by K. Webster
“We’re headed out too,” Scott says.
I rush into the bathroom to wash my hands and make sure I don’t look guilty while Scott leaves to get in his car. I’m just putting on my coat when Madden walks into the entryway.
“Your boss seems sketchy,” he says, his eyes narrowed. “Something’s up with that guy.”
His dick.
Because of me.
But I’m not about to tell Madden that.
“Back off, bro,” I snap. “Scott’s a great guy and I don’t like you badmouthing him.”
His jaw clenches, one of his usual intimidation tactics, but I don’t cower. I meet his glare head-on as I snatch up my messenger bag.
“Tell Mom I’ll be late. Have dinner without me.”
He opens his mouth to say more, but I bolt without giving him a chance. It isn’t until I’m inside Scott’s car with my hand in his that I feel relief.
Experimenting.
Together.
Our little secret.
I can get used to that.
He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze that sends thrills shooting through me.
Really used to that.
Scott
A buzzing in my veins I’ve never felt before keeps me more electrified than my coffee ever could. This morning was intense. With Malcolm pressed against the wall of his closet with my tongue down his throat, I just knew we were going to explore more of this new thing between us. I craved to strip off his Polo, drop to my knees, and suck on his cock that probably still dripped with cum. I wasn’t stupid. The Hustler mag was an obvious attempt to see if he felt anything for the opposite sex. But nothing compares to what he felt by having me kissing and touching him. That much I know for certain.
I’m not some arrogant douchebag.
I felt it too. The maddening pull. Unlike anything I’ve experienced.
Sure, I’m experienced in the game, but not with what Mal does to me. It’s indescribable the way he sets my skin on fire, quickens my heart rate, and makes me thirst to taste him. Fucking him will be the ultimate reward, but I’m perfectly happy getting to know him slowly as he delves deeper down the path of his homosexuality.
I try to push thoughts of Mal out of my head, but it’s difficult knowing he’s in the next room. He’s thrilled about this job, so I’d be a total dick if I manipulated all of his time to put me right in the center of it. So, when we arrived after a quick bite of lunch on the way, I left him to his own devices. Wade was yammering to someone in Tokyo, so our meeting has to wait. I should be working on my pet project, but I can hardly sit still.
“Honey, you keep frowning that way and you’re gonna give yourself permanent lines,” Sorro says, strutting into my office like it’s a runway. “Your face is too pretty to be lined with ugly frown lines.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be pretty,” I challenge. “Maybe I’m going for rugged Boulder mountain man.”
“Oh, please,” she sasses. “I know your musical taste. Your white ass belongs in Seattle with all the other flannel-wearing garage band hotties. Playing the businessman is a cute touch, though. But mountain man? Puhlease.”
Nah, that’s more my brother-in-law Lennon’s persona.
I let out a sigh. “I know. In fact, I’m working on something that benefits those flannel-wearing garage band hotties.”
She prances over to me and sits on the edge of my desk. Sorro is tall, lean, and exudes sexuality. Men usually drool in her presence. Most have no clue she’s transgender. I’ve always thought she was beautiful, but never been attracted to her in that way, which is good considering she’s my employee.
Mal’s your employee…
I ignore the annoying voice in my head. “Camelot Music. Ever heard of them?”
“You’d have to be dead not to have heard of them,” Sorro groans. “My nail place is right across from there. It’s always busy.”
Tapping at my screen, I show her my marketing proposal. Sorro doesn’t have experience in advertising and marketing, but she’s quick as a whip and has learned everything I’ve taught her flawlessly. One day she’ll kick me to the curb and do great things. I’ll be sad when that day happens.
“Their logo is super boring,” she agrees. “If they want to stay with the moving times, they’d be smart to look at this. You’ve laid out everything. Boss, you really have a knack for technology.”
Camelot is known for being a CD, cassette, and album retailer, but I have some ideas that build on Windows Media Player that I want to offer them. I sat at a Microsoft conference last spring, and then an Apple one last summer. Based on their technological predictions for the upcoming future, I decided to pounce on some marketing ideas for places like Camelot and Sam Goody and Suncoast Motion Picture Company that might eventually become obsolete if they don’t move toward the way of the future—and so far, haven’t indicated they’re headed that way. It’s been a whirlwind this fall putting together packages for these companies—unasked for ones at that—but I just see it all in my head and want to convey it to them, too. It’s risky because they could take my ideas and make them their own, but this business involves a certain element of risk for sure. If I land them, it could be huge.
We discuss my marketing package a little while longer until someone knocks on the door. Mal forces a smile at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I frown at him. Sorro laughs and pushes her thumb between my eyebrows, nearly stabbing me in the eye with one of her claws in the process.
“I can come back later,” Mal says, his voice an unsure squeak.
“No way,” I say quickly. “We’re just talking about this Camelot proposal.”
His brown eyes flit over Sorro, drinking in all of her over the top glam from her long, blond wig, her overly made-up face, her shiny costume jewelry, her bouncy fake tits, and her long ass legs. And then, his expression hardens into one of…wait, jealousy?
“Go sit in the chair like a normal person,” I grumble to Sorro, nudging her knee with my hand.
She turns to look at Mal as he sits and then darts her head back my way, her light brown eyes wide with understanding. The girl is quick. Too damn quick for her own good. Rather than scampering off to do whatever it is I pay her to do, she meddles. God, I hate when she meddles.
“Oh, honey, your collar is a mess,” she says sweetly as she leans forward to fix my shirt, her nails scraping along my neck.
My eyes are locked on Mal’s. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and hurt flashes in his eyes. Enough of this shit.
“Sorro,” I growl. “Go sit down.”
She cackles. “I knew it. A girl has an eye for these things.” She slides off my desk, does a little spin of happiness in her six-inch size ten heels, and then gracefully makes her way over to Mal. “You look sad, Mally Bear. What’s wrong?”
This time, it’s Malcolm who frowns. “W-What? Nothing.”
“Mmmhmm,” Sorro says, flashing me a deviant grin. “Couldn’t have been because you were jealous?”
“Sorro,” I warn. Mal’s not ready to come out, and I won’t let my bubbly friend coerce him into it. “Don’t you have phone calls to make or checks to cut or errands to run?”
She shakes her head, her big gold hoops glistening with the movement. “Nope. All caught up. I get to hang out with you two loveb—”
“Miss Washington,” I bark out, using my most authoritative voice.
Her back straightens and she bites on her bottom lip. “Gah, okay.” She pouts. “Subject officially closed.” Then, she takes Mal’s hand, making him gnaw on his lip with nerves. “Tomorrow night I’m singing at Juno’s. I’d love you guys to come see me,” she says in her most saccharine tone.
I’m stunned and a little proud of her offer. Only recently has Sorro let me into her world and revealed herself fully as transgender, though I obviously knew before from when I hired her. She’s flashy and flamboyant, but her personal life is a vault of secrets. When she invited me to her club before, I offhandedly mentioned bringing Wade and
she had a meltdown a fourteen-year-old menstruating girl would have been proud of. Tears and begging and tantrum. Just me. She only trusted me. And now she was trusting Mal with her world. It’s huge for both of them. Mal needs the exposure to life in general and Sorro needs to open up more.
“I, uh, I don’t know,” Malcolm says, his brows furrowing as he flashes his dark browns my way.
“Oh, we’re going,” I tell him with a smirk that makes him smile shyly at me.
“Goodie!” Sorro cries out.
“What’s all the excitement for?” Wade asks from the doorway. “Are we going out?”
Sorro stiffens. “We—”
“We were thinking sushi tonight and Mal was just giving in,” I blurt out, hoping Mal will go with it even though I can bet everything I own on the fact he hates sushi.
Thankfully, he gets it because he nods. “Gotta take one for the team sometimes.”
Wade narrows his eyes at us for a moment before shrugging. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, waving Sorro and Mal off. “I want to talk numbers.”
Wade laughs and rubs his palms together. “My favorite. Sorro, you better hook us up with some coffee.”
The club smells like pineapple. All other clubs and bars in this city smell like booze, smoke, and a hint of sex, but not this one. This one smells good and the vibe is just…happy. With Malcolm at my side looking sorely out of place, I can’t help but feel happy too.
“I read an article about drag queens in Hustler,” Malcolm reveals, already more talkative than usual thanks to two shots of tequila. “Extremely fascinating.”
I snort and shake my head at him. “You’re probably the only male on the planet who reads the mag for the articles.”
He looks down at his lap, clearly ashamed of my words.
“Hey,” I say quietly, leaning in to discreetly take his hand under the table. “It wasn’t an insult. It was a joke. I find it ridiculously adorable that you read the article, and quite frankly turned on that it was more interesting than the pictures.”
His head turns slightly so that we’re a mere inches apart. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, my eyes falling to his juicy lips that glisten from his drink. “Oh.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. I crave to lean in and kiss the small crease there. But we’re in a club on a packed Friday night. I made a promise to Mal. I’m not going to break it. Just when I think he might break his own rules, the club comes alive with screams. Several of Juno’s regular drag queens strut onto the stage, decked out in glitzy dresses and beautifully made faces.
“I can’t believe you were jealous,” I tease, my mouth close to his ear. “Of Sorro.”
He gives me a withering look. “Have you seen her?” He waves a hand out at Sorro. She’s the tallest one up there and has the widest smile. Despite being the tallest, she’s the slimmest and the most feminine in my opinion. When she sees us, she waves happily and then whispers to her friend, who also waves.
“I see her,” I tell him as we wave back to them. “But she’s not my type.”
“You’re bi, though,” he argues.
“Doesn’t mean I fall in love with every woman and man I come into contact with. Sorro’s my friend. You…you’re my friend too, but…”
He bravely threads our fingers together. “But what?” His brown eyes are wide and searching behind his glasses as he regards me. God, he’s so fucking cute.
“But I wish we were more.”
His gaze falls to my mouth. “I think I want that too.”
My brows hike at his admission. “What happened to experimenting?”
“I think we experimented a lot in your car last night,” he says, a rueful grin on his face.
After work and a sushi dinner where Mal ordered a fucking chicken sandwich, we went back to his house so I could drop him off. But when he didn’t get out, I leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was meant to be a sweet goodbye, but instead, we fogged up the windows of my Land Cruiser and I was seconds from begging him to jerk me off.
“One car make out session and you officially want to be mine?” I tease, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. “And here I thought I had to wine and dine you a little more.”
His smile is shy but flirty. “You can still do that too.”
The announcer says something and then Sorro takes the mic. She commands the room the moment her sultry voice starts singing “Criminal” by Fiona Apple. Every man with a working dick in here is fixated on her crooning and sexy dancing.
“Wow,” Malcolm says in awe.
“Fucking amazing, right?”
He nods quickly. I wave down a waitress to bring us more to drink. As Sorro sings about the fact she’s been a bad, bad girl, I can’t help but lean in and whisper to Mal.
“You look so hot tonight,” I murmur, my lips purposefully brushing against his ear.
He groans. “No, I don’t.”
I pull away so I can search his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Sometimes I think you’re a little crazy,” he says, his voice seemingly confused. “You’re you—big and muscular and gorgeous and kind and I’m…” He glances down at our conjoined hands. “I’m me.”
“Extremely smart, funny, sweet, and hot,” I offer. “Because that’s what I see when I look at you.”
The waitress drops a couple of shots and two Coronas off before scurrying off. Malcolm watches me with furrowed brows as we take our shots, our hands never leaving the other. He sings along with Sorro and he just looks so fucking comfortable in his skin right now. If there were ever a time to kiss him publicly, it’d be now.
Of course, I don’t.
“What?” he asks before biting on the inside corner of his lip that tells me he’s nervous.
“Just wishing we were alone so I could kiss you.”
He smiles, wide and bright like the sun. And then, to my surprise, he leans forward, pressing his soft, pillowy lips to mine. I’m so stunned that he made the first move all I can do is part my lips and allow him to kiss me. But when he starts to pull away, I decide that was just a tease. Nothing but a sweet taste. I’m ravenous when it comes to him.
“Mal,” I groan against his mouth as I gently grip the side of his neck with my free hand. “I’m not done with you.”
He laughs at my husky words, but it dies down when I kiss him deeply. My kiss is possessive and owning. Passionate and claiming. And he lets me. Mal doesn’t let his fears ruin our moment. No, he returns my kiss with fiery enthusiasm that has my dick straining in my slacks.
Crash!
A loud bang startles me, breaking me from our kiss. I look over in time to see some drunk ass motherfucker picking up a chair and heaving it at the stage where another one lies broken to pieces.
Sorro looks scared shitless.
The bouncers aren’t as close as me and I don’t wait to let this idiot hurt her. Launching from my booth, I storm over to the fucker and swing my fist at him. He crashes into a table and a couple sitting there cry out in alarm. The guy tries to charge at me, but he’s wasted. I grab his shoulders and knee him right in the gut. I’m about to break his fucking neck, but a bouncer yanks me back. The other bouncers pounce on him, dragging him from the club.
“Someone called the cops,” someone screeches. “I’m out of here.”
I wiggle my fingers that throb from punching the guy and glance over at Mal to make sure he’s okay. His eyes are wide with shock. Sorro is on the stage crying her eyes out. I hold up a finger to Mal to let him know I’ll be back and then I rush over to Sorro, hopping up on the stage to get to her. She lets me pull her in for a hug.
“Are you hurt?” I demand, stroking her wig.
“N-No,” she whimpers. “Oh, God, why did he throw those chairs at me?”
“Shh,” I mutter. “He’s a crazy motherfucker. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I know I’m going to get my ass questioned for beating the guy up, so I know I ca
n’t bail. Rather than slipping out with Mal, I wait for the heat to arrive and hold my friend. As soon as I lock eyes with Lennon Yates, my brother-in-law and Boulder cop, I let out a breath of relief.
Lennon, a whopping six-foot-five and built like a freight train, stalks over to us. His brows are furled in concern. I miss the guy. He’s one of my best friends, but ever since we lost Stacey, he’s been distant.
“Should have known you’d be at the center of this trouble,” Lennon says as he hops up on the stage with us. Then, he regards Sorro with an intense stare. “You okay, miss?”
Sorro clutches onto my shirt that she’s thoroughly ruined with her makeup and tears. “Yes, sir.” She hiccups. “The chair didn’t hit me.”
Lennon’s stare hardens. “I’m going to need to take both of your statements.”
“We better make it quick,” Sorro says, breaking from my hold and affixing her usual smile. “The night is still young and tips are to be made. The quicker we move on from this, the quicker I can go back to making money.”
If I knew it’d keep her out of the club altogether, I’d give her a raise to supplement her income. But I know Sorro. Her dream job isn’t being my receptionist. It’s singing in clubs and owning who she is.
“We can sit over there,” I tell her, waving to our booth.
She sets off and before I can go, Lennon grabs my bicep. His dark blond hair is combed over in a fashionable way and his cheeks are covered in a trim dark blond beard. Blue eyes, hard like steel, probe me for answers.
“Your new girlfriend?” he asks.
“Nah, that’s Sorro. My employee. I’ve spoken of her a million times, but you never listen,” I jest. “My date is the one talking to her.”
He follows my stare to Malcolm, who fusses over Sorro. “He’s different than your usual.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know,” he grumbles. “Smaller. Innocent. Young.”
Before he can ask how young, I pull away. “Come on. Let’s get this over with so I can get my date home. We’ll grab wings and beer one night to catch up on all that. For now, let’s take care of Sorro.”