“Of course he didn’t, Vince,” Stuart answered. Turning to Avery, he added in a worried tone, “Did you?”
Avery kept a serious face for several seconds before letting himself grin. “Uh…no. I did truss him up on the spit and make him sweat a bit, but no fire was lit. I explained to him if I cooked him, I wouldn’t be able to come back next time.”
He chuckled, adding, “Believe it or not, most guys who call for my services are just lonely and in need of affection and attention as much as anything. Some of them are married to women and not yet ready to come out. Some are on business trips looking for an easy lay with no strings attached. Some are seriously good-looking guys with great bodies and plenty of money, and you can’t help but wonder why the hell they’re paying for what they could get with a snap of their fingers.”
“Sounds like you’re referring to someone in particular,” Vince remarked, raising his brows.
Avery shrugged noncommittally, but Hank Seeley leaped instantly to the front of his thoughts. In the two days since he’d seen him, thoughts of what it might be like to try again had collided with common sense. Hank was even less clued in to his own feelings and more fucked up than Jesse had been. If Avery were smart, he’d stay far, far away.
Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of the arrogant, difficult, handsome, sexy, screwed-up, lonely and intriguing young man. He’d dominated Hank on a hunch and had been startled to discover how immediate and intense their connection had been. Clearly, Hank had spent his life trying to convince himself and the rest of the world that he was in control. He’d used money and sex as ways to exert that control, and had naturally assumed the role of Dom. But it hadn’t taken much scratching of his surface to reveal the potential submissive beneath.
Hank’s breakdown afterward and the healing tears had drawn Avery even more than the hot sex. He’d been both touched to witness Hank’s obvious pain and honored at Hank’s trust in allowing himself to be so vulnerable in front of him. But maybe, in the cold light of day that followed, Hank had felt humiliated. Guys like him were used to projecting a persona that kept others at arm’s length. It was safer to do that than to risk getting hurt. And clearly, Hank had been hurt before, and deeply.
Avery had to admit, he wanted to see Hank again. He wanted to know more about him. He wanted to understand how such a handsome, wealthy guy could be so obviously miserable and utterly alone. And the Dom in Avery couldn’t stop fantasizing about what the next step might be if they got together again. What would it be like if they connected outside of the confines of a sex-for-hire situation?
Avery had to laugh at himself. He was acting like a high school girl waiting for some guy to call her. There was no law that said he couldn’t contact Hank on his own. But, then again, would that be wise? Hank clearly had a lot of issues. Did Avery really want to get involved with someone like that? Was it worth it?
A sudden image of Hank, naked and kneeling with his arms cuffed behind his back, sprang into Avery’s mind like an erection. He pushed it away. Hank was trouble with a capital T. A sub needed to come from a place of strength to submit. Hank was, to be blunt about it, damaged goods.
Stuart and Vince were watching him, apparently waiting for him to say more. “Sometimes there are guys who affect you,” Avery said, not ready to discuss anything more personal than that. “But mostly, it’s just a job.” Ready to change the subject, he asked, “So how’s the grape harvest this year?”
It was all the invitation the two men needed. They spent the next hour talking shop, lounging in the hot tub and getting pleasantly soused on good wine with old friends.
~*~
Friday morning, Avery’s cell phone rang and he saw it was the escort service. Was Hank Seeley requesting his services again? Did he even want him to?
“Hey, Avery,” Jacob said. “I have a new client for you visiting from New York. He wants someone to have dinner tonight with him and then go back to his hotel. His name is George and he likes big, tall redheads, so naturally I thought of you.”
Avery acknowledged a small prick of disappointment. Despite Hank’s overlay of entitled bullshit, it was clear he was lonely and hurting. They’d shared something real, if only briefly. But, as the days had passed, Avery recognized Hank probably wouldn’t request him again. He’d seen Hank at his most vulnerable, and guys like that, once they had their clothes back on, raised the shields they’d carefully constructed to keep themselves safe. As intriguing as the interaction had been, Avery needed to let that one go.
“Okay. I can do that,” he replied.
“Great. I’ll text you the details.”
Dinner with George was pleasant, if rather dull. George was a fifty-something guy who sold life insurance and wore a wedding ring. Avery asked no questions about his personal life and George offered none. He was very nervous at first, and Avery did his best to calm him. By the time they returned to his room, George had relaxed considerably. He allowed Avery to give him a full body massage and a hand job, which was all he wanted, along with some cuddling.
It was only a little after ten when George bid Avery good night with a promise to call for him again when he was in town later that year. Avery had planned to go straight to bed so he could get down to the brewery first thing in the morning. He’d promised Nolan he’d be there. They were working on a new recipe and the first batch should be ready by the morning.
But, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to get Hank Seeley out of his head. “Fuck it,” he swore softly, veering from the road that would take him to his place and instead heading toward Hank’s Cherry Creek neighborhood. He was breaking all the rules—going to see a client without their having requested his services through Elite. If he was discovered, he could lose his job. He shrugged as he drove. He would find another easily enough.
He pulled up to the guard of the gated community, gave his license to the guy and said he was there to visit Hank Seeley.
The guard took his license inside the small booth and picked up a telephone receiver. He spoke into it, glancing at Avery as he did so. With a nod, he set the phone down and came back outside. As he handed Avery his license, he said, “You’re good to go, sir. Mr. Seeley is expecting you.”
Avery’s heart picked up its pace as he drove along the street to Hank’s address. He pulled in the circular driveway of the elegant structure, wondering briefly what it would be like to have that kind of money, and if Hank had earned it or inherited it.
“What are you doing, Thompson?” he muttered to himself as he left his car and approached the door. “What’s your motive? What’s your agenda?”
I have no fucking idea.
He rang the doorbell and stood back, waiting.
After a moment, the door opened and Hank stood there, a lopsided grin on his face, his eyes red, a glass of amber liquid over ice in his hand. His hair was tousled and he was shirtless, his jeans slung low over his hips, his feet bare.
“What’re you doing here, rent boy?” he asked, his voice slurred. “I don’t remember asking for the bear.” As Avery moved closer, he caught the unmistakable reek of weed. Hank took a gulp of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’m not here professionally,” Avery responded. Fuck. The guy was drunk and stoned. This was a mistake. “But, you look kind of busy so…” He took a step back. He shouldn’t have come.
Hank reached out and grabbed Avery’s arm. “Hey, no. Don’t go. Don’t go. I’m glad you came by. I’ve just been smoking some super good shit and it sucks to get high all by your lonesome.” He took a step back into the front hall, gesturing for Avery to enter. He picked up a still-lit joint from a heavy crystal ashtray on the occasional table by the door and took a deep drag.
Blowing the smoke from his nostrils, he held it out toward Avery. “Have a drag. It’ll loosen you right up.”
Avery shook his head. “No thanks.”
Hank shrugged as if to say, your loss. “Well, since you’re here, rent boy, come on in and service m
e. We can skip the middleman and get right down to business.” Turning, he wandered toward the living room.
“I don’t think so,” Avery said. His brain told him to leave but his body followed Hank.
“You hungry?” Hank asked as they entered the living room. “Great Indian place near here delivers. I can place the order by text.” He shoved his hand into his back pocket, pulled a smartphone from his jeans and tapped at the screen. “We can do a quickie while we wait for the food.”
Ignoring the remark, Avery said, “I’m not hungry. I just came by to…” Why had he come by? What had he hoped to accomplish? What had he been thinking? “…to say hi,” he finished lamely. “But it looks like maybe that wasn’t the best idea. You’re obviously wasted.”
Hank plopped onto one of the white leather sofas and grinned stupidly up at Avery. “No, it was a great idea. I was just sitting here thinking I needed some company and then, wham, out of the blue, Tony calls me to say I have a visitor. I haven’t had one in a while, not since Reese—” He snapped his mouth closed abruptly, a spasm of pain moving over his handsome face. “I mean, not since I fired that no-good bastard, Julio. Since he left, I haven’t been able to find a new houseboy that I can tolerate for more than a week.” He took a big gulp of his scotch. “Just can’t get decent help these days.”
Avery glanced around the large, lavishly furnished living room. He noticed the thin layer of dust that covered the surfaces, and the empty pizza box lying on the floor beside an empty, overturned bottle of whiskey. The place, along with Hank himself, had an unkempt, uncared for look.
Avery leaned down and gently took the glass and the joint from Hank’s hands. He stubbed out the butt in an ashtray and set the glass down. “I think you’ve had enough, don’t you? How about let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll make you something to eat?” He held out his hand in invitation.
Hank regarded him blearily for a moment and then grinned again as he allowed Avery to hoist him upright. “That part of the escort service now? How much more is that gonna cost me?”
When was the last time anyone had done something for Hank without being paid to do it? “Nothing, Hank. I told you, I’m not here from Elite. I just stopped by to…to see how you’re doing.”
“Ah, well,” Hank said, bitterness entering his tone. “As you can see, I’m just fucking dandy. Couldn’t be better.”
Run while you still can, something in Avery’s head warned, but he overrode it. Hank was alone and hurting. No matter what came of it or didn’t, Avery could at least make sure he had a decent meal and then he’d put him to bed.
The kitchen was as gorgeous as the rest of the house, with pristine stainless-steel appliances and gleaming copper pots suspended above an island topped with marble. But on closer inspection, he saw further evidence of neglect. The counters looked sticky and were covered in crumbs, and the sink held several dishes with bits of food dried and crusted on the fine china. There were three wine glasses and two empty wine bottles on the counter beside the sink.
“Sorry about the mess,” Hank said, glancing around. “Not sure what I’ve got on hand. I don’t keep much food here. Not since Julio deserted me.”
Avery approached the huge refrigerator. Inside he found a wilted head of lettuce, some eggs, half a stick of butter, a carton of orange juice, a jar of olives and another of cocktail onions, five bottles of white wine and some curdled milk.
The freezer was stocked with some fancy-looking steaks and several cartons of ice cream but not much else. Hank came up behind him and, a moment later, pressed his body along Avery’s back. Though Avery had no intention of acting on it, his cock immediately sprang to attention.
“Hmm, you feel nice,” Hank murmured, wrapping his arms around Avery from behind. He pressed his erection against Avery’s thigh.
Avery twisted around to face Hank. If something was going to happen between them, it would not be when Hank was stoned and drunk. He placed his hands on Hank’s shoulders and peered down into his unfocused eyes. “You’re wasted, Hank. Sit down at the counter and I’ll make you some eggs.”
“Oh, come on,” Hank protested. “Let’s go at it right here on the kitchen floor. I’ll give you a good tip, I promise.” He rubbed at the bulge in his crotch.
Avery snorted and propelled Hank to one of the barstools along the counter that separated the breakfast nook from the rest of the kitchen. He poured a large glass of orange juice over ice and set it in front of Hank. “Drink this and try to sober up a bit, okay?
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Hank muttered.
Avery moved around the kitchen, getting down a pan and placing it on the eight-burner gas stove. He added butter to the pan, found a bowl and cracked all four eggs into it. He scrambled the eggs and slid them onto a plate. He brought it to the counter along with a fork and set it in front of Hank.
Hank stared down at the scrambled eggs and closed his eyes. “Hmm, that smells good.” He lifted the fork and scooped up a bite. He smiled as he chewed. “That’s delicious, Avery. Thank you. I guess I kind of forgot to eat today.” He took another bite, some of the focus returning to his eyes.
Avery sat on a stool beside Hank and watched him eat, pleased to see him finish both the eggs and the glass of juice. Hank set down his fork and grinned at Avery. “Now I’ll have you for dessert.”
Avery chuckled as he shook his head. “Not tonight.” Getting to his feet, he put his arm around Hank’s shoulders and helped him to stand. “Come on. We’re getting you to bed.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” Hank slurred, leaning heavily against him.
Avery half-led, half-carried him through the kitchen to the game room. He kept his hand on Hank’s arm as they made their way up the stairs. They stopped at what was clearly the master bedroom. Avery flicked on the light as Hank stumbled inside. The room contained a huge bed set in a black lacquered frame low to the ground. The bed was unmade, the covers rumpled, one of the pillows on the floor.
“You going to be okay?” Avery asked.
Hank was fumbling with the zipper on his fly. “Damn thing is stuck.”
Avery walked over to the bed and picked up the pillow from the floor. He straightened the bed covers and turned them back so Hank could slide in. “Just lie down, why don’t you?” he suggested, patting the mattress. “You need to sleep this off.”
“I need to piss,” Hank said, finally managing to get his fly down. He didn’t appear to have any underwear on beneath his jeans.
Avery snorted. “I suggest you do it in the toilet,” he said dryly. He led Hank into the bathroom and steered him toward the toilet, which was in its own little room off the large marbled space. He waited nearby as Hank peed, looking around with admiration at the beautiful antique mirror above the two sinks, the large walk-in shower and the huge sunken tub.
Hank flushed the toilet and came out of the stall. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face. “I’m feeling better. Stay with me, Avery,” he said, meeting Avery’s eyes in the mirror. “There’s plenty of cash in my wallet.”
“I told you, I’m not here from Elite. And you’re in no shape for anything but sleep right now.”
“Ah, come on. Sleep is for the meek.” Hank walked unsteadily out of the bathroom and Avery followed. Stopping in the middle of the room, Hank stepped out of his jeans and kicked them away. “Like what you see?” He put his hands on his hips and smiled seductively at Avery, drawing his tongue teasingly over his lower lip.
In spite of himself, Avery’s body responded to the invitation, his cock stiffening, his balls tightening. He couldn’t help but admire Hank’s muscular, compact body and his thick, long cock. Who was he kidding, anyway? He’d come there looking for exactly this, hadn’t he? He’d fantasized about it in a dozen ways over the past four days.
But not with someone who was so obviously impaired. He shook his head. “You sleep. I can see myself out.”
Hank sat on the bed. “No. Don’t go. Stay with me.” The teas
ing tone of a moment before had vanished.
“You’re a mess, Hank. Sleep it off.” Avery turned to leave.
“Please.” Hank’s voice cracked just as Avery flicked off the light. “Don’t leave me. Just stay a little while. Just lie beside me.”
Avery hesitated, desire and compassion warring with common sense. He turned back. In the light from the hallway, he could see that Hank’s eyes were pleading.
“Please,” Hank whispered. “I can’t do it alone anymore. I’m dying inside.”
Moved, Avery walked to the bed and sat down beside the naked man. “All right,” he said softly. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He shifted the covers and pressed Hank gently back against the pillows.
Turning away, he leaned down to take off his boots. He pulled them off and lay down beside Hank, still fully clothed.
“Thank you,” Hank whispered, curling his warm, naked body against Avery and resting his head on Avery’s chest.
Avery pulled the covers up over them both and brought his arm around the younger man. He sighed. There was so much pain in the world. And not enough love.
He held Hank for a long time, until Hank’s body relaxed and his breathing deepened. He stroked Hank’s thick, soft hair as he stared into the darkness. What the hell am I doing here?
He had no clear answer, but Hank’s body fit so nicely against his, and the bed was incredibly comfortable. It had been a long day. He was tired. He’d stay just a little longer.
He closed his eyes…
Chapter 5
Avery’s cock was gloved in the wet grip of a hot mouth, his balls cradled in warm fingers. It felt good. So good… He drifted between dreams and wakefulness, savoring the sensations without being quite conscious of who was delivering them.
“Ah,” he breathed, coming fully awake as Hank did something amazing with his throat muscles. It was light outside, but just barely. He hadn’t meant to spend the night. He must have been more exhausted than he’d realized.
Turning the Tables Page 4