A Collar and Tie (Ganymede Quartet Book 4) (66 page)

There was no way around it; he would have to say it. “It’s
your game,” Henry blurted. “The voyeur game. We want to do that with you.”

Close by Henry’s side, Martin was practically vibrating,
very nearly
levitating
.

“Oh!” Henry had never seen Jesse look so surprised—nor so
delighted. “Oh, Henry,
yes
! We—” he reached for Russ’ hand and pulled
him close “—we would love to play with you!” He looked to Russ for
confirmation. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Russ was flushed and grinning. “Yes, Sir.” To Henry he
offered, “We’ve talked about it before, Sir, hoping you’d change your mind.”

It was embarrassing to think of Jesse and Russ engaging in
salacious talk about Martin and himself; he tried to put this immediately out
of mind. “I’ll have rules,” Henry hurried to say. “No swapping. No touching.
Just looking.”

Jesse beamed at him. “Whatever you say, Henry. I promise we
won’t do anything you don’t want. Really, I’m honored you’d even consider it.”
He bit his lip, thinking a moment. “Do you want to watch us, too?”

Henry blinked; he had not considered this.

Martin leaned close, and in a loud, shaky whisper said, “
Please
,
Sir. I’d like that.” He fumbled for Henry’s hand and gripped his fingers
tightly.

Jesse had heard Martin, of course, but he waited for Henry
to answer.

Henry cleared his throat. “Er, yes. Martin wants to watch.”

Jesse grinned. “What about you?”

Flustered, Henry shook his head. “I…I don’t know.” But that
wasn’t true. Almost defiantly, he decided, “No, I
do
want to watch. I’m
curious.”

“It’s fun,” Jesse assured him. “Watching and being watched.
You’ll like it.” He slung his arm around Russ’ shoulders and gave him an
affectionate squeeze. “We’ll make sure you have a good time, Henry.” His eyes
swept up and down their bodies, avid and lascivious, making Henry a little
uneasy. “It’s just as Russ said, we’ve been hoping you’d change your mind.”

“Well, Martin really wants to do it,” Henry said. “And I
want to make him happy.” He squeezed Martin’s hand, feeling jumpy and
apprehensive, but was almost positive Jesse would never judge him harshly.
After all, Jesse had wanted him to reconcile with Martin. In fact, Jesse had
made it possible.

“So when shall we do it?” Jesse asked, bright and eager.
“Tonight after the party, maybe…?”

“No!” Henry was adamant. “No, not…not yet.” His heart
thudded dangerously; he paused to collect and calm himself. “I was thinking we
could wait until you get back from Chicago.”

Jesse seemed a little disappointed, but otherwise unfazed.
“Well, that does give you time to get used to the idea.” He ruffled Russ’ hair
and bent to kiss the corner of his mouth; clearly, he was eager to start
sharing a great deal with Henry and Martin. “We did talk about me making a
drawing of you and Martin when I return home, remember? Why don’t we arrange to
do a drawing and then…see what happens?”

Making plans to pose for an artistic rendering was far less
daunting than making plans to have sex for an audience.

“That seems like a good plan,” Henry said slowly. He should
be able to sit still and let Jesse stare at him, and if he could do that, then
would it be so different to…move around a bit while Jesse stared? Well,
actually, yes, it would be, but Henry could try. For Martin, he could try.

“Wonderful!” Jesse turned to Russ, “You and Martin set it
up, all right?”

They returned to the ballroom chatting of other things,
Jesse full of exuberant interest in Henry’s friends.

“How close are you with that Charles Ross?” Jesse asked. “He
seems like fun.”

“Not terribly,” Henry admitted. “But I wonder if I shouldn’t
get to know him better.” He was beginning to suspect that Charles was, if not
like
him
, perhaps like Jesse; however affectionate he might be in
private with Simon, Charles had always chased—and caught—girls.

“I like your Louis,” Jesse said. “I offered to introduce him
to a friend of Elizabeth’s—”

“Introduce him?” Henry was surprised.

“Oh, just pen pals, of course,” Jesse explained. “She’s
Elizabeth’s closest friend, and they like many of the same things, so I think
she’d enjoy corresponding with a gentleman who would share her particular
interests.” Jesse cocked an eyebrow and grinned, making it clear what sorts of
interests these were.

Henry imagined Louis receiving envelopes full of pubic hair
and dirty poetry, and was quite sure Louis would appreciate having such a correspondent.

“Well, that would be awfully nice of you,” Henry said.
“Louis does write good letters.”

The dancing was underway again, the floor full of whirling
couples. A group of young men, both familiar and unfamiliar, waved at them as
they entered the ballroom, but only Jesse and Russ went to join them; Henry
wanted to sit things out for a bit. He needed to be alone with Martin, or as
alone as they could be in this crowd. Martin stood at Henry’s side, bodies in
contact all down the length of their arms. Henry dared a glance at Martin’s
handsome face, and he looked radiant, his color high and eyes bright. The more
Henry thought about it, the better he felt about these plans with Jesse. Just
agreeing to play the game had already made Martin so happy.

Henry recalled the back room at the men’s ball, the
encouragement from shadowy strangers as he’d sucked Martin’s cock, and the
unexpected intensity of his own pleasure. He’d reveled in being admired and
envied, just as Martin had always suggested would be the case. Martin thought
it would be better with Jesse, but really it only had to be as good as the back
room for Henry to consider it a resounding success.

A few people stopped on their way out of the ballroom to
thank Henry for the party, and he likewise thanked them for coming. He felt he
had been very gracious and appropriate thus far, but he wished everyone would
just leave without bothering him. What he wanted to do was to take Martin
upstairs to play a dirty dress-up game and leave the guests to their own
devices, but virtually everyone—Martin included—would disapprove of such
behavior.

With escape out of the question, he dared touch Martin,
clasping his fingers just briefly around Martin’s knobby wrist, and with
cheerful resignation leaned close and said, “I suppose I should find a partner
and dance.”

“Indeed you should, Sir. Let’s see if any of your particular
favorites are still here.” Martin stood on his toes, peering out over the heads
of the crowd.

As Henry circled the floor with Miss Collingsworth, he was
aware of Martin watching from the crowd and wondered if Martin was still
remembering dancing together at the men’s ball. He could not recall if he’d
seen gentlemen dancing openly with slaves at that party—but it wasn’t really
the sort of place gentlemen who had slaves would usually go, was it? Were there
more glamorous balls, tonier venues? Perhaps Reggie could help him find out.

Wherever they went, he wouldn’t make Martin disguise
himself, wouldn’t make him pretend to be free. Whether sporting an exposed
tattoo or a black tie, it would be clear Martin was a slave, just as he wished.
Henry did worry that even queer fellows would frown upon a free man being
affectionate with a slave, but he would just have to face whatever judgments
came his way with fortitude and resolve.

He was going to be a better person from now on. He was going
to be someone whose words and deeds made it evident that he deserved someone as
good as Martin, someone as kind and loving and clever. Someone as forgiving. He
wanted to be the man Martin would choose over Richard, over Tom, over anyone.
He would do the work, make the effort. He would make Martin happy.

For much of his young life, the romance he’d perceived
between Theo and George had been his ideal. He’d admired their devotion, their
loyalty, their shared purpose. He’d spent heart-pounding hours imagining their
intimacy in obsessive, uninformed detail. He’d imagined a companion of his own
would necessarily be a version of George.

Martin did share George’s exemplary qualities, and he could
fight with a sword (albeit an épée and not a cutlass), but he wasn’t George,
just as Henry wasn’t Theo. Henry wasn’t at all disappointed. Martin was
different than he’d imagined a slave would be, and different than any other
friend he’d ever had. Being in love with him was both more wonderful and more
difficult than he’d anticipated love would be. In his vast ignorance, he had
believed love would be an easy thing.

It wasn’t easy, but it was worthwhile. It was vital and
joyous and necessary.

On his next turn around the floor with Miss Collingsworth,
Henry looked for Martin in the crowd, but he wasn’t where he’d seen him last;
there were any number of reasons Martin might have left the ballroom, and Henry
would not let himself sulk about his absence. He would have Martin’s full
attention soon enough; for now, he should enjoy the dancing.

Later, he would be alone with Mr. Durant.

Henry felt his entire body flush hot at the thought of
Martin in a free man’s garb sprawled carelessly across the bed, collar and tie
close around his slender neck. In Henry’s imagining, Mr. Durant might be a bit
reserved, even a little disdainful. Henry rather liked the idea of having to
work for Mr. Durant’s friendship, to prove himself worthy, and he thought
Martin might like this, too.

He would demonstrate how he could be generous and
considerate. He would be solicitous and charming. He would seduce, if need be.
He would try his best to be the man Martin wanted, because that was all he
cared to be. Perhaps it was immature or short-sighted, but he had no goals in
life beyond winning and keeping Martin’s favor. Martin had given him a second
chance, and he would not squander it.

Other people were giving him second chances, as well—his
father, and Louis, too. Henry knew it wasn’t that either of them approved of
his natural inclination, but they understood that his feelings weren’t some
volitional act, and they were willing to be generous with him. This cautious
acceptance was plainly a result of the love they felt for him, love which he
had not been entirely certain of prior to recent events, and this evidence of
their affection bolstered his confidence. It wasn’t just Martin and himself
against the world. He had others on his side.

Reggie would be home soon, and Reggie would help him, Reggie
and his friend who knew everyone. Reggie had said his friend knew young men,
people like Henry, with whom he might socialize. He would also continue to
deepen his relationship with Jesse, and he would consult Martin’s opinion as to
whether or not a closer friendship with Charles might be worth pursuing. He and
Martin were not alone, not at all. They needn’t go anywhere to seek
understanding. This realization was a terrific relief, and it was a struggle
not to burst out in difficult-to-explain laughter.

At the conclusion of the tune, Henry joined Miss
Collingsworth and the rest of the assembly in applauding the band. Having
returned Miss Collingsworth to the care of her pretty slave, Henry asked a
mousy blonde to dance. She was a decent dancer and not talkative, both
qualities that Henry appreciated.

Waltzing toward the foot of the room, Henry spotted Martin
coming in at the ballroom door, half a head taller than anyone else. Martin
pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a quick hand through his strawberry
hair, and Henry thought him quite astonishingly handsome. His smile, when he
saw Henry looking at him, was as sudden and shocking as a lightning bolt, and
Henry felt harrowingly, breathtakingly exposed in the light of his beloved’s
regard. But no one else noticed a thing, and Henry danced on with the mousy
girl in his arms, not missing a beat.

Love. He had it in abundance, in variety. He had never felt
so loved in all his life.

He glanced back over his shoulder to where Martin stood with
his friends at the edge of the floor. Martin’s head was inclined, listening to
Simon, and he did not see Henry looking at him. That was all right. Later,
Henry would make sure Martin knew he was seen, admired, desired.

He would make Martin happy. It would be his purpose, his
project, his life.

He couldn’t wait to begin.

BLACKWELL FAMILY

Henry Blackwell & Martin

Hiram Blackwell & Timothy

Louisa Wilton Blackwell & Pearl

Cora Blackwell

WILTON FAMILY

Jesse Wilton & Russ

Eli Carmichael & Owen

ALGONQUIN SCHOOL

Walter Addison & Harvey

Jeremy Blankenship & Raymond*

Joshua Brand & Miles*

Louis Briggs & Peter*

Freddie Caldwell & Tom*

Albert DeWitt & Stuart*

Randall Fox & Howard

Wendell Franklin & Ralph*

Maurice Gaines & Ollie

Daniel Hollingsworth & Allen*

Gordon Lovejoy & Julian*

David Maxwell & Alex*

Adam Pettibone

Charles Ross & Simon*

Victor Spence & Will*

Robert Townsend & Dick*

Philip van Houten & Davey*

*Henry’s friends

BLACKWELL FAMILY SLAVES

Nurse: Esther

Butler: Randolph

Footmen: Billy, Paul

Housekeeper: Dora

Cook: Bertie

Scullery Maids: Vida, Ruby

Chambermaids: Peggy, Delia, Katie

Parlor Maids: Lucy, Ruth, Ellen

Laundress: Mary

Laundry Maid: Sally

Gardener: Pat

Coachmen: Jack, Old Bob

Grooms: Jerry, Arthur

Stable Boys: Little Bob, Danny

Errand Boy: Johnny