Chapter 2
Chapter two
Scott found Anthony’s shyness endearing.
They spent the rest of the afternoon strolling the grounds and watching some of the auctions before finally sitting down on the lush green outside the double doors of the mansion to enjoy a crêpe and coffee.
Scott didn’t see Thomas again, although he did search for him. If he were there, Scott wouldn’t have missed him, and he wondered whether he’d gone up the grand staircase behind the velvet rope.
Thomas got locked up in Brixton for tax avoidance, but he appeared to have the money to pay off any fee, or fine, or repayment. It didn’t make any sense to Scott how he could be that loaded and still serve time.
Anthony slid his hand across the grass, connecting with Scott’s fingers.
“Can we…” Anthony licked his lips. “Can we go back to mine?”
Scott smiled at him, trying to put as much reassurance into his expression as possible.
“I’d like that.”
Anthony had been tentative all day, spluttering out questions with such fear in his eyes.
Can we walk in this garden?
Can we stand and watch this auction?
Can we have a crêpe and sit for a while on the grass?
He didn’t seem to realise he was the one in control of the date, but the relief when Scott agreed to any of his basic demands lit up his face.
They didn’t stroll hand in hand, although their fingers had grazed as they walked.
It wasn’t the first date Scott had been on where an unspoken ‘no touch’ rule had been in force out in public, but behind closed doors, that restraint often exploded and Scott got thoroughly groped, stroked, and… if the night went well, poked.
Scott glanced back as he went through the gate, but Thomas wasn’t there. A dull ache of disappointment registered in his chest, but Scott quickly pushed it away.
Thomas was in the past. He had to stay there. At first, he’d hoped they could remain friends, but that hope was squashed two minutes after leaving Brixton.
A thick wall ran along the perimeter of the grounds, and the gate had two burly security guards. Their stony expressions and the shades over their eyes added to their intimidation, and Anthony hurried past them with his head down.
Anthony shot Scott another cautious smile after they’d climbed into the car.
“Remember,” Scott told him, “there’s no pressure to do anything.”
Anthony looked away from him, nodding.
During the ride, Scott pretended he hadn’t noticed they’d driven the same road twice, and when a car horn beeped at them for being in the wrong lane, he kept his mouth firmly shut. Anthony was clearly stalling, choking on his nerves.
“It is a lot of money, though,” he whispered finally.
“You paid for an afternoon, evening, and morning after. The evening and morning after have yet to happen.” Scott touched his knee. “I will refund you the money for them if you’ve changed your mind.”
Anthony nipped at his bottom lip, considering his options, but they didn’t drive down the same road again.
Scott relaxed into his seat and kept his hand on Anthony’s knee, rubbing slow circles with his thumb.
Scott felt him relax and inwardly patted himself on the back.
It was baby steps, but Anthony had at least allowed Scott’s hand to linger.
Anthony pulled onto a driveway, hesitated a moment, then unclipped his seatbelt.
Scott followed his cues and got out of the car.
The front garden had been paved and had a few potted plants in desperate need of water.
Anthony was at the front door, scratching the key against the lock, not managing to get it in.
Scott wondered whether that was a metaphor for the night ahead.
He laid a hand on Anthony’s back between his shoulder blades and rubbed.
“Breathe for me.”
Anthony exhaled noisily against the wooden door and slid the key into the lock. He snorted before opening the door and stepping inside.
Scott slipped off his shoes and followed Anthony into the kitchen.
“It’s a nice place,” Scott said, running his gaze around the gleaming kitchen. The counters were black marble, the units were white, and the tiles were sandstone. There was a small white table with four matching chairs. Minimalist, clean and functional, Scott approved.
“Scott…”
Scott went to him immediately. Anthony kept his eyes low at first, crawling them up Scott’s body until they were sharing an intense bout of silence. Anthony’s eyes flicked away from him only to return. Scott kept his gaze steady.
“You’re…you’re a nice man.”
Scott smiled. “Thank you.” He risked knocking his hand into Anthony’s as they stood staring at each other, then asked, “Can I hold your hand?”
Anthony’s throat thudded. “I…I shouldn’t touch you.”
“Of course you can touch me,” Scott said softly, stroking the back of Anthony’s fingers. “But only if you want to. Or if you’d like, I’ll do all the touching. Or…no touching at all.”
Anthony stumbled away and dragged a kitchen chair out from under the table. He sat down with his head in his hands.
Scott scanned the kitchen, thankful for the coffee machine on the side. “What if I make us drinks?”
Anthony lifted his head, frowning.
“Coffee?” Scott asked, strolling over to prep the machine.
Luckily for him, he’d been to a lot of houses, flats and hotels, and had experience with an array of different machines. There were already cups and spoons ready, waiting on the side.
“Do you take sugar?”
Anthony nodded. “Yes. Two.”
Scott glanced around the counter for a pot, but there wasn’t one.
“Which cupboard?”
“I…I…” Anthony ran a hand through his thinning hair.
“Found it,” Scott said, after trying a few. “It’s right here.”
“Actually,” Anthony cut in. “Can we…can you just go upstairs?”
Scott frowned. “You want me to go upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“For now. The open door at the end of the landing. Could you… Could you strip, all except the necklace, and wait for me on the bed? I just…need a minute alone.”
This had happened once before, and while Scott was upstairs getting naked, his client decided to swallow a Viagra pill.
It had been one of Scott’s most exhausting nights and a lesson for both of them.
A permanently hard dick wasn’t necessarily a happy one, and Scott had tried his best to be gentle and used two bottles of lube, but the dick got sore spots and was still erect when Scott left ten hours later.
He’d called a few days after the incident, happy to hear his client was back to normal.
“We don’t have to be intimate at all,” Scott said. “We can go into the living room, put a movie on and snuggl –”
“No.” Anthony pressed his palm to the table. “Upstairs. The bed at the end of the hallway, it's ready for you, remove all your clothes.”
“Except for the necklace, I remember.” Scott touched it around his throat. “Do you want me to make you a coffee first?”
“No, thank you.”
“And you’re not about to pop a performance pill while I’m out of view?”
Anthony recoiled. “What?”
“Good,” Scott said, leaving the kitchen. “I’ll meet you upstairs, if and when you’re ready.”
Upstairs, all the other doors were shut except the one at the end.
Soft light filled that room. Two lamps were positioned on either side of the king-size bed.
The sheets were of a luxurious silk that Scott couldn’t help but caress.
He slipped out of his sequin jacket and hung it over a chair in the corner.
The door to the en suite had been left open too, and he flicked the switch before nodding his approval at the Jacuzzi-style bath.
Even without sex, Scott would give Anthony a good night. He would run him a bath, massage shampoo into his hair and moisturise his skin afterwards, and if that got a reaction out of him, Scott would ask whether Anthony wanted his mouth to fully relax him.
But first, he’d try it Anthony’s way and get naked for him.
Scott unbuttoned his shirt, staring at himself in the mirror.
He kept himself well defined, needed to, and he ran his fingers over his stomach muscles, looking down.
The tilt of his head sent a twinge of pain through his neck, and he grimaced, rubbing the necklace.
When he looked in the mirror, he could see the red mark it had left on his skin.
The weight of it had only felt more insufferable as the day had gone on.
Scott listened for footsteps on the stairs, but Anthony hadn’t left the kitchen as far as he could tell.
He reached for the clasp at the back, struggling with it before finally undoing the necklace and slumping at the sudden freedom.
He cracked his neck left to right, then ran a finger across the faint red mark at his throat.
Anthony had been calling it a necklace, but it looked more like a collar to Scott. He studied it in his hands, frowning at the small silver circles dotted along the gold and wondering whether he’d been wearing it wrong all day and Anthony just hadn’t had the heart to tell him.
“No,” he murmured. “The stone was facing the right way…”
Scott shook his head and reasoned the circles were probably to add comfort to the wearer so they weren’t constantly nipped by the gold weave. He placed the necklace on the small shelf by the sink, then checked his teeth. Condoms and lube were both vital, but so were toothpicks in Scott’s opinion.
Nothing killed the mood like spinach or crêpe in your teeth.
Scott tipped his chin up, checking his nose too; that was equally a mood killer.
He turned his head, sighing as he spotted a black sequin stuck on his neck.
His brow furrowed as he picked it off and stared at it on the end of his forefinger.
Sequins.
Why sequins?
Scott swallowed, eyes growing wider as a memory sparked in the back of his head.
The low purr by his ear. That voice telling him he looked good in sequins.
Scott had been wearing a thin silver sequin scarf at the time. It had complemented his skin tone, and he’d worn it loosely around his neck.
The sequins had cut into the corners of his mouth when he’d agreed to be gagged with it.