by K. C. Wells
He started up the shower and then checked the clock. It was still early enough that he could go to the club, but the combination of work and travel had left him exhausted. All he wanted was a shower, a cup of tea, and about twenty-four hours of sleep. Not that he was going to get anywhere near that much. The following morning he’d need to be up at the crack of dawn, slam down a few cups of coffee, and then rush to the office so he could make a start on the mountain of paperwork he knew would be waiting for him. That was the only downside to working away from the office—he knew that beyond the important things that Janice would have seen to, he’d still have plenty of things to deal with upon his return. Still, he loved his job. Montgomery and Trypp was one of the preeminent landscaping firms in London, and for Vic to be where he was at this time in his life spoke highly of his skill.
After a long, steamy shower, Vic trudged to the kitchen and put on the kettle. One cup of chamomile tea and he’d be out for the night. He went back into the dining room and picked up the envelope for Secrets. It was a high-quality print job, and the envelope alone must have cost a fortune. Whoever purchased Whispers had money, of that Vic was certain.
He decided to see if the club had an internet presence. The previous owners had believed a good reputation was enough, and that had cost them dearly when membership began a slow decline. By the time they’d realized it, the damage had been done. Add in the fact that they were both getting on in years, and it was easier to simply sell the place. Vic had heard they were talking with Thomas Williams, one of the co-owners of Collars & Cuffs in Manchester, but then Vic had had to go out of town and had been too busy to keep up on the latest developments.
He pulled out his phone and searched for the club online. Nothing yet, but then again, it was early days. Maybe that’s on their to-do list.
When the kettle beeped, Vic pulled out his favorite mug, dropped in a teabag, and waited for it to steep. His phone pinged and he pulled it from his pocket, then smiled at the message from his assistant.
You go away for two months and I get stuck working with Terrible Terry. You’d better have brought me back something nice, and by nice, I mean expensive.
Janice had worked for him for six years. She was a dream and many others in the firm wanted her, but she stayed loyal to Vic. He had indeed picked her up a very nice bottle of brandy while he was out of town, and would be giving it to her tomorrow. He was about to reply when another message popped up.
Sorry to do this to you, but you’ve got a meeting tomorrow with the big bosses. Hope you don’t have any plans, because you’re getting a new project. Not out of town this time, so you’ll be able to sleep in your own bed, but it’s going to be a long one. Expect up to four long weeks of work.
Vic groaned. He’d already missed the club opening, and he hadn’t gotten laid in…. God, what had it been? Four months? Not even time for a one-off, and now they were giving him something new to work on? He glanced over at the envelope again. Fuck it. He’d have to make time to get there. He pulled out his phone and tapped a few keys.
Fine, but you’re going to be working them with me. If you think I’m going to be the only one in the office for weeks on end, you’re sadly mistaken.
Janice’s reply was swift.
LOL. You’ll survive, I’m sure. After this one is done, I’ve already put you in for a holiday.
The woman was a gem. Vic knew he couldn’t survive without having her in the office.
Oh yeah? How long?
You’ll be off for three long, restful weeks starting March 23. And just so you know, I’m taking those weeks off too. Not getting stuck with Terry again.
He happily typed back to her, Sounds good. See you in the morning. After putting his phone to charge, he picked up his tea and sat down to enjoy it. Okay, so he wouldn’t get to visit Secrets until March, but once he got the free time, he’d be there every night, tearing the place up.
Those boys will never know what hit them.
Chapter Three
March
ROB WAS amazed he’d made it this long without going nuts, but there had to be a breaking point, and he’d reached it.
Two months of shit. Two months of crap. Two months of… hell, there weren’t enough nouns to adequately convey what he’d put up with since he’d gotten back from his last disastrous London trip. Of course, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the bitch had put in her complaint. What did surprise him was the aftermath. It seemed like Mr. Peterson was forever on his case, and whenever they spoke, he was snappy, always berating Rob for not learning the job fast enough. There was that constant feeling of being under scrutiny, and it wasn’t long before Rob’s stress levels started to rise. No matter what he did, it was never good enough.
After Mr. Peterson told him he’d have to get up to speed or else lose his job, Rob began to wonder if anyone else had been subjected to the same treatment. That was the second shock—none of his coworkers had been through anything remotely similar, and that was when Rob realized he was being singled out.
There was always the option of taking the supermarket to an industrial tribunal, on the grounds of harassment, but he really didn’t want to rock the boat. Especially as there was stuff in his past that he didn’t want to come to light. Stuff that could get him fired on the spot.
When he received the letter to say his rent was about to increase, that was the proverbial final straw. He had to get away, even if it was only for a weekend. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go.
London was calling. Again. Rob couldn’t ignore the siren’s call, try as he might. He tried not to think about the amount of money that was bleeding from the laptop account, but there was nothing else for it. Maybe I don’t really need a new one. He’d put up with the cracked screen for so long now, he’d gotten used to it. And besides, changing laptops would mean transferring data, programs, more hassle….
It was amazing how many excuses he could come up with for spending his savings.
He snoozed on the train and woke only when a kind fellow passenger gently shook his shoulder at Euston. Then a taxi, and finally there he was again, outside Secrets, wondering just what it was that kept him coming back.
The doorman nodded as Rob stepped up to the heavy wooden door. Once inside, Rob felt as though he’d been tugged into another world against his will. There were so many more people than had been present at the opening, and just watching them, their interactions, the… connectivity… made something deep within him coil and writhe.
Why do I always feel like this? It was as if he was both repelled and attracted by what he saw. Is that even possible? To feel pulled in two opposing directions?
After he handed over his jacket, he took a seat at the bar. The bartender sauntered over, and Rob tried his best not to stare. The bartender seemed pleasant enough, if you could get past the fact that he was wearing practically nothing. His hairless chest, flat stomach, and slender form told Rob everything he needed to know about him. The pansy—such as he was—would never be a manly man, like Rob. He’d be another Alex.
“Welcome to Secrets,” he said, with a wide smile. “What can I get for you?”
“A beer. Anything on tap.”
The bartender bit his shiny pink lip. “I’m sorry. We don’t serve alcohol. We have mineral waters, tonic, Fanta—”
Fuck. They can’t even drink like real men.
“Forget it,” Rob snapped. It was a mistake to come here, and he understood that now. How many more times will it take me to learn this particular lesson? Maybe this was it, the last time, the one occasion when it finally really registered that he did not belong here.
He slid quickly off his stool and took a few steps before coming to a dead stop. In front of him stood a man, the likes of which he’d never seen before. Tall—fuck, he has to be at least six and a half feet—bald with a trimmed beard, and muscles on top of muscles. When he turned, Rob saw the way the vest cut across his chest, the dark hair sprinkled over the expanse of exposed skin. His
face was angular, sharp, but still held a softness to it. Rob couldn’t explain why he found the guy so fascinating. Not that he was about to stay and find out. He needed to get out of this place, and back home where he belonged. In the morning he’d send them an email to remove him from their mailing list. Then he’d never have to think about this place again.
He pushed through the crowd and past the man who moments before had held his attention.
The giant glared down at him, his flinty gray eyes locked on Rob. “Polite boys say ‘excuse me, Sir,’” he said in a deep growl that sent shivers down Rob’s spine.
“Fuck you,” Rob spat, attempting to shove the man out of the way. It was like trying to move a bloody big rock.
The giant gripped Rob’s wrist with a big, meaty hand.
The man at the giant’s side laughed. “Feisty one, eh, Vic?”
Vic grunted as he kept his gaze locked on Rob. “Say it. Excuse me, Sir.”
“Get lost,” Rob barked. “Let me go, you fucking poof.” He jerked his hand, wanting to break free of the iron grip.
Vic curled his lip into a smile or a sneer. Rob wasn’t sure which. “Poof? Boy, I could break you like a twig, if I had a mind to do so. We don’t appreciate rudeness around here, so it’s probably best if you leave on your own. Otherwise I’ll have security toss you out.”
Rob jerked his hand again. “I’m leaving,” he snapped. “Or I would be if you weren’t in my way.” His gaze flickered to his imprisoned wrist. “Or preventing me from leaving.”
Vic’s eyes flashed, but he turned Rob loose, and Rob had to steady himself to keep from sprawling to the floor. “Then you have yourself a good night. There’s the door. Don’t let me keep you,” he added dismissively.
Rob’s chest heaved. How dare that bastard lay a hand on me? He wanted to lash out, to slam his fist into the man’s face, but knowing his luck, it would result in broken bones. He grumbled as he made his way to the exit. He needed to get out of this place. With one last look back, he saw the big man laughing, and Rob wondered, briefly, if it had been about him.
What surprised him was that he actually cared.
OUT OF the corner of his eye, Vic saw the kid leave the club, slamming the door behind him. Now there is someone who is all twisted up in knots. He wondered—briefly—if the kid had come in by accident. He was cute, if one liked the type. Brown hair, a little longer than collar length, slender, but with good muscle definition. He had blue eyes that sparkled, even in the low lighting of Secrets. But Vic wasn’t much of a one for pretty boys, unless their lips were wrapped around his cock so they couldn’t speak. The kid who had just walked out? Definitely one whose mouth needed to be kept occupied.
“Was he a member?” Jack Keller asked, his face scrunched in concern.
“No clue. Rude little bastard, though. Do you know how long it’s been since anyone had the balls to call me a poof?”
Jack laughed. “I thought you were about to put him over your knee.”
“It might have helped improve his attitude.” Vic shook his head. “I doubt he was a member. He would have learned manners at some point, I’m sure.” Especially if Vic had had anything to do with it.
“Yep. I can’t see him being a member here.” Jack paused. “I was actually waiting to hear your impressions of the club.”
“Oh?” Vic glanced around. “They’ve certainly spared no expense. That much is obvious.”
“I’m not talking about the decor.” Jack leaned in closer. “But the word on the floor is that the new owners are starting as they mean to go on.”
Vic frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Anyone who had a membership to Whispers was given the opportunity to continue with the club, but it seems the owners—Eli and Jarod—are more stringent about the new members they’re trying to attract.”
Vic opened his eyes wide and gave a low whistle. “Wow. Now you’ve really piqued my interest.” Anything that meant an increase in the number of quality submissives had his vote.
Jack grinned. “So, now that you’re finally here, what are you going to do? Are you here to play or just visit?”
Vic groaned. “I was going to play, but that kid soured my mood. Maybe I’ll just grab some dinner, then head home.” He glanced over at the door and smiled as Wayne entered the club. Behind him stood a man Vic hadn’t seen before.
God, how long has it been since we spoke?
A situation Vic would rectify before leaving.
“I’m going to say hello to Wayne before I go. Are you coming in this weekend?”
Jack scowled. “This weekend, yes. Then I’m going to be babysitting while my sister is out of town for three weeks, so I probably won’t be in during that time. The best part?” he said, his expression akin to having bitten into a lemon. “The last night I have to take my niece to see Carter Quinn.”
“Who?”
“Internet pop sensation. Used to have a channel where he played his music, until he got discovered and went big-time. He’s touring and has a stop in London. My sister was supposed to take her, but she and her husband will be out of town that night. Bloody convenient, if you ask me.”
Vic laughed. He clapped Jack on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll survive it.”
“At least he’s easy to look at,” Jack grumbled. “He’s got these green eyes—they’re so pale, you’d swear they were contacts.”
Vic arched an eyebrow. “For someone who claims not to want to go, you certainly seem to know a lot about Mr. Quinn.”
Even in the dim light of the club, Vic saw the blush that stained Jack’s cheeks. “Okay, I may have watched some of his videos.” When Vic burst into laughter, Jack protested. “Hey, he’s good. I mean, really good. So what if I am looking forward to seeing him in concert? No one else has to know that, right? And I’m definitely not sharing that with my sister. I want her to think she owes me.”
Vic laughed again when Jack fluttered his eyes. To see the big man acting all soft and willowy was pretty damned funny. “My lips are sealed, mate. I’ll see you when you get back.”
He patted Jack on the back and then made his way over to where Wayne sat with a man who kept his gaze lowered to the tabletop. He was a cute thing, all shy and nervous. When he saw the man inch closer to Wayne, Vic could tell he was seeking reassurance.
They spoke for a few minutes, and Wayne introduced him to Ellis. Vic had heard the name before and knew he worked with Wayne in the Firearms Division. A few lighthearted comments, a bit of teasing about some imaginary sub he’d just been with, and it was easy to see the spark that lay beneath Ellis’s shy exterior. Vic knew that Wayne would be a fool to let this one go. This one had promise, although Vic was slightly surprised when Ellis greeted his words with a glare. Wayne gave Vic an apologetic glance, and Vic saw instantly that Ellis was upset. He had no qualms about apologizing; teasing was in his nature, but it was never serious.
Time to make a move.
Vic nodded toward Ellis before addressing Wayne. “Have a good night, Wayne.” Ellis barely acknowledged his words, and after a brief nod to Vic, Wayne went back to their conversation. Vic felt slightly put out as they really hadn’t talked much with him.
“Okay, gents, I’m headed home for the night. I came in here to play, but some young man put my back up and now I’m irritated. So I’ll bid you both good night.”
The two men acknowledged his words and then went back to their conversation. Vic felt slightly put out as they really hadn’t talked much with him.
“What the hell has ruffled my feathers tonight?” he grumbled to himself as he picked up his coat. It wasn’t like him to feel slighted, and he tried to pinpoint the root of it. “It was that kid. The little shit ruined my night, and now I’m going home without having some fun first. Could the night get any worse?”
He knew there was more to his irritation than that. Maybe it was that spark he’d spotted in Ellis, because Vic could see where that could lead. Maybe Wayne’s found himself someone per
manent. Not that Vic had any experience with such a thing. His previous relationships had all been of the short-term variety—hot and heavy for a while, before dwindling away to… nothing.
What would I give to find something worthwhile, something that lasts?
Such introspection was not helping.
He opened the door to the street and stared in surprise at the heavy rain bouncing off the pavements. The thick walls and lack of windows hadn’t even let him know there was a storm lashing the city.
“Of course. Yeah, that’d be right.” He turned his gaze skyward. “You just love taking the piss out of me, don’t you?” he muttered. When a rumble of thunder rolled out, loud and heavy, Vic shook his head. “What, you don’t have a sense of humor?”
He drew his coat over his shoulders and made a dash for the car. Lightning arced across the sky, followed by rumbles of thunder that shook Vic to his bones. Normally he wouldn’t mind a storm. One of his favorite things to do was curl up on the sofa with the curtains thrown open so he could watch the rain beating down on the street, making everything fresh and new again. Now, though, the rain was more an extension of his mood, dark and dreary.
By the time he made it to his Toyota Highlander, he was soaked to the bone, which further darkened his mood. He started the car, turned on the wipers, and pulled out of the parking space. He’d gotten maybe a few streets from the club when he saw a figure ahead of him. From the hunched shoulders, the brown hair, and the fact that the kid had no jacket on, Vic worried it might be the boy from the club.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled aloud. That didn’t stop him from slowing down as he approached. The kid had his arms wrapped around himself, and as he passed beneath a street lamp, Vic could see him shivering. Yep, it was him.
“Stupid kid, should have dressed for the weather.” Since when was March ever not full of showers?