For Immediate Release

by Clancy Nacht

  He shook it. “You have to do this a lot?”

  She shook her head, her gaze skating from his to look at a point just beside his head. “I never have. We have a good life where we are, Mr. Gatsby. But he wants more, and so do I.”

  Then Susan looked into his eyes. “Something about you—I don’t know what it is, but you have an effect on him. When you’re there, he’s more articulate. More together.”

  She paused and frowned. “Maybe we were like that at the start. I don’t remember, but I don’t think so. Since you’ve been gone, he’s back to his old self. Not bad, but not magnetic.”

  Lance nodded, deep in thought before he shook it off and tried to smile. “I’ve been invited into threesomes, but I think this is the first time someone’s asked me to be a sister wife. Sorry if I seem awkward.”

  “Oh, dear. Well, this isn’t a threesome situation. I couldn’t….”

  “I was kidding. Sorry, I try to make light of awkward situations.”

  She nodded, her face red as she scanned the room. “So um, not that. You’d just be there for him. Um, let Corey know if you’re interested. It was good speaking with you, Mr. Gatsby.”

  “And you.”

  Lance watched her leave and then went back to his desk, drained. The idea of being a muse intrigued him, but was he really interested in going on campaign? He had a pretty good thing where he was.

  Then again, whatever was going on between the two of them, Elliot was rarely far from Lance’s thoughts. The idea that Elliot wanted Lance—no, needed him—made Lance giddy.

  He opened his laptop, hoping for a distraction until he could pull himself together. He didn’t want to make any rushed decisions.

  But oh, Elliot.

  The news site was where he’d left it, open in a tab, only now it had an update. Apparently friends and relatives had been informed, so the authorities had revealed the victim’s name.

  “His name is Michael 'Mikey' Rios. He was found face down in the lake.” An unflattering photo accompanied the article. “If anyone has any information about his whereabouts earlier in the evening, please call 1-800-TIPS.”

  That face.

  Lance stared for a long time, trying to remember why he recognized him. It was a terrible image in poor lighting, but then it occurred to Lance.

  That crooked nose. The dark eyes.

  Grindr.

  The warm fuzzies Lance had felt for Elliot were gone in an instant. Lance had fucked a murder victim. A while ago, but still, he knew the man.

  Lance closed the laptop and decided not to think about it. Maybe some time away from Austin wasn't the worst idea.

  Chapter Four

  “Can’t wait… Need you now.”

  They weren’t even fully in the hotel room yet. Security closed the door behind them as Elliot undid Lance’s trousers. They were in New Hampshire, frontloading, as pundits called it. At the start of primary season, with the election still a year away, there was a clown car full of Republican also-rans who were hoping to create an upset in early caucuses. With polls looking promising, Elliot Swardson was one of them.

  Due to speeches he was giving, his gaze frequently rested on Lance as he spoke. The Republican base was in revolt and liberal pundits were creaming themselves. He came in second in the Iowa Caucus. Not a clear win, but far better than anyone expected. Elliot hadn’t touched wedge issues such as abortion yet, but his focus on the middle-class and moderate issues reignited consideration from so-called Goldwater Republicans and centrist Democrats.

  If Lance worried that he was merely coincidental in the evolution of Elliot, media outlets and pundits ran video of some of Elliot’s old speeches. He was beautiful, sure, but he had all the charisma of John Huntsman, who was a great statesman but couldn’t stir the interest Elliot now mustered.

  Elliot had gusto.

  He grabbed Lance’s bare ass. Lance’s trousers served as a hobble as he leaned against the wall. Lance kept his breathing steady as he looked over his shoulder at Elliot, still in his suit, cock in hand, its length glistening with lube.

  The first time Lance let Elliot fuck him, they’d talked about condoms. Lance kept up with his testing, but he was frequently reckless and he knew it. He’d been called a Truvada whore many a time, but that never stopped anyone from fucking him.

  Elliot had disclosed his past transgressions, said he’d been tested and was negative, and though they’d used a condom that first time, they hadn’t since. It was among the many things they didn’t talk about.

  At the moment, that suited Lance just fine.

  Elliot breached him with his fingers, teased, but he wasn’t much for foreplay. After a moment, he slid into Lance, both of them groaning as Elliot’s thick length pushed away all rational concerns.

  Elliot’s muse. Lance was his muse. It was all Lance could think about, flattering beyond anything he’d ever imagined. He’d never been someone who inspired others. He felt like a conduit of change.

  What Elliot said in his speeches was honed from their conversations. They talked about economics, about putting money in the hands of middle class people, about the GDP. Lance had never thought he’d care so much about politics, but he’d read more, he’d learned, and now he was being fucked by someone who could very well become the most powerful man in the world.

  Lance pressed his head against the wall, grunting at the impact of Elliot’s thrusts. Elliot went at him hard, and though Lance pulled his cock, he wouldn’t come like this. It was too graceless. Elliot wasn’t fucking him, he was fucking through him—feeling his power, owning his moment. While it wasn’t going to get Lance off, he still gloried in being part of Elliot’s need and desperation.

  Sweat dribbled down Elliot’s forehead, matting his dark hair to his face, dripped down his crooked nose. He held tight to Lance’s hips, clutching with bruising force. Lance had never felt so wanted. He’d been resentful of being a fucktoy, but he’d made peace with it. They had their pillow talk and kisses, but outside of these meetings, they couldn’t hold hands, couldn’t exchange glances. The majority of their discussions were in group meetings with the campaign team. If Elliot prioritized Lance’s ideas over others, no one mentioned it. At least not to Lance’s face.

  As Elliot grew louder, his thrusts wilder, Lance balled his hands into fists against the wall to bear it. He gritted his teeth as Elliot drove a little too deep, held him a little too hard. Elliot roared and clutched Lance around the chest as he came, wet face against Lance’s, whispering nonsense praise until he shuddered and twitched a final time and then slid out of him.

  Lance gasped for breath as Elliot turned him around and then kissed him deeply. Elliot undid Lance’s tie and shirt and kissed his neck. Lance slumped against the wall and slid his hands through Elliot’s thick, dark hair as the politician pushed up Lance’s undershirt to kiss down his chest and belly to reach Lance’s semi-hard cock.

  The most powerful man in the world, maybe. Someday. Elliot grinned as he nuzzled Lance’s dick, teasing it to its full length. Whatever selfishness he exhibited during fucking, he never left Lance unsatisfied.

  Elliot covered his teeth with his lips and bobbed his head slowly. His obvious inexperience thrilled Lance deep down. He loved tilting his hips forward just so, watching a man who was the focus of the world gagging on his cock. Whenever Lance did it, Elliot would smirk, his mouth full of Lance, and slap Lance’s ass.

  God but Elliot was beautiful on his knees. His mouth felt like heaven. He was so fucking eager, almost too eager. Lance kept his hands on Elliot’s head, controlling how deep he could go.

  It was bliss.

  Pressing his back against the wall, Lance thrust, loving how Elliot touched him, how he sucked him. Elliot teased, lipping Lance’s foreskin and rolling it back. Amazing.

  Lance banged his head against the wall as the intensity built, keeping his hands in Elliot’s hair. Maybe a little rough, but he was close; he couldn’t hold back. He gasped, body twitching. And then he finally release
d into Elliot’s mouth.

  They gazed at one another as Lance slowed his thrusting and Elliot tried to swallow all of the come.

  Elliot licked Lance’s cock tenderly as he gazed up at Lance.

  “You should go.” Lance liked to remind him of that, maybe for him more than for Elliot. It kept Lance from wanting too much. If they could keep it to just fucking, maybe when their time was over, they could remain friends.

  “Five minutes?” Elliot sounded petulant. He stood and wrapped his arms around Lance.

  Lance could never refuse him when he asked for something so sweet. It probably wasn’t wise. Every moment Lance spent with Elliot, the harder it was to let him go back to his own room.

  Regrouping on the bed, Lance twined his arms and legs around Elliot and they kissed. These moments were wonderful when they had them, but Lance always reminded himself they couldn’t last.

  They lay there until Elliot’s phone started ringing again.

  Elliot checked the caller’s name before answering. “Yes, yes. I get it. No, I’ll be there.” He sighed and then turned his attention back to Lance. “Stay here. I’ve got this fundraiser, then I’ll be back, okay? I’ll come back.”

  Stolen moments were all they had. Lance hoped to make the best of them. He clutched Elliot tighter as if he wouldn’t let him go, then released him. “All right. Not too much mingling.”

  Lance rolled onto his back, revealing the lewdness of his pants halfway down. “I’ll stay here, like this, waiting for your arrival.”

  “Mm…” Elliot climbed over Lance and kissed him again. “Just like this. I’d like that. I’ll be back soon.”

  As soon as Elliot left, Lance was lonely. Sometimes he’d have late dinner with Corey, if Corey wasn’t pressing the flesh and ginning up excitement among donors. Mostly Lance was left to his own devices.

  It was a little late in Austin, but Talia was probably awake. He called her to check in.

  “Hey, Boy Toy.”

  “Oh Tal, you know I’m doing more than that.” Lance pulled the sheets over his nudity and tried not to think about laying there for several hours waiting for Elliot to return.

  “Whatever gets you through the day. We’re getting paid, so I’m not complaining.”

  “Right, so, got a status report for what’s going on in the office?” Lance pulled out his laptop to take notes.

  “You mean the rest of us not in sex work?” She laughed but relented and gave him the updates on Gretchen’s day in court defending patents, on Talia’s work to rehab reputations on social media, creating blogs, leaking information, creating content and the like, mostly. She hadn’t needed to do any deep background information on anyone that day. “But that thing you asked about? Michael Rios’s body?”

  “Yes. Anything?” Days ago, a man Lance had fucked turned up dead with few details. They knew enough to call his death suspicious and run an old photo. Then suddenly all the information was gone. Not merely deleted, but eradicated from the records.

  “The photo they ran with the initial story was a mugshot. Michael Rios had been busted for solicitation. On the last update I saw, the story mentioned that he’d been sodomized and strangled.”

  A sex worker? Did someone pay him to fuck Lance? But why would anyone do that? There’d be no advantage to catching Lance with a man. He was openly gay. “Huh.”

  And sexually assaulted. That could be totally unrelated to Lance, but that would be a hell of a coincidence. Too many things didn’t add up. “And then all references to him were pulled from the media?”

  Talia exhaled. “Yeah, far as I can tell. No Google cache, but that’s amateur hour. Deep web normally keeps things like this. It’s gone, all gone. What are you thinking?”

  Lance shook his head and stared at the ceiling. “Not sure yet. It’s weird though, right?”

  “I think so. You want me to keep digging?”

  “I think I have an idea of who to ask. Let me get back with you.”

  “All right. Talk to you soon, whore.”

  Lance snorted and hung up.

  He looked at his phone, watched the text and call buttons fade, and then dropped it. Only one person could answer this, if he even would. Lance rose to fish out one piece of his luggage, then typed the number into a burner.

  The phone rang. And rang. And rang. He wasn’t sure how long to let it ring. Guy did say it was a service; maybe it took a while.

  Just after he’d given up, the door to his hotel flew open and then slammed shut. Guy rushed in, wild-eyed as he checked the bathroom and bed and then finally focused on Lance.

  “Hey, Kitten. You rang?”

  Lance dropped the phone and yanked the sheets over him. “That was… I… That was fast.”

  Guy smirked, raised a brow, and leaned against the wall. “You know, I’m torn between saying ‘service with a smile’ or ‘that’s what she said.’”

  The heat rose in Lance’s cheeks as he fumbled for the burner to turn it off. “I thought you’d call back and we’d arrange a time and meet. How did you know it was me?”

  Folding his arms, Guy relaxed into his pose as if he enjoyed Lance’s befuddlement. “Very cloak and dagger. We could do that if you want, but it’ll cost your man extra.” He peered around the room just as Lance realized Guy had breezed through the floor’s security and the men outside his door. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Wait. Cost my man extra?” Lance sat up against the pillows, clutching the sheet to him.

  “Keeping an eye on things.”

  “Is there a threat?”

  Guy chuckled and let his gaze rest on Lance. “No. Keeping it that way. Why’d you call?”

  Lance blinked, so distracted with why his man—he assumed Elliot—would need a contract killer on staff that he’d forgotten why he’d wanted to talk to Guy in the first place. “Oh. Um. There was this guy I hooked up with…”

  “I’m not a priest.”

  Lance rolled his eyes. “He’s dead. He was murdered in Austin.”

  “And you want to know if it was me?” Guy rested his foot against the wall like he might launch himself at Lance.

  “Yeah.”

  Guy pressed his lips together and looked up, eyes narrowed. “I don’t really do that.”

  “Kill people?” Lance held his breath, surprised. Maybe he had Guy all wrong.

  “No, confess to murder.”

  Lance threw the sheet off of his body, revealing his nudity. He felt a little self-conscious, but it wasn’t as if he was shy about it. “I’m not wearing a wire.”

  Guy’s gaze crept over Lance slowly, taking in his face, his chest, down his abdomen to his cock, then down his legs to his toes before he responded. “Oh, I know.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve been watching you.”

  Lance looked up at the ceiling, at the corners where he expected there to be cameras. “What?”

  Guy chuckled and scratched the side of his nose. “Not like that. Though I wouldn’t say no to it. I just mean, you haven’t met with police. Besides, I don’t think you’d be that stupid.”

  “Catching a murderer is stupid?”

  “It’s beside the point. Whomever did the actual killing wasn’t the one with the problem or the motive.”

  “So contract killers don’t kill people; clients do.”

  “I think I’ll use that. Thanks.” Guy’s gaze roved over Lance again. “If you don’t cover up or get to the point, I’m going to get the idea this was a social call.”

  Lance’s cock twitched. He pulled the sheet back over him. “His name was Michael Rios.”

  Guy shrugged. “I don’t remember names.”

  “It was last week. Austin.”

  Guy looked up, squinting again and exhaled. “More specific.”

  “He was strangled.”

  Guy rolled his wrist with his hand open, indicating he needed more details.

  “Sexually assaulted.”

  “Nope.” Guy shook his head and stood, crossing h
is arms tightly this time. “That I do not do.”

  “Really?”

  “You act any more surprised and I’m going to get offended, Kitten.”

  Lance exhaled shakily and nodded. He didn’t realize how relieved he’d be. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with him. “The news made it sound like a trick gone bad. He was left in Lady Bird Lake like someone wanted him found. But then all news of it was scrubbed. Professionally.”

  “Huh.” It wasn’t a non-committal, bored sound, but one of concern. Guy peeled himself off the wall. “So the message reached whomever it was intended to get to.”

  “You think so?” Lance clutched the sheets tighter.

  “Possibly. Michael Rios, you said?”

  “Yeah, he was… I found him on Grindr one night, and he came over, and we—”

  “I understand how Grindr works.”

  Lance flushed. “Anyway, the news ran his picture, and it was a mugshot from when he was apparently picked up for solicitation. So it could've been a trick gone bad, and the trick killed him and turned out to be someone important.”

  “Someone important enough to have news cleaned isn’t killing his own tricks. And they sure aren’t getting down with someone who already has a solicitation charge. Not at that level.” Guy gestured to the room. “Your situation is more their style, no offense.”

  Lance looked at the curtains drawn over the window, feeling the shame of the remark. Saying “no offense” didn’t soften the blow. “Right, well, thank you for that.”

  Guy exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not. And you’re not wrong.” Lance brought the sheet up to his shoulders. “Just go.”

  “I’ll look into the situation, okay?”

  “No. It’s… Whatever.” Lance felt sick at himself. Whatever he wanted to play at, whatever went on between he and Elliot, whatever affirmations Susan gave, he was kind of a whore. From Talia, he could blow it off. From a contract killer, he felt called out.

  “I’m just going to say this as something for you to consider, but there is an element of that set up that sounds a little like a jealous lover. I won’t look into it if you don’t want me to, but I think you should hold onto my number and proceed with caution.”