Chapter 4
Chapter Four
At first, Charlie panicked when he was abandoned in Jonathan’s kitchen.
The knock on the door could be the police.
They might have tracked him to the studio in Marylebone for trying to steal that apple, or for his tearful attempts to suck men off for a few coins.
They could even have been sent by his father to apprehend him for sodomy, since he’d fled Bermondsey before truly facing his and Rossindale’s crimes.
He should have run. The kitchen had a door that led out to what appeared to be mews. He could make his escape through the back gardens and sheltered alleys behind the shops and houses of Marylebone.
Except he didn’t know that part of the city at all. And he wasn’t dressed appropriately by any stretch of the imagination. And it was chilly and dreary, despite being nearly summer, with a heavy grayness that hinted the day would be full of rain.
On top of that, there was more food on the table in front of him than he’d seen in weeks, and Jonathan had offered it all to him.
He couldn’t leave. Jonathan had saved him from death, and if he ran away from the man now, if he displeased his savior in any way, he would be back on the streets, cold, unprepared, and alone.
A new sort of fear seized him as the sound of voices wafted in from the studio portion of the house.
He would die if Jonathan turned him out, even if he had a full belly and five shillings in his pocket.
He didn’t have the fortitude to survive a rough life in the streets of London.
At best, he’d end up in the workhouse. At worst, he’d be dead by the time the sun went down, his throat slit for the five shillings.
He rose abruptly, gathering up the plates and cups from the table with shaking hands and taking them to the counter beside the sink.
He had to be of use to Jonathan. His survival depended on being of use to his savior in every way.
His life was in the man’s hands, and as absurd as it was, all things considered, Charlie valued his life enough to want to preserve it.
He washed the dishes quickly, then put away the leftover food and scrubbed the table. All of that was accomplished within five minutes as voices came through the doorway to the studio. Jonathan was speaking with another man, most likely about business.
A fresh wave of panic filled Charlie once the kitchen was tidy.
He wasn’t going to be able to make himself indispensable to Jonathan if all he could do was tidy up an already neat kitchen.
Despite his profession, perhaps because of it, Jonathan’s home, as far as Charlie had been able to observe in his short time there, was fastidiously clean and orderly.
There had to be another way he could make it impossible for Jonathan to turn him out onto the street again.
He glanced to the door leading into the studio, then took a deep breath as a wave of fear filled him.
There was no telling who Jonathan was speaking with or what they wanted.
If he stepped through that door, he might be walking into danger.
Jonathan might be ashamed of him or angry that he would interrupt business.
But he might also be able to help.
Once again in his life, there was no choice. Charlie swallowed his fear, squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the sting of tears trying to form, then forced himself forward.
He made it to the door and peeked through into the studio, trying to make himself as small as possible as he did. His face flared hot when he saw there was a third man with Jonathan and the other with the deep voice, a young man.
The heat from Charlie’s face stretched down his neck to his chest as he noted the third man was close to his own age and beautiful in a delicate way.
He sat on the chaise in the staged part of the studio room, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glancing serenely up at Jonathan and the other man as they spoke.
“I will need certain safeguards if I take this commission from you,” Jonathan was in the middle of saying to the other man. “As I am sure you understand, this kind of work cannot be advertised openly.”
“No, of course not,” the dark man said.
He was dark in more ways than one. His hair, his close-cut beard, his long coat, and the air around him. At the same time, he radiated an allure that had Charlie caught between wanting to step out and make himself known so that the man would notice him and hiding forever.
Hiding wasn’t an option. Jonathan noticed his arrival in the room at once. He turned his head, and as soon as he spotted Charlie standing nervously just inside the doorway, hands tangled together awkwardly, he smiled.
“No need to hide in the corner,” he said, beckoning Charlie closer with a quick gesture. “I’m just conducting business.”
The dark man turned to study him, too. For a moment, he seemed surprised that Jonathan wasn’t alone. That moment resolved into a deep, knowing smile.
Too knowing. Whoever the man was, it was as if he could see straight through Charlie’s clothes, straight through his skin, and into his soul. There was a power in the man’s gaze that demanded Charlie walk forward so he could be looked at, even though Jonathan had been the one to call him over.
“I wasn’t aware that you had such a fetching assistant,” the dark man said, eyeing Charlie up and down once he’d come to a stop as close to the man as he dared, which was still a good ten feet away.
“Yes, this is Charlie,” Jonathan said, his smile widening as he moved to stand by Charlie’s side. He draped an arm casually over Charlie’s shoulders, as if they were old friends, which made Charlie jump a bit.
No, not friends. As if he were a prized possession.
That feeling was underscored when Jonathan went on to say, “He’s a recent acquisition.”
The dark man glanced between Charlie and Jonathan. “I didn’t know you were in the habit of…acquiring,” he said. “I was simply told you were a photographer of repute.”
Jonathan laughed jovially. “Yes, well, it is some sort of repute at least.”
Why Jonathan didn’t feel intimidated by the dark man was a mystery to Charlie. The man had a presence that demanded respect and deference, but Jonathan’s smile and posture were as casual as could be. Charlie felt compelled to stand as straight as possible for the man.
Or maybe to go to his knees before him.
“I can pay you handsomely,” the dark man went on, turning his attention away from Charlie like he’d held his heart in his hand and suddenly released him. “My only request is that the job be done immediately and swiftly.”
“I think I can accommodate you,” Jonathan said with a nod, slipping his arm off Charlie’s shoulders and walking across the room to the shelves and cabinets where his cameras, lenses, and other equipment were kept.
“Charlie, could you fetch the pillows from the corner there,” he called out the order as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Charlie didn’t think twice. He thrilled at being given any task at all to do. The more he made himself useful, the safer he would be.
“We can take a few photographs in various states of undress,” Jonathan said to the dark man as he brought out one of his cameras and fixed the tripod so that it pointed at the young man on the chaise. “Or we can move directly into the pornography.”
Charlie nearly stumbled over his feet as he brought an armful of cushions to the chaise.
The grin Jonathan wore hinted that he was being cheeky on purpose.
The past twelve hours had demonstrated that Jonathan was a heathen with very little respect for propriety or decency, which had drawn Charlie to him, but anything bordering on disrespectful toward the dark man felt foolishly dangerous.
Except the dark man laughed. “I admire your directness,” he said, moving to stand out of Jonathan’s way.
He took up a spot close enough to the young man on the chaise to signal he was protecting him, but far enough away that he would not be in the picture once Jonathan took it.
“Nothing in life is ever achieved by dancing around the heart of the matter.”
“Nothing at all,” Jonathan agreed. He glanced to Charlie. “Help Phoebus out of his clothes, if you please.”
The heat in Charlie’s cheeks flared again as he dropped the cushions on the chaise and helped the young man remove his clothing.
He had definitely fallen into some sort of heavenly hell that was so far from the rules of society that he’d been raised in as to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
The young man, Phoebus, didn’t seem at all fussed about stripping naked in front of an audience.
Almost as if he’d done it before. He removed his shoes and stockings with careful grace, handing them over into Charlie’s waiting arms. Then he stood to remove his trousers and drawers.
Once they were off, he handed them over to Charlie as well.
Then he winked.
It was that impish wink that gave Charlie the sinking feeling, though not an unpleasant one, that there was far more swirling around him than a dark man who wished to have nude photos taken of a graceful young man.
The way the dark man watched him with a veiled half-smile and that irresistible hint of knowing in his eyes as Charlie took Phoebus’s clothes to the side, then returned to the edge of the scene, hovering and ready to help, only seemed to confirm it.
“Charlie, could you fetch a plate?” Jonathan asked, his mien more serious, as he adjusted things with his camera, glancing between it and the chaise, several times in succession, where Phoebus had reclined again.
He played with the lens as Charlie hurried to the cabinet of equipment, feeling like he was all arms and legs and nowhere near as graceful as Phoebus.