Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (25 page)

*****

Brook was sitting reading in the lounge when his lover walked in, and did a double take when he saw the blood-spattered suit. Lenny’s wig was off, no doubt stuffed in his satchel. It was the first item he divested of when travelling up in the lift.

“Jesus, Lenny, what the hell happened to you?” He stood up and rushed to his boyfriend’s side.

Lenny smiled tiredly. “A mugger tried to rob me.” He chuckled. “I won, though.” He rolled his shoulder. “Give me a few minutes, love, and I’ll tell you all about it. I need to get out of these clothes and into the shower. I feel damn dirty.” He disappeared towards the bathroom.

Brook paced the living room in agitation.

This was exactly what I’d feared might happen.

When Lenny walked in, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, Brook pulled him closer for inspection. “Lenny, what the hell happened?”

“Just a random mugging, some little prick seeing a woman and thinking she’d be an easy target.”

Brook reached up, touching the now clean wound on the side of Lenny’s head. His eyes widened when he saw the scraped and bruised hand. His bones chilled.

“Did you report it to the police?”

Lenny shook his head. “No, love, I didn’t. He scarpered. I got the names of the bystanders though in case it goes any further.”

Brook opened his mouth to say ‘I told you so’ in the nicest possible way, but Lenny grinned and laid his fingers on Brook’s lips. “I’m fine. And before you say anything, I didn’t get mugged because I was a man dressed as a woman. He tried to mug me because he
thought
I was a woman. So the argument you may have been thinking about making holds no water. I’m just glad it happened to me, and not someone who might not have been able to fight back.”

“Still, I wish I’d been there to see you kick that bastard to the curb,” Brook said through gritted teeth. He admitted the thought of Lenny getting physical and all macho gave him a hard-on of note. “So how is the arsehole?”

Lenny shrugged. “I hit him. I think I broke his nose.”

Brook shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it. Wasn’t anyone around to help you?”

“It was just me and him.” Lenny chuckled as he caressed Brook’s cheek. “I’m fine, honestly.”

Brook frowned but raised a hand to touch the injury tenderly. “It doesn’t look as if it needs stitches.” He lifted Lenny’s hand to his lips.

“Your poor knuckles.” He kissed them softly and then looked up in amusement. “Did you have to hit him? Couldn’t you have done a Bruce Lee move and shoved him down to the ground?”

Lenny scowled and removed his hand. “The guy was a prick. He deserved it. He had a bloody knife.”

Brook’s skin chilled. “Hell, babe, it could have been bad. I’m glad you’re okay. Little tosser.” He heaved a breath. “Is it wrong of me to think it’s quite a turn-on, thinking of you fighting like that? It must be that old primal instinct thing: Me man, you man.” The relief coursing through his body at the fact Lenny could take care of himself had also lifted a burden that had still owned a little piece of his psyche.

My man is a badass motherfucker. That is so damned sexy.

Lenny regarded Brook thoughtfully. “That sounds like a fairly interesting idea for a next role play,” he said. “Perhaps you can give it some thought?” He waved an airy hand. “In the meantime, I have a theory I want to test. It’s called ‘Using sex to relieve endorphin production in an adult male after encountering danger.’ It’s pretty scientific. I need a subject to fuck senseless though.”

Brook laughed softly as Lenny moved towards him. He was already as hard as a rock in his chinos. It didn’t take much where Lenny was concerned. “Mr One Track Mind, that’s you. How would you like your ‘subject’ to be involved, Professor? Have you any particular scenario in mind?” He swallowed, his groin heating up at the thought of what might happen next. The fact they’d both also had their test results and no longer needed condoms was another bright spark in his life and made a real difference to their sex life.

Lenny moved over to the wall panel and pressed the button to let the blinds run across the large open picture windows of the apartment, shutting the twinkling lights of the city. The wall sconces glowed warmly.

“I don’t want anyone else involved in our research project,” he said huskily as he moved towards Brook. “The last thing we need is a nosy neighbour across the way with long-lens cameras filming what we’re about to do.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the couch.

Brook loved the sight of bare-chested Lenny. He was broad shouldered and muscled, and the thatch of blond hair on his chest leading down to what was beneath his jeans was a sight to behold. His tousled, now longer hair glinted in the dim light, his chiselled features softening as he looked at Brook. Lenny gazed into Brook’s eyes with sheer despoiling intent before moving swiftly towards Brook and pulling him closer. His hardness pressed into Brook’s own as both of them moaned softly. Lenny drew a deep breath as he yanked Brook’s shirt out of his trousers and slid his hands into the warmth beneath.

“In answer to your question about the subject—naked, willing and right now,” Lenny whispered. As Brook watched his man stalk towards him with predatory eyes, all he could do was swallow and enjoy the fact he was about to get well and truly screwed.

Chapter 18

“And so, my chickens, you all know what the wonderful Dolly Parton had to say about the matter.
‘It’s a good thing I was born a girl otherwise I’d be a drag queen.’”

The audience exploded into laughter as Lenny sashayed his way across the stage, coming to stand next to the glamorous Delilah Delish, in a stunning, sequinned gold dress, topped with shoes with heels that could have been used as toothpicks. The couple did their usual bump and grind then Lenny waved out at the crowd as his eyes sought out his boyfriend sitting in the front row. He loved seeing Brook up front, watching him as he performed. It was a special occasion tonight: his and Brook’s six-month anniversary, and Brook’s birthday had been a few days ago. It was also only a few days to Christmas and the club was packed with holiday cheer and twinkling fairy lights.

Ryan had wanted to do a special gig with Laverne to celebrate, and the evening had been filled with glitter, exploding champagne corks and all manner of go-go boys writhing around the two of them to the beat of Adam Lambert and Lady Gaga. It had been a typical Delilah affair, camp and decadent.

“I’m heading off now, got a sexy evening planned with my man for his birthday celebration.” Lenny murmured to Ryan as he licked his lips and blew a kiss at Brook. The catcalls and whistles echoed through the room and Brook stood up, took a bow then sat down again, a smile creasing his handsome face.

“Go get him, tiger,” Ryan said from beyond red lipstick lips. “You’re a lucky man, my friend.”

Ryan’s eyes were shadowed. The go-go boys took over the main stage and made another welcome appearance to the rambunctious tune of Adam Lambert’s “Strut.”

“Have you not heard from Mango yet?” Lenny asked quietly as he smiled at the audience. It was a great opportunity for a breather to talk. Once again Mango Munroe had done a disappearing act, leaving an unhappy Ryan behind.

Ryan waved and mimed a wanking gesture with his polished, red fingernails towards the sexy dancers to the delight of the crowd who roared in appreciation. “No. It’s been over a month and no word. I don’t even know where he bloody went, the bastard.”

Lenny’s heart went out to his suffering friend. “He’ll get in touch soon. He always does, love. Have faith.”

Ryan gave a sardonic snort. “I should forget him, right? Move on. Find someone who’ll commit? I mean, I don’t even have you anymore.”

Lenny sighed as he reached out and hugged his friend. He heard the vulnerability in Ryan’s voice. “You love the man. It’s not that easy. And I know it’s tough, us not being together anymore. You need to find someone who wants to be with you full time, honey. You deserve it.”

Ryan nodded, his eyes distant as he watched the gyrating, half-naked men on stage. “I know.” He huffed softly. “I’m being stupid. Go on, get off and be with your man. He looks lonely down there. And you have somewhere special to be.” His tone was wistful.

In full-blown Delilah Delish mode, Ryan glided to the centre of the stage and held the mike up to his painted lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, say a fond farewell to the lovely and talented Laverne Debussy-Smith. We hope to see her back soon, but for now, she has rather more pressing issues to attend to, if you know what I mean. I’m thinking a lot of press-ups are going to get done tonight.”

To the ribald and good-natured comments of the audience, Lenny waved his goodbye and stepped off stage to the wings. He was walking down the corridor with flickering overhead lights to the changing room he and Ryan shared when he heard a bray of laughter and a voice from someone he knew. He stopped, a smile forming on his face.

Well, well, well. Luck is with me tonight it would seem.

The laughter was coming from an adjacent corridor, one that led into the bowels of the building and down to the basement. Small dressing rooms lined that passage as well. Lenny made a detour and headed straight for the owner of the sound he’d heard.

Tracy Trey leaned against the wall, hair the colour of peppermint. He wore a pair of brightly coloured patchwork trousers, a filmy, silver blouse and a bright yellow military jacket studded with pearl buttons. Three young men, dancers for the show, appeared entranced by his every word as they preened and giggled, faces alight with hero worship.

Lenny thought grimly he was about to burst their bubble by kneeing their idol in the balls.

“Tracy, my darling. How lovely to see you.” He strode up to the now white-faced man looking at Laverne with trepidation, and Lenny hoped his smile masked the fury he felt inside. “I think we have something to talk about, my chicken. Or would that be my little mole? Or rat?” He waved at the dancers. “You might like to get rid of the acolytes. I’m sure you wouldn’t want them to see this.”

Tracy positioned himself behind the three gawking youths. “Laverne, darling, we have nothing to say to each other.” He actually flung his fingers out at Lenny as if warding off a bad smell. “I know you think you have an axe to grind with me, but really, can’t we simply say it’s in the past and put the nastiness behind us?”

Lenny shook his head. “You stole my drawings, Tracy. You should be ashamed of yourself sending that woman to do your dirty work.”

Tracy giggled. “You can’t prove it, darling. It’s all hearsay and that woman is now in the Bahamas completely out of touch.”

Lenny glared at the young men surrounding Tracy. They looked rather apprehensive. “I’d suggest you three scarper, and go and tell Ryan I’m about to kick some arse. Then he can pull me off when I get really busy.”

Two of them did exactly what he’d suggested, hot-footing it down the corridor. The last one—Laverne thought his name was CoCo—glared defiantly at him.

“You cannot do that to Tracy, Laverne.” His French accented voice was musical. “He is my friend and does not deserve his balls to be broken.”

Lenny got closer, until he was almost chest-to-chest with Tracy’s defender. CoCo’s eyes went bigger and he swallowed.

Lenny prodded CoCo’s chest with his finger. “Then perhaps I should start with you,” he said. “How partial are you to
your
balls? This is a matter between Tracy and me, so sod off, chicken.”

CoCo squeaked and scarpered, his pert arse the last thing Laverne saw as he disappeared around the corner.

Tracy looked a little paler than he had but stood his ground. “So, what, you’re going to kick me in the nuts? I don’t think you have the—
Oof
…”

The next sound coming out of Tracy’s mouth was like the noise of a deflating balloon, high-pitched and squealing. He clutched his bruised balls, and his eyes turned up as he fell to his knees, while Lenny watched with interest. Lenny had only kneed him once, not too hard but just enough to be felt.

“That’s for stealing from me, you arsehole,” he snarled. Tracy’s eyes watered and his mouth trembled with pain. “I should give you another one for talking crap about me on television, but I think I’ll spare the effort.”

Tracy launched himself upright, arms flailing as he tried to smack Lenny in the face. Lenny was taller and stronger so had no problem holding him at bay.

“Bastard,” Tracy screeched. “That fucking hurt, you cross-dressing, talentless tranny.”

Lenny stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell? What did you just call me, you useless shit for brains?” He grabbed Tracy’s arms and wasn’t able to avoid the slap to his cheek, as his waving arms found their target of Lenny’s face. The sting to his flesh spurred him on and he was about to let loose on Tracy’s nether regions and administer yet another soprano-making kick when strong arms pulled him away.

“Babe, leave him. He’s not worth it.” Brook’s amused tone registered with Lenny and he swung around to stare narrowly at his boyfriend.

“Says you. I want to slap his bloody face off—”

Ryan appeared beside Brook, in full Delilah regalia, face creased in laughter as he laid his hand on Lenny’s shoulder. “Laverney, enough bitch slapping. God, you two are precious. I could have sold tickets for this and made a fortune.”

“Oh God, have you been speaking to Leslie?” Lenny groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

He glowered at Tracy who was panting heavily and clutching his groin again. “Fine, count us even. Don’t you ever try something like that again or this time I will call the police. And stop trashing me on your stupid TV show or next time I’ll meet you round a dark corner and show you what it feels like to have a fist up your arse. Oh, you’ve probably done that before, in which case I just won’t use lube.”

He took a deep, righteous breath and reached up to pull off his wig, which had come loose in the fracas. Brook was laughing silently, tears rolling down his face. Lenny stared at him then grinned.

“I’m glad to see you so amused, love. Haven’t you ever heard another man offer to fist someone before?”