10 Aubie
WHEN JEROME SUGGESTS WE STOP by his friend Selena’s party after his date fizzles out, I go along because I want to support my friend.
Plus I have nothing better to do and no desire to go home to an empty house.
Not tonight. Not after the glass breaking incident this morning.
Sometimes that’s all it takes to trigger the nightmares.
And I want nothing to do with that.
I’d met Selena before at a backstage party after one of Jerome’s plays and wasn’t really impressed.
Yeah, she’s a big deal actress, but she’s not big–or talented–enough to warrant being the bitch she is.
Part of me suspects she got most of her parts on the strength of her family name.
The Carricks have their fingers in a lot of East Brook pies, particularly banking, and well, we all know what a boost Daddy’s name can bring to a budding career.
Not that I would ever go there. Unlike Selena, I’m trying to distance myself from my family name.
I never imagined, when the door opens, to come face to face with the object of my latest sexual obsession. What the hell is he doing here? This certainly isn’t his crowd.
“Aubie?”
There’s that deep voice again that tugs at my cock.
“Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting,” I purr while taking him in.
He doesn’t have that disheveled, after hook-up flush about him, so he isn’t here for sex, which would have been my first guess.
I mean, that’s what happens at every party I’ve ever been to. Or maybe that’s just me.
I open my mouth to ask him but he mumbles something about just leaving and scurries past me down the driveway like his hair is on fire.
Jerome leans over to me. “Isn’t that the security guy at your club?”
I track Cutter’s progress out to the street. All the way to his sleek black ride. “Yeah.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from the view as he pulls on his helmet and straddles the bike. That ass makes me hungry.
“Small world,” Jerome comments.
Smaller than I thought. I’m aware, as I watch Cutter ride off, that it’s going to bug me all night wondering why he was here.
“Come on,” Jerome says, pulling me through the door. “Let’s go crash this thing.”
As soon as we get inside I throw my arms wide and announce, “I’m here!
” A few heads turn, a few drunken cheers go up.
Okay, so I like to make an entrance. And being surrounded by admirers helps to distract from whatever game my mind is trying to play with me right now, because it’s still fixated on the image of that man straddling a rumbling crotch rocket.
An image that is seriously fucking with my free-wheeling ability to have a good time.
The bar beckons but I’m DDing tonight so I wind my way through the room to the patio. Despite the chilly temperature, that’s where the serious partyers seem to be hanging out. Jerome detours to the bar for a glass of champagne then catches up with me outside.
“Look, there’s Selena,” he says, pointing. “We have to go say hi.”
He pulls me in the direction of a knot of people gathered at the end of the steamy pool. I spot Selena’s white blonde hair then notice she has her arm linked around a suited man with his back to me.
“Jerome!” she yells when she spots us, pulling him into a hug. “You came.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, had to see what all the fuss was about.” He turns to me. “You remember my friend Aubie.”
She turns an appraising eye to me, no doubt wondering if I’m someone she can exploit. Good thing she doesn’t know my last name. “Of course. Welcome to my home.”
I nod to her. “Thanks for having me.”
The man on her arm turns and I smile to myself as the pieces fall into place. “How’s it going, Daryl?”
It seems to take him a second to recognize me. “Aubie?” He glances at Selena. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
She’s looking at us both curiously now. “You know him?”
“We work together,” I supply smoothly. “And I know Selena through my friend Jerome here.”
Daryl extends a hand to Jerome. “Daryl Hart.”
“Jerome Collier,” he replies, shaking Daryl’s hand.
“Wait, are you that Jerome Collier? The male lead in A New Life?”
Jerome’s eyes light up. “You’ve seen it?”
“I loved it,” he replies. “You were great.”
When does Daryl have time to go to the theater? This man is full of surprises.
“Thank you,” Jerome says. “I loved that role.”
Probably realizing she’s not the center of attention, Selena jumps in and wraps an arm around Jerome. “We all love our Jerome. Budding star in the making.”
“I’d say he’s already arrived,” Daryl corrects, causing her brow to furrow.
“Was that Cutter I saw leaving when we arrived?” I ask Daryl, who seems oblivious to his faux pas. You’ll thank me later for changing the subject.
“He left? Damn.” He shrugs. “Well hopefully he at least talked to someone. I keep trying to get him to loosen and go out.”
“Not a party animal?” I probe innocently.
“Not anymore.”
He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t want to risk looking interested by asking.
Still, I’m definitely thinking about it. So big bad motorcycle riding Cutter is a homebody. Suddenly the mountain doesn’t sound as hard to climb.
Selena and Jerome start talking shop, which doesn’t interest me in the least, so my attention flits back to my earlier mindfuck.
I’m imagining interesting scenarios involving Cutter and his orgasm-inducing motorcycle when Daryl sidles up to me and remarks, “I love this view, but I imagine you’re used to it. ”
I slide a glance over at him and not for the first time wonder what his story is. “I don’t know, Daryl, you seem pretty comfortable here.”
“The Bluffs is a little outside my field of reference.”
“What is inside your field of reference?”
“Just you typical middle class upbringing.”
“Bullshit,” I scoff. “You’re a ‘right side of the tracks’ guy if ever I saw one.”
He offers a sly smile. “My parents served champagne and caviar at parties, but we weren’t Gauthiers.”
I chuckle. “Believe me, it’s nothing to aspire to.”
“Is that why you do it?”
I know what he’s referring to. “What else would the fam gossip about? Though I wasn’t lying when I said I like exposing myself.”
“You also like the attention.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, obviously. But you’re not allergic to that yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“The club. What kind of deviant comes up with that concept?”
He smirks. “It works.”
“Of course it works. It’s like a wet dream come to life.”
“That says a lot, coming from you.”
“You don’t need me to tell you you’ve got a gold mine. Did you come up with it all by yourself?”
“Hundred percent original.”
I give him a critical onceover. There’s no denying he’s hot, with his dark looks and oozing confidence. And I am intrigued by the way his mind works. The rich businessman is not my usual kink, but I’d consider making an exception for him. If the situation was different.
If he wasn’t straight.
What am I saying? That didn’t stop me with Cutter.
For some reason, the urge to lead Daryl astray isn’t as strong as it is with his head of security.
Besides, I’m about ninety-nine percent sure Daryl isn’t as straight as he pretends.
Any man who sits in his office all night watching men take off their clothes has to have at least a passing interest in indulging.
“Why men?” I ask him. “You could make just as much money with women. Maybe more.”
He takes his time replying. “Straight men have all kinds of sexual outlets. I wanted to create a space for women and gay men.”
“Was there something that precipitated that desire?”
“You mean was I traumatized as a child? Maybe had my heart broken by a beautiful stranger?”
“Sounds awfully specific.”
“Let’s just say I have an open mind.”
I grin at him and turn back to the view. “I knew there was something about you I liked.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but I can feel his eyes on me. “One thing I am allergic to is flirting.”
My brows rise. “Is that what you think this is?”
“It crossed my mind,” he replies.
I turn and make a point of dragging my eyes over him. “We both know you’re hot as fuck, but I do have some decorum.”
If he’s embarrassed by my description of him, he doesn’t show it. Probably hears stuff like that all the time. “Do you?” he asks instead.
“I may be a slut, but I’m not a cocktease.” Much. “If I’m flirting with you, you’ll know it.”
Deciding this is a good time to end this conversation, I turn away and start toward the back door.
“Aubie?” Daryl calls.
“Yeah?” I ask, hesitating.
“Tread lightly when it comes to Cutter.”
I force my expression to remain neutral. “What do you mean?”
“I see everything that goes on in and around my club.”
Oh.
Does that mean he saw what happened in the parking lot earlier? When I meet his eyes, I can see the truth. “Like you said, I just want to see him loosen up.”
“Bullshit. He’s a game to you, but he’s not like you and me. He works hard for that control.”
If I wasn’t curious about Cutter before, I am now. I’m dying to ask Daryl what his story is, but I know he won’t tell me.
“This was interesting,” I say instead. I wish I could have a drink because I need something to turn off my brain. This man is taking up way too much landscape in my head. I meet Jerome’s eye and jerk my head toward the house.
“I’m going to mingle,” I mouth to him.
He nods as I make my way back inside. I spot a few people I know–acquaintances more than friends. People who know who I am. I avoid them. The last thing I want is to be reminded of my last name.
I notice the bartender’s eyes flitting to me and decide to make my way over there.
“What can I get you?” he asks with an easy smile.
He’s cute. Sandy blond hair, piercing green eyes, nice arms. I could waste some time with him.
“I’m DDing tonight, so what can you give me that will make this a night to remember?”
“Does it have to be a drink?”
I rake my eyes over him and offer a lazy grin. “Let’s start there and work our way up.”
“I’ve got just the thing for you.” He starts pouring and shaking a concoction that looks heavy on the pear nectar. He doesn’t have the showmanship of Jimi, but there’s a quiet confidence about his movements that definitely piques my interest.
“Try this,” he says, setting the tall narrow glass in front of me.
I take a sip and moan. “God that’s good. I almost don’t miss the alcohol.”
He shrugs. “I was a chemistry major.”
“What other talents are you hiding?”
“I can do the cherry stem trick with my tongue.”
“Damn. Would you marry me–just for tonight?”
“Leave you alone for five minutes and you’re off plotting your future without me,” Jerome remarks behind me.
I turn and push the drink into his hand. “Try this.”
He takes a sip and has much the same reaction as I did. “Mmm, you’re good,” he tells the bartender, handing the glass back to me. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “A guy’s gotta eat and my OnlyFans has hit a plateau.”
“Oh honey, consider me a subscriber,” I tell him.
“Sure you don’t want the real thing?”
He’s a forward little minx. I like it. “I am a bit peckish. What time do you get off?”
Jerome looks between us. “Uh, what’s this? Have I been dragged into a hook up?”
I smile at him. “Lover, nobody dragged you into anything. Run along now and let me have my fun.”
Jerome ignores me and turns his attention to the bartender. “His name is Aubie and he’s a shameless diva who just so happens to be a rockstar in bed.” He winks at me; what a wingman. “He won’t ask what your name is, but I want to know. For posterity, you understand.”
“Of course,” the bartender replies with mock solemnity. “It’s just Will.”
“Hear that?” Jerome says, turning to me. “His name is just Will. He’s a real person. With real feelings.”
I snort. “Thanks. I think.”
“You’re not looking to fall in love with me, are you?” Will asks with mock innocence.
I have all I can do not to laugh. Little shit beat me at my own game. “Jesus, I hope not.”
“A match made in heaven,” Jerome murmurs. “I’ll leave you two to the details.”
He snatches another flute of champagne and wanders off, leaving me to, well…
the details. The upshot of a prolonged conversation that’s more inuendo than information is an agreement to meet at my place later.
I don’t often give out my address to strangers, usually driving them there myself, but he seems trustworthy.
Or maybe I’m just horny. I can never tell the difference.
I find Jerome and ask him if he’s ready to leave or coming up with his own way home. Turns out he’s holed up in a corner with a captive audience hanging on his every word. And they call me an attention whore.
“Call me tomorrow,” I tell him with a peck on his cheek.
“Will do. Have fun.”
I glance at the breathless young man practically folded across his lap. “You too.”
My mind should be on the sexy bartender following me home but as I make my way to my car, my thoughts keep circling back to the tall dark asshole whose cum I can still taste.
This is not good.