Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Blake
“The Mazers will see you now.”
The brothers’ administrative assistant – Christina, Blake reminded himself – stepped away from her desk, carrying her mug to the coffee station on the far side of the reception room.
Ethan and Blake sat side by side, holding hands. It started as a sweet gesture of support, but they were both nervous, so now their palms were sweaty and a little gross.
“Ready?” Ethan asked.
Ready to have my hopes and dreams shattered? Sure. Can’t wait.
“Let’s get it over with.”
“That’s the spirit.” Ethan gave Blake’s hand a final humid squeeze and they stood, checking each other over to make sure they looked their best.
Ethan had recommended they wear colorful “power ties” with their suits in order to bolster their confidence. He’d selected a baby blue tie with a design of silver crescent moons for himself, and a sunny tangerine one for Blake.
Ethan straightened the knot of Blake’s tie, cinching it a little tighter. “You’re going to be great. If you get nervous, just picture them naked.”
“Usually, people are trying to picture me naked.”
Brushing off Blake’s lapels, Ethan chuckled. “Well, better you than me.”
Blake slid the tip of his tongue along his lower lip. “They’d never guess what you’re packing.”
From the corner of his eye, Blake saw Christina sit down at her desk, blowing on her coffee and watching them with a smirk.
“Oh jeez,” Blake groaned. “Let’s go.”
They walked the short distance to the Mazers’ glass-fronted office. Ethan whispered, “You’re going to do great,” before knocking on the open door.
Joel sat at his desk, dressed in a dark suit and salmon-colored tie. He smiled and beckoned them in. “Come on in, guys.”
Drew reclined in a chair next to his brother, his feet propped up on the desk, crossed at the ankle.
Unlike his more professional brother, he was dressed in his typical outfit – a pastel polo, white chinos, and boat shoes.
He was picking dirt out from under his fingernails with the corner of a business card.
Joel moved to step around his desk, but his brother’s legs blocked the way. He reached over the desk instead, shaking Ethan’s hand and introducing himself.
“We’re ready when you are,” Joel said. He swatted his brother’s leg. “Right, Drew?”
“Mmhmm.” Drew tossed the business card onto the table and clasped his hands behind his head. “Fire away.”
Blake handed them both a printed copy of the business plan and launched into the pitch Ethan had outlined for him.
His job was to focus on the big picture, to inspire them with his vision, rather than getting mired down in the financials.
Since The Firehouse had been consistently profitable – at least enough to stay up to date on the rent – Blake’s pitch was focused on explaining how they planned to keep the momentum going.
“The Firehouse has a core group of regulars that will carry over, so we won’t be starting from scratch.
The challenge will be attracting new clientele,” Blake explained, wrapping up his pitch.
“The nights with exotic dancing were the money-makers, so we’re basing our business model around attractions, rather than just dancing and drinking.
Burlesque shows will be the main offering, of course, but we’re also planning seasonal parties and special events.
We want patrons to have something to look forward to every night of the week. ”
“I’ll be honest,” Joel said as he closed the business plan, “I was expecting something a lot rougher around the edges. But this is a polished and workable plan. I appreciate how clearly you’ve defined your niche.
A performance-based club with sex appeal and a touch of class will be a unique contribution to the community. This idea has legs.”
“Legs in tear-away pants,” Blake joked.
Joel chuckled. His smile was warm and genuine, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle.
Flipping between pages in his document, Drew leveled a gaze at Blake. “Can you tell us more about how you arrived at these sales projections? They seem a little optimistic to me.”
“Um…” Blake fidgeted, wringing his hands in his lap, and turned to Ethan. “Can you field that one?”
Ethan jumped in, talking the Mazers through the numbers and his carefully researched calculations about the club’s earning potential.
Joel gave Ethan his full attention, smiling the entire time, but Drew was glaring at Blake through narrowed eyes.
Drew has homed in on the weak point in the plan. Me.
Blake averted his gaze and stared at his stupid orange tie. It no longer felt like a power move. It felt like a beacon, drawing attention to the dummy in the room.
“As you can see,” Ethan continued, his voice calm and confident, “our projections are conservative when you consider our comps and the current market conditions. But I’d be happy to dig deeper into the numbers if you think we missed something.”
Drew heaved a dramatic sigh and tossed the business plan onto the desk.
Joel folded his hands on his desk and shot an icy glare at his brother. “Any other reservations about their business plan you’d like to share?”
“Other than the fact that it’s not 1920?”
“Burlesque is having a resurgence,” Ethan pointed out. “Especially boylesque.”
Drew scoffed. “Boylesque?”
“Burlesque with all male performers,” Blake said.
“Thanks,” Drew sneered. “I was able to put that together.”
Joel’s mouth flattened into a tense line, but he recovered quickly, turning back to Blake and Ethan with a strained smile.
“Well, gentlemen, I’d like to keep the property in our portfolio, and you’ve made a strong case that your proposed business is viable.
I’m leaning toward approving the lease transfer. Drew?”
“Fine.” Drew put his feet on the floor and leaned forward, resting his crossed forearms on the desk. “A one-year lease.”
Joel furrowed his brow. “Five years is more typical.”
“One. Year.” Drew stressed each word by tapping the desk with his index finger. “Prove your concept is profitable, and that you’ve got what it takes to run this boylesque club. Prove to me why you’re a better bet than taking the payout from Orison.”
“Then it’s settled,” Joel said. “We’ll draw up the lease and let you know when you can come in to sign it. Welcome to the Mazer Property Group.”
Joel rose and shook their hands, and to his credit, so did Drew, though his handshake lacked conviction.
Dazed and overwhelmed, Blake followed Ethan through the reception area toward the elevator, waving automatically when Christine told them to have a good day.
We did it. It’s real. The club is going to happen. He was suddenly queasy, unsure whether he should jump for joy or run and hide.
As soon as the elevator door slid closed, Ethan pumped his fist. “Fuckin’ A! What a rush. Look at my hands. I’m shaking!”
All the strength drained from Blake’s legs, and he slumped against the back of the elevator, his butt resting on the waist-high handrail. “You really impressed them.”
Ethan gave Blake’s necktie a tiny tug. “Hey. We both did. Your pitch was really smooth.”
“You’re the one that sold them on the idea. If I’d been the one trying to explain those sales projections, everything would have fallen apart. Drew doesn’t like me.”
“Fuck Drew. He’s a douche. Joel’s on your side, and that’s what matters.”
The elevator doors opened with a ding. “Come on.” Ethan grabbed Blake’s hand and took off running through the ridiculously oversized lobby, pulling Blake behind him.
Blake matched his pace, and when they passed a sullen man with thinning hair and a pinched expression, Ethan leapt into the air with a whoop.
When they tumbled through the doors to the sidewalk, laughing so hard they could barely breathe, Ethan pulled his phone out of his jacket’s inner breast pocket. “I’ve got to call my dad.”
He leaned against the building and dialed his father’s number, switching over to speaker. His father answered on the second ring, and Ethan blurted, “We were approved for the lease!”
“That’s excellent news. You’re showing real initiative and entrepreneurial spirit. I’m proud of you, son.”
Ethan beamed from his father’s words – so intensely he was almost glowing – even though the praise was based on the lie that they were opening a sophisticated, no-naked-guys-in-sight piano bar.
What was going to happen when his father found out the truth?
Blake couldn’t be too critical of the situation, though, because he lit up in the same way from Ethan’s attention, and their relationship was based on a half-truth, too.
By the time Ethan had finished his call and slipped the phone into his pocket, he was bouncing on his heels.
“God, winning makes me so horny.” With a lusty growl, he cupped the back of Blake’s neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.
After sliding his teeth over Blake’s lower lip, he whispered, “Take me home and fuck me while we’re wearing our suits. ”
Judging from the stirring in his pants, winning made Blake horny, too.
Flat on his back on his dining table with his legs in the air, Ethan moaned and stroked himself faster. “Yeah, give it to me.”
They hadn’t even fully undressed in their haste to fuck.
Blake had pulled Ethan’s pants down just far enough to expose his ass, and propped his feet – still in socks and dress shoes – on his shoulders.
His own pants were pooled around his ankles, catching the lube and spit that dripped from where they were joined.
Ethan had thrown the end of his tie over his shoulder and rucked up his shirt so he could jerk off, exposing his treasure trail and his mouthwatering cock. “Harder,” he begged, rubbing Blake’s nipple with his free hand.
Blake thrust faster and deeper, his tie brushing Ethan’s balls and his shirt tails stained with lube. Every time their bodies slapped together, he let out a husky grunt.
The sensation of his bare cock gliding in and out of Ethan’s warm, tight hole was heavenly. Ethan was out of condoms, so they’d agreed to go without, if Blake promised not to come inside him.
And why not? Blake was a pro at knowing when to pull out during bareback fucking.
While he was balls-deep in Ethan, it was easy to lose himself in the action and not think about the ticking time bomb between them.
Eventually, he was going to have to tell Ethan he was a porn star.
But right then, all he could think about was the pressure building in his core as his movements became frantic and sloppy.
“Oh god, don’t stop,” Ethan cried. “I’m going to come!”
Blake slammed his cock home and Ethan came, his thighs shaking, his moans crescendoing into a roar of pleasure. Thick spurts of cum landed on his shirt with wet plops, pooling in the folds of lustrous fabric.
Blake fucked Ethan through his orgasm, keeping constant pressure on his prostate. But he was barreling toward the edge himself, and at the very last minute, he pulled out and unloaded on Ethan’s balls.
Panting, they met each other’s eyes and broke into easy, relieved laughter.
Sweaty and flushed, Ethan had never been more beautiful. Blake eased Ethan’s pants over his shoes and dropped them to the floor. He leaned forward and kissed Ethan, slow and deep, smearing their cum between them and making a mess of their fancy dress shirts.
With a needy whine, Ethan wrapped his naked, trembling legs around Blake’s hips and pulled him closer.
Their tongues slid along one another in a languid dance. Blake tightened his embrace, absorbing Ethan’s warmth as their cocks softened side by side and their breathing returned to normal.
Blake wanted to live in that moment for as long as he could, so he closed his eyes and trailed his hand down Ethan’s thigh, coming to rest on his ass. He kissed Ethan with everything he had, memorizing the shape, and smell, and taste of his lover.
He also did his best to pretend there wasn’t an ornery orange cat watching them from Ethan’s bed, with a murderous glint in his eye.