew and looking around for an empty seat. All of the tables were occupied.

  Corey caught the young man’s eye again.

  “Would you like to sit down?” Corey asked, gesturing toward the chair opposite his.

  “Not if I’m interrupting you.”

  “Not at all. Please. Sit down.”

  “Thanks.” The young man took the other chair at Corey’s table, after setting his gym bag down on the floor. “I didn’t think it would be so crowded in here at this time of day. Are you sure I’m not interrupting you?”

  “I’m sure. Actually, I wouldn’t mind having some company.”

  “Me, either. But you looked like you were busy on your computer.”

  “No, just checking my e-mails.” Corey closed the lid of the laptop.

  “Was there anything interesting?”

  “Not really.”

  “I find that hard to believe. I would think a guy like you would have all sorts of interesting messages. People contacting you, suggesting that you get together with them—all that sort of thing.”

  “A guy like me?”

  “Yeah. You’re a good-looking guy—and you’re really well dressed.”

  The younger man said this so matter-of-factly that Corey wasn’t sure it could really be considered a come-on line.

  “Well, I just got out of work,” Corey said, trying to look and sound just as matter-of-fact. “I’m on my way home.”

  “Me, too.” The young man was studying Corey’s attire and making no secret of the fact. “I never wear ties, if I can avoid it. But I like yours.”

  “Thanks. It’s Italian.”

  “That’s a coincidence. So am I. And I really like your tie clip, too.”

  “Thanks again. I made it myself.”

  “What do you mean, you made it?”

  “I mean, I designed it and made it.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I work in a jewelry store, you see. I’m one of the salesmen, but I also do the repair work and the custom work, which are really my specialties. And in my spare time, I have my own little jewelry-making business. I make things for both men and women—and little sculptures and ornaments, that sort of thing.”

  “Wow.”

  “I made these cuff links and this bracelet, too.” Corey extended his right arm to display the jewelry.

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “I have a website, with photos of the pieces I have in stock, for sale. Here, take one of my business cards. You might want to check it out sometime. And tell your friends. I get a lot of business through word of mouth. One satisfied customer tells another, and so forth.”

  “So this is your name,” the young man said as he took the business card and examined it. “Corey Oliver.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m Joey. Joey Arena. My name’s Giovanni Arena, actually, but no one calls me ‘Giovanni’ except some of my die-hard relatives. I come from one of those traditional big Italian-American families, you see.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Corey was flattered by the care with which Joey was stashing his business card away, in his wallet. Then they shook hands across the table. “And what do you do for a living, Joey, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all. I’m a personal trainer and a fitness model.”

  “I see.” Corey suppressed a smirk. I should have known, he thought. Here in LA, personal trainers and fitness models were thick on the ground. You couldn’t walk down a sidewalk without stumbling over a few of them. “I should have known,” he said, aloud. “You’ve certainly got the build—and the looks—for it.”

  Joey visibly basked in his praise. “You really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have my own business cards, too,” Joey declared with audible pride. He handed Corey one.

  “Very nice.”

  “If you’re not happy at the gym you go to, you should quit and join the one I work at.”

  “And you’d whip me into shape?”

  “Even better shape than you already are,” Joey promised.

  “I’ll think about it. You’re a persuasive salesman. And, as they say, it takes one to know one. Are you in between clients at the moment, or are you done for the day?”

  �
�I have a couple of hours to kill,” Joey admitted with a smile that Corey found encouraging.

  “And nothing particular planned, to kill them?”

  “Nope. I’m free. Maybe if I’m lucky something interesting will come up.”

  Joey was not only maintaining eye contact, he was now smiling more broadly, in a knowing, inviting way that was definitely seductive. This was more encouragement than Corey needed before he made a move.

  “When you say that, you make me wish I was interesting,” he said.

  “What makes you think you aren’t?”

  “I suppose I can be, when I try really hard. So tell me something, Joey. How’d you like to go to my place and fuck around for a couple of hours?”

  “I don’t do drugs.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Then we must be the only two guys in this town who don’t,” Joey joked. “Every guy I meet when I do go out to the clubs seems to be some sort of a tweaker. The only reason I asked was because I wasn’t sure exactly what you meant by ‘fucking around.’ That can include all kinds of activities.”

  “Tell me if I’m out of line, but I was thinking about sex.”

  “You’re not out of line. I won’t fuck without a rubber, though.”

  “Me, either.”

  “We seem to agree on quite a number of things. Other than those two restrictions, I’m up to just about anything.”

  None of the other customers seemed to be within earshot, but Corey automatically lowered his voice as he leaned closer toward Joey across the table and said, “So am I. I’d really like to make love to you.”

  “I’m getting really turned-on thinking about it. Do you have a car?”

  “Yeah, parked right down the street.”

  “Can you give me a ride back here afterward?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then finish your coffee, and let’s go.”

  Joey seemed impressed by Corey’s car as they climbed into it and stowed Corey’s laptop and Joey’s gym bag into the small storage space behind the twin bucket seats.

  “This is a sweet little ride,” Joey commented as Corey pulled away from the curb. “I always wanted a sports car, myself. You must do all right, between your day job and your jewelry business.”