“Are you going to admit us?”
Jake realized he’d been staring, not saying anything, for far too long. “Oh, uh, yeah...”
“You haven’t quite mastered British speak now, have you?” Nevil said, sashaying inside the foyer, glancing around with obvious envy. He may have money, but not English Country Manor money. He spun around and faced Jake, amusement painted on his face. “Lovely outfit. Clever of Hunter, really, I suppose I’ll get to stare at your fine chest all night while we play. Lucky me, already drawing the right cards. You can hardly have an ace up your sleeve.” With that, a laughing Nevil swept past Jake, but not before he gave Jake’s nipple a slight tweak.
To say that Jake’s mind was swirling was an understatement.
How was it that Nevil Master and Henderson Fellows were one and the same? Hunter had a lot of explaining to do.
For now, Jake knew he had to play his part, and so he escorted his two guests into what Hunter had loosely termed the “play room,” which along with leather furniture and dark-wooden bookcases contained a full-size billiards table and a gaming table, at which were positioned two straight-backed chairs. A stack of chips and several decks of cards had been placed on the table, and on the credenza behind the table was a large silver platter, covered with a matching dome. A bar had been set up in the corner, and Jake knew his job duties included serving drinks as they night wore on. He offered up drinks to both Nevil and Junior. Junior shook his head, before moving off to the corner of the room to assume a dutiful position. Jake wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a word come from the man. Guess he wasn’t hired to speak.
“Martini,” Nevil said.
“Right, coming up,” Jake said, moving his way toward the mini-bar. He hesitated as he looked at the bottles, then reached for the Grey Goose.
“Jake, please. A real martini is made with gin.”
“Right, sorry. This is England.”
He reached for the Beefeater bottle and began to mix up a large, cool pitcher of the potent drink. Pouring it into a smart crystal glass, he dropped a couple of cocktail onions inside before handing it over to Nevil. He took a sip, proclaimed it “nicely done. Keep them coming.”
Just then the door swung open and in came Hunter Abbott, looking fabulously handsome in a designer suit that showed off his form nicely. He wore a dark blue shirt and a tie, and with his hair swept back he looked like something out of an earlier era. Jake could hardly believe that this hot creature was the man whose bed he shared. An idea of slipping those clothes off him and making long, powerful love to him later tonight had his cock jumping inside this black pants.
“Ah, Henderson, how good of you to show. And early yet.”
“You know me,” Nevil said.
“Yes, indeed, I do,” Hunter said dryly. “Jake, I see that you’ve met our guests. Including Junior—hello old chap, trust all is well.”
Junior had no reply. Jake wasn’t even sure the man blinked. Ever.
But Junior wasn’t his concern. Nevil…Henderson…whatever the hell his name was, it was near comical the way these two men were acting. Like a dance neither wanted to participate in. “Okay, okay,” Jake said, “would one of you please explain to me why Nevil is Henderson and why you, Hunter, insist on calling him by that ridiculous name. He’s Nevil Masters.”
“Cheeky help you have here, Hunter. Rather outspoken.”
“Yes, unfortunate. He did come highly recommended.”
“I’m sure he came,” Nevil slyly added.
“Jake, would you make me a martini?” Hunter asked. “With vodka, please. How anyone can drink that gin swill is beyond me.”
“Only men with good taste know a good thing.”
“Only men with good taste don’t allow someone to leave them over something petty.”
“Petty? You call 50,000 pounds petty?” Nevil asked, knocking back the remnants of his first drink, holding his glass out for a refill. “Before the night is done you’ll owe me one big payment. I expect full restitution.”
“The night is young, Henderson.”
Jake just rolled his eyes. Fine, these boys want to play-act some old movie from the 40s, let them. He’d duck when the gangsters showed up with their tommy guns. Turning back to the bar, he busied himself with first refilling Nevil’s drink before mixing up a large pitcher of vodka martinis. The night was playing out just as Hunter had earlier told Jake. Right down to the argument over which alcohol best served a martini. Soon Hunter had his drink and the two rivals raised them without clinking glasses. As though avoiding any kind of physical connection. Jake noted that they hadn’t even shaken hands. Just what the hell was this night really all about?
Hunter moved over to the gaming table, taking up a seat that had him facing the door. Nevil had no choice but to take the one that had his back to the door. A large picture window, draped opened to reveal the dark night outside. Jake asked if he should close them, with Hunter shaking his head.
“When we need something, we’ll let you know.”
Admonished, Jake felt his face go red. Why was he putting up with this?
Hunter grabbed for one of the fresh decks of cards, breaking the seal to the approval of Nevil. No previously used deck for this game, keep things on the up and up, straight and narrow. Hunter shuffled them with the expertise of a dealer, announced the game. “Seven card stud.”
“Wait just one moment,” Nevil said. “The money. I want proof you have it.”
“Seriously, Henderson? You act as though you don’t trust me.”
He sipped at his gin and made a face.
“Jake, could you show Henderson my collateral?”
Jake had rehearsed this part earlier today. He went over to the silver tray and lifted the dome lid. Beneath it were the stacks of pounds notes Hunter had transferred from the canvas knapsack. Queen Elizabeth II stared at them all, her expression one of disapproval. Jake kind of had to agree, especially given the juvenile antics between these two…rivals was the word he’d been using, but now that he saw them together he had to admit that was the wrong choice. It dawned on Jake right here and now, watching Nevil’s eyes widen at the sight of the money, at the large smirk drawn across Hunter’s face, that these men were former lovers. That had to be it. This was nothing more than a pissing content between exes, one getting back at the other, though who was in control and who was the wounded party Jake couldn’t be sure. And somehow he’d gotten involved, no worse than right smack in between. What made it embarrassing was the fact that Jake had easily slept with them both.
So much for a slut-free summer in London.
Money on the table, cards shuffled, the night’s action was suddenly afoot. An opening ante of 5,000 pounds was required, but rather than toss actual bills into the fray they used the colored chips. Hunter tossed first, Nevil followed, and at last the first hand was dealt. Hunter won handily, took in over 10,000 pounds in winnings after upping the pot. He kept his cool while Nevil asked for a refill. Hunter accepted one, too, took a large gulp and then excitedly rubbed his hands together. He dealt again, and soon after he won again. He won the next two rounds as well, frustrating Nevil to the point where he set aside his glass and re-focused his energies. He took the next three rounds. The rounds continued, the men battled, tossing out sudden wild cards to sharpen the game, heighten the drama. Jake just stood there taking it all in, occasionally stealing glances over at Junior, who stood silently with his arms crossed. His muscle wasn’t needed yet, because neither he nor Hunter had tried to pull anything fancy. Yet.
An hour into the game, with Hunter’s pot totaling nearly 40,000 pounds, they called a break. Nevil left the room, his gait a bit wobbly from all the gin he’d consumed. Junior followed after his boss. Hunter approached Jake, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. Jake quickly moved away, leaving Hunter to merely kiss the air between them.
“Something wrong?”
“Yeah. I don’t like being manipulated.”
“That’s hardly what’s happening
.”
“Oh? And what do you call this pissing contest between you and Nevil.”
“Henderson.”
“Yeah, you want to explain that one?”
“It’s really quite simple. His full name is Nevil Henderson Masters. His parents are very proper English folk, expect much of their son. They work for some politician, so any hint of scandal and the press would have a field day. British papers love political downfalls as much as they love gossip about the royal family. Nevil is like me, the black sheep of the family. He runs his own book-making business—and by that I do not mean publishing.”
“I get it. He’s a bookie.”
“Rather a low-class job, don’t you think?”
“Not if you both can afford to ante up 5,000 per game.”
“So we’ve elevated our game, it makes it much more interesting.”
“To me it looks like foreplay.”
Hunter just laughed. “Ah, so you’ve figured it out, have you.”
“What, that you and Nevil were once lovers? That this game is some kind of payback for one of you breaking up with the other?”
“He’s trying to prove that I’ll always need him.”
“And you’re trying to prove what? Anything you can fuck, I can fuck better?”
“Sounds like a dirty musical theatre song.”
“Hunter, seriously. Am I just a pawn? A way for each of you to hurt the other?”
“Quite the opposite,” Hunter said. “I was attracted to you the moment I saw you at the Railway Pub, but with Nevil there…”
“Aha, you do call him Nevil.”
“When discussing affairs of the heart, yes. When conducting business he goes by Henderson Fellows.”
“This is getting ridiculous. He’s the same man.”
“He’s a man who knows how to compartmentalize his life. But whoever he is, he is man who only knows money and betrayal,” Hunter said. “Jake, trust me, I just need to win my money back tonight, cancel my debt. That’s all that’s going on. Once I do, Henderson and Nevil will both be gone, and you and I…well, we can celebrate my triumph. I’ve been saving the billiard table for tonight. We’ve made love in nearly every room in this house, and I can’t wait to get you on the table, slide my cock deep inside you....the rug burn you’ll feel on your back from the felt of the pool table will drive you crazy…more so than the burn you get from when my chest scratches you. Relax, we’re almost done, I’m up 40 thou, and Henderson is feeling the pinch. He’ll screw up soon enough, especially if you keep plying him with those strong martinis.” Hunter leaned in again, and this time Jake accepted his kiss.
Just then Nevil returned, Junior in tow. He took his seat at the table and Hunter did the same. Jake watched the wary expressions on their faces as the game resumed. Cards dealt, bets were placed, and they were off again. Jake refreshed their drinks, watched as the alcohol was consumed and the cards were tossed about the table with studied concentration. Chips slid across the table, first toward Hunter, then back at Nevil. It was like each man had renewed their determination, each round a battle, the stack of money on the silver platter providing the victor his spoils.
“Haha,” Hunter announced as he tossed down a flush. “Gotcha, Fellows.”
Nevil set down two pair, put his hands in his head as Hunter took control of a rather large pot of chips. Jake dared ask what had just happened, and Hunter explained that he had just surpassed 50,000 pounds, which in effect rendered him free of the original debt. The small sum of money he was up he could now use to take even more money from Henderson.
“What do you say, Henderson, shall we increase the stakes?”
“What do you suggest?”
“Black jack,” Hunter said. “Ten thousand per hand. No more chips. Just real hard, cold cash.”
“Hunter!” Jake exclaimed. This was the problem with gambling, with alcohol, once you start you can’t stop, and right now Jake was seeing the effects of both addictions combined.
But apparently Nevil was all for it. His eyes lit up. “Like before?”
“If that’s how you wish to play it.”
Nevil nodded his head, asked for another drink to steel his resolve.
Hunter dealt the first hand. Nevil had the queen of diamonds showing, the second card was of course face down. Hunter had a four of spades showing. Nevil stole a peak at his card, nodded for a second. Another queen.
“Shit.”
He tossed 10,000 pounds into the center of the table. And then he removed his suit jacket, draping it against the back of the chair. Was it getting warm in here, Jake wondered? But then the next game was played, with Nevil winning and setting Hunter back to his starting point. Hunter removed his tie. Money back in play, Hunter dealt an eight up, one card down to Nevil, a ten to himself. He took a card, Hunter took two. Money went Hunter’s way, and suddenly Nevil had lost his shirt. Literally. He unbuttoned it quickly, tossing it aside, ready to resume the game. Jake stared at the man’s bare, muscular chest. He recalled being surprised at the good shape Nevil’s body had been in that night they’d indulged in drunken sex. But why had he removed it?
“Wait a minute,” Jake said, a sudden realization dawning over him. “Are you guys seriously playing strip poker?”
It was almost as though they hadn’t heard Jake. The next game played out, and Nevil lost again. He harmlessly tossed off a shoe, as he did with the next round. Shit, Jake had been right, not only were they playing strip poker, but knowing Hunter’s voracious sexual appetite, it all seemed like some sort of build up to a night of wild sex. But who would be partaking of it, Jake couldn’t be sure. Was Hunter envisioning another threesome, he and Nevil and Jake? Was the billiard table to serve as their meeting place, just as the lounge chair by the pool had been there for Hunter and Sandy and Jake?
Another round had Hunter up by 40,000 pounds. Which meant that in all he had won 90,000 pounds over the course of the night, if you counted the repayment of his debt. But then he lost the next round, giving up ten of his hardly earned money. But Jake had a feeling Hunter didn’t mind losing that round, it meant his shirt came off, and both Nevil and Jake let out sharp cries of desire he as bared his fabulous furred chest.
“Another martini,” Nevil said.
“Yes. Me, too, Jake,” Hunter said.
Drinks refreshed, Jake could tell that Nevil was starting to lose his concentration. Was that Hunter’s plan, to get him so drunk he didn’t know how much he was betting? He didn’t realize the extreme risk he was taking? Or was Nevil now distracted by the sexy creature sitting opposite him? Jake knew Nevil like his men hairy, he’d liked Jake’s chest and he was far from the furball Hunter was.
Another round had Nevil losing again, and he removed his pants. It was clear to all that Nevil was hard, his sizable erection poking at his underwear. Jake remembered being surprised at the nice length of Nevil’s cock, though it was hardly in the league with Hunter’s. Still, Jake felt his own cock begin to harden, especially as the room grew quieter, hotter, the sense of the erotic overwhelming the atmosphere of the game.
Hunter dealt a fresh round.
“Queen showing,” he said, flipping another card Nevil’s way. He looked, then shook his head. He was good, he would stay. Hunter had a king showing. He checked his other card, allowed a rare devilish smile to cross his face. He’d hardly revealed an emotion during the entire evening, and now here he was practically showing his hand. “So, let’s make it interesting, Henderson. Why not double the bet, make this our last game. I either win it all, or you get to save face and return home with 20,000 pounds.”
Nevil drank from his gin. Then he tossed in the last of his money. “Fine. I’ll stay, I’m good with my hand.”
Hunter nodded before adding his own bet to the table. A total of 40,000 pounds was on the line, and Jake could feel the sweat slipping down his bare back. He looked at Hunter, he looked at Nevil, the tension palpable, wondering which of them would blink. Who would win and who would lose, and what wou
ld happen afterwards? Just then Hunter gave himself another card. A three. He let out a heavy sigh. He had 13 showing. Nevil flipped is card to reveal a jack. He had 20. Jake realized he’d been holding his breath, waiting to see Hunter’s other card. He needed an eight to win. They’d already agreed there were no ties. The odds were against him, and knowing that Nevil was practically grabbing for the money already.
Then Hunter flipped the card over.
He didn’t even look at it.
“I win,” he said.
Jake founded himself staring at the eight of hearts.
* * *
“Junior, leave us.”
That was Nevil’s sharp order, and the man who never spoke a word the entire evening, departed the billiard room.
“Jake, leave us,” Hunter suddenly said.
“What…”
“Jake, please do as I ask. Take those pitchers of martinis, get them out of here. I think our Nevil has had plenty enough to drink, allowing himself to get so drunk he was willing to gamble away a small fortune tonight. I think I’ve had enough vodka, as well, I took an awful chance as well. I think Nevil and I need to be alone for a moment. Clear our heads.”
Jake took hold of the two pitchers and made a fast exit to the kitchen, closing the door to the game room first. Whatever was happening inside that room, Jake didn’t want to know. It hadn’t escaped him that Hunter had referred to his guest just now as Nevil rather than Henderson, which meant the business portion of the evening was over. Things had just gotten personal, but just how personal? Jake was about to pour the remains of the drinks down the sink, when he realized he needed one badly. He wasn’t a gin fan either, so he poured a large glass of the vodka martini and then took a sip. He spat it out, realizing something was wrong with it.
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