Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (19 page)

As he moved through the bathroom trying to get to the single unoccupied booth he saw at the rear, he passed a number of blowjobs, a full one-on-one sex session, what looked like a rimming job—he couldn’t be sure; the sequinned dress was plastered over the head and face of the man on his knees behind another, who clutched the porcelain sink in ecstasy—and a threesome of some sort which Brook really didn’t want to dwell on. All he saw were dicks, dicks and more dicks. He couldn’t even be sure how many people made up the thrusting, heaving mass in the corner.

He managed to get through the orgy, sidestepped a few hands entreating him to join in, winced at more than a few hard gropes to his backside and balls and fell into the cubicle. He locked it behind him and passed a hand over his face, then unzipped his trousers. His cock sprung free and he heaved a sigh of relief as he peed into the toilet.

Bloody hell. What kind of place was this anyway? He’d never seen anything like it.

He finished, zipped himself up and took a deep breath, ready to face whatever lay outside the safety of the cubicle door. Then with a mental shake, he opened it and stepped out. The first thing he saw was a black-haired man leaning against the wall in front of the stall, examining his nails. The man’s air of nonchalance at the activity around him was impressive, Brook had to admit. He smiled at the guy as he tried to push past him. It was a bit of a trial as the other man was about six feet five, broad, muscled and bearded and looked as if he’d stepped out of
Bears R Us
magazine. He also didn’t move aside to let Brook pass.

“Thanks matey.” Big Guy had an Australian twang. “I’m dying for a piss. The other stalls seem busy.” He grinned. “This is a bit of an eye opener, eh?” He waved a hand around.

“Yes, a bit. Do you mind moving so I can get through?” Brook tried polite.

Big Guy narrowed his eyes. “In a hurry are you? Not quite your scene? Pity. You don’t fancy a blowjob in there then? I’d do you a good one, mate.” He motioned to the cubicle.

Brook shook his head. “No thank you. Have a good night.” The man stepped aside reluctantly to let him pass. Brook moved quickly towards the door, feeling the man’s eyes on him. He made it through the still-busy bathroom and out into the safe confines of the club.

Where the hell is Lenny? This place is making me nervous.

He sidestepped the people gyrating on the dance floor, finding himself at the entrance to a large, plush bar kitted out with tables, sofas and chairs. It looked busy as well but there was still room at the bar to stand. Brook went over and stood there, trying to catch the harried bartender’s eye.

I need a drink. Or two. Lenny, where the fuck are you? You said to meet you here.

He’d gotten his first drink of the night when he heard a loud hail from one of the low set banks of couches on the side of the bar.

“Brook. Over here!”

He glanced over to see Leslie waving at him. He was sitting on someone’s lap, someone half obscured by Leslie’s body, and Brook assumed it was Oliver. A group of other men sat around, staring at Brook with interest. One of them had unruly red hair and was busy kissing the man next to him rather thoroughly. Another man with long, curly black hair pulled back in a short ponytail was chatting quietly to another man who looked tough and dangerous, and yet had such a goofy grin for the man talking that it made Brook smile.

My friend, you have it bad. I dare say I look like that when I see Lenny.

He acknowledged Leslie’s greeting and held his drink tightly as he negotiated through the mêlée of the bar. Once he got there, he sat down on the seat that Leslie patted. He smiled at the group around the table.

“Good to see you all. I was beginning to think I’d entered the Twilight Zone. I went to that purple bathroom to take a pee and…”

He was interrupted by Leslie’s loud squeal as he clamped a hand to his mouth in horror. “Oh, shit, Brook. You went into
Deep Purple
? Didn’t anyone warn you about that place? It’s the humping ground for the club. Delilah created it so that the usual bathrooms could be kept clear for what they’re supposed to be used for. People were complaining they were peeing themselves trying to get through the guys using it for BJs and stuff.”

Oliver reached over Leslie’s body with difficulty as the man clung to him like he was a treasured teddy bear. “Good to see you again.”

The redheaded man who’d recently had his tongue down the other man’s throat gave a wide grin and held out his hand. “You had a narrow escape if you went in there and survived. I’m Eddie by the way. This is my boyfriend, Gideon.”

Brook nodded at Gideon, recognising him. “Yes, we’ve met before, at Galileo’s.” He gave the redhead a wary glance.

Sorry I hit on your boyfriend.

Gideon nodded a greeting at him and gave him a grin. “Brook, nice to see you again. Looks like the date worked out.”

Brook chuckled. “Yes, very well actually, although not in the way I’d originally planned. Sorry I cancelled my dinner date at your restaurant. I’ll need to make another reservation to bring Lenny in.”

Gideon shrugged. “No problem. Give me a call and I’ll set it up.” His nostrils flared as Eddie moved closer to him and a look of complete satisfaction crossed his face. Brook blinked as he wondered at that strange gesture.

Eddie beamed. “I’m assuming you know Leslie and Oliver, his boyfriend?” He reached over and stroked Gideon’s cheek idly.

Gideon’s eyes closed in satisfaction. “God you smell good,” he murmured.

Brook stared at them.

Eddie must have noticed his puzzled face. He grinned. “My boyfriend had a problem with his sense of smell for a while, and now it’s coming back. He’s like this weird hound dog that has to sniff me all the time.”

Gideon scowled. “I hardly think that’s an apt description, Eddie. Brook is going to think I’m crazy.”

The ponytailed man laughed loudly. “Crazy is as crazy does, Giddy baby. We all know you have this thing now for sniffing stuff and telling us about the orgasmic tastes of everything you put in your mouth now you’ve started cooking again.” He smiled slyly. “Thank God you keep
some
tastes to yourself.” He snickered and Mr Tough Looking slapped his arm lightly.

“Behave, babe,” he admonished, but the smile on his face belied his warning.

Eddie’s face was pink. “Tay, enough already.” He cast an apologetic glance at Brook. “Gideon lost his sense of taste too in a fire but it’s come back. Now he’s making up for lost time.”

Brook nodded. “I’m glad to hear things are better. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose two of my senses like that.”

Eddie gestured around the table. “So this joker here is Taylor and his fiancé Draven. Don’t let Draven’s tough-man look fool you. He’s a pussycat, really.”

Taylor was the man with the swept-back black hair and coffee-coloured skin. He inclined his head in greeting. Draven rolled his eyes at Eddie’s statement. Up close he looked even tougher. His eyes held a wary amusement.

“Yeah, big old pussycat, that’s me. Nice to meet you at last, Brook. I’ve heard about you from a number of sources.”

Brook frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked being talked about.
A number of sources
? That sounded very official. Draven had the air of a policeman, which was a little disconcerting.

“Oh yes? Who’s been talking about me then?”

Draven snorted. “Well, Leslie doesn’t stop with Laverne this and Brook that. And I understand you live across the hall from an old friend and colleague of mine—Mango Munro?”

Brook groaned. Hell, that man was everywhere. Did the whole damn city know him? “Yes. He’s the one who told me about Deep Purple but he didn’t really go into details.”

The table erupted in laughter. “Mango is a bit of a bastard,” Draven acknowledged with a fond smile. “It’s just like him to test your mettle sending you in there. Well, you got out intact—I hope?”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow and Brook flushed. “I might need bleach in my eyes to wash away some of it, but yes, I made it out.”

Taylor spoke for the first time. “Lenny was here earlier looking for you. He was a bit worried. He expected you sooner.” His voice was soft and melodious.

“I didn’t realise I needed a pass to get in the VIP door. Mango helped me in,” Brook explained. “I haven’t seen Lenny yet.”

Leslie made a moue. “Lenny was like an old woman worrying where you were. He wanted to see you before he got all dressed up. He had something important to tell us but he wanted to wait until you got here.” His face lit up like a sparkler. “He has this fabulous outfit; it’s pink with the most awesome pair of heels you can imagine to top it off. I want a pair of sparkly Blahniks like those.” His yearning was obvious, and Oliver chuckled loudly.

“Baby, don’t you think you have enough shoes? My place has become a shrine to every kid of bloody footwear you can imagine.”

Leslie pouted. “Oliver, you can’t ever have enough shoes. Have I taught you nothing?” He proceeded to pull Oliver’s face to his and indulge in deep-play tonsil hockey.

Brook took a sip of his drink and tried to relax in his chair as the hot display of wantonness went on before his eyes. It made his cock plump up and without Lenny there to alleviate the situation, it was no fun.

The other men around the table seemed used to their friends’ close PDA, and the conversation turned to one of sport, the show ahead and for some reason, the latest cop shows on television. Suddenly a warm pair of hands encircled Brook’s neck and the familiar scent of his boyfriend flooded Brook’s nostrils with spice and sandalwood.

“Evening, love. I hope the gang is taking care of you?”

Smiling eyes regarded him. Lenny looked pumped up, his eyes roving down Brook’s body in appreciation. Brook felt a frisson of desire race through him at the heat in his lover’s eyes. His boyfriend’s tight, forest-green chinos and pale-green, button-up shirt clung to his body, with the faint hint of sweat and musk.

He tilted his head back and looked up into Lenny’s warm eyes.

“All the better now you’re here,” Brook murmured softly, and all at once the group around him uttered an amused. “Aww.”

“Piss off, you lot.” Lenny narrowed his eyes in mock anger at the men grinning at them. “You’re jealous I get to have this hunk of manhood in my bed and you don’t.” He planted a swift kiss on Brook’s cheek. “I have something to tell you and Leslie. I found the mole.”

Brook stared at him and Leslie squealed. “Oh God, you found him? How? Where?”

“
She
was Pixie Blenheim. I found her rifling through the rubbish in my office. She confessed she was spying for Trey and I fired her and banished her from the building.”

Draven gave a low laugh. “I think my boss needs to employ you, Lenny. We could do with your sort on the investigative team at our agency.”

Brook grabbed Lenny in a hug. “Great news. What did the police say?”

Lenny squirmed. “I didn’t call the police.”

At Brook’s eye roll Lenny hastily continued. “There was no point. Fashion espionage isn’t exactly the type of thing the police focus on, and it would have caused more trouble than it was worth.” He smiled grimly. “Next time I see Tracy, I’ll get my own back, I can assure you.”

“Well, okay.” Brook was uncertain, but he wasn’t going to argue. Lenny looked too relaxed and happy for that. “As long as she’s gone I guess there’s not much more can be done.”

Leslie reached out and pulled Lenny to him in a fierce embrace. “Now please let’s not have the same issues we had before and you start looking after your stuff, boss. The shredder is your friend.” His attempt at a tough glare made Brook smile. He noticed Oliver and the others holding back a grin too.

Eddie reached out and tousled Leslie’s hair. “You are so damn cute when you try to be tough.”

Leslie gave a cry of outrage and slapped his arm. “Do you have a death wish, bitch? It took me ages to get it right.”

The crowd cracked up laughing at Leslie’s indignant expression as he fixed his hair.

Lenny chuckled. “I’ve got a little while before I need to go on stage with Delilah. Why don’t I show you around the club?”

Brook stood up. “You’re not going to take me into Deep Purple, are you?” he said tentatively. “Because, I have to tell you, I’ve been in there and it’s not my scene.”

The guys sniggered and Lenny’s eyes widened in horror. “What in the name of thundershit possessed you to go in there? I left a note and your club pass on the table before I left your place this morning. The note said, ‘Here’s your pass and please, whatever you do, stay away from Deep Purple. It’s a den of iniquity and you’ll hate it.’”

“Oh, I never saw it. Well, Mango did warn me but he didn’t tell me how disturbing it was.” Brook chuckled. “It’s fine. I’m not a fainting maiden. It was a shock to the senses, that’s all. Like a damn Greek orgy scene.”

Lenny sighed and brushed a blond lock off his forehead. “Yeah, Ryan needed somewhere for the guys to go when they wanted to get their rocks off outside the main club. We had a few incidents with people messing themselves outside the bathrooms because they couldn’t get in for cocks and false tits and who knows what else. So there’s a strict rule. No hanky-panky in the normal toilets, use Deep Purple for that. Of course it still goes on in the usual loos but the bouncers manage it. People can at least take a piss when they want to instead of having to dodge multiple semen bullets and pushy bottoms.” He snorted loudly in amusement at the groans around the table.

“Jesus, that’s disgusting,” muttered Gideon with a wince of distaste. “That image is now seared in my brain.”

Lenny waved an airy hand. “Glad to be of service. Come on, love. Let me take you on a personal tour of the place. See you guys later.”

Brook waved a fleeting goodbye before he was pulled out of the bar. Lenny seemed in a real hurry to be somewhere.

“Lenny, where’s the fire?” he protested laughingly as he was pulled along like a kid’s toy on wheels, trying to avoid the dancers on the floor. “Slow down.”

Lenny stopped to regard Brook with smouldering eyes. “I am so bloody horny, I can't think straight. You look so sexy in that leather getup and I really want you to shag me. We need to find somewhere that’s fairly private.”