All About Yves

by Ryan Field

  Jasper cleared his throat but didn't reply.

  "I've been attracted to you for a long time,” Yves said. “You're one of the best-looking men I've ever met. You're so hot I can't take it sometimes.” Jasper was over thirty-five and he'd been married to the same woman for almost twenty years. And if there was one thing a man over thirty-five loved, it was being called hot by a twenty-year-old.

  Jasper didn't move and he didn't speak. He just sat there breathing heavily while Yves continued to squeeze and rub his crotch. Yves knew this was a good sign. He had Jasper right where he wanted him. When he stuck his tongue into Jasper's ear and rolled it around in circles, Jasper reached around and slipped his hand down the back of Yves's boxer shorts. Yves arched his back so Jasper could slide his hand all the way down his pants. Jasper grabbed a handful of his ass, took a deep breath, and sighed.

  Then, as if someone had walked into the room and shouted fire, Jasper lifted his arms above his head and stood up from the bed. “I can't do this, Yves,” he said. “It's wrong."

  Yves pouted. “You're not attracted to me, are you?” he asked, though he knew this wasn't the problem.

  "No, no,” Jasper said. “That's not the problem at all. You're one of the most attractive men I've ever met. It's me. I'm the problem. I'm a married man and I don't cheat on my wife."

  "But you're obviously attracted to men and women,” Yves said. “I don't understand."

  "I'm bisexual,” Jasper said, “and it just happened I fell in love with a woman instead of a man. And I do love my wife. I've never cheated on her, and I'm not going to start now. If Molly were a man, I still wouldn't cheat. I believe in my vows."

  Yves pulled off his boxer shorts and stood up from the bed. When he walked to where Jasper was standing, he placed his palms on Jasper's chest and said, “No one has to know about this. I only want to thank you for helping me tonight.” He didn't mention he also wanted to secure his future. With a man like Jasper, half owner of North designs, he knew he'd never have to worry again.

  Jasper clenched his teeth and squinted for a moment, seemingly on the verge of taking Yves into his arms and throwing him down on the bed. But he stepped back and said, “You have no idea how much I want you, Yves. I'd better leave now, before I do anything I might regret."

  Yves leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I understand, Jasper. And I envy Molly. She's a very lucky woman to have a man like you."

  Then he walked Jasper to the front door. He didn't put on clothes. He wanted Jasper to remember him naked. Though he'd backed down, he still had plans for Jasper Page. Now that he knew Jasper was definitely bisexual and that Jasper was attracted to him, he was determined to get into Jasper's pants no matter what it took.

  When they reached the door, Yves smiled and kissed him goodnight. He thanked him for coming over and helping him out.

  "Can I have just one more hug before you leave?” Yves said. He sounded playful and coy on purpose, knowing Jasper was still enjoying the attention he was getting from a younger man. “I promise I won't try to pull down your zipper."

  Jasper laughed. “Go to bed and be a good boy now,” he said, “before I get into trouble with you."

  Yves nodded and opened the door for him. He watched him walk down the hall to the elevator. When Jasper pushed the elevator button and waited for the door to open, Yves stepped out into the hall stark naked. Jasper looked back at him and blinked. Yves stood there with a seductive grin on his face. His legs were spread wide and his hands were on his hips. Yves knew what he was doing. Though he hadn't been able to seduce Jasper as planned, he wanted Jasper to go home with this last image of him standing naked in the hallway. This way, when Jasper went home and looked at dumpy old Molly's puffy face and red eyes, he'd have something nice to remember the next time he had sex with her.

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  Chapter Eighteen

  Harris decided to go to Atlanta with Yves. He'd arranged his busy schedule weeks in advance so he could watch his new creation at work. In the relatively short amount of time Harris had known Yves, he'd managed to get him a few important photo shoots in his magazine and the kind of widespread media attention that took years to arrange for other models. Harris worked harder to promote Yves than he'd ever worked for anyone. He even called in a few favors and had Yves booked on a few late-night talk shows, but not the big talk shows. He chose the shows geared toward a younger audience, with hosts that focused more on pop-culture guests in all walks of entertainment, from music to fashion. Harris didn't want to waste any time with Yves, and he knew from experience stardom didn't happen by accident. It happened by knowing the right people, knowing how to play by the rules, and knowing just when to stick the knife into someone's back.

  Harris did all this partly because he knew Yves would help advance his own career. Yves was that unusual type of model who didn't come along very often. He had the kind of face that made ordinary people stop and stare. The issue of Menswear Monthly with Yves on the cover sold more copies than Harris had sold in two years with any other issue. The magazine business was losing ground; people weren't buying or subscribing to print magazines anymore. The public was slowly getting their information on the Internet, which included fashion. Though Harris had always been more interested in selling print magazines, the Menswear Monthly Web site had profited from Yves's face, too. They'd had more hits that month than they'd ever had. Harris knew it was all thanks to his partnership with Yves.

  And it was a partnership, at least in Harris's eyes. There was nothing Yves wouldn't do for Harris sexually. When Harris had trouble thinking of a new sexual adventure, Yves was more than willing to show Harris something Harris had never done before. Since the night Harris had walked into Yves's dressing room when Yves had replaced Marco Denny on the reality show, they had been lovers. Yves wasn't romantic and he didn't spend long hours cuddling with Harris. But Yves was a strong, competent young stud and Harris couldn't get enough of him. All Harris had to do was pull down his pants and bend over, and Yves was ready to mount him. Harris hadn't felt this way or experienced sex like this since he'd been the submissive bottom to an ex-con back when he was in his early thirties. At sixty years old, Harris was determined to get all he could from Yves.

  So he traveled to Atlanta with Yves and sat in on the broadcast of the first segment of the home shopping project. He watched from the sidelines, nodding in amazement. Not only did Yves model the clothing well, he knew how to discuss all details about the clothes, from the designs to the fabrics. He smiled when he had to smile, carried himself with grace and natural ease, and chatted with the home shopping host as if they'd known each other all their lives. When selected viewing customers called in to the show to make a purchase, Yves joked around with them on the phone and dazzled them with his masculine charm. One women caller became so giddy after talking to Yves, she had to hang up the phone to regain her composure.

  The phone lines buzzed for three hours. Frazier North Designs sold out of every item Yves modeled. When it was time to go back to the hotel, Harris was exhausted from just watching Yves in action. He walked Yves up to the room, amazed at how much energy Yves still had. Yves talked about how wonderful the segment had gone all the way up, while Harris smiled and nodded. Harris didn't see this sort of thing often. Usually after a long afternoon of working under hot lights and posing in front of cameras, a model could barely keep his eyes open.

  Harris watched and listened, without saying much. Yves had that rare kind of killer instinct Harris hadn't seen in a long time. A young man like Yves, Harris knew, would be willing to stomp on anyone or anything just to advance his career. The last time Harris had seen this was with an author friend. The author had become popular with a particular type of book—until another author, with less imagination and talent, came along and started writing the same types of books Harris's friend was writing. The only difference between the two writers was the one who'd copied the original writer's ideas had that sleazy killer instin
ct. He'd seen a good thing and he'd gone after it without giving it a second thought.

  Harris could spot an ambitious killer from miles away, because that's exactly what Harris was. But he'd never seen a killer quite like Yves Marisano.

  When they reached Yves's room, Harris wasn't too exhausted to put his arm around Yves and kiss him on the cheek. They had separate rooms, because Frazier North Designs was paying for Yves's expensive suite.

  Yves stepped back. “I'd like you to come inside, Harris. I have something to tell you.” He was smiling and his voice was animated.

  "I thought I was coming inside,” Harris said, reaching for Yves's hand. “I can't stop thinking about you modeling the black underwear on television this afternoon. I'm not surprised they sold out so fast."

  Yves pulled his hand away from Harris and opened the door. When they were inside, he went to a small bar and poured himself a drink. He asked Harris if he wanted anything, but Harris refused. Harris didn't want alcohol to slow him down that afternoon. He couldn't wait to pull down his pants and bend over the edge of the bed for his strong young killer stud.

  "That's a very well-stocked bar,” Harris said, noticing all the expensive bottles of alcohol. He knew the expensive alcohol had been ordered. Hotels didn't stock a bar with that kind of booze unless someone requested it.

  "I know how much Jasper likes it that way,” Yves said. “He has excellent taste."

  Harris gave him a look. “Jasper?” He didn't understand.

  "I've asked Jasper to come up later,” Yves said.

  "I noticed Molly isn't with Jasper this time,” Harris said. “I would have thought Molly and Marco would be here this week to support Frazier and Jasper. Normally they always travel as a happy foursome to these events."

  "I think this is going to be a special night,” Yves said, ignoring his comment about Molly and Marco.

  Harris sat down in an arm chair and tilted his head. “I don't understand. What's so special about tonight? You're doing another segment at nine. Are you excited about all the new viewers you are going to attract?"

  Yves smiled and sat down on an ottoman in front of Harris's chair. “I'm excited about that, but there's something else, too."

  Harris smiled with the feeling this wasn't going where he'd expected it would go. Yves had a peculiar look in his eye, as if he'd just found out a juicy piece of gossip and he couldn't wait to tell. With Yves, Harris had learned to expect anything. “Are you planning to take over the world next? Now that you've gotten everything so fast, there isn't much left."

  Yves stood up and walked to the window. “It's not about modeling or fashion,” Yves said. “This is my all-time dream come true."

  Harris laughed. He knew Yves well enough by then to spot insincerity in his voice. Whenever Yves sounded too sincere, the odds were he was lying. “Don't tell me, you're going to announce your candidacy for president."

  "Nothing like that,” Yves said. “Jasper Page is leaving Molly tonight. He wants to be with me."

  Harris sat back and folded his hands. This news was interesting for two reasons: One, he knew Jasper had no intention of leaving Molly. He'd just seen Jasper talking to Molly on the phone and Jasper was telling her how much he missed her and how much he loved her. And two, Harris had been under the impression there was something building between him and Yves. Suddenly, he felt like an old fool and he wondered why he'd let himself get involved with a cold-hearted snake like Yves Marisano.

  Harris did, however, still have the upper hand. And he was ready to pull his trump card.

  "I see,” Harris said. “So now you not only want to model Frazier North Designs, you want a piece of the company.” He sounded even snider than he usually did, then laughed in Yves's face.

  Yves turned fast and looked him in the eye. “It's not about that,” Yves said in his lowest, most humble voice. “I'm in love with Jasper, and he's in love with me."

  "I don't know much about love,” Harris said. “And though I was always under the impression Jasper Page was straight, I don't really care which sex he's attracted to. But I do know you, and this has nothing to do with love. You can fool everyone else, but you can't fool me. I've been around too long and there's nothing you can think of that I haven't already done myself. If you manage to steal Jasper away from Molly, you'll be even more powerful as a couple than Marco and Frazier. You've never done anything out of the goodness of your heart, Yves, and you know just as much about love as I do."

  Yves right eyebrow shot up and he smiled. Then he went back to where Harris was sitting and said, “Isn't it perfect? I can't even imagine where this might lead. The company will start making great designs just for me. I'll model those designs better than anything Marco Denny has ever modeled. No one else knows about Jasper and me. Molly doesn't even know about it yet. You're the first person I've told."

  "Molly knows enough not to be here right now,” Harris said. He started to feel sorry for Molly. Though he'd never been her biggest fan, he wouldn't have wished Yves Marisano on anyone. He'd always had his suspicions about Jasper being bisexual, but that wasn't the point. Whether or not Jasper Page was into men had nothing to do with the fact that Jasper loved his wife and had no intention of leaving her for Yves Marisano.

  "It's all so fresh,” Yves said. “I'm still getting used to it myself."

  "When did all this transpire?” Harris asked. He was curious, baiting him for answers. Harris hadn't even seen a hint of this so-called romance in the making. There were usually telltale signs, and at least a little gossip floating around.

  "Just the other night,” Yves said, “Before we came down to Atlanta, Jasper came rushing to my apartment in the middle of the night. He couldn't stand being without me. He said he couldn't stand being with Molly anymore, and he wanted only me. We sat and talked until dawn. He told me his deepest, darkest secrets."

  Harris smiled and clenched his fists. “So you talked? I can only imagine what you were wearing...or not wearing...as the case may be.” He found it hard to believe Yves took him for such a fool.

  "Yes,” Yves said. “We just talked. Harris told me he's bisexual and he's been attracted to me since the first day we met. Then I asked him if I could have a five-year exclusive contract for the home shopping project, where I'm the only male model and where I have complete creative control."

  The way Yves switched from love to business made Harris swallow back hard. “You truly are one of a kind, Yves. They broke the mold with you. You'd sell your grandmother for the right deal."

  "Well, aren't you going to congratulate me?” Yves asked. “Say something.” He smiled.

  Harris pressed his lips together and stood up from the chair. “Well, aren't you the blushing bride, sweetie?” he said. He adjusted his jacket. “What do you take me for, Yves?"

  Yves's face dropped. He lowered his voice and said, “I don't take you at all. You're the one who has been taking me, and don't forget about it, Nancy.” Now he was insulting Harris's effeminate nature openly for the first time.

  "Do you think I'm just as stupid as everyone else you've managed to fool, with your sneaky little tricks and backstabbing games?” Harris asked. “What kind of a dumb fag do you think I am? There isn't a game you've played I didn't invent."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, Harris,” Yves said. But his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. He didn't seem as strong now.

  "Make no mistake, Yves,” Harris added. “I'm no one's fool."

  "I never said you were."

  "Yes, you did, and you still think I am. And I'm about to set the record straight."

  "I'd like to take a nap,” Yves said. “I'm tired and I think this little talk is over, Harris."

  "It's not over until I say it is,” Harris said. “We're going to talk, killer to killer. And it's long overdue."

  "Winner to winner,” Yves said.

  "You're out of your league,” Harris said. “Trust me, you're no match. And that shy, humble little voice you use with ev
eryone else doesn't work with me. I know your kind. I've run across them too many times not to know."

  "I think it's time you said what you want to say and leave so I can nap,” Yves said. “This conversation isn't going anywhere."

  Harris titled his head and stared him down. He looked directly into Yves's eyes without flinching. “If Jasper leaves Molly, it won't be because of you."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I haven't come all the way to Atlanta just to listen to your dreams, swap recipes, or stroll down Peachtree Road, Yves,” Harris said. “You're not going to be with Jasper or anyone else. Even if it were a remote possibility, which it isn't, I wouldn't allow it."

  "What right do you have to tell me who I can be with?” Yves asked, shrugging his shoulders. He seemed to think this comment was amusing.

  "I own you now,” Harris said.

  "You own me?” Yves said, turning his back to Harris.

  "I know it sounds cliche,” Harris said. “But the fact of the matter is I made you, I put you where you are, and now I own you. You're bought and paid for. I was hoping we wouldn't have to discuss it so openly. I was hoping you'd understand and just accept it."

  Yves laughed. He turned and faced Harris. “This is too funny, old man. You think I'm going to bend your tired old wrinkled ass over for the rest of my life. I want a real man. I want Jasper."

  Harris hauled off and slapped him in the face. He hadn't planned to slap him. Harris lost control of his emotions and it just happened.

  Yves stood there for a moment, stunned. Then he grabbed Harris by the wrist and pushed him back into the wall near the front door. “Either you leave right now, or I'm calling hotel security,” Yves said, lifting his arms and clenching his fists. “I should just beat the hell out of you right now, but that wouldn't look good in the newspapers."