The Bohemian and the Banker

by Bonnie Dee

  And Jay was smitten. Knowing how those lips tasted and the exact texture of that hair, he needed to experience them again. He craved it even more than the dreamy haze of opium or the surge of energy cocaine gave one. Even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t stop his feet from walking toward Nigel. This was meant to be. Fate or God or some other elemental force had brought both of them to the same place at the exact same time so they might meet again.

  “What do you think?” Jay asked. “Colossal achievement or massive eyesore? A decade later, and we still argue the question.”

  Nigel gave an audible gasp as his gaze moved from the tower to land on Jay. “You— You’re here.” He stared at Jay as if visually devouring him. “How did you know to find me here?”

  “Didn’t. I came for the Exposition. It’s closing in a month or so, and I thought I’d take a last tour, and here you are… The perfect person to tour with.” Jay tried to keep his tone light, his smile teasing, but his heart pounded. The astronomical chance of them meeting again in a city of two million people continued to astound him, and he hadn’t felt shocked or amazed by anything in quite some time.

  “I…” Nigel fell silent. He shook his head and made a vague gesture with his hat and cane still clenched in his hand. Dumbstruck as Jay, no doubt.

  “Well then… Shall we?” Jay tipped the brim of his own well-worn hat and took a step forward, inviting Nigel to accompany him.

  Ah, at last, there it was—a slow, sweet smile crept over the banker’s face. He placed his hat on his head and pressed the tip of his walking cane to the ground.

  “I should be glad to see the Exposition in your company.” Nigel nodded toward the tower. “And I come down on the side of a fascinating blend of engineering and art. The line of it is quite graceful. Rather like a long finger pointing toward the heavens. One can hardly look away from it.”

  Jay grinned. “No one I know agrees with you, but I must secretly admit to being impressed. It hasn’t aged and still remains a symbol of a future in which anything is possible.”

  “Quite!” Nigel agreed, and his quiet smile grew wider, matching Jay’s. He beamed. He shone with pleasure, clearly as happy as Jay that they’d found each other.

  They paid their admission and entered the fair, which encompassed the Trocadéro, the quai d’Orsay and the Invalides Esplanade and even straddled the Seine.

  “Your last night in Paris?” Jay asked as they strolled toward the first building.

  Nigel hesitated before answering bluntly, “Yes.” He diverted the topic by pointing to the gold dome atop the first building to their left. “Look. The architecture alone is stunning.”

  “Opulent, at any rate. Wait until you see some of the displays inside the buildings. Nothing short of magical,” Jay promised. He’d been able to afford but one visit to the Exposition since it opened the previous year. Now he only had eyes for Nigel’s expression of wonder as he beheld the façade of the Grand Palais.

  Late afternoon on a weekday, the crowd was thin. There was a general sense of the event winding down—nothing like the surge of people during its opening months. Still, an atmosphere of excitement prevailed as Jay and Nigel entered a building to view a projection of moving films. Sound had been added to a short clip of an opera singer. Moving image and sound coordinated.

  “Magical indeed,” Nigel leaned close to Jay to whisper.

  Indeed. Except Jay wasn’t thinking of the moving picture exhibit, but of the man beside him. The smell of Nigel’s shaving soap and his starched collar was more delicious than the scent of roasted peanuts and sweets floating in the air. How shocked would Nigel be if Jay moved a little closer and stole a kiss in this darkened hall?

  He brushed the back of his hand against Nigel’s, knuckles grazing knuckles, and the tiny touch made his cock hard as granite. Jay envisioned dragging Nigel into some dark corner of a less-traveled exhibit, pushing him up against a wall and sucking his throat until he’d left a big red mark. Nigel wouldn’t return to London unscathed.

  Nigel’s eyes gleamed in the dim glow of the flickering light from the projector. But then he turned, leading the way back outdoors. “I would quite like to see the demonstration of the engines.”

  “I think that only takes place at certain times,” Jay said. “How do you feel about art? There’s quite a display at the Petit Palais.”

  “Anything by your friend, Merde? Or should I say Mercier? I met him yesterday, you know. Him and that actress Coquet or whatever her name was. The Frenchmen I was with knew her. They were impressed that I did too.”

  Jay was startled. “Yesterday? Where? Merde said nothing to me about it, the shit.”

  “At a café where my work associates took me for lunch in an attempt to apologize for sending me to Cabaret Michou. How could I tell them they’d done me a great service?” Nigel’s smile was sly and mischievous.

  “A service, eh? And yet you escaped my company at the first opportunity.”

  His smile evaporated. “I apologize for that. I woke from a doze shortly before sunrise and didn’t know what to do. I felt…”

  “Ashamed?” Jay guessed and couldn’t help the prickle of annoyance and disappointment that still percolated underneath his pleasure at seeing Nigel again.

  The other man stopped and looked at him. “I was going to say awkward, but yes, perhaps a little ashamed as well. I’m afraid I’m not as experienced at this sort of thing as you are. Until last night, I hadn’t even considered the possibility. So I hope you can understand my uncertainty.”

  Jay swallowed his irritation and nodded. “I can.” He looked into Nigel’s intent eyes. “I do.”

  A fresh-faced, wide-eyed virgin—not at all the sort of man he was used to dealing with. He must be patient and careful, except, there was no time for the patience part if Nigel was leaving tomorrow. Jay mustn’t waste time on peevishness if he had mere hours to spend with his new companion.

  The stomping heels of flamenco dancers and the quick guitars of Spanish music beckoned Jay and Nigel off the promenade into another pavilion. The dancers’ colorful skirts with their layers upon layers of ruffles made Jay jealous. Mm, he could almost feel how the heavy skirts would feel as he twirled around in them. He’d seen similar costumes on can-can dancers at the Rouge, but there was a different flare to these authentic Spanish gowns. He pointed out his favorite to Nigel.

  “Perhaps I should add a flash of something more exotic to my performance.”

  “I think your singing is quite exotic enough as is,” Nigel responded. “Your voice is so beautiful. No one in that club could look away from you when you sang.”

  Jay had heard many compliments from many admirers, but this one caused him to blush hot as he hadn’t in years. Nigel’s sincerity was touching and made Jay want to preen like a peacock. “Why, thank you.”

  “I was taken by your voice, and your eyes, before I even spoke to you,” Nigel admitted breathlessly. “But learning who you actually are as a person made me even more…” He fell silent as other people passed by. Such feelings were too intimate for public discussion, even if they were speaking in English in a mostly French crowd.

  “If I may ask, what attracts you to wearing women’s attire? I hope I’m not insulting you by asking.”

  “Not at all. It’s a fair question.” Jay gazed at the flamenco dancers with their castanets clicking madly, and searched for the simplest way to explain so Nigel would understand. “The gowns make me feel…beautiful, yes, but more than that. I crave the sensual feeling of the fabrics, the way they slide against my body. I adore painting my face and creating a new person. I like to look at her in the mirror, lose myself in the character I’ve created, then walk out and command the stage as Jean Michel.”

  The words seemed a poor explanation of the complicated nature of his feelings, but it was the best Jay could do. He turned away from the dancers. “Before I saw you…I-I shoul
d have thought it ridiculous.” Nigel touched his own lips. “But you are magnificent. The way you moved. Your mouth…”

  “My mouth?” Jay prompted. He did enjoy making Nigel uncomfortable.

  But he’d guessed wrong—embarrassment wasn’t the emotion that made Nigel stutter.

  “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” Nigel gazed at him now with naked hunger.

  Jay’s heart flipped hard against his ribs. He’d had men who scorned his attraction to soft fabric and cosmetics, and he’d had men who only wanted him when he was Jean Michel. Nigel apparently desired him in lace or in tweed.

  The possibilities made him giddy with anticipation. But not here in this crowd.

  “’Ware,” Jay said softly. “We are out in the world, my friend. You are not very good at hiding your thoughts.”

  “Oh. Good Lord. I apologize.” Nigel blinked and looked about them, probably anxious to make sure no one had witnessed his desire. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Perhaps we should look at the paintings now.” Jay grinned and led the way from the display tent. Nigel followed, subdued.

  Out in the fresh air, he had regained his composure and had transformed into the stodgy English tourist again, although he seemed to avoid meeting Jay’s eyes.

  “I wouldn’t mind a go at that Ferris wheel after a bit,” Nigel said as they spotted the huge attraction in the distance. “It looks a bit terrifying, but I suppose no one’s been killed by falling from one yet.”

  “Actually, there was one woman,” Jay said. “She panicked as her seat rose in the air and tried to get off. She tumbled to the ground.”

  Nigel gasped. “That’s awful.” He eyed the slowly turning huge wheel rising above the rooftop of the buildings.

  “Of course she was only ten feet off the ground at the time, so she merely twisted her ankle and ruined her gown,” Jay continued with a laugh.

  Nigel looked at him with narrowed eyes. “You made that up.”

  Jay grinned. “I did.”

  “What a perverse sense of humor! You should be ashamed.” But Nigel joined him in laughter.

  And, oh, how good it felt to be laughing together with his new friend, Jay thought. How delightful to provoke a smile, a grin or a full-throated chuckle from this serious man.

  He must see more of Nigel. Tomorrow couldn’t be the end already. But how could Jay convince the work-minded British banker to prolong his vacation in Paris?

  Chapter Eight

  Nigel had seen so many sights that afternoon, he felt he was drowning in sensation. He’d witnessed dancers, singers, and people in native costumes from all points on the globe, inventions such as the largest refracting telescope in the world, and art in a style called nouveau, comprised of flowing curves and curlicues and asymmetric design. Knowing nothing at all about what made good or bad art, Nigel found the paintings and architecture in that style refreshingly different and very eye-pleasing.

  “It’s like a little trip around the world, isn’t it?” Nigel commented as he and Jay exited an exhibit pavilion that highlighted Finland, complete with live reindeer.

  “It is,” Jay agreed. “So, are you ready for that Ferris wheel ride yet? The sun is nearly set. It should be a glorious view.”

  “I don’t know if I have enough shoe leather left to make it there. I’ve worn my soles down to the nails today.” Nigel grimaced as he contemplated another long walk along the promenade.

  “In the section of the fairgrounds we didn’t get to, they’ve erected a moving sidewalk. Too bad it’s not here where we need it.” Jay closed his eyes and put his fingers to his temples like a medium. “I predict that someday in the not too distant future, Paris and perhaps London sidewalks will all carry pedestrians along with no effort on their part.” His smoky eyes popped open. “But for now, I’m afraid we’ll have to wear out shoe leather.”

  Jay patted Nigel’s back, then left his hand there. His palm seemed to burn right through jacket, waistcoat, shirt and undershirt, branding Nigel with heat. And despite that heat, and the warmth of the setting sun’s last rays, Nigel shivered. He wanted and needed with an ache that made his throat tight. When he hadn’t known what he was missing, it had been easier to ignore vague desires. Now those feelings were intensified because he knew exactly what it was he was lacking—more of Jay’s touches and kisses and his thick, solid cock pressed into Nigel’s hand.

  Jay gave another thump, then took his hand away. “Come along, soldier. March right-left-right.”

  They fell in step, making their way around the perimeter of the buildings to where the Ferris wheel arched high into the air, a breathtaking sight. One hundred meters in height, according to a sign near the ride, currently the tallest amusement wheel in the world.

  Nigel slowed, then stopped. He swallowed, his desire flagging and all but forgotten as he faced the actual prospect of boarding the ride. “It really is very…tall…isn’t it?”

  “But not fast. Not like riding a train. It rises quite slowly into the air. I believe you’ll enjoy it.” Jay leaned close and added, “I’ll make sure you do.”

  With that suggestive promise dangled like a carrot before him, Nigel started moving again. They joined the queue waiting for the ride and stood waiting while the line dwindled before them. Nigel had plenty of time to see how the structure was built and how the little cars were connected so very tenuously to the large circular frame. Time enough to grow nervous again as young ladies shrieked and grabbed their companions when the circle carried them upward into the purple sky.

  At last it was their turn. The operator opened the safety bar—nothing more than a strip of wood to protect them from plunging to their deaths—and Jay leapt onto the swinging chair. Nigel followed more gingerly, his stomach rocking along with the car.

  Huge gears creaked as the wheel began to move. How much easier it would be to enjoy the ride if it didn’t sound as if the machinery was absolutely straining to get the job done. Nigel gripped the side of the car with one hand and Jay’s arm with the other as they glided up into the air.

  After a short ride, the wheel stopped so other passengers could board. Jay leaned forward to look straight down—making the car tip. “Look at the view.”

  “Stop! Will you stop that?” Nigel dug his fingers into Jay’s sleeve, feeling the solid muscle beneath layers of fabric. “You’re not funny.”

  “Not trying to be.” Jay took his hand and pried his fingers loose. “You might try to relax and enjoy the experience.”

  “Seems to me I heard something similar the other night,” Nigel quipped, earning one of Jay’s spectacular grins.

  The ride moved again, up, up, and yet more up—then a stomach-jarring stop as more passengers embarked. The car swayed, and Nigel gripped Jay’s hand hard enough to feel his bones beneath the skin.

  “Lord, you really are afraid.” Jay stopped smiling. “Don’t look down, then. Look out. Gaze at the sunset and the way it illuminates the buildings. The city is golden at twilight. Or look up at the sky. See the moon emerging over there? And we’re rising up to meet it.”

  Jay was right. Mustn’t think of the ground, or falling to the ground, or take so much as a peek at the greasy welded bits that held this car in place on the wheel. Nigel did as he was told—stared at the sun until its image was burned into his retinas. Then he looked at the pale face of the moon and remembered how it had shone down on them that night on the roof.

  Then he looked at Jay’s face. He wanted to lean over and kiss his mouth. Nigel’s hand relaxed in Jay’s grip, and he rubbed his thumb over the other man’s knuckles. He remembered what Jay had said about his destiny to work at a factory if he hadn’t started a new course in life. Nigel couldn’t imagine these graceful hands doing factory work, grimy with grease, broken nailed, or possibly even missing fingers from the dangers of industrial labor. Jay had been born to do exactly what he was doing, performin
g on stage as Jean Michel, the enigmatic chanteuse. What a loss it would have been to the world not to hear that haunting voice.

  “Better?” Jay asked.

  Nigel nodded. “But I could be better still. You said something about ensuring my riding pleasure.” Oh, he was quick-witted when in Jay’s company. Teasing, clever things he never would have thought of in his normal life spilled off his tongue when they talked together.

  Jay chuckled. “That I did.” He scooted close and placed his other hand on Nigel’s thigh. A few strokes and squeezes and then he inched it up toward the bulge in Nigel’s trousers.

  Even up here, with the next car suspended above and slightly in front of them, Nigel couldn’t help glancing around to make sure no stranger’s eyes watched before he let go of Jay’s hand and dropped his down to Jay’s crotch. Hardness molded beneath his palm, and he dug his fingers in, trying to feel more of that shape. They massaged each other, friction building, breath catching, hands moving surreptitiously in the dark, and the wheel moved again.

  This time it didn’t stop, but swept all the way up to the top and dropped, heart-stoppingly down. With Jay’s firm grip squeezing and driving him halfway to madness, Nigel had little room for fear. Instead, exhilaration filled him as he flew through the gathering dusk—exhilaration building toward exultation as Jay rubbed him. Nigel wished that touch could be against his bare flesh, and that he could feel the full texture and shape of Jay’s cock in his hand. What they were doing was thrilling in its illicit nature, but not nearly enough of what he wanted.

  Still, as the wheel cut a swath through the air, the limited touch was enough to make Nigel groan and swell harder. Then, all of a sudden as the car plunged once more, he cried out softly and let go, soaring into the almost-night and releasing into his pants.

  When Nigel could breathe again and his gaze had come back into focus, he redoubled his efforts to give Jay an equal measure of bliss. What Nigel really wanted was to unfasten those trousers, lean over and have a taste of cock. He wouldn’t get another such chance perhaps ever in his life. He couldn’t imagine initiating illegal affairs with men in London. No. After he returned to his old life, he would put the mental photographs of this trip away in a box, and that would be an end to his experimentation.