Chapter 3 #3
We continued walking and soon, the noise increased much like before.
Hearing Sebastian cough brought great joy. In college, we’d compared ourselves to each other in every aspect. Intellectually. In sports. With the women. In how we manipulated all those around us. We’d even kept score, including the level of darkness we fell to in order to achieve our goals.
I would say we’d been lucky that we hadn’t been kicked out of Harvard except that was a lie.
We excelled in everything, including nurturing then demanding support from anyone who could aid with our cause.
Although I had experienced one run-in that had almost derailed my career even before it had started.
We’d had no limits and still didn’t, born with fire in our veins and a passion for violence and control.
Traits that were part of our families’ legacies of power.
In those four years, we’d become masters of the art of deceit and blackmail. But there had been more, our dark cravings taking us into abysmal waters of debauchery that we’d believed had ended after graduation.
If my sudden thoughts and desires were any indication, we’d been wrong.
“A male model. The girl needs glasses,” Sebastian offered.
Xander chuckled. “She was simply being nice for being a part of a… heated exchange. Why would she suggest that, buddy? Not that I haven’t seen you around a gaggle of young women begging you for just one night, but you’re sporting gray hair these days.”
I threw him a look. “I suggest you look in the mirror, my friend. And I’ll show you why. Come with me.” As I moved toward the ballroom where today’s book convention festivities had been held, I hated to admit I searched for any sign of the unknown woman.
There was none.
“You have some fascinating guests. I didn’t know you catered to the raunchy crowd.” Xander was being his usual flippant self.
The ballroom doors were open, a few people still milling around inside. They dutifully followed and once inside, we were given more of a full view of the type of proclivities the romance community preferred.
“What the fuck?” Sebastian walked in first, greeted almost immediately with a vertical banner depicting a hockey player with no shirt, six-pack abs, and tight hockey pants highlighting a thick bulge between his legs.
“Are you jealous?” Xander asked as he headed toward another table that had two giant banners, also with barely clothed men depicted in vivid color.
I laughed. “Hardly. Perhaps you should be the one who’s jealous. Hundreds of ravenous readers buying slutty books your company didn’t publish. You’re losing your touch.”
He ran his fingers across a stack of books. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” And I was.
“I find it fascinating any woman would consider this romance.” Sebastian scanned the room before heading to a table, picking up a book from the table. He half turned, grinning as he did. “Interesting title. Captured Pet. Look at this one. Hunted and Kept.”
There were rows of tables stretching as far as the eye could see. There had to be two hundred of them if not more.
“Things have changed,” I told him. “Women are far more self-assured in their professional lives, as demanding and even more qualified than their male counterparts. Yet they long for an intense, complete, and darkly passionate release of their control. A fictional man is easy and safe, providing the perfect literary fodder, setting the stage for a taste of kink while satisfying their own needs without the worry and confusion of dealing with the male species.”
“You certainly know how to kill a man’s libido,” Sebastian chortled.
I stood where I was, drinking in the atmosphere while various dark thoughts found their way into the deepest sections of my brain. “As I said, these women are hungry for the corrupt attention of a real man.”
Xander was the first to realize what I was suggesting, lifting his head and already wearing his signature debonaire smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you suggest indulging in some friendly competition.”
There’d been nothing friendly about our activities in college. Quite the contrary. Sadly, our professional lives had taken priority over the incessant need for personal pleasures.
“That is what you’re doing, suggesting we revisit our aging acts of debauchery. Correct?” Xander walked closer, holding a book in his hand.
I quickly glanced at the title. The Art of Surrender. Fascinating, especially given the seductive cover art. “Perhaps.”
Sebastian tossed the book he’d been holding, sauntering closer while shoving his hands into his pockets. “Then I suggest we conclude our business for the day and pick up the conversation over drinks at the bar.”
“We’ll need qualified candidates,” Xander mentioned.
“Look around you, buddy,” Sebastian offered. “You could easily have the pick of the litter.”
“Always the asshole,” came Xander’s reply.
With a shift of my gaze from one man to the other, I nodded only once. “Seven. Sharp.” As I headed toward the exit, I heard Xander laughing.
“Always the control freak.”
“Always,” I replied.