Kept in the Dark

Chapter One

I stared for the longest time at the door in front of me.

Structurally, it was a perfectly ordinary door with no distinguishing features.

It looked as if it had been painted fairly recently, the glossy surface, a bright scarlet red.

Red for danger, screamed my subconscious.

I shushed it, reminding myself that ridiculous and overdramatic thoughts weren’t going to help anyone.

The top half of the door consisted almost entirely of a pane of frosted glass.

Despite knowing deep down it would be a pointless exercise, I still made an attempt to peer through it.

As expected, it didn’t reveal a thing. I took a look behind me, back to the street, half expecting to find curious eyes watching, trying to work out why I was standing outside a door doing absolutely nothing.

The street had been deserted when I’d walked down it a few minutes earlier, and remained empty.

Normally, the next step in proceedings would be to lift my hand and knock, however, there hadn’t been anything remotely normal about the set of instructions I’d been given earlier that afternoon.

My day job, or more accurately, the occasional day and mostly evenings job, was working at an Italian restaurant.

It was a fairly large restaurant and on a quiet day, if you were lucky, you got the luxury of being able to take your break at the same time as someone else.

That meant time for a quick chat, or a moan about the chef and customers.

On a busy day, like the one we were having, I was on my own.

It wasn’t worth heading to the break room, unless I was planning to talk to myself, so instead I’d tucked myself away in the corner next to the bar, hoping to grab a quick word with the barman.

It was pure luck then, that when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I was available to answer it.

Five minutes earlier, or later, I would have had to let it go to voicemail.

Recognizing the familiar number of the escort agency I’d joined six months before, I moved farther out of sight to take the call.

Making sure to talk quietly, to avoid attracting any unwanted interest from either customers or colleagues, I greeted my occasional boss, “Hey, Tom.”

His voice boomed through the phone line, causing me to wince and hold the phone slightly away from my ear. “Dean, how are you doing? I might have a job for you, if you’re interested.”

Escorting had never been a deliberate intention, but one I found myself involved in anyway.

I’d bumped into Tom at a bar while on a night out.

The man was a complete force of nature. In his late thirties, too craggy to be classed as handsome, but striking nonetheless.

I’d let him ply me with drinks. Thinking we were heading for a one-night stand, I’d been shocked when the truth had finally dawned on me.

Rather than trying to get into my pants, he was trying to recruit me for his agency.

He’d used flattery, claiming my good looks and boyish charm would go down like a storm with clients.

I’d turned him down flat, but, in a moment of weakness, had given him my number.

He hadn’t given up. Several phone calls later, he’d convinced me to give it a try; persuading me to take jobs that really were no more than paid dates.

I’d gone out with both genders, accompanying them to parties, using the acting skills that were meant to be my primary occupation to play the role of doting boyfriend.

The only problem was, those jobs didn’t pay that well.

Not enough to cover expensive London living expenses and travel costs to numerous acting auditions for roles I invariably didn’t get.

Everyone knew the money-making opportunities lay with the extras: the dates that were more than just a date.

I’d balked at the idea, knowing it was only one step away from prostitution.

Actually, most people probably wouldn’t see a difference between the two.

Tom had been persistent, without being pushy, constantly dropping hints about jobs that paid considerably more.

I’d remained firm, politely telling him it wasn’t for me.

Even when I found myself without sufficient funds to fix my broken car, I still held out.

When an acting job fell through at the last minute and I didn’t even have enough money to pay the rent, I finally gave in.

The date was with a man whose name was Thomas, a handsome man in his late forties.

I’d quashed the slight feeling of nausea as I accompanied him to a party.

At that point, there’d been no difference between that job and any of the previous ones I’d already done.

I’d hung off his arm, playing the young boy toy role perfectly, making sure I was amusing and charming in equal measure.

If he’d noticed the envious glances thrown his way by some of his friends, he wasn’t tacky enough to acknowledge them.

I suspected one of them was probably an ex, that my presence there was meant to show the world Thomas had moved on.

Once the party died down, Thomas had called a cab and taken me back to his expensive penthouse apartment with a perfect view of the London skyline.

I’d been admiring it, glass of wine in hand, when he’d come up behind me.

He’d taken the barely touched glass out of my hand before sliding his arms around me and kissing my neck.

Looking back on it, he was good-looking enough that under normal circumstances, I might have gone to bed with him anyway.

The sex had been…okay. And if I was honest, it was hardly the first time I’d pretended to enjoy a sexual interlude more than I actually had.

In return, the rent had been paid, the car had been fixed, and I’d had money left over.

I’d expected to feel more about it, than I had.

It didn’t feel sordid. It didn’t feel like I was one step away from standing on street corners.

It just felt necessary. A means to an end.

A way to continue to pursue my dream of being a successful actor.

Did I like it? No. Did I hate it? Not really.

So, I’d taken a few more jobs after that.

And so far, I’d been lucky. There hadn’t been any horror stories.

Just slightly awkward sex with men older than I’d normally consider dating.

Men who wanted to get their hands on a young, pretty boy without any complications and were willing to pay a lot for the pleasure.

As far as I knew, none of them had ever called for a second “date” and I was more than happy for that to continue.

I cast a quick glance around the restaurant to insure no one was within hearing distance.

I might not be beating myself up over my decision to keep doing it, but I hardly wanted to advertise it.

Only my closest friend and my brother had any idea what I did to top up my earnings, and I intended to keep it that way.

Besides, I only took jobs when finances dictated.

It wasn’t like I was selling my body every night.

It was more like once a month, if that. If I could avoid it, I did.

“What kind of job? Escorting…or…the other?”

Tom’s husky laugh in my ear was one of genuine amusement. “You’re such a prude, Dean. Okay, let’s call it the other. Are you interested?”

“I…um…don’t know.”

“How’d that audition go for the commercial? Aftershave, was it? Did you get it?”

I sighed. “No. They said I wasn’t tall enough.

I mean, how ridiculous is that? The brief was a close-up on the guy’s face.

Most of the audition was staring into a mirror.

How can they tell how tall you are from your face?

To be honest, I think it was just an excuse.

Obviously, I can’t even act putting on aftershave correctly. ”

“So, money’s tight then?”

I massaged the back of my neck in an attempt to get the tense muscles to relax.

“My car needs an MOT…and insurance. Or I’m going to have to take it off the road.

Which I don’t really want to do. That makes it difficult to get to auditions.

” Tom listened silently to my stream of consciousness without commenting.

He was used to me having to talk myself into taking a job. “What’s the job?”

“Ah!” There was a long pause.

“I haven’t got all day, Tom. I’m at the restaurant and I’ve only got five minutes left of my break. Spit it out.”

“Well…it’s a rather unusual one. Which is why I thought of you. I need someone I can trust.”

“Unusual?” I didn’t like the sound of that. It was bad enough committing to meeting a complete stranger and having sex with them, without it being unusual. “You know I don’t do kinky stuff. Ask Zach. He’s up for anything. The kinkier the better, as far as he’s concerned.”

“It’s not unusual in that way. It’s…well…there’s…”

I’d never heard Tom lost for words before. I had to admit, my curiosity was seriously piqued as I waited patiently for him to explain.

He sighed, the sound carrying over the phone line. “So, the client called today. He had some…conditions…that are a little strange.”

“Like what?”

“Okay. So, there’s no date. Which on the flip side means you don’t need to worry about having to spend time schmoozing people at a party.

He…the client…wants someone to go straight to his home address and let themselves in.

He said the money will be on a table opposite the door.

He wants you, assuming you take the job, to go up the stairs on the left into the bedroom straight ahead.

He said it’ll be dark in there. He was really clear that there must be no attempt to switch the light on, or there’s no payment.

He also made it clear that you, or whoever, mustn’t touch him under any circumstances… or there’s—”