Chapter Sixteen
As the house lights went up for the cast’s final bow of the last night, Tommy stood out of sight in the wings, scanning the stage and ensuring everything went to plan. Maybe the performances were over, but the backstage crew would keep working until the last person had left the auditorium. He raised a thumb to the lighting booth before stepping over to a blind spot and looking out to the audience.
Familiar faces climbed to their feet, giving the actors an ovation. His gaze flashed past Kate, Beth and Mark in the fifth row, who were applauding wildly. William stood in the aisle at the end of the same row, clapping politely. Although Tommy could not see him, he knew Harold would be there, sitting in his wheelchair, hidden behind those on their feet in the row in front. Zane had told him Mitchell would be there, but Tommy had not expected the surge of pleasure at singling him out, smiling and happy.
The week after the junk trip, Tommy had become furious with him. How dare Mitchell ghost him? Who the hell did he think he was? How much time and effort did typing a simple response take, even if he was busy? Tommy had raked over the day of the boat trip time and again, wondering if he’d pissed Mitchell off in some way by doing or saying something offensive. Each time, he came up with nothing. When the weeks of being incommunicado had rolled by, he’d begun to mourn their exchanges, missed Mitchell’s face, seeing him break into a smile or laugh at something Tommy had said, usually unwittingly.
As the cast cleared the stage, the band played the last notes to the closing number, ‘ Cabaret , and a single spot shone on a lone black chair draped with a swastika flag in the centre of the stage. With a final crescendo, the music stopped and the spotlight extinguished, leaving the stage in darkness and signalling the show’s end.
Tommy was thankful for no significant mishaps that night playing to a packed house. During the whole run, Zane had controlled the props like an obsessive. Everything in its place, used and returned to its rightful position before he went home for the evening. Set changes had been slick and seamless. Cast members had fluffed lines on the opening night, which was nothing new, but the prompt had worked well to get things back on track. The computerised lighting had been spectacular, even if cast members occasionally forgot their stage positions and delivered lines in partial shadow. The only major cock-up had come on Friday night, when the sound effect that should have been distant machine gun fire was instead the sound of a gaggle of geese honking, raising titters from the audience. Fortunately, that had only happened once. He’d been in shows where phones had not rung on cue, clocks had not chimed, or worse still, when gunshots had not sounded at crucial moments.
A scattering of applause came from those audience members who had stayed until the band’s last note. Typical of community theatre, they'd had a run of only five performances—four evenings and one matinee. After tirelessly rehearsing over the past three months, after all their hard work, everything was over in the space of days.
Spirits would be high in the dressing rooms, but Tommy needed to remind people that the theatre closed promptly at ten-thirty, and everything had to be packed and removed from the building. Official group photographs had been taken with actors in costume at the dress rehearsal or between the matinee and evening performances. People had no real reasons to stick around except to natter. Shelly had devised the idea of giving each cast member a free first drink ticket for the after-show bar, valid until ten-fifteen. No better way to get people moving than the promise of a free drink.
“Shelly sent me to come and tell you to bugger off,” said Shelly’s principal assistant. “Her words, not mine. The costumes and props are packed away, the set’s being dismantled and we’ve roped in people to help with the heavy lifting. There are a few hangers-on but we can chase them out. Go enjoy your birthday.”
Relatives of cast members crowded around the stage door, welcoming their offspring with hugs and praise. Tommy made his way to a familiar group, realising how much he had missed the smile Mitchell produced when he approached. And something had changed. He appeared genuinely elated to see Tommy.
“Come on, birthday boy,” said Zane with Emily in tow, throwing his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. “Let’s get our talented stage manager a well-deserved drink.”
“Excellent job,” said Mitchell, as they finally strolled together across a footbridge towards the nightlife.
“So. You’re speaking to me now, are you?” said Tommy.
Mitchell peered around at those in front and behind before leaning in close.
“I’m sorry. In my defence, this has been the worst three weeks of my working life in Hong Kong. But that’s no excuse. My silence was a misjudgement. Let’s talk later.”
Somebody—probably Shelly—had reserved a section of Pink Propaganda for the private after-show and birthday party. Tommy spotted Sammi while the doorman was ticking off his name. She pushed through the crowd to throw herself at him, kissing him on the cheek before taking his arm and dragging him away to meet their friends. A few teacher colleagues wished him a happy birthday on the way. Due to the late hour, he’d agreed that the family celebration for his birthday would be lunch the next day.
“That was flawless tonight,” said Sammi, almost shouting to be heard above the crowd. “Brilliant performances. Everyone said so. And the set was amazing. The best you’ve come up with by far. Kate says she’s in talks with the organisers of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. They might want to put the show on over there.”
“Hang on. You were in the audience?” Tommy asked, surprised. She’d already been to both the Thursday and Friday night performances.
“Even with his crazy schedule, I made Daley fly in,” she shouted, pointing to her fiancé chatting with Oscar. “I loved the show so much, I demanded he come and see for himself. And we wanted to catch up with you.”
The bar was too bustling for him to get a read on his sister. Had Daley or Alec mentioned anything to her about the magazine article? Either Sammi was putting on a brave face, or she was still oblivious. And had Alec told Daley that they had spoken? Right now might not be the best time to ask, but one thing was for sure. The not knowing was killing him.
“And you never told me Mitchell Baxter was such a hunk,” she said as Tommy hugged Alec. Even through that close body contact, he knew his attraction to Alec had changed, as though the opportunity had passed.
“Mitchell?” said Tommy, releasing Daley and frowning at Sammi. Even though he had begun to feel a growing attraction to Mitchell, he was not about to give himself away. “Are we talking about the same person?”
“You see what I mean, Sammi?” said Devon, his arm tightly around Oscar’s waist. “Your brother doesn’t know a good thing when he sees one. Just because the man doesn’t wear designer labels doesn’t make him unappealing. Never begrudge a book because of its cover.”
Sammi looked puzzled for a second before slowly nodding her agreement. Oscar smiled and shook his head at Sammi before leaning in and kissing Devon on the temple.
Tommy took his time greeting everyone, telling the actors how brilliantly they had performed, accepting birthday cards and presents from friends and having a few drinks along the way. All the while, he avoided Mitchell until he had seen everyone and could have him to himself. But that didn’t seem to be happening, so eventually, he decided to pull Mitchell away from his group, telling them he needed his friend to help with something urgent and private.
Almost tripping over a beer crate, Tommy dragged a curious Mitchell into a darkened corridor leading to the bar kitchen, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hard. Mitchell did not hesitate this time and returned the embrace, which began to get messy.
“You know it’s my birthday?” asked Tommy, pulling away and wiping a thumb across his own lips.
Mitchell hiked in a breath, his face mimicking shock, before slapping his forehead. “So that’s why they have a big banner with Happy Thirtieth Birthday Tommy Chow taped to the wall at—”
“Shut up and listen. For my birthday present I want you in my bed.”
“I’ve already—” began Mitchell, laughing at first before he registered Tommy’s earnestness. “Are you drunk?”
“Not even halfway.”
“Are you sure about this, Tommy?” said Mitchell, his pupils wide but his expression apprehensive. “Is that going to complicate things between us?”
“I don’t care. If you’re going to be my wedding date, then I believe it’s only right and proper that we consummate this arrangement. And I need to warn you that if you refuse to come home with me, I’m going to pull down your pants and blow you right here, right now.”
“Let me get my jacket.”
“Meet me out the front of the hotel, along the road,” said Tommy. “I’m going out the back. Otherwise my friends will never let me leave.”
“See you in five.”
* * * *
On spotting Mitchell hurrying down the street towards him, Tommy stepped into the road and hailed a taxi. Without waiting for Mitchell to reach him, he climbed into the back. Mitchell clambered in after him, buckled up and turned to Tommy.
“Sammi was asking where—”
“Shut up and kiss me,” said Tommy, reaching over and grabbing Mitchell, ignoring the taxi driver’s attention.
* * * *
Tommy’s apartment sat in a modern block on the eastern part of Mid-Levels, with a glossy marble entrance hall and shiny aluminium elevators. His grandmother owned the property, which differed from Mitchell’s modest home. Mitchell began to reach for him the moment the door closed, but Tommy held him at bay with a hand to his chest, prodding the button for the sixteenth floor before raising his eyes to the tiny camera in the corner of the ceiling.
“They have CCTV in all the lifts and that old bastard on the front desk doesn’t miss a thing. Maybe we can use this time to talk.” Getting fresh in the back of a taxi when he would never see the driver again was very different to giving a free performance to the regular—and allegedly gossipy—night porter. “What did I do? For you to ghost me?”
Mitchell smiled sadly and looked at the panel of floor numbers.
“Nothing. I had a really crap few—”
“Bullshit. What did I do, Mitchell? I need to know, so I don’t lose my friend again.”
“A mountain of things happened, Tommy. Work pressures, friends quitting work, Zane being thrown into the sea. But then I overheard you talking to Alec about me. My fault. I got it into my head that we were becoming more than friends and when I heard what you said, I decided I needed to put some distance between us. Especially hearing both of you planning to fix me up with one of Alec’s friends. “
“Shit. You overheard that?”
“Not intentionally. I was getting drinks for Zane’s friend when you two were sitting outside the galley chatting.”
“I never agreed. And I never will. You’re mine tonight.”
The lift doors parted on Tommy’s floor and he stepped out first to open his front door. Once inside with the door closed, both kicking off their shoes, Mitchell pushed Tommy up against the wall, kissed him and pushed the length of his body against him. He felt Mitchell’s body tremble. With an effort of will, Tommy pushed away and led them into his bedroom, flicking on the bedside lamp. Tommy thanked the stars he had tidied that morning, knowing he might be home late. Mitchell stood momentarily, taking in the wall posters and the decor before his hungry gaze turned to Tommy. Something had definitely changed in Mitchell. His usual reserve was gone, replaced by a new and frankly delicious wildness in his eyes. Tommy moved across the room and stood in front of him.
“I’m going to undress you,” he said.
“Hurry up, then. But no snark about my underwear.”
Tommy snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Mitchell didn’t move as he let Tommy unbutton his shirt, unzip his jeans and pull down his boxers. On his knees, he looked up into Mitchell’s dark gaze, at the man he had once dismissed as boring. How wrong could he have been? Mitchell’s arousal already stood to attention, thick, straining and eager. Tommy grabbed the base of his cock and, while staring up at Mitchell, opened his mouth wide.
“No,” said Mitchell, cradling Tommy’s chin and smiling down at him. “Not this time. Tonight you get blown, birthday boy.”
“I thought maybe you might want to fuck me.”
Tommy began to unzip his jeans but Mitchell stayed his hand and, very gently and painstakingly, began to unbutton his shirt and undress him, leaving him naked.
“Oh, I will. But only after you’ve let me blow you. Do you have condoms?”
“The drawer to your right. An assortment of lubes and condoms. But I’m on PrEP.”
Mitchell stopped unbuttoning for a moment, a puzzled expression on his face, before continuing.
“I don’t know what that is. But I’m used to condoms, if that’s okay?”
“Whatever. Just stop talking.”
Mitchell snorted and picked up the pace. Not once did he touch Tommy’s skin, just a soft, warm breath on his chest, in his ear or against his upper thigh as he removed clothing. What at first Tommy thought he might find infuriating became the opposite, awakening every nerve ending in his body, raising goosebumps on his skin. His cock grew so hard he feared that a single touch of flesh on burning flesh might make him explode.
Mitchell sensed the tension because he reached a hand behind Tommy, roughly squeezed, then slapped his rear cheek before kneeling on the floor. Tommy definitely had had mild-mannered Mitchell all wrong. There was no way he could last long, feeling the heat and rough surface of Mitchell’s tongue slide up the underside of his cock. He even clamped his hands onto Tommy’s backside, caressing his glutes and repeatedly pulling him in. Tommy’s orgasm, however incredible, happened far too quickly. He wanted the sensation to go on all night. Mitchell pulled away and stood while wiping his mouth with his fingertips.
Before Tommy could voice his disappointment, Mitchell lifted him bodily from the floor and threw him onto the bed. Mitchell removed the last of his own clothes before crawling along Tommy’s body.
“That wasn’t even foreplay. I am going to touch and taste every inch of you, Tommy Chow,” said Mitchell, lifting one of Tommy’s legs and kissing the underside of his foot. “Until you’re begging me to fill you. And in case I never get the chance again.”
“Bring it on, Baxt—ahhh.”
Mitchell had lowered his head and sucked on Tommy’s big toe. Rarely in his life had Tommy been lost for words. But at that moment he lay back and allowed his body and mind to switch off, to succumb to the sensations. Strong but careful fingertips brushed his gooseflesh, soft lips kissed the sensitive skin behind his knees and his inner thigh and sensual raindrops fell from the skies. After humming his approval, Tommy gasped when Mitchell began to use his talented tongue to lick the crevasse between his ass cheeks and moisten his entrance. Soon, a finger joined the tongue and slipped inside, heading directly for his sweet spot.
Tommy wasn’t used to being prepared with such care and wanted to shout at Mitchell to hurry up and cut to the chase, but Mitchell knew what he was doing, stroke by careful stroke. Every time the build-up of sensations stopped abruptly and Tommy raised his head with irritation, he saw Michell’s gaze burning into him.
“Bastard,” muttered Tommy.
Mitchell grinned before moving up Tommy’s body until they came face to face. After a tender gaze, he brought their mouths together. Tommy lifted his head and deepened the kiss while bringing his legs up to clamp around Mitchell’s naked midriff to hold him in place.
Tommy had been with enough men to recognise a generous lover. Mitchell wanted to focus on pleasing him, listening and feeling for signs of pleasure, raking fingertips down his body, squeezing the flesh and nuzzling nooks. Each time Tommy reacted appeared to fuel Mitchell’s own fire, and finally Tommy felt a firm pressure against his entrance. Once again, Mitchell looked intently into Tommy’s eyes as he moved his hips slowly forward. This time, Tommy surprised a groan out of Mitchell by tightening the grip of his legs. Once Mitchell had slid fully inside and stopped, they both gasped with surprise. Tommy had been with more endowed men, but Mitchell filled him, the feeling natural even with the condom.
Mitchell began a slow rhythm without breathing a word, never dropping his gaze from Tommy’s. He moved his hips fluidly, the sensual dance occasionally pushing in different directions until his cock ignited a spot inside Tommy that made his eyes flutter wide and a slight gasp escape him. Mitchell smiled at the reaction and lifted Tommy’s ankles onto his shoulders. Tommy squeezed his eyes closed, threading his arms around Mitchell’s neck and pulling his head onto his shoulder. His erection, which had returned to life, repeatedly rubbed up against Mitchell’s firm navel. They fit together perfectly, their chests touching, Mitchell’s upper body swamping his own.
Just as Tommy felt the delicious tightness of what promised to be an intense climax begin to erupt, Mitchell stopped moving. Tommy’s eyes flew open with irritation to find Mitchell’s face hovering over his again, smiling slyly.
“I will kill you,” said Tommy.
Mitchell laughed aloud before his gaze darkened and he resumed the dance. This time, they almost finished together. Tommy came undone, groaning loudly, shooting a sticky mess between them. Mitchell climaxed moments later, soundlessly, his whole body shuddering on top of Tommy, warmth filling the condom. They stayed glued together until Mitchell withdrew very slowly and carefully and lay next to Tommy. Neither spoke for so long that Tommy began to drift off into a post-coital slumber.
“I should go,” said Mitchell, sitting on the side of the bed and reaching for his underpants.
“Or you could stay.” Mitchell looked almost as surprised as Tommy felt at the words he had spoken, but he meant every one. “I mean, if you want.”
“I do, I really do. But Zane flies home tomorrow—” said Mitchell, pulling on his underpants before squinting at his watch face. “I mean, today. And I need to be there for him. Help get him organised.”
Tommy nodded his understanding and pulled himself to sitting, watching Mitchell putting on each item of clothing, unexpectedly savouring the view, especially when Mitchell turned to grin shyly at him. Once fully clothed, he came around the side of the bed and perched at the end by Tommy’s feet before bringing a wrapped box from his jacket pocket.
“What’s this?” asked Tommy, leaning forward to accept the artfully wrapped gift.
“A small present. To celebrate your birthday.”
Tommy opened the packaging to find a Tom Ford Eau de Parfum bottle. Like a kid at Christmas, Tommy ripped away the cellophane wrapping. After pulling the bottle from the box and spraying a slight mist onto the inside of his wrist, he inhaled the distinctive scent.
“This is too much, Mitchell,” he said, grinning. “You didn’t need to do this.”
“I know, but I wanted to. I was short with you after the boat trip and this is my way of apologising as well as celebrating your significant birthday. I also wanted to prove to you that I do listen. Tom Ford is your favourite, after all. It’s not the most expensive—heavens, the price of some are more than I earn in a month—but I’m reliably informed this is a classic.”
Tommy took another sniff, and when Mitchell stood up, readying to leave, Tommy’s heart sank. He wanted to say something more, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Look, Tommy,” said Mitchell. “I don’t want you to think this has created any expectations or messed with my head. If this was just a one-time thing, then I’m fine with that. I’m really glad we had this night together, but I know where your heart lies. I’m just grateful to have my friend back.”
“Me too,” was all that Tommy said, even though he wanted to say so much more. Instead, he looked up into Mitchell’s smiling eyes.
“And I’ll even agree to you giving me a makeover for your sister’s wedding.”
“You will?” said Tommy, his eyes lighting up.
“I will.”
Mitchell stopped in the doorway and turned back, a pained look on his face.
“Just, please, Tommy. Promise me you won’t dye my hair blond.”
“I promise.”