High Society

“Meet you down there.”



Casey nodded to Zeke, who left their room to head downstairs for breakfast, then returned to dressing. It was difficult to be quick about it; his head felt light, along with his mood. Even with the lack of sleep he’d had, Casey was bright and chipper.



Zeke, of course, was the usual. He’d woken with a loud yawn, scratched his balls and wandered about the room getting his shower things together with bleary eyes. There wasn’t any hope that he’d ever be a morning-person, Casey figured. But he’d watched him, listened to his movements… the soft, shuffling footsteps, the way his hair curled around his ears…



A knock came at the door then opened. Noah poked his head in and waved. ‘Morning,’ he said.



‘Morning,’ Casey replied. His smile was still wide and downright goofy. Noah must have noticed as he cocked an eyebrow and grinned.



‘Happy?’



Casey nodded then glanced to the paint set on his side table. He then waved Noah in; the boy followed the instruction, closing the door behind him. ‘What?’ Noah asked.



‘Look.’ Casey picked up the box and showed it to Noah. ‘It’s from Zeke--a gorgeous watercolor-paint set.’



Noah blinked wildly, sat down next to Casey and took the box. He set it in his lap and ran a hand over the lid. ‘Wow. This is nice.’



‘Isn’t it?’



Looking up, Noah gave Casey a wary, amused gaze. ‘So he IS in love with you,’ he said.



‘Oh, stop.’



‘No, I’d say he is,’ Noah said. He then sighed, shook his head and put the box aside. With a somber expression, he continued signing. ‘Maybe you’d better be careful. He’s your roommate, someone you work with.’



Casey smirked. ‘We’ve talked about this stuff before. We’ll be fine. I’m not going to break any more rules.’



‘How about you?’



‘Me what?’



‘Are YOU in love with him?’



Blinking wildly, Casey’s smile faded. Noah was too insightful for him to lie. ‘I think I may be,’ he finally replied. This made Noah groan and shake his head again; Casey shook his back and signed quickly, ‘Don’t worry! Really! It’s just… a crush. Really.’



‘Maybe. Just…’ Noah sighed again. ‘Be careful.’



Noah’s cautious, firm attitude on this matter sobered Casey’s good mood. He knew that it wasn’t a good idea to feel so strongly about Zeke--about Cal--ANY-one. It simply wasn’t fair, not being able to fall in love and show it to the world. Perhaps their being boys wouldn’t allow shows of affection in public anyway, but it still hurt. ‘Have you ever been in love?’ Casey asked. Noah went blank a moment before shaking his head. Casey frowned. ‘Never?’



‘No. It’s hard for someone like me to do that. There isn’t much TO love, really,’ Noah said, but after a moment he smiled. ‘I love you, but not romantically. That, I can do.’



Casey grinned and squeezed Noah’s hand, then signed, ‘I love you, too.’



Beaming, Noah took Casey’s hand back, stood and signed, ‘Hungry! Let’s go!’ Casey’s stomach growled in agreement; he nodded and followed Noah out the door to head downstairs.





~*~





It’d been agreed upon that the paint sessions needed to stay upstairs in the bedroom, rather than bringing everything to the parlor for everyone to ask, “What’re you doing?” Zeke wasn’t eager to let everyone know that he’d given Casey such a sweet, personalized gift, even if he was still trying to downplay the sentiments behind it. His want to ‘stay secret’ about it showed Casey otherwise, however.



With everyone else in the parlor, the two boys retreated to their room. Casey grabbed the pad of watercolor paper and opened it while Zeke readied the paints. “So, what first?” Casey asked.



“We’ll just practice brushstrokes and stuff. I’ll show you the basics,” Zeke said. He set up the small folding dinner tray he’d grabbed from the kitchen between them on the bed, then set up the paint tray, tubes and glass of water upon it. The brushes were taken from the box and lifted up to show Casey. “These are sable-hairs. Best ones you can buy--so don’t leave them in the water when you’re done,” he said.



“Sable-hair? Jesus, Zeke, that’s expen--”



“I’ll show you how to care for them when we’re done,” Zeke went on. He set the brushes down on the tray then chose one. “This is a size eight; best for small projects. We’ll start with that.”



Casey nodded and took it from Zeke’s hand. The slim, wooden handle felt slippery in his fingers. It was easy to see the money that had been put into this. “It’s nice,” Casey said, his heart fluttering.



“Here’s how to mix colors…”



The lesson began, with Zeke showing Casey how to create perfect pools of water and paints. The sound of his brush on the plastic tray was soft, almost musical; swirls of blue intertwined with red, creating a lovely lavender color. It nearly hypnotized Casey, especially when Zeke took his hand to help. This simple act felt more intimate than any lovemaking Casey had ever experienced.



“There, now--perfect. Now bring the brush to the paper and make one long line,” Zeke told him.



Casey nodded and followed the instruction, though when he brought the tool to the paper a large drop hit it and splattered. “Oh, damn…”



“Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out eventually,” Zeke said.



“’K.” Casey let the edge of the brush flatten against the page and he brought it down, arcing his fingers to allow a long line of purple to trace from the top to the bottom. While he continued on making lines, Zeke mixed more colors together, giving small instructions on how to do so. Casey’s work was nowhere near perfect, of course, but he was enjoying himself immensely.



More brushes were brought into their project, Zeke explaining each one. From a size twelve to flat-wash to oval, Casey let each detail sink in. Some were familiar, his own experience with painting being of some use. But the medium, the very base of this art--water--it flowed so much more easier, in an almost out-of-control manner. Casey had preferred oils, simply because they stayed-put for the most part. There was a level of control that Casey had never adapted to when it came to watercolors, but Zeke was more patient than he was. He’d HAVE to be, working with Casey as he was now.



As the lesson went on, Casey was finding it difficult in not imagining other things--other more interesting ideas on what to do with brushes and paint. As Zeke talked about only needing six colors in every paint-session, Casey began imagining Zeke shirtless then himself taking the brush from the paper, bringing it up and swirling it around Zeke’s ear… to his neck and down. He wondered what kinds of sounds Zeke made when his nipples were touched by something so stimulating as sable-hairs. Casey, of course, would writhe and moan, beg for more. This was getting out-of-hand; he was growing hard, his skin aching for intimate contact. Zeke finally noticed Casey’s vacant gaze and paused to frown. “You listening?” he asked.



“Oh. Yes.” Casey snapped out of it and coughed into his free hand. “Go on.”



“Mmkay,” Zeke said in an unsure tone.





~*~





“Not bad. Right?”



Zeke scrutinized Casey’s sort-of finished work and cocked an eyebrow. “For your first lesson? I guess,” he said.



“Oh, c’mon…” Casey looked at the page he’d just finished painting on and smiled. Perhaps the flower looked blobby and malformed, but it was his--his first lesson with Zeke, immortalized. It had taken all morning and another two hours after their lunch break, but it was done. “I should teach you oil painting. You’d love it.”



Zeke blinked wildly then stood up from the bed. “Let’s show you how to wash the brushes,” he said.



“No, really… you would.”



“How bad IS your memory, Casey?” Zeke said. His voice had grown cold, perking Casey’s ears. When the young man turned around, his arms were crossed and his expression was stern. “I can barely write my name with a pencil without it looking like a disaster. I told you weeks ago--painting isn’t my ‘thing’ anymore.”



“But… Zeke, seriously. With a little practice and learning how to adapt to what happened--”



“Jesus Christ.” Zeke huffed and snarled as he turned away. “You don’t listen. You never listen. I’m not going to have a miraculous recovery and start making Renoirs all over the fucking place.”



“But…”



“I’ve been in a good mood. I’ve actually had some fun, teaching you this stuff. Don’t ruin it. Please.”



Casey sat back and regarded Zeke with a cautious stare. ‘Let it go,’ he thought, then nodded. “Thanks… for the lesson. I liked it, too.”



“Good. Now c’mon, let’s clean the brushes then head down to dinner. It’s already four-thirty, Jesus,” Zeke said.



After collecting their things, Casey followed Zeke to the bathroom and to the sinks. The cleaning commenced, but he wasn’t paying much attention. Zeke didn’t seem to notice this time, simply instructing and going through the motions as a robot would.





~*~





The apologies were getting tiresome. Casey slipped his shirt on and turned to the man sitting on the bed with him, looking forlorn and confused. “It’s okay--”



“No, I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t,” the new guy, Terrence, said. It took everything Casey had not to roll his eyes.



“I know, and it’s okay. I’ve had lots of guys have that problem.”



“Yea?”



‘No, you ineffectual, impotent idiot--most men that pay top-dollar for my ass are able to FUCK it,’ Casey thought, but he put on his best smile and nodded. “Of course,” he said.



“Maybe… maybe I really don’t like men. You know? I thought I did, when I couldn’t make love to my wife, and…”



Since the man had fifteen minutes left to their session, Casey lay back and lit a cigarette; he had to pretend he was this guy’s psychologist, he supposed. Terrence went on and on; from his getting hard at the sight of two men kissing at a cabaret to buying erotic gay art in Paris, Casey listened on, bored out of his mind. When the clock’s big hand reached ten, Casey sat up with a smile. “Like I’d said, honestly… no worries.”



“All right. Do you, um… think…” Terrence bit his lip and blinked wildly. “…I’d be able to get my money… back?”



It was hard to keep smiling, when all Casey wanted to do was smack him upside the head and tell him to take his exit from the second floor window. “No; perhaps if you’d stopped ten minutes into it, but we’ve been here an hour,” he said.



“Yea. Okay.” Defeated, Terrence stood up and smiled shakily. “It was, um, nice to meet you…?”



“Mmm,” Casey said, making a point of not returning the sentiment. This one wasn’t coming back for more, after all. “Have a nice night.”



Terrence nodded and left. Once the door was closed behind him, Casey flopped back and groaned. What a disaster. He could only hope that the rest of the night would be better than this. Knowing that he needed to get downstairs (no clean-up of messy fluids needed), the boy left the room and padded back to the parlor.



The first thing he noticed was the noise; nothing that unusual, considering their ‘business’. It was coming from the fuck-parlor, of course. Loud moaning, bellows and--cheers? Casey looked around with a wry grin then approached Danny, who was standing with Clark. “Hey,” Casey said.



“Oh, hey there. Where’s that guy--Trenton?”



“Terrence. He was… later,” Casey said, knowing better than to make fun of a client in front of another. He smiled and nodded to the parlor. “SOME-one’s loud tonight.”



“Oh, it’s a sight,” Danny replied, chuckling. “I’ve never heard Jamie get so vocal. Everyone’s in there, it seems.”



“Jamie, eh?” Casey chuckled. Seeing as Clark was standing with Danny, he could rule him out as the one treating the boy to a wild romp. “Who’s he with?”



“Hah… Zeke.” Danny said.



As Clark chortled, Casey felt his insides go cold. “Zeke?” he finally said.



“Mmhmm. A new guy showed up, wanting a public scene ‘twixt two of our finest. A bossy top with a little, nelly bottom,” Danny explained. “Zeke, of course, fit the top’s bill. And like hell if Jamie ain’t a pretty-boy pillow-biter.”



“Yes. Of course,” Casey replied, his voice a whisper. He looked to the curtain and swallowed. Without thinking about it, he walked across the main parlor, drew the curtain back and looked inside.



There on the floor past the small ring of men watching on were Zeke and Jamie, both of them naked as jaybirds, Zeke kneeling on the floor, Jamie on his back. Casey stilled and stopped breathing. With Jamie yelping and crying out, “Fuck me!” over and over again, Casey’s heart seemed to die. Zeke had Jamie’s calves draped over his shoulders, his arms looped around Jamie’s thighs to keep him from slipping off of his lap. The heavy snickering coming from the couch behind them made Casey look up, finding a much older man swirling wine around in a glass.



“That’s it, boy. Give him a good reaming,” he said.



Casey darted his eyes back down to the floor. Jamie’s eyes were closed and he was yelping, looking like he was having the fuck of his life. And he probably was; with the way Zeke moved, the thrusting and shoving, Casey could only imagine how the boy felt. Casey’s knees turned inwards when Zeke took Jamie’s cock in his hand to begin jerking him off. When he dropped down to bite upon one of Jamie’s nipples, Casey’s throat clenched. He wasn’t aroused, however. All Casey wanted to do was push past the men, push Zeke off of Jamie and yell… yell what, Casey didn’t know. What he did know was that raging, barely-containable jealousy was eating him alive.



Just as Jamie began making distinct, almost-there cries, a hand slipped around Casey’s waist from behind. The boy jumped and turned quickly; the owner of the hand, Cal, chuckled. “Whoa! Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart,” he said.



“Oh… Cal.” Casey forced a grin onto his lips, though he still felt like bawling. After giving the man a light kiss, Casey sighed. “How are you?”



“Just fine, now that I’m here,” Cal replied. He glanced over Casey’s shoulder and smirked. “What goes on in there?”



Casey sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Voyeurism. Silly,” he said. This made Cal chuckle more.



“Ah, but voyeurism can be QUITE fun, you know.”



“Oh really? Says the one who always buys a private room,” Casey teased.



“That’s so I can have you all to myself, sweet boy,” Cal replied.



“Mmm.” Casey turned away from the curtain, more out of not wanting to see the goings-on than being closer to Cal. “Shall we get a drink and sit down? I’ve had a very disappointing night.”



“Oh no. That won’t do,” Cal said.



The two of them ventured over to the bar. After getting a glass of wine apiece, they settled onto one of the couches together. Casey sank against the cushions, turned and slid his legs over Cal’s lap. With his hands running over Casey’s knees and calves, Cal leaned in a little and asked, “So… what’s this ‘disappointment’?”



Casey made a sly grin. He could tell Cal. “My first of the night ended up a complete dud,” he said. With an exaggerated pout, he continued. “He didn’t want me.”



“What? ‘Didn’t want you’? What, was he psychotic?”



“No--impotent.”



“Ooh…” Cal hissed and snickered at the same time. “Let me guess: he was ‘experimenting’ and realized that he wasn’t into fucking a boy after all.”



“Mmm, you got it,” Casey replied past the rim of his glass.



“Well then, psychotic it is. You could turn any straight man queer, my dear,” Cal said in a smooth, devious voice. When his hand slid up to brush against Casey’s groin, the boy cooed and squirmed, which obviously pleased Cal to pieces. “Just this morning, I was imagining us walking on a beach at night… in Maui. Moonlight. Me getting you on your back on the sand and sucking your sweet tongue into my mouth.”



This brought Casey back to his senses. “Oh yea?”



“Mmm. I needed to throw the covers off and jerk off to calm myself down,” Cal said. “It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been with you, or if I were to see you every day. You’re all I can think about. It makes my board meetings difficult to deal with when I’ve got a raging erection going on.”



Casey laughed then settled in even more as Cal stroked the inside of his thigh. He parted his legs and fingered Cal’s collar. “Do you ever imagine me under the table… trying to keep your head straight as you talk about facts and figures with my mouth on your cock?”



“You little devil. How’d you know?”



“I must be a clairvoyant.”



“Mmm…” Cal hissed and squeezed Casey’s knee. “Sooo… as I said, voyeurism can be fun.”



“I suppose it can,” Casey replied.



“How would you like… letting others watch us?”



Casey looked to where Cal had nodded to; the fuck-parlor. Another small pang of jealousy bit him, but it passed when Casey realized that he could give Zeke an eyeful, as well. The idea of showing Zeke just how good Cal really was made Casey smile. “We HAVE done it before. We could do it again,” Casey finally replied.



Cal moved Casey’s legs off of his lap, stood and took Casey’s hand to help him up. They went to where Stephen stood at the bar; Cal brought a ten out from his pocket and handed it to the man. “The everything-rate with this pretty thing,” he said, nodding to Casey.



“Of course. Enjoy,” Stephen replied.



With a smile, Cal slipped his arm over Casey’s shoulders and led him past the curtain. Casey took a quick look to where Zeke and Jamie had been, finding them just finished. The men that had been looking on were still smiling but were now preoccupying themselves with their own boys. Zeke, still naked and glistening with sweat, looked up just as Casey tore his eyes away.



“Over here, by the fire,” Cal said.



“Mmm, our favorite spot.” Casey grinned, put a few pillows in place and settled in. Cal followed, lining their bodies together, facing each other.



“Of course. You’re most gorgeous in firelight… the shadows dancing on your face, over your pretty blues…” he brushed his fingertips over Casey’s brow, causing his eyelids to shudder closed. “So sweet and beautiful. That’s you.”



Casey sighed and put his leg over Cal’s to pull him in even closer. Their groins met; Casey felt the hard ridge of Cal’s erection press against his own. He moaned, deep in his chest… perhaps Zeke had heard it. All he wanted to do now was turn his head to see if Zeke was watching, but he didn’t dare. He licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes instead. “Do you want me, Cal?” he asked.



“’Always do.” Cal sniffed and moved in, putting their mouths together. It was a mere whisper of a kiss; his tongue emerged to lick along Casey’s upper lip. It prickled Casey’s skin to attention. The boy squirmed and licked back, tongues twirling together in the open. Hollow, airy groans escaped both of them as they went along. It wasn’t long before Casey felt Cal’s fingers worrying at his shirt buttons. He put his arm behind his back to give full-access. Once the shirt was pulled down his arms, Cal went to put Casey on his back.



“Wait…” Casey murmured. He put his head up to kiss Cal’s chin and said, “I want to sit up.”



“Be my little cowboy, hmm?” Cal said in a teasing, sly voice. He moved onto his back and made a long, soft sigh. “Get naked for me, baby-boy.”



A dreamy grin came over Casey’s lips as he moved to a kneel and began unbuttoning his pants. Once at the zipper, he finally dared a look to where Zeke was still sitting. The young man was lighting two cigarettes; Jamie was given one and Casey’s heart raced.



‘He only does that with ME,’ Casey’s thoughts raged. He fought for focus as he finally disrobed, the slacks getting tossed to the side. Looking back at Cal, he found that the man had already undone his pants, exposing his hard cock past the opened flaps. His shirt had remained as well; there was something so thrilling to Casey in being wholly nude while his partner was still dressed. Now that he was straddling Cal’s hips, Casey noticed some attentions being paid to them by the others… but not Zeke. He continued smoking and sitting up against the couch, Jamie moving to join him.



“Lookie here… Cal’s got himself a lay.”



Dennis’ voice made Casey look up, finding him sitting with Danny on the small loveseat across from where Zeke sat. Casey grinned. “That he does,” he said.



“What a good little whore you are,” Dennis added. “All it took was a man showing you what good sex was about and poof, slut.”



Casey sniffed and tried keeping his expression even. He looked down at Cal, who was rolling his eyes and smirking. It made him smirk back and bend down to kiss Cal, light and soft. Just as Cal braced their hips closer together to rub his cock against Casey’s, Dennis piped up again.



“’Didn’t have the price of a room on you, Calvin? Too bad.”



Cal continued ignoring the man, choosing to give Casey a gentle shove to his shoulder. Casey made a wicked smile and shuffled down to get between his legs. The hard shaft was put to Casey’s lips and he extended his tongue to the tip. A luxurious lick was placed over it, looping from back to front. Cal moaned and closed his eyes.



“I don’t know why you take that one all the time. I mean, he’s all right, but Danny here is much--”



“If you don’t shut up, I’ll have a talk with Stephen,” Cal blurted in interruption. Dennis chuckled.



“Aw, hey now, just teasing.”



Casey did his best to ignore the man; his eyes in slits, he took yet another look Zeke’s way. This time, he was watching on. Casey took advantage of it by sucking Cal inside entirely. He went too fast however, causing the head of Cal’s dick to graze against the back of his throat. A stomach-shuddering gag threatened him and he moved back quick with a cough. Cal looked down with a concerned gaze. “Are you all right?”



“Yes, I just… I’m all right,” Casey whispered.



“Went too fast, sweetheart,” Cal chided him playfully.



Casey smiled sheepishly, but before he could return to his ‘work’, he heard Dennis chortling under his breath again. This time, Casey looked right at him with a frown. “Is something funny?” he asked the man.



“You’re still not used to deep-throating?” Dennis asked. “Poor thing.”



Some of the other men chuckled along with him--at Casey’s expense, which made the boy feel a bite of insecurity. Cal narrowed his eyes and moved his head to look at Dennis. “I’d said, ‘shut up’.”



“Come now, we all have our fun. I can point out that lil’ angel-eyes needs a couple more lessons in how to please a man,” Dennis said.



The others oohed, some of them looking at each other warily. Cal, not seeming to be ‘in the mood’ at all anymore, sat up, did his buttons and zip then moved to a stand. Casey expected him to give Dennis a piece of his mind, but he strode past Dennis to the curtain and left the room. Casey went absolutely still--everyone’s eyes darted around the room as if they were trying hard not to look at him. Zeke cleared his throat and looked at Dennis.



“You’re gonna get into some shit over that.”



Casey swallowed hard at Zeke’s comment. Feeling overexposed, he took up his clothing and began to dress. Danny looked over and bit his lip. “Hon, it’s okay,” he said. It didn’t stop Casey from putting himself together and standing up to leave.



“Hey now, don’t get dressed on my account--”



“Shut up!” Casey outright yelled at Dennis. He was too hurt to care about protocol and manners when it came to clients. Dennis stilled and gave Casey a hard glare.



“What, boy?”



“Dennis? Can you come into the parlor for a moment?”



Everyone looked to the door where Stephen was now standing, the curtain open. Cal was next to him, arms crossed.



“Yes, yes…” Dennis said, wrenching himself away from Danny and grunting as he stood up. Danny sighed and gave Casey an apologetic expression.



“Don’t worry about it, Casey,” he said.



That was impossible at this point. Casey went to the door and stared at the floor. He felt Cal’s hands fall on his shoulders and rub them gently.



“Come on, darling. I got us a room,” he said. A kiss was placed on Casey’s forehead as they exited; Casey didn’t take one glance back.





~*~





Though Cal had been his usual-wonderful self, what had happened in the parlor still haunted Casey. He was once again staring downwards, watching the shower water swirl down the drain. It was frustrating, this thinking; it was more likely that the others would sympathize with Casey, rather than taunt him. What Dennis had done was not just rude, but incorrigible, and wouldn’t be tolerated… not if the look on Stephen’s face meant anything.



He’d laughed some things off with Cal, all while getting complimented left and right. “Let him say what he wants to,” Cal had said while kissing down Casey’s chest to his groin. Casey had found pleasure, but there were still heaping amounts of insecurity. First, the man who couldn’t get it up, then Dennis acting as he had…



Casey almost jumped when the shower next to his was switched on. He whirled his head around and found Jamie, who smiled warmly at him. “Sorry,” he said.



“No… problem,” Casey replied.



“Have you been downstairs yet?”



“No.”



“Ah--well, you’ll be pleased to know that Den got himself into a mess, doing what he did. He’s not banned or anything, but…” Jamie paused to scrub his face with his washcloth, then continued. “…He’s been told that under no uncertain terms is he supposed to act like he did.”



“Good,” Casey said. There was a moment of silence now while Jamie bent down to wash his groin and thighs vigorously. The jealousy Casey had felt lifting the curtain to see Jamie and Zeke returned. “You didn’t get that dirty, did you?”



“Hah! Zeke came buckets. He always does.”



Something snapped in Casey’s head, hard. “Always… does?”



“Yup,” Jamie said.



“As in--as in you’ve been with him before?”



Jamie looked up and shrugged. “Yea. Once or twice. Why?”



“I just didn’t… I dunno,” Casey haltingly replied.



“It happens sometimes. Well wait, you should know--you and I ended up together with Clark that time. And didn’t you go up with Noah with those two guys last week?”



“Yes, but we didn’t… and me and him didn’t really DO anything. Some kissing, touching and stuff, but…”



“I say be prepared,” Jamie said with amusement. “A lot of johns just wanna watch two boys go all the way. The only one I haven’t been with like that is Noah.”



Casey nodded and looked away. Even if this had been a ho-hum, casual occurrence, it still didn’t erase the frustration Casey felt. It wasn’t shock about the sex that went between them; a good guess could be taken on that. Yet Zeke with a client was one thing. Zeke with one of them? Casey stared at Jamie when the boy closed his eyes to run his head under the water. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel fair.



“Sooo--how was your Cal?” Jamie asked, eyes still closed and with a grin on his lips.



“Oh. Good… we, um--”



“Hey guys.”



Both boys turned to the doorway; Zeke was walking in and tossing a towel on one of the seats. Casey swallowed as he stepped to the showerhead on the other side of Jamie--not his. He curled his toes into the wet tiles and turned away, feeling an irrational anger swell in his chest.



“Mr. Tyler,” Jamie said.



Zeke turned on the water and held his hand out to Jamie. “Lemmee grab your soap a sec--left mine in the room.”



“Huh? You came for a shower, and you forgot your soap?” Jamie chuckled and shook his head, but he handed over the bar to him anyway. “Don’t get any of your cute lil’ curlies all over it like you did the LAST time.”



‘I would’ve given him mine,’ Casey thought. He felt stupid, which of course led to more frustration. Not wanting to be here anymore, Casey made one last, quick rinse and shut the water off.



“Case, Stephen wants a chat when you go back down,” Zeke said.



Casey blinked wildly as he went over to his towel. “Oh. Okay.” He dried his hair and paused a moment, all to watch Zeke turn back to the water and start humming. Jamie giggled and cleared his throat.



“…But my legs ain't bowed and my cheeks ain't tanned…”



Zeke chuckled. “I'm the cowboy who never saw a cow, never roped a steer 'cause I don't know how…”



“I sure ain't fixin' to start in now…”



“Yippee i oh ti-ay, yippee i oh ti-ay,” they both sang in unison, though ‘singing’ was definitely up-for-grabs. Casey frowned.



“Oh… kay,” he said in a sarcastic drawl.



“Sing with us,” Jamie said with a broad smile.



“Sing what? I don’t know that song,” Casey replied; he almost winced at how cold he sounded, but Zeke didn’t seem to notice as he chuckled.



“’The hell have you been? Bing Crosby, doofus,” he said.



This made Casey snarl. Before he could help it, he scoffed, said, “Yes, you’re so much better than I am, I know,” and wrapped the towel around his waist to leave.



“What was that about?” Casey heard Zeke ask Jamie before he was out of earshot. “Just teasing…”



“He had a rough night.”



Casey sniffed hard and got to the bedroom quickly, shut the door and sat down on his bed in a heap. There was no reason to be so frustrated, so angry, so jealous, but he was. It made him want to crawl under the covers and fight for sleep, but Stephen needed to ‘talk’ (again), and there was over an hour left until closing time.





~*~





It’d been the usual. ‘Don’t worry, I handled it’, ‘He’s sorry for being rude, especially since he was annoying not just you but a customer’, ‘He’s always been a pain to Cal, mostly in jest…’ Casey didn’t care. He’d talked with Stephen with a forced smile, saying that it was all right, he was fine, whatever else then joined the group in the parlor. He’d lucked in being left alone, minus Arthur and one of the Johns joining him on the couch; they’d ended up schmoozing with Casey for just over a minute before talking business around him, so Casey had spent the last hour sitting with a cherry-vanilla soda, bored out of his mind.



He’d made it to the bedroom first. The only light coming in was from under the door, Casey not bothering to wait for Zeke to come upstairs. ‘Let him get dressed in the dark, I don’t care,’ Casey thought with ridiculous malice. Knowing Zeke, he’d probably blunder in, turn on the light and have a few packs of cigarettes before bed, not caring if his roommate was trying to sleep.



Casey cringed. He was being unfair. Before he could rethink things, however, he heard the door creak open and saw a slat of light on the wall he was facing. His breath halted and he stayed still.



“Casey?” came Zeke’s whispering voice. Casey didn’t answer. A swallow rolled down his throat as the glow from the hallway disappeared and he heard Zeke shuffling in.



Instead of flicking the light-switch, Zeke left it off and went to the bureau. Casey could tell that he was trying to be quiet, to not wake him. It made Casey listen closely; shoes were shucked first, then socks. The springs of Zeke’s bed squeaked… shirt, slacks… the sound of pajama-pants being tied on. Sheets were pulled back, more creaking springs then a grunt and sigh.



Why everything had to be so unfair all the time, Casey didn’t know. He stayed awake for a long time; if Zeke’s lack of snoring said anything, he hadn’t gone right to sleep, either.





~*~





‘Why are you sulking?’



Casey gave Noah a blank expression. After wrapping his scarf around his neck, he signed back. ‘I’m not sulking.’



‘Sure you aren’t,’ Noah replied. He glanced around the room and sat down next to Casey. ‘You looked like your dog died all through breakfast. And I’ve never seen you move so slow. Sundays are supposed to be fun, but you’re acting like we’re going to a funeral.’



The fact that Casey wanted nothing more than to sign, ‘Back off and leave me alone!’ made him feel even worse. Noah didn’t deserve that sort of reaction, much like Zeke not deserving the silent treatment he was giving him. Casey was willing and able to treat Noah better, however. With a sigh, he tried to smile. ‘It’s nothing, really. I’m just not in my right head.’



‘Is it about Dennis? You KNOW that everyone here thinks he was a jerk for what he did.’



‘No, no,’ Casey said, chuckling as he signed. ‘I could care less about him.’



‘Then what?’ Noah asked.



A pause followed, Casey not knowing how to answer. Being as insightful as Noah was wasn’t needed to see that Casey was moody; others had probably noticed, and it made Casey feel exposed and cold. Just as he was about to form some bull response--anything to thwart concern and further questioning, Zeke entered the parlor, shoving his gloves on. It made Casey realize what gloves and hat he had put on; he stared Zeke’s way and swallowed, and of course, Noah noticed.



‘I see,’ Noah said.



Casey didn’t bother saying anything else.



“Danny and James, go ahead,” Stephen called.



The two boys got up from the piano bench and went to the exit, chatting excitedly about their plans for the day. Casey stared down into his lap, wondering what to do. Was he going to find something fun to do, or say that he wanted to go off on his own? ‘Can’t do that, remember?’ he thought, recalling the new rules about pairing up. .



“Hey.”



Great. Casey looked up to see Zeke standing in front of him. “Hi.”



“What did you guys wanna do today?” Zeke asked.



“Dunno,” Casey replied, shrugging.



“We could go out for coffee, at least. I vote for ‘Noir et Blanc’, of course,” Zeke said with a small, trying smile.



“Maybe.”



“Ask Noah what he wants to do.”



Before Casey had the chance to ask, Jamie and Henry’s names were called. Noah was looking between Stephen and the two boys slinging bags over their shoulders. After taking a quick glance Casey’s way, he stood up and went over to the pair. Casey stilled and watched on as Noah pointed to Jamie, then himself.



“Wanna come with us? Yea, sure! We’re going to the lib… oh, you, um…” Jamie then mimed reading a book, and Noah nodded. “Okay. Is it okay, Stephen?”



Stephen smiled. “Go on ahead, boys.”



Noah buttoned his coat and turned to Casey; his grin was wide and telling as he waved goodbye.





~*~





‘Noir et Blanc’ it was, more for the fact that Casey didn’t have the brain power to discuss other options. He sat at a table with his hot cocoa while Zeke waited for his oh-so-special, complicated coffee drink. The spoon in Casey’s mug was twirled absently, making the light foam on the top spin and drag around the edges. It made Casey feel blank and tired… he didn’t even want it, but he’d look stupid, sitting with Zeke with nothing of his own to drink.



After another long minute, Zeke arrived, steamy mug in tow. He sat across from Casey, sipped and put it down. “’Feels good on a cold day,” he said.



“Yea.”



“I’d get a sandwich too, but… can’t justify that with the huge breakfast we had,” Zeke said. The smile on his face was tiny and forced, obviously asking for Casey to smile back. Casey didn’t even try, choosing to keep staring at his spoon. After a full minute of silence, Zeke groaned. “What is it?”



“What’s what?” Casey replied.



“You must have gotten up pretty damned early this morning--you were gone when I woke up.”



“So?”



“Then you shrugged when I’d said ‘good morning’ at the breakfast table. You’re the morning person out of all of us, so forgive me if I find it weird,” Zeke said. Another shrug was given to Zeke, which made him scoff and roll his eyes. “So what’s… going… on?”



“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m just in a mood,” Casey said.



“I can see that.”



“Yea, and can’t I wake up on the wrong side of the bed from time-to-time? Lord knows YOU do that, constantly.” Once again, Casey’s voice had a snap to it. He regretted it when Zeke blinked wildly, looking hurt and confused.



“Okay… what did I do? Seriously, what?” he asked.



Casey finally brought his drink up to sip, which offered him a moment to think. His actions and behavior were too telling to avoid this any longer. The cocoa was halfway gone when he finally put it down and crossed his arms. “Just… lots of things set me off last night.”



“Dennis?”



“Sure.”



“What, do you think I agree with what he did, or something? ‘Think I laughed?” Zeke asked. He scoffed and shook his head. “Look, everyone there knows that Dennis tries to get on Cal’s nerves. If Dennis had been with you and Cal had been with Danny, he would’ve said the same shit. Nothing that happened had anything to do with you.”



Casey sighed with frustration. “That ain’t it.”



“Then what, for god’s sake?”



“I… I can’t talk about it. It’s stupid, and we’re not in private anyway,” Casey said.



“Then let’s go somewhere private.”



Casey went to protest, but Zeke got up and went back to the counter for a take-out cup. There didn’t seem to be any way to avoid this, Casey figured. Not wanting to bother with carrying his cocoa around the city, Casey finished half of it and stood up to get his coat on. Could he make an escape--leave before Zeke could come back?



“Let’s go.”



Damn those baristas, being so quick. Casey tied his scarf on and led the way back outside. The only consolation was that while it was still chilled, there were no ice-cold, whipping winds cutting into their skin. Casey lit a cigarette and kept walking, going soldier-like. Zeke followed with ease, going right alongside him. “Want to go to the park?” Zeke asked.



“Real private.”



“Better than a busy café. Ain’t like it’s that busy in winter, anyway.”



“Whatever.”





~*~





Even if Casey wasn’t in the mood to eat, the hot nuts cart they’d come across had coconut once again. Casey hadn’t gone to stop, but Zeke had. The fact that he bought Casey a bag made the boy want to cry.



There was no use in being angry anymore. Zeke could have ditched Casey to do something fun, instead of watching him mope around with no explanations as to why. Instead, he managed to find a more private, enclosed spot in the park. They were surrounded by large bushes which overlooked a large patch of grass. Now sitting on a bench, Casey took slow, dainty bites of his coconut while leaning on his thighs, staring at his feet.



“So… you gonna talk to me?”



Zeke’s question made Casey furrow his brow. He took a look around, seeing only a couple walking their dog in the distance. He couldn’t seem to find any words. “I… dunno,” was all he could say.



“It’s something to do with me, though, right? If it isn’t that you think I somehow found Dennis’ shit funny, then…” Zeke stopped and regarded Casey carefully. “It’s Jamie. Isn’t it.”



It was more a statement of fact than a question. Casey couldn’t hide it any longer. “Yes,” he said.



“Casey, Jesus…”



“What?”



“You can’t do this, okay? What is it--you’re all wrapped-up in Cal’s affections, now you’re gonna be jealous over what I HAD to do?”



“You didn’t look like you were complaining about it,” Casey snapped.



“Yea, I liked it. Even if I didn’t, I’d have to pretend that I did,” Zeke said. “What are you expecting in this line of work? We fuck the clients and sometimes fuck each other when the clients want us to.”



“I know, I know. Okay?” Casey said in a rush.



“So stop it. Right now… I’m serious, it’ll get you nowhere.”



“A callous answer, as always.”



“No, a realistic one, Casey. Because that’s what we have to be in this--realistic. Nobody’s gonna fall in love and get married, have kids, whatever else. You’re gonna see every single one of us fucking with every single one of us, and that’s it,” Zeke said. “After all, you and Cal came into the fuck-room yourselves. What would you have had me do? Run over, kick him aside and yell, ‘He’s mine!’?”



Casey finally looked up at him with a pensive expression. “Did you want to?”



“Oh, fuck’s sake…” Zeke scoffed and made an angry frown. “No. Jesus, I find distance, okay? I know that when you’re with Cal or whoever-fucking-else, it means absolutely nothing.”



“Wait, ‘it means nothing’? You know how I feel about Cal, more than anyone else. You’re gonna say that you didn’t have just one modicum of jealousy?”



“Here’s a better question: did you want me to be jealous?”



“Yes,” Casey replied outright. This made Zeke pause and stare at Casey with an incredulous look.



“So THAT’S why you two didn’t get a room. You wanted to show off,” he said.



Even if it was true, Casey felt an angry fire get stoked deep in his belly. “You--no! HE’S the one who wanted to be watched!”



“So it was him, then. He wanted to show you off as some kind of prize. Fuck knows that he hates my guts and knows you’re into me.”



“I--shut up!”



“You are, though, a bit too much.”



“And you’re into me, too!” Casey spat.



A tense silence fell, both of them giving each other deep, searching stares. Zeke finally nodded a little and smacked his lips. “I saw you watching me while you two fucked around. You wanted me to watch, to get just as jealous as you were,” he said.



“Yea? So what if I did?” Casey admitted. Feeling flustered, he stood up, faced Zeke and crossed his arms. “There, I admit it! I admit that when I saw you and Jamie, I felt sick! I wanted to run in and start yelling at you two to stop it, because it hurt… it hurt that it wasn’t me you were fucking. There, happy??”



“God. You’re one huge pile of issues.”



“And you want ME, too.”



“Yea? Maybe I do,” Zeke said. This stopped Casey cold, especially when Zeke lit a cigarette and blew a long line of smoke towards him. Even after it dissipated into the air, Casey felt encased in something solid, holding him still. “Maybe I do. But seeing you like this, watching you act this way? Major turn-off, Casey. You want constant validation, you want me and everyone else to be jealous that you’re with other guys when you’re paid to be with them. It’s ridiculous. We’re supposed to be professionals who don’t let this shit get in the way. If you can’t do that… maybe you should leave. Maybe Cal would be good for you, I dunno.”



“You…” Casey fought to find his voice through the shock. “You want me to leave?”



Judging by the instantly-furious look on Zeke’s face, this was the worst thing Casey could have replied with. Zeke stood up and leaned down to Casey’s eye-level. “YOU want to leave, Casey. Don’t put your feelings and wants on me. That pisses me off when people do that.”



“So you DON’T want me to leave--”



“No, I want you to be fucking happy, you idiot!” Zeke practically yelled. “If I could turn back time for you, you’d be selling your art like hotcakes and living it up in the Hamptons, richer than god and not worrying about some sicko getting in your ass for cash! But I can’t DO that, can I? Can’t do it for you, for myself, for anyone-the-fuck else. So it’s either you get a little cold when it comes to what we all do or you LEAVE. And really, for Christ’s sake…” Zeke put his head up to look at the sky and let out a derisive chuckle. “…This game you’re playing, making out like I’m all you want when you’ve got a key in my lockbox… the fuck, Casey? Who’d you choose, me or Cal?”



“I… I can’t choose, Jesus! We’re working together and he’s a job--”



“Oh, suddenly you’re about the ethics of our profession? You’re trying to have it a million different ways. One second you’re having a tantrum over me having to screw Jamie, the next you’re in love with Cal and the next you have to be professional about it. God, you’re a constant contradiction.” Zeke shook his head and sat back down on the bench. His eyes were turned away from the boy now. “Fine, don’t leave. But don’t put all these fucking expectations on you and me. If you wanna fuck for money, fuck for money. And that’s it. There’s no romance involved in what we do. If you can’t accept that, then…”



The young man’s words drifted off into nowhere. Neither of them moved or said anything for a full two minutes. Casey contemplated everything Zeke had said; he knew he was right, but he still felt hollow. He finally sat down in a heap and brought his legs up. With his arms wrapped around them to hold himself in, Casey sighed and finally found what at least felt like the right words to say. “It’s hard. That’s all. Is it a crime that I’m emotional sometimes? I mean, like I’d said a few weeks ago… we’re not selling something meaningless. We’ll selling our bodies and emotions. If someone were to tell me to say ‘I love you’ while they reamed me, I’d have to say it. It doesn’t mean that I’d mean it, but the idea that I’d have to pretend…” Casey stopped to take a deep breath, realizing that he felt winded, then continued. “…Maybe I’d like to play make-believe with something else. Something I want.”



“Okay. Make-believe, then.”



“Make-believe what?”



The sudden laugh Zeke made wasn’t spiteful--a bit annoyed perhaps, especially with the rolling eyes accompanying it, but his smile was real. “Pretend something. Tell me a story about yourself,” he said.



Casey stared at him a moment, then looked away. “Anything?”



“Anything. I’ll do my best to pretend right back. No promises, though.”



“Okay. Well, um…” Casey felt silly; he had nothing to lose, however. “It was nice… waking up next to you this morning.”



Zeke looked at Casey through the corner of his eye. “Yea?”



“Mmhmm,” Casey hummed. He leaned forward and his knees turned inwards as he scuffed his shoes in slow-motion on the pebbled ground below. “It was very special….what I’ve wanted for a long, long time.”



“Yea. It was nice,” Zeke said.



Casey smiled and moved closer. Without making it look suspicious, he leaned on Zeke’s arm and sighed. “Do you think I’m beautiful?” he asked.



“’Course I do,” Zeke replied. “What about me?”



“God, yes,” Casey said with a giggle. “Maybe after we get home… we could spend the rest of the day in bed.”



“Mmm, yea. I AM tired.”



Casey pouted and jabbed Zeke’s side roughly. It caused the young man to yelp and start chuckling. “You’re ruining it,” Casey said.



“Sorry. I was just kidding.” Zeke then looped an arm around Casey’s shoulders and held him closer. It was a daring, dangerous move, considering their being out in the open, but Casey found himself not caring. Zeke was warm, the solid muscles of his body softening to let Casey sink in. “I could make love to you for hours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”



“Yes.”



“Yea,” Zeke said. His fingers massaged Casey’s arm. “I’m a lot better than that jerk… what’s his name, Carl?”



Casey smirked; he wasn’t the only one pretending, was he? “I think it’s… Chris? I don’t recall.”



“Mmm,” Zeke hummed, then put his lips to the top of Casey’s head to kiss. “Wanna head home early?”



“Yea. Bed.”



“I was thinking more about dragging out the paints and having another lesson.”



Casey tried hard to keep himself from making a sad groan. ‘Back to reality…’ “Sure.”



Zeke nodded; before he let Casey go, he gave him another kiss on his head and said, “Sorry, angel-eyes.” Casey accepted it. He had to.





~*~





“I said to paint a bunch of grapes.”



“I did.”



Zeke scrutinized the page before him and cocked an eyebrow. “Those are grapes? They’re red,” he said.



“Ugh… yea? They come in red. They’re better than green or purple, in my hallowed opinion,” Casey replied. “For an artist, you really don’t think beyond the box, do you?”



“Oh, whatever,” Zeke said with a smile. He then nodded and shrugged. “I guess they came out good, then. Wanna snag something for a still-life to work on? Helen might let us grab a fruit bowl.”



After working on this project for over two hours, Casey was too tired to do much else. If it had been his medium, he could have done it for much longer, but the constant concentration was winding him. “Tomorrow, maybe,” he said. He picked up the brushes, the paint tray and stood. “Done for the day, methinks. I’ll go clean these guys.”



“Mmkay,” Zeke said.



Casey left Zeke to help cap off the tubes of paint and headed to the bathroom. No one had returned home yet, leaving the house in silence, besides the music coming from the main parlor where Sam and Oscar were playing cards. Three floors up made it muted and pleasant. After the hubbub of another week spent in fun and frivolity, it was nice to have. That all changed when he finished washing and shut off the tap; the loud voices of Danny, Henry and Jamie were coming upstairs. Casey sighed, put the brushes in the cup and exited. The three boys were now walking down the hallway; upon seeing Casey, they smiled.



“When did YOU get back?” Danny asked.



“’Couple hours ago.”



“Ugh, lame… hey.” Danny motioned to the cup. “You been painting?”



“Yea. Me and Zeke decided…”



“Ooh, you and Zeke,” Henry said with a coo. “Body-painting?”



As the boys laughed, Casey rolled his eyes. “Don’t we fuck around enough? Jesus,” he said.



“Whatever. Noah and James are downstairs; wanna snag Zeke and head down for some wine?” Henry asked.



“Sure,” Casey said.





~*~





While no one had gone wild with the wine, Casey was pleasantly light-headed as he climbed into bed. The bedding and pillowcases were cool, stimulating his skin. Helen had just placed them on the bed it seemed, for they smelled fresh and clean. Casey smiled and smacked his lips, ready for a night of dreaming.



Zeke walked in, shutting the door behind him. He made a heavy yawn, shut off the lamp and went to his bed, where he slipped under the covers. “That was fun,” he said.



“I’ll never look at another banana the same way again.” Casey giggled. “Danny was talented.”



“No. He was drunk.”



Casey giggled profusely. “Well… g’night.”



“Casey?”



“Mmm?”



“You understand… what we did in the park, that was just pretending.”



As if reminders were needed. Casey had come to accept things, not that he’d truly gone against them. It’d been a weak, sad moment in time that he was now over. “Yes, Zeke. No worries,” he replied.



“Okay.” There was the sound of shuffling, a grunt… “Can I have a turn… fantasizing?”



“Fantasizing what?”



Another silence fell before Casey heard Zeke make a shaky sigh. “You were right, okay?”



“About… what?” Casey asked.



“When you and Cal came in the room last night. I watched,” Zeke said. “I imagined things.”



Casey’s attention was ensnared completely, now. Tension curled in the muscles of his arms as he gripped the pillow. “Y-Yea?”



“I’m not gonna come over there. I did that one time--a mistake, one I liked making, but…” Zeke took a deep, hissing breath through his nose. “…We can’t, and you know that, right?”



“Yes.”



“Good,” Zeke said. “Just know that I really, really want to.”



The admittance made Casey part his lips. The bottom one became dry with his quick breathing; he moistened it with his tongue. “I… really want you to… too,” he finally replied. He then heard a distinct noise come from Zeke’s throat and the small, soft shuffle of sheets. “Are you… are you touching yourself?”



Another hiss. “You’re on your back--I’m over you, licking your lips,” Zeke said in a murmur. “We’re both naked and rubbing our cocks together. Fuck, I’m so hard…”



“Oh Je…Jesus,” Casey stammered. Seeing as Zeke was taking liberties with his body, Casey figured that fair was fair--for once--and he, too, reached into his pajama pants to start stroking his hardening shaft.



“Roll your hips up, Casey,” Zeke said. It wasn’t so much a command, but part of the fantasy going on in his head. Casey did so anyway, going in small circles upwards. “Y-Yea,” Zeke said in a breath.



“I wanna suck your cock. LOVE your cock,” Casey said. His eyes stung, feeling hot.



“It loves you.”



Casey chuckled and let his eyelids flutter closed as he pulled back the sheet, got on his back and spread his legs. He wanted so badly to turn on the light, to let Zeke watch him… to watch Zeke, but he didn’t dare. The darkness felt safe, as if holding them both back for doing something they’d regret later on. It’d be ecstasy in-the-moment, painful later. This release needed to be enough. The imaginings and delirious-delight--just getting to do this in the same room was enough for Casey to jerk faster, moan and spill. Hot-wet splashed over his hand and belly; he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to alert anyone to the goings-on. When he finally settled down, his knees were trembling all on their own. It left him wondering how real sex with Zeke was. ‘I’d fucking explode,’ he thought. That was when he heard Zeke’s breathing and the small slapping noises quicken. Casey rolled on his side, not caring that his come trickled down to the sheets. Let the housekeepers gossip all they wanted. His leg slid over the other, foot dangling over the edge of the bed. “Fuck me,” he said into the darkness. The reply of a shaky groan made Casey squirm. “Hold me close and fuck me.”



“Sh-Shit!” Zeke exclaimed before a series of hollow groans filled the air. It wasn’t loud enough to attract attention, but Casey felt ready for another go in listening to the frenzied slapping go slippery.



Everything stopped, and Casey listened to the small leftover sounds Zeke made. They disappeared with Zeke clearing his throat. “Thanks… for that,” he said.



“Anytime,” Casey bashfully replied.



“Yea.”



Casey saw the silhouette of Zeke’s arm reach to the bedside table. Before he could hide, Zeke’s lighter flared on, illuminating the room a few moments. Smoke filled the air. “Want one?” Zeke asked.



“Got my own,” Casey replied. Something post-coital WAS in order, he figured. As romantic and satisfying as it’d be, getting Zeke to come over with a lit cigarette and possible pillow-talk, Casey knew better. It was enough that he could make out the sheen of Zeke’s seed on his belly in the faint, orange glow.



“That was just fantasy,” Zeke said.



“Yes, Zeke. I know.”



“But…”



Casey frowned at the pause. “But what?”



“What if…” Zeke turned on his side and propped his head up on his hand. “…We could just keep pretending, without really saying anything to anyone about it.”



This ‘offer’ made Casey go numb. “They’d… notice, after a while. I think.”



“Yea. Maybe you’re right.”



“Zeke?”



“Yea?”



Casey fingered a corner of his pillowcase absently. He had to ask. “Do you love me?”



“Would it make any difference if I did?”



“Don’t be cold. Not now.”



“Yes, Casey. I do.” Zeke grabbed one of his discarded socks from the floor and swiped his belly with it. While Casey processed Zeke’s answer, the older boy lay back, took one last drag and snuffed the cigarette out. He sighed and put the covers over himself. “But it doesn’t really matter, okay?”



“I’d say it does,” Casey softly replied. “I love you, too.”



“Okay.”



It didn’t matter if Zeke was giving off the usual nonchalant attitude. Despite the small chill in the air, Casey felt too warm for blankets. ‘He loves me,’ he thought.



“Do you love Cal?” Zeke asked. The question made Casey part his lips, but his voice couldn’t be found. After the silence had dragged on for almost a minute, Zeke sniffed hard. “G’night.”



Casey didn’t bother saying anything. He went to sleep, confused and unsettled--but his heart still fluttered hard with excitement.





~*~





While Casey couldn’t recall what he’d dreamed about, he knew that his head had been busy--racing, all throughout the night. His eyes snapped open at five-thirty and stayed open, refusing to close. The house was deadly silent.



After a few deep yawns, Casey sat up in bed and swung his legs over the edge. It was still dark, the small amount of light from the window useless. A shower would have been nice, but Casey’s stomach was taking precedence, rumbling with hunger. It was way too early for breakfast, but nothing said he couldn’t go downstairs to see if the girls would take pity on him and let him have something to eat.



Casey slipped a shirt on, grabbed his robe and went to the door, making sure he was quiet as to not wake Zeke. The dim light of the lamps lining the halls stung his eyes for a few seconds before they adjusted, allowing Casey to make his way to the stairs and head down. Another yawn contorted his face, stretching it tight. He wasn’t big on coffee, but he’d need some today.



He’d reached the bottom floor when he heard voices. Casey frowned; someone else had woken up, but who? Stephen usually slept until at least six. In getting closer to the parlor, however, he heard the man speaking to someone behind the closed door of his office. Casey knew better than to snoop, but his curiosity got the best of him. He tiptoed into the parlor, sneaked to the small hallway leading to the office and tucked himself behind a tall plant to listen in.



“--promise anything. If something were to happen, they’ve been instructed to run to safety however they can.”



“They’d have a safe place.”



“Well, pardon me saying that it’s not what I’d call ‘safe’.”



A long sigh. “We know how you spoil the boys. What you forget is that they’re simply high-priced whores,” someone said. “We don’t have to allow this, Stephen. The only reason it IS allowed is that you pay on time and have the right connections.”



“This ain’t all up to you,” another man spoke.



“I make good money. Cold, hard cash that buys me the rights to extras. I’ve been told how many times that I’m the most valuable ‘client’ of yours?” Stephen replied. “I’m not trying to throw my weight around, or pull rank; but I HAVE been in this business for well over five years. Mr. Bianchi and I have been good friends for much longer than that and have an excellent partnership.”



“He knows that, but this place is still his investment. He owns this block, but he still needs to answer to higher-ups.” The man speaking lowered his voice, but Casey could still hear. “His boss is startin’ to come down hard, especially with the new commissioner comin’ in. We’ve been lucky with the one we’ve had, bein’ so lenient, takin’ bribes. This one ain’t inclined from what we know.”



“All it’ll take is one of your sweethearts leaving and ratting us out.”



Stephen made an audible groan; he sounded stressed, which worried Casey further. “You don’t know my boys. They wouldn’t do anything like that… they know they’re safe here, that they’re taken care of and--”



“They’re queer for money, Steve. Face it.”



“Tony…”



“’Just want their names, to keep on file. That’s all.”



Fear crept into Casey’s veins. He recalled Noah’s explanations, what he knew about these men Stephen dealt with, along with the warning: ‘A boy who’d worked here last year once tried sneaking around the office to find out. Got in trouble for it.’ It almost made Casey scurry off to the kitchen and pretend nothing had happened, but he was frozen to the spot.



“If I give them--no collections. If something happens, let them go.”



“We can’t promise that, Steve. They know too much… and they’re valuable,” a man replied. “We need the names.”



A small moment of silence followed, until Casey heard rustling of papers. “Daniel Prescott, age twenty. He’s from Queens, as far as I know.”



“Go on.”



“Noah--he’s unknown. He doesn’t know his last name, or where he’s from.”



“Deaf-and-dumb one, right?”



The chuckling made Casey snarl, but Stephen continued. “Ezekiel Thompson, age nineteen, from Iowa originally.”



‘Huh?’ Casey thought. He now remembered--Danny’s last name wasn’t Prescott, but Preston.



“Casey Conrad, eighteen--from upstate.”



“All right, hold on, Stephen,” a man said. “Do you have actual addresses? Iowa’s huge.”



“This is all I know. We’re not talking about rich college boys, here,” Stephen replied.



“A’right, then. Go on.”



The rest of the names, all given wrong, were listed off. When they reached the last (“James Sewell… born in England, but he was an orphan as well,”), the sound of creaking chairs sounded off. Realizing the danger, Casey backed away, rounded the corner and sped off to the hall. He lucked in not coming across anyone; the boys were still asleep, along with the guards. In getting to the stairs, he heard the women in the kitchen at the end of the hall talking and laughing, clanging pots and pans… the smell of coffee and food filled the air, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.





~*~





“Are you a fucking idiot?”



“Zeke--”



“Are you?”



Casey crossed his arms and stared down at the floor, where Zeke had one shoe on, one shoe off. He’d stopped halfway through tying them on to look at Casey with an incredulous, almost-angry stare. “I got curious. That’s all,” Casey softly replied.



Shaking his head, Zeke bent down and continued tying his shoes, a bit more vehemently than before. “Curiosity like that can get you in serious trouble,” Zeke said.



“I know. Noah told me.”



“Wait, what--Noah told you what?”



“He said… he saw a few of those guys leaving one day, and he told me who they were.”



“How would he know?”



‘Oh, fuck…’ To reveal how Noah knew would involve letting Zeke know that he could lip-read. “He just… knew. Somehow. Anyone can tell that they’re mobsters, really,” Casey managed to lie. “He said that someone had gotten in trouble for sneaking around.”



“Yea. That ‘someone’ ain’t here anymore.”



“Who was it?”



“Flash-in-the-pan kid. Stayed all of a week before he was kicked out.”



Casey blinked fast. “For snooping?”



“No. That was a big count against him, but he just didn’t like fucking,” Zeke said. “He thought he’d be able to do it, but… never mind that. He was an idiot. YOU aren’t, so why the fuck did you sneak around Stephen’s office like that?”



“I just did, that’s all. And I figured I’d let you know what was going on,” Casey defiantly replied. Zeke sighed, finished the last lace and sat back. He lit a cigarette and stared off into space; concerned, Casey cleared his throat. “Zeke… what were they talking about, the whole… ‘collections’ thing?”



“Take a wild guess.”



“I… just tell me.”



Zeke brought his hand up to his cheek and rubbed it slowly. “You’ve known for a while that the mob runs this place--or at least owns it. Stephen answers to them, has good, solid connections. Still, if he got busted, what do you think would happen to us?”



“We’d have to leave.”



“Think harder.”



Casey didn’t like to think about it, but he shrugged and replied, “Well, we’d get arrested. Or if we got away, we’d have to live on the streets again.”



“What else?” Zeke asked in a voice that was almost taunt-like, making Casey feel stupid.



“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”



With a tired-sounding sigh, Zeke leaned onto his thighs. “Think about it--the mob runs this block. Stephen rents this place, basically, right? He makes these guys a looot of fucking money with our asses. So tonight, let’s say this place gets busted by an army of cops. Three of us get arrested, four of us get away. Which group do you wanna be in?”



“Um… getting away? What the hell, stop being so mysterious…”



“Jail looks good to what’ll happen when the mob catches up with any one of us. And it’s ninety-eight-point nine assured that they WOULD. They’d find us staying at some motel, take us back to their place and re-employ us. ‘Think you’d get to tell ‘em no?” Zeke made a wry grin and shook his head. “Like I’ve always said, Stephen’s a saint. He treats us better than any pimp this side of the country. We’re not the only boy-whorehouse in the city. Stephen may as well be running the Waldorf-Astoria, compared with the other ones.”



Casey’s knees moved inwards. “Why? What happens at the… others?”



“Well… you know how the mob works. Blackmail’s one of their biggest tools, right? Just imagine you owe them money.”



“No thanks.”



Zeke made a lone chuckle. “Yea, well--you do. Let’s say ten-grand, and you don’t have a red cent to pay ‘em,” he said. “They come up with an easy solution. Just work it off. Fuck and suck for cash and it’ll be okay. You make ‘em a ton of money, clear your debt--you think it’s over. Then they start sending you pictures in the mail to get more money.”



“But--I don’t OWE them any money, so why would they bother me?”



“Because you’ve already made them money. You’re a pretty little boy that drew in seedy guys with a bank account the size of the city. You escape a raid, thinking things are fine… then your motel room gets crashed by four or five mobsters and they drag you off to THEIR whorehouse. And what’re you gonna do, call the cops?” Zeke gave Casey a deep, intense look. “They own this place, which means that they own us. Stephen giving them fake names throws ‘em off a bit. Maybe that’d be what saves our asses, but the mob isn’t run as well as it is because they’re stupid.”



Everything was starting to sink in. Casey’s lower lip trembled as he imagined any one of them in such a situation; he’d pray for death himself. And what of Noah? He closed his eyes tight. “So what do we do?” he asked.



“Tread carefully and hope the cops like the bribes,” Zeke said.



“Like they were saying, though--a new commissioner, new rules--we’re not safe.”



“As good as Stephen is… did you think that this was one-hundred percent perfect?”



“No.”



Zeke groaned to a stand, stepped over to Casey’s bed and sat next to him. “If this place got busted and we got away--it isn’t to say that we couldn’t escape, both the police AND the mob. Just know that if we ran off, we’d have to do some serious hiding… leave the state.”



“Whatever,” Casey sadly replied. He sniffed in hard, willing himself to not cry. Before he could come up with anything to say, a knock fell on the door and Danny stuck his head in.



“Hey, guys--breakfast?” he asked.



“Yea. C’mon,” Zeke said, patting Casey on the shoulder.



“’Not hungry.”



“Eh, shuddup,” Danny said, but then noticed Casey’s expression. Frowning, he asked, “Uh--everything okay?”



“He had a nightmare,” Zeke quickly replied. “He’s fine.”



“Aw… c’mon, Casey-boy. Some coffee and fruit salad’ll make the monsters go away.” With a wink, Danny scampered off. The room was silent for a few moments until Zeke sighed again.



“You gotta get over it, Angel-face,” he said; he then extended his hand and cocked an eyebrow. “C’mon. Eats. Let’s go.”



Though the thought of food was turning his stomach, Casey took Zeke’s hand and stood, ready to pretend that nothing had happened.





~*~





After eating, Casey found himself in the parlor with the others, per usual. His mind wasn’t on the game of chess he and Noah were playing, not that it would’ve mattered if it was. Noah smiled as he took Casey’s second bishop; he held it up and twirled it in a tease. Casey half-smiled and shook his head. ‘Yes, you’re the greatest--shut up,’ he told him.



‘Of course,’ Noah replied. Before returning to the game, he cocked an eyebrow Casey’s way. ‘You’re distracted--I can tell.’



‘Yea.’



‘Zeke, again?’



‘No.’ Casey glanced Zeke’s way, finding him on the couch smoking and reading. He turned back to Noah and signed, ‘We’re fine. Thanks to you ditching me yesterday.’



Noah made a sly grin. ‘You’re welcome. Come on now, you needed the time alone. I can tell that he cares for you a great deal.’



‘Maybe,’ Casey lied; after all, the admittance of love had revealed more than a perhaps. ‘I’m fine, though. Just distracted.’



‘Well, shape up or lose out. Again.’



Before Casey could reply, Stephen entered the room with a small smile. Casey sank back in his seat and forced his expression to stay even to prevent Noah from noticing anything amiss. “Hello, boys,” Stephen called out to them. After getting a few ‘good morning’ responses, he went over to the nearby loveseat and sat down. “I’d like to call a meeting, if I could…”



“Oh, not ANOTHER one,” Danny groaned over the pool game he and Jamie were playing.



“No, no--nothing that official. I’d just like to say a few things.”



Casey knew what this would be about, of course. Still, he had to feign interest along with the others. Stephen cleared his throat and leaned forward. “There has been word through the grapevine that we should be extra careful.”



This, of course, snagged attention. “What’s going on?” Henry asked from the bar.



“There’s a new commissioner in office. One that’s not as easy to deal with when it comes to our business. This could bring some trouble. I don’t want anyone to worry needlessly, as we’re still relatively safe.” Stephen brought out a cigar from his breast-pocket, lit it and sighed out a plume of blue smoke. “But I’ve been informed of some news rules we should follow.”



Casey glanced to Noah and began interpreting what was being said; more for show, as Noah understood Stephen just fine. Stephen continued. “I think it goes without saying that we need to stay on our toes. For one, if a client were to ask what your last name is, it shouldn’t be given. However, if it’s unavoidable, you’re to use an alias.” Stephen stood, took papers from his pocket and began handing them out. “Commit these to memory; there’s also instructions on where to say you’re from. Basically, anything that offers a connection to where you’re from or who you are. Now, let’s say that you have to leave here for any reason, whether it’s that we’re caught and you need to run or you simply decide to quit. That would be when you cut ties and use your REAL identity,” Stephen said. He reached Casey and handed him his paper. Casey looked upon it and bit his lip.



Casey Conrad

Age: 18

Date of Birth: Unknown

Place of Birth: Troy, New York



“Why do we need these?” Henry asked.



“Well, if we’re raided and you get away, my books have these aliases recorded. They would then go on a wild goose chase looking for you,” Stephen replied. “Really, you’d go back to using your REAL identity. You’d become relatively untraceable.”



Casey tried his best to nod along with the others, even if he knew the biggest reason behind this plan. The others were nodding along; Zeke was next to speak up. “What about this commissioner?”



“Ah, yes; Mr. Linus Allston.” The name was spoken with barely-hidden distaste. “My informants have let me know that he’s more on-the-ball when it comes to cracking down on crime, much unlike our good friend Paul.”



Some of the boys smirked; Danny cocked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Yes, him,” he said. “He rather liked his balls sucked.”



This revelation had Casey swallow. Not only was he corrupted by bribes--he’d been a client? Stephen’s own smirk confirmed this. “Apparently a few of his ‘dealings’ had been uncovered by investigators… so now we have Allston, who’s promised to crack down on everything from truancy to prostitutes. He’s not to be messed with. So… as a precaution, there’s a new ‘warning’ in place. If a raid were to occur and you were upstairs and unable to hear the guards announce what was happening, Helen’s room is by the kitchen. The fuse box is in there. She’s instructed to flick the main power switch three times; the lights flickering would alert everyone in the house that there’s trouble.”



The tension in the air thickened, noticeable. Concerned glances were exchanged between them all; Noah barely reacted as Casey continued signing. Stephen seemed to notice; he took a deep breath and looked around. “I’m doing my best to protect you--keep you safe. But if anyone here is too concerned, too afraid, then I’ll understand if you wish to leave.”



“We’re not worried. Are we, boys?” Henry asked the room.



Nods and smiles returned; once again, Casey did his best to go along with them. He had to understand that Stephen was, in fact, providing them with security. If he was willing to stand up to the higher-ups and outright lie to keep their true identities safe, Casey had to keep the faith and move on. Stephen smiled fondly. “Thank you, boys. I knew I could talk to you,” he said. “Now, enough of this. Go on and enjoy your day.”



Stephen headed to the door; everyone glanced around at each other. The second the man was gone and his footsteps faded down the hall, Danny practically tossed his cue down and grinned like an idiot. “What the hell?” he exclaimed.



“This is serious stuff,” Jamie said, looking at his new alias. “Anyone know what’s going on?”



“No. I haven’t noticed anything, with clients or otherwise,” James replied. “Just the usual fucking around.”



Danny shook his head, still smiling. “This is so weird.”



“You seem happy about it,” Zeke said.



“I’m not ‘happy’, I’m just excited. This is what happens when I get excited.” Danny went to the couch Zeke was sitting on and rested on the arm of it. “Y’know, like nervous laughter.”



“Riiight,” Zeke said, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re psychotic, is what you are.”



“Shut up. Brat,” Danny replied.



“Always so secretive around here,” Jamie muttered. “Oh well, best memorize this.”



The boys sat quietly now, minus Danny, who was still giggling. Nervousness, as he’d said. Everyone expressed it differently. Casey turned back to Noah, tucked the paper in his pocket and made his next move. His apprehension and secret knowledge seemed safe when Noah took his next move, involving Casey’s first knight being taken; Noah smiled and waved it around, just as he’d done with the bishop, and Casey laughed.





~*~





“How is everyone today, good? I’ve had a lovely day…”



Casey watched Tommy waltz into the group, giving out the usual drama. He looked to Casey, who sat on the couch with Noah. “Oh. Good evening, Caleb,” he said, his tone more even.



“Hello,” Casey replied. He wouldn’t bother correcting him; the knowing smiles the boys around him made were enough. Glancing to the bar, Casey saw Zeke look to the flouncing, prancing man, roll his eyes and look back to the row of bottles. There was no doubt as to who would be servicing Tommy tonight.



“So, then…” Clark said, drifting off as he slipped an arm around James. The boy giggled at fingers tickling his side.



“Stop that, you lout,” he said.



“Mmm, but you like it so. Enough messing around; let’s go find Stephen.”



“Ooh, thought you’d never ask. Bye, boys!”



Everyone waved the two of them off and settled back in their spots. Casey sighed and stood up from the couch, taking his plate of snacks with him. His first target of the night was sat at the poker tables; Timothy, the gorgeous younger man that had given Casey a night to remember, had returned. His brother was absent, but no matter. It’d be nice, having time alone.



“Hello again,” Casey said upon getting to Timothy’s side.



“Oh… hello,” Timothy replied. He smiled and continued dealing cards to the group; Xavier again, plus Clint and one of the Johns.



“Is this going to be a long game again?” Casey asked. With a finger trailing around Timothy’s ear, the man made a half-smile.



“Perhaps. It’d be nice to win a few big hands.”



“Hello there, Casey.”



Casey jerked his head to the left and stiffened. Dennis stood a few feet away, smiling warmly. “Oh. Dennis, hello,” Casey said.



“No smile for me? Ah, I can’t blame you…”



Damn it. Even if Dennis was loathed by him, Casey still needed to pretend. He put a shaky smile on his face. “No, no… you simply startled me, that’s all,” Casey replied.



“It’s all right. I understand.” Dennis moved in closer; after putting a hand on Casey’s shoulder, he leaned in to say, “I haven’t had the chance to apologize for this past Saturday. I’d acted very rude; my behavior was abhorrent. Even if all I’d meant was to tease, it wasn’t the place for it. Do you forgive me?”



Though Casey doubted that this was wholly sincere, he nodded and smiled wider anyway. “It’s all right.”



“Good, good. So…” Dennis looked around the room and sighed. “…If you’re not busy, I’d love to get a room with you.”



“Oh.” Casey sighed and shrugged. Dennis was in the ‘last choice’ category for him, but it wasn’t his job to deny him. As long as Stephen allowed it and the guards were situated in the hall… “Of course. I haven’t been claimed yet.”



“Mmm, very good,” Dennis said. He took Casey’s arm with a gentle hand and led him over to Stephen. Before they were out of sight of the poker table, Casey threw Timothy an wink that said, later, perhaps? Timothy grinned, nodded and returned to the game being played.



After paying Stephen, Dennis climbed the stairs with Casey in tow. He smiled warmly. “Tonight is special… or I have to make it special, at any rate.”



“Oh? How so?” Casey asked. They passed by Sam, who sat in the chair at the end of the hall.



“Well…” Dennis stopped speaking when they reached their door. He unlocked it, held it open to let Casey in first then followed. The moment the door closed, he cleared his throat. “Tonight is actually my last night that I’m coming here.”



Casey blinked wildly. “What? Why?”



“My company has transferred me to Boston; it comes with getting a promotion. So starting next month, I’ll be the head of our new branch office,” Dennis explained.



Fighting down his elation at this news, Casey cooed. “Well, congratulations… though it will be a shame, not seeing you here anymore,” he said.



“Oh, I’m sure.” There was a note of sarcasm in Dennis’ voice, perking Casey’s ears. He said nothing as Dennis sat at the end of the bed. “Come. Sit with me.”



Casey nodded and followed the instruction, sitting nearer to the headboard. Dennis looked at him through slits of eyes. “Now, are you going to apologize?” he asked.



“Um… for… what?” Casey haltingly asked.



“For your telling me to ‘shut up’ so rudely. Back in the fuck-parlor.”



“I…” Casey was bewildered. “Well, like you’d said… you were being rude, and--”



“And you’re nothing but a little high-priced whore, sweet boy,” Dennis interrupted. “Now if it had been Stephen yelling at me, I’d have had to crawl out of here with my tail ‘twixt my legs. But he’d been polite in explaining to me that what I’d done wasn’t right. You? You’d overstepped some boundaries yourself.”



The very last thing Casey wanted to do was apologize, since in his mind he had nothing to apologize for. As it was now, Dennis was getting sarcastic and perhaps even a little cruel--not the man Casey felt like saying ‘I’m sorry’ to. “Perhaps I did. But what you’d done…”



“Shut up and strip.”



Stunned, Casey stilled a moment then looked down at his lap. He felt ill as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing himself to the man as he went. It felt cold in the room, even if the fire in the hearth blazed with heat. The first task was finished; Casey threw the shirt to the floor and stood.



Dennis was blank-faced as the shoes and socks were taken off. Next came Casey’s slacks. He undid the clasp and zipper then let them fall to the ground. Goosebumps prickled his skin as all Dennis did was stare--not one move was made to approach him. When he broke the silence in clearing his throat again, Casey almost jumped.



“I’ve been a fool, you know,” Dennis said. “Coming here all the time, scratching these ungodly itches I have. Did I tell you my other reason for leaving New York? No, I didn’t… I’m to be married in a few months to the daughter of one of my colleagues.”



Casey had no idea on what to say, besides, “Um… congratulations… again.”



“Mmm. She wants to wait until we’re married, so I made a vow to her that I would wait with her. She doesn’t know about my coming here, of course, nor my many conquests with women over the years. You see…” Dennis made an expression of sadness, looking forced and sarcastic. “…Every time I’ve been here, I’ve come up empty. I’m not like your sweetheart, Cal. If he wants to pretend that he loves a whore, so be it. But me? I’ve never really cared for any little trick I’ve fucked. I’ve known all along that every boy here is nothing but a cute piece of meat--especially you.”



Sniffing hard, Casey crossed his arms. “I take it you’re not complimenting me.”



“Hah! Far from it.” Dennis laughed derisively. “You may have been a virgin your first night, and believe me, it was spectacular taking it away from you. Do you ever think about that--how you let a dirty old man into your ass as your first time?”



“There wasn’t much to remember,” Casey defiantly replied. If Dennis was to be gone from here after tonight, he was going to reply honestly--no danger in his getting fired, especially if Stephen was told of these events.



“Oh really, now? Well. I remember everything… my bloodying you, making you squeal like a piglet. Mmm, yes. Very good memories,” Dennis said. He then clapped his hands together and rubbed them, a wide grin on his face. “So, as I said--I’m going to ‘wait’ for my darling Alyssa. I won’t be touching you tonight. I’ve sullied my hands enough with you.”



“If that’s what you paid for, then fine,” Casey said.



“Be a good little whore and lay down on the bed.”



Casey sniffed again and did as he was told. Dennis stood up and went over to the candelabra. After choosing an unlit, unused taper, he returned and handed it to Casey. “Pull your knees up to your chest to give me a good view and shove this into your hole,” he demanded.



Looking down upon himself, Casey trembled. His knees shook as he pulled them up; he searched blindly for his opening with the candle, finding it after a few fumbling movements. The wax was malleable enough to go inside without much pain, though it still bumped uncomfortably against his insides.



“Fuck yourself with it. Go on, you slutty thing.”



Casey closed his eyes and began thrusting the object deeper, then began a rhythm. It was sickening, how he was being watched. This wasn’t a simple kink being catered to. He would have rather have done this in front of Xavier, which said something. Anyone but this leering, taunting bastard. He inadvertently moved the wax against his prostate, which elicited a moan. Dennis chuckled.



“Oh, you like this? Of course you would. You’re so willing to degrade yourself for money.” Dennis sat up straighter and nodded towards him. “You like it too much, however. Stop, but leave it inside then put your legs out, spread open--nice and wide.”



Casey’s nose twitched. With the candle deep inside, he stretched his legs open against the mattress. “Yes?” he said with a note of distaste.



“Hold the base of your cock and balls, put it straight up. Then slap it. Hard.”



His head reeling, Casey gripped his cock as instructed, bit his lip and pulled his hand back. It went down upon himself with a cruelty. The painful contact made his legs jerk and a squeal escape his lips. Dennis chuckled. “Again--keep doing it until I tell you to stop.”



Degradation--nothing but. Casey continued, growing more and more reluctant with every hit he made against his growing-sore shaft. Tears pricked his eyes; after the ninth slap he was about to beg for this to stop, but Dennis held up a hand. “Good boy. Now, rub yourself, all over. Be hungry about it while you beg for me to touch you.”



A hard frown graced Casey’s face, but he forced it off. Fine--give the man something to miss when he left this place for good. “Dennis…” Casey started as he swept his hands from between his legs to his stomach and up to his chest. He dragged his thumbnails over his nipples and stiffened. “Touch me. Please touch my body…”



“Aw, but I can’t.”



“Please. I want you so badly. So badly…” Casey’s ass clenched around the wax; he was growing excited, cock hardening with every pass his hands made upon his flesh. “Stick your fingers inside… fuck me with them,” he said. “You want to… you want me.”



“Hah! I do? That’s news.” Dennis sat back and lit a cigarette, looking unbothered and bored. As Casey continued groping, he let out a long stream of smoke, aiming it at Casey’s chest. “I know your type, you know. Most of the boys here arrived already unclean--prostitutes or poor. You? I know where you came from. Rich parents, probably from the Hamptons. Isn’t that it?”



Casey didn’t respond in any which way. He simply growled and took the end of the taper to twist around as his other hand flattened against his shaft to grope it, press it down as he moved. Dennis sighed and continued. “But you wanted more. You’d lie awake at night, masturbating frantically while dreaming about random men fucking you into oblivion. Isn’t that it? Hmm?” Dennis chuckled harder. “You probably did it during the day, when Daddy was at home--you’d hope that he’d walk in and catch you. Am I right?”



This was disgusting--beyond disgusting. “No,” Casey said, refusing to cater to this madness.



“I wonder where Mommy and Daddy are nowadays. They’re probably looking for you, hoping you’d come home… wonder what they’d think of their innocent little boy, fucking strangers for cash.”



“My parents are dead,” Casey said in a blank, cold voice. He pulled the candle from himself and twirled it in the air; Dennis went still and silent as Casey went on. “Killed in a car crash back in my home state. I came to the city, poor as shit and needing work. How’s that for a fantasy, hmm?”



Dennis swallowed and narrowed his eyes. “I see. So… this is how you honor their memory, eh? When they look down from heaven to check on you, you’re usually lying on a bed, or on your knees in the parlor--letting men use and abuse you.”



The man’s words echoed in Casey’s mind; a wave of anger made Casey sit up and glare at Dennis. “What of you? The reason I’m here is because there’s a market for it. You’re that market. Wanting little boys--I’d be willing to bet that you’ve gone much younger than me,” he said. A flicker of recognition--or perhaps fear--twitched Dennis’ nose. Casey oohed. “I wonder what your dear Alyssa would think. My parents might be crying over what’s happened to me, but I could just begin to imagine the mess your life would be, your colleagues and pretty fiancée finding out about your boy-fucking habits. So how young have you gone for? Ten, eleven? Was there a nephew you took care of, or--”



Casey didn’t get the chance to finish his tirade; Dennis growled, grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down on the bed. With great force, he flipped Casey over by the hips then hoisted them up. Casey closed his eyes tight and chuckled. “That’s it, Dennis. Do what you’re best at. Fuck me.”



“You dirty whore. You dirty fucking whore,” Dennis said in a deep, mad-sounding voice. Casey grinned at the sound of trousers being undone; though Dennis didn’t bother with the oil, Casey bit his smile to absorb the pain. He let the man think he was empowering himself, knowing who was holding the winning hand.





~*~





Casey smiled wide as he watched Dennis shake hands with Stephen, who looked sad and sorry to see him go. Sipping his vanilla soda, Casey waved his way as he went to leave. He received a glare in return, which made him chuckle.



“Hey, is it true… is Dennis really leaving?” Danny asked the moment he was next to Casey.



“Mmhmm. He’s off to Boston soon, bringing a future wife with him,” Casey replied. Danny, of course, laughed aloud.



“Oh, you’re kidding. All this time I actually believed he was an honest, true homosexual. Ah, well… good riddance,” Danny replied. He clinked glasses with Casey and winked. He turned away with a sigh and began sipping his cherry-filled drink, but stopped mid-sip. He stood still, eyes growing wide. Casey frowned.



“What? What is it?”



“Oh… my god,” Danny’s voice echoed in the glass.



“What?”



“Do you see what I see??” Jamie now arrived, grabbing Danny’s arm.



Casey followed their line of sight; he found a man he’d never seen here before, dressed in a loose-fitting but elegant suit. His belly still showed, though the rest of him looked slim. A bowler was perched on his head, a silk scarf tied around his neck and tucked into his shirt and fancy gloves on his hands; he then walked over to the bar, nodding to the other boys on the way, all of them also wearing stoic expressions. “Who’s that?” he asked.



Jamie, looking panicked, leaned in to whisper, “Paul.”



“All right. And who’s Paul, then?”



“Only the creepiest bastard ever,” Danny chimed in. “Shit. I thought he’d left the city. How long’s it been?”



“At least five or six months,” Jamie said.



“Why is he creepy, though? What kinks does he have? It can’t be any worse than ‘Petie’,” Casey said with a scoff.



“Oh, it’s worse. MUCH worse,” Jamie replied. He took a deep breath and gave Casey a serious look. “All he does… is sit here in the main parlor.”



“That’s it?”



“Mmhmm.”



Casey frowned. “What’s so bad about that?”



“We don’t know!” Danny said in a hissing voice. He sounded utterly ridiculous. “But… just you watch HIM watch. That’s all he does. I’ve only approached him once, and it’s always the same soft, creepy voice saying, ‘Oh, no thank you. I’d just like to watch.’”



“And he brings a notepad. Jots things down. Weird, weird, weird,” Jamie said.



Casey chuckled. “Here, let me go see for myself,” he said.



“Suit yourself…” Danny said then sank back against the wall to sip his drink.



Still chuckling, Casey watched as Paul left the bar, a pink drink in his hand. Paul then headed over to the couch where Noah was sitting--ALSO looking apprehensive. Paul gave him a polite nod before settling in on the other end. Noah smiled back and immediately stood up. Though he tried to look casual, it was obvious that he was making a getaway.



Ridiculous. Paul looked completely harmless--cute, even. Casey sighed, went over and plopped down next to him. Paul turned his head slowly to him and made one small nod.



“Hello,” Casey said in his best coy voice. “I’ve never seen you here before.”



“Mmm,” Paul said.



“My name’s Casey. I’m still relatively new here.”



“Mmm.”



“What’s your name?” Casey asked.



“Paul,” he softly replied.



“Nice to meet you.” Casey extended his hand, but Paul simply smiled, not returning the gesture. Slight discomfort wormed its way into Casey, making him shift in his seat. “Well… you ARE rather cute, you know,” he said. Again, Paul chose to nod and sit back, sip his drink… Casey cleared his throat. “What’s, um, your pleasure tonight? Are you going to take anyone up to a room, the fuck-parlor…?”



A wide, eerie smile was given to Casey. “Oh, no thank you. I’d just like to watch.”



It was like sitting with a robot. Casey blinked furiously and nodded. “Oh… ‘kay.”



“Mmm.” Paul turned away and paused; while twirling his straw in his drink, he stared ahead. Casey looked to the people milling around; James was standing with Clark again, being fed cherries one-by-one. One of Clark’s arms was wrapped around his shoulders, a hand sneaking its fingers past James’ collar. A kiss went between them; Casey glanced back to Paul, who’d now taken a pad of paper out from his jacket pocket. “Well, um… yes, I suppose I’ll leave you to it,” he said.



“Mmm.”



Casey coughed into his hand as he stood up and walked away. He went back to where Jamie and Danny were standing and shook his head. “Very… very strange.”



“Like we said,” Danny replied.



“Harmless, yes. Unsettling? Yes.” Jamie added.



“Do you think…” Casey paused to glance back at Paul, who was scribbling notes. “…He’s a cop?”



Danny chuckled heartily. “Oh, I doubt it. Just strange is all.”



“Yes… I suppose.” Casey shook his head and pointed to the bar. “’Think I’ll have some wine.”



The boys nodded and he left them; Zeke was situated at the bar, of course. He gave Casey a cocked eyebrow. “You look hassled,” he said.



“Humph… just a little creeped out, is all,” Casey replied. He nodded to Robert. “A glass of wine, please.”



“All right.”



As Robert fixed up his order, Zeke turned in his seat and settled his eyes on Paul. “Ah. Paul’s here.”



“Uh huh.”



“I take it you met him?”



Casey nodded slowly. “Uh huh.”



“Here you are.” Robert returned with Casey’s drink.



“Thanks,” Casey said. As Robert went to fill an order for Clint, the boy took up his glass and sipped at it lightly. “Why does he just sit there?”



“No one knows. Well… I have some conjectures,” Zeke replied.



“Huh?”



Zeke cocked an eyebrow at him. “Thoughts.”



“Oh,” Casey muttered, feeling stupid. “Like what?”



“I’m not sure, so I won’t say. What I will say is that the way he dresses tips me off.” Zeke turned his head over his shoulder to nod at Paul, still busy writing. “The gloves and scarf especially.”



The boy was being way too cryptic. “What does all that mean?”



“Hmm. Just think about it. It ain’t that hard.”



“Right,” Casey said. He knew that he wouldn’t get anything from Zeke, so he turned away to scan the room. Doing so, he bumped his elbow against Timothy, who stood close to him wearing a broad grin. “Oh! I’m sorry,” Casey said.



“No, more my fault. I sort of sneaked up on you,” Timothy replied.



“Well, that’s okay,” Casey said; he turned on the charm, smiling coyly and plucking at Timothy’s opened shirt-collar. “I happen to like sneaky men. It makes life interesting.”



Timothy smiled wider and leaned in to whisper into Casey’s ear. “I made a bundle off of those poor chaps.” He glanced to the table he’d just left, the three men still sitting there and looking morose. “Enough for the best room in the house. Shall we?”



Casey’s cock perked up, going half-hard in an instant.





~*~





Casey’s body ached in the best of ways, from both exertion and ecstasy. His breaths came out in quick pants; all he could feel was the cooling sweat, the cum on his belly and Timothy’s movements on the bed. He, too, was breathing hard. Silence reigned until Casey felt the bed dip by his chest; the silk scarf that had served as a blindfold was taken from his eyes with gentle hands, careful to not snag on his hair. The light from the fire came back into view, creating a dark, shadowy form of the man that had treated Casey to almost two hours of pure, sensual delight. With a quirky grin, Timothy held up two fingers.



“How many?”



Chuckling breathlessly, Casey smiled wide. “Two,” he replied.



“Good, good… so, I take it this pleased you?” Timothy asked. At Casey’s slow nod, he ran a hand over a trembling-from-aftershocks thigh. The scarf was twirled with his other hand. “A bit of sensory-deprivation always does the trick.”



“I’ll say,” Casey said.



“Next time I’ll bring more scarves… try more complicated things.”



“Oh? Like… like what?”



“Oh, a bit of restraint. Wrists tied behind the backs of your thighs…” Timothy draped the scarf over Casey’s moistened privates, causing another buck and helpless-sounding coo. “Blindfolded again, so pretty. I love the noises you make.”



“Mmm… ‘can’t help it, the way you do things. Exquisite,” Casey said, purring the words.



“How I’d love to take you and your friend, Noah, to my studio to have a photography session.”



Casey fluttered his lashes. “Oh--you do pictures?”



“Mmhmm. Gay-erotica, of course, and very secretive. Much like this place, I have to be careful. I have to make it look like I do generic family photos and the like, so I do that as well; the back rooms? Well, those are for extra-special, sensual sessions,” Timothy said with a wink. “And you, my dear, would make a perfect subject. Noah as well, like I said.”



Moving up onto his elbows, Casey thought quickly. “Perhaps… we could. We have free days on Sundays…?”



“Ah, I doubt the master of the house would allow it.”



“He could be asked?”



Timothy regarded Casey carefully a moment. “Perhaps. But…” He began packing his things, continuing the discussion as he went. “I DO make money off of the photos. Private sales with ‘special customers’, you know. Ones I trust with my material. So you might end up hanging on the wall of someone you don’t know.”



“I’d be all right with that,” Casey replied.



“You would, eh?” Timothy said. He smiled and clucked his tongue. “I assume that I’d have to pay Stephen for such a service, but the price would be worth it when I make the sale. Let me go downstairs and--”



A knock then fell on the door. “Time’s up,” Sam called from the hall. Timothy sighed.



“Out in a minute,” Casey called back.



Timothy put himself together, starting with his slacks. Casey followed suit, going to the closet where the robes were kept. He’d definitely need a shower. “So,” Timothy said once finished dressing. “I’ll ask Stephen and we’ll see.”



“All right. And… I thank you for the compliments,” Casey bashfully replied. Timothy smiled, walked over to the boy and placed a soft kiss on his lips.



“You are a gorgeous thing,” he said.



Casey felt his heart fluttering as he watched Timothy leave the room. This was truly exciting; two snags were present, however. Stephen, of course, and Noah. Casey would do his best to convince the boy that this was the best idea ever.





~*~





‘Are you joking? Of COURSE!’



Casey laughed at Noah’s frantic signing. As it happened, no effort was needed in convincing him. As they commiserated, Casey kept glancing down the hall where Stephen and Timothy were speaking in hushed tones. Casey returned to Noah, signing, ‘Can you imagine? I wonder if we’ll be able to keep some of the prints!’



‘For Danny to plaster them everywhere and jeer us?’ Noah replied, raising an eyebrow and smirking.



‘He’d be insanely jealous, and you know it.’



Noah giggled loudly and looked down the hall. He grabbed Casey’s arm, his smile growing even more. Casey looked and stiffened with barely-hidden delight at the sight of Stephen giving Timothy a nod, followed by a friendly handshake.



‘He said yes!’ Casey told Noah.



“What’s goin’ on?”



Casey looked to the doorway where Danny was standing, putting his arms up in a slow, long stretch. Being that the place was getting ready to shut down for the night, everyone was growing tired, ready for bed. Casey and Noah, however, had enough adrenaline flowing through them to supply everyone with a week’s worth of energy. “Not telling. Not yet,” Casey cryptically replied. Danny sneered.



“Oh, secrets, huh? Well, fine. I don’t even care.”



“For god’s sake, we’ll TELL you, just not…”



“Boys?” Stephen now arrived at their sides and gave them a soft smile. “I just talked with Timothy--as I’m sure you know, lurking about in the hallways, spying.”



“We weren’t spying! We already knew full-well what was going on,” Casey said, a sly grin on his lips.



“Well then, I’m sure you noticed that I’m allowing it.”



“Allowing what?” Danny chimed in. “Come on, now, I’m only standing right here.”



Casey slung his arm over Noah’s shoulders and sighed. “Noah and I… we’re getting pictures done.”



“Oh. That’s it?” Danny asked. Casey rolled his eyes.



“Not the ‘sit and smile’ type,” he said.



“Oh. OH. Ohh…” Danny chuckled like a hyena and hopped back into the room to blab the details to everyone else, no doubt. Casey didn’t mind. Stephen leaned in to discuss further.



“Anyway, to let you know--you won’t be going alone. Since Timothy is usually closed on Sundays, we planned to meet this coming Thursday after lunch. By ‘we’, I mean that I’ll be accompanying you, as a chaperone. He seems trustworthy, but there’s no harm in being careful,” Stephen explained. “He said a session such as this should take around four hours, so we’ll get there at one, stay until five and head back for the usual work-night.”



“Oh… this IS exciting,” Casey said.



“I cut him a deal; since you will be technically working, he’s going to pay a two-hour room-rate. Cheap enough, by his standards. There will be a nice-sized tip for each of you, as well,” Stephen said. “So, are we clear on the details?”



It was better than Casey had assumed it’d be--MUCH better. “Yes!”



“Good. Explain everything to Noah, then off to bed for you both.” With that, Stephen patted their shoulders and walked into the parlor.



Noah, of course, had absorbed everything through lip-reading. He took Casey’s hands in his, holding them in a tight grip. No signing needed; their giggling said enough.





~*~





“I want to go too!”



“Can’t we??”



“SO not fair.”



Casey chuckled; his and Zeke’s bedroom had turned into a last-minute gathering place, the boys stuffed inside to get more details. As Danny continued muttering, ‘Not fair, not faaair…’ Casey lit a cigarette and sank back on the bed, his head landing in Noah’s lap. “Maybe we can all go out--but no, you brats can’t come! How suspicious would that look? A large group of obvious rent-boys, running into a studio…”



“Have I mentioned that this is so completely unfair?”



“YES, Danny. Come on now, be happy for them!” James said. He turned back to Casey with a huge smile. “I can’t even begin to imagine how chuffed you two have to be.”



“Will we get to see them?” Jamie asked.



“Maybe. If they come out good, it might be nice to buy a print or two,” Casey said. He looked up at Noah, who was wearing a dreamy grin. “Can we help it if we’re such sensual beasts?”



“Oh, right. To think he’d pass THIS up…” Danny waved his hands over himself. “…To take pictures of you two losers.”



Henry, sitting on Zeke’s bed, smacked the boy with Zeke’s pillow. “Maybe Xavier will take up photography. THEN you’ll be a star,” he said. This made the boys chuckle heartily; though Danny continued moping, he wore a blush and looked to be trying his best to hold back a grin.



“Hopefully we’ll all get to go out for the afternoon, even if it is just for coffee and lunch… or something,” Jamie said. Danny pished.



“I don’t see why not. It’d be terribly unfair--oh, have I said that? ‘Cos it--”



“What the…” Zeke had finally arrived from the showers; he stood in the now-opened doorway with a frown. “What is this, Grand Central Station? Get the hell out of… hey! Off my bed!”



Henry snorted in amusement and hopped off as instructed. “Sure thing, Mr. Fussypants.”



Zeke grunted with displeasure and fought to get to his bureau, coming close to tripping over Jamie‘s extended legs. When the boys started asking more rapid-fire questions, he snarled more. “What about my saying ‘get the hell out’ do you morons not understand?”



“Ooh. SOME-one is grumpy,” Jamie said.



“Big surprise,” Danny added. “Fine, we’ll all go over the unfairness tomorrow after breakfast.”



The others groaned and made ‘get over it’ comments as they left. Casey let Noah get up, giving him a kiss to the cheek before he left the bed. Noah giggled and followed everyone out. Looking annoyed, Zeke shut the door behind them all. He shook his head and returned to his bureau to get dressed. Casey sighed and flicked ash into his ashtray, grinning.



“Sorry. They all just dropped in.”



“Whatever.”



Zeke’s tone was sharp, causing Casey to blink with confusion. “Is… everything all right?” he asked.



“Pfft, sure. Everything’s just ducky,” Zeke replied.



“Seriously, what’s wrong?”



Zeke took a deep breath; it seemed as if he was trying to calm himself down. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he finally replied.



“No. It’s not nothing,” Casey said. He stamped his cigarette out then immediately lit another one. “Are you mad… about Timothy?”



“The pictures?” Zeke asked. Casey nodded; Zeke shrugged. “Fine. Yea, that’s it.”



“Why? I mean, Stephen’s gonna be there. It’ll be safe.”



“’Not worried about that.” Zeke slipped out of his slacks and pulled his pajama bottoms on. After lighting a cigarette for himself, he sat on the bed and regarded Casey carefully. “Have you thought about this? As in really thought about it?”



“How so?”



Zeke pished. “You haven’t. Jesus… Casey, if you get photos done, that’s damned near permanent. If you decide to leave this business, you’re gonna be haunted by the idea that somewhere, someone’s looking at your rent-boy days.”



“Zeke…” Casey murmured, drifting off a moment to collect his thoughts. “I like this business. Whether I stay in it or not--HERE, meaning--I like being in this kind of business. It’s… I dunno. Exciting.”



A wry grin formed on Zeke’s lips. “Exciting, huh? If you say so…”



“No, I mean that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t get something out of it.”



“You get money, three meals a day and a bed. Safety. That should be where it stops.”



“So you don’t get a thrill out of what we do? Come on, now…” Casey smiled and settled deeper into the bed. “When you’re with one of those guys--when you’re lying there, all intimate, doesn’t it make you feel good?”



“Sometimes,” Zeke replied. “But I’d rather be off somewhere, making my first million with my artwork. Something legitimate.”



“We need to paint again, before I get rusty.”



“Nice try, switching subjects.”



“What? We’re talking about ‘art’, aren’t we?”



Zeke grunted and turned on his side. With his head propped up on his hand, he looked at Casey through slits of eyes. “You gotta promise me something.”



“What?” Casey asked.



“When you and Noah go and get these pictures done; make sure it is art, not smut. There’s a big difference.”



Casey couldn’t help a chuckle. “Yes, Zeke. No animal-sex or ‘Peties’, no chubby, grizzled old guys sticking things in my--”



“I’m being serious,” Zeke interrupted. “Maybe Tim’s not a bad guy, but who knows who works for him… what the demands of his customers are. He might ask you to do stuff you don’t--”



“Zeke.” It was Casey’s turn to interrupt. Zeke quieted in the pause; Casey smiled. “I promise, okay? And I’m sure Noah feels the same way, and with Stephen there? It’ll be fine.”



Zeke nodded slowly. “’K. Just wanna be sure.”



“I know.”



“Promise me something else?”



“What?”



The grin Zeke made was one of his most devious. “I get to pick my favorite shot before anyone else. Dibs.”



Casey laughed out loud. “Yes, Zeke. Promise.”





~*~