Men of London 05 - Cross to Bare (6 page)

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?”

Lenny shrugged. “In my opinion, this market is big enough for us both. Tracy and I are not friends, but we work in the same industry. I can’t begrudge him expanding his
plaid
empire to make items like these.” He glanced down at them. “And let’s face it, mine will always trump his.” He grinned. “I made the Debussy suit famous by doing things differently and better.”

Leslie frowned. “Still. I saw one of his jackets on the catwalk. I thought it bore a resemblance to something you were working on a few months ago…? That retro design you decided not to go with because it didn’t look right.”

Now it was Lenny’s turn to frown. “Really? I didn’t see that. It must be a coincidence. I decided the design wasn’t good enough, so I binned it.”

“Do you shred your old drawings, boss?” His employee’s tone was all business. “We have that huge shredder out there, and the secure waste disposal service. You should be putting your stuff in there. Anyone could walk out of here with your thrown-away pieces of draft paper.”

Lenny laughed. “I trust my staff, chicken. We’re a small team of fifteen people, and I doubt any one of them would steal things from my waste bin.”

Leslie didn’t look convinced. “I’d still feel better if you disposed of them securely.”

Lenny loved it when Leslie got all serious. He was adorably efficient at his job despite his flirty, ‘I’m-a-drama-queen’ demeanour. It was why Lenny had hired him.

“Fine. If it makes my young man happy, I’ll shove them in the shredder or pop them in the secure waste bag. Happy?”

Leslie rolled his eyes. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want your hard work to go elsewhere.”

Lenny walked over to him and hugged him. “I know,” he murmured against soft, black hair. “And I appreciate you for it. You are my favourite chicken.”

He released a rosy-cheeked Leslie. Lenny wasn’t sure if Leslie’s colouring was because he’d pressed him into his bosom or whether he was blushing because of the praise. It was possibly a bit of both. He remembered something else he’d been meaning to talk to Leslie about.

“Oh, by the way, I think it’s time to up the ante a bit on your continuing education here at Debussy’s and bring you into the fold of the actual business side of things. The boring nitty-gritty of finance and revenue. I want you in the next loan meeting.”

Leslie’s eyes glazed over. “Finance and revenue?” he murmured uncomfortably. “Really? You’re asking a guy who barely understands an overdraft into a financial meeting?”

Lenny nodded. “Yes. It’s about time you saw a bit of the behind-the-scenes work in action.”

Leslie’s face fell. “Laverne,” he whined. “The last time you made me go behind the scenes I had to put chalk on a woman’s nipples. I got into conversation about a va-jay-jay.” He shivered. “It was horrible.”

Lenny laughed loudly at the disgusted expression on Leslie’s face. “Yes, my pumpkin, I want you there. You remember those idiots I chucked out a couple of weeks ago? Well, I’ve had their manager on the line to Naomi, charming her into giving him another appointment so he can personally apologise to me for the dickhead’s behaviour. He wants to see whether he can help me with finance.”

He walked around the desk and stood at Leslie’s side, picking stray pieces of what looked like silver thread out of his black hair. The man had probably been scrounging for bits of material in the recycle bin again. “I thought that if he’s got the balls to come and personally apologise, then the least I could do was see him. Apparently he also fired the homophobic wanker that was out of line.” He leaned over and peered at his diary. “So, a Mr Simon Hunter will be here on Thursday at two p.m. Put it in your diary—if you have one.”

Leslie heaved a theatrical sigh. “If I must.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t expect too much of me. I know I’m not daft but finance is one thing that really gets me confused. Someone tried to sell me an issy the other day and I didn’t understand a word she was saying.”

Lenny was puzzled. “An issy?”

Leslie nodded. “Some tax savings account thingamabob.”

Lenny chuckled loudly. “Oh you mean an ISA, Leslie. Honey, you make me laugh.”

“Whatever.” Leslie pouted then gave a wicked grin. “I don’t need a savings account. I have Oliver.” He chortled in delight at Lenny’s widened eyes. “I’m joking. I’m not with him because of his huge bank account. I’m with him because of his huge prick.” He wiggled his brows. “And because I love him to bits.”

Lenny laughed loudly. “Sweetheart, the things you say. I really feel sorry for that boyfriend of yours.”

Leslie stuck his tongue out at him. “Don’t. He gives as good as he gets, believe me.” Realising what he’d said, both men collapsed in peals of laughter only to be interrupted in their mirth by Naomi putting her head around the door with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry to interrupt, but your ten o’clock meeting is here, Laverne. Richard Grace, the fabric guy? He’s in the waiting room having green tea. Shall I bring him in?”

Lenny wiped his eyes. “Yes, Naomi, please do. Give me a minute to freshen up and I’ll be right with him. Leslie, remember Thursday, two o’clock. Please don’t forget, or have some pet fish emergency.”

The regularity with which Leslie’s treasured fish died deserved its own CSI programme. There was definitely something
fishy
about it. At that silly thought, Lenny chuckled, ignoring Leslie’s questioning look and Naomi’s deep sigh.

“Private joke,” Lenny managed. “Give me a minute then take Richard to the conference room. He’s doing a presentation for me. It’s all set up for him.”

Leslie turned to leave then swung around. His blue eyes were warm, concerned. “Laverne, call your man back. Go and explain things to him. It might not be that bad. You deserve to tell him the truth at least and let him make his own decision. Not do it for him. He must really like you if he’s been calling nonstop.” He flashed a quick smile and disappeared out of the office, Naomi right behind him.

Lenny finished wiping his eyes, making sure he had nothing in his teeth, then sprayed some more antiperspirant under his arms. Silk tended to make him sweat. Then he picked up his tailored jacket from the hanger on the coatrack in his office. Shrugging into it, he considered Leslie’s words. Perhaps he had a point. Maybe it was time to clear the air and tell Brook about Laverne. He guessed he had nothing to lose. He adjusted his wig, making sure it covered his own hair properly and picked up his folder from his desk.

Time to get to work. Then, perhaps later, he might have a glass of wine for Dutch courage and make that damn call.

*****

“Hey, freak. My lady and I have a bet on. I say you’re a freak of nature and she thinks you’re a fag dressed like a woman. Can you put us out of your misery and tell us who’s right?”

Lenny sighed, rolled his eyes, catching the sympathetic glance of the woman standing next to him.

I am so not in the mood for this. The train is delayed again and it’s as hot as Hades down here. Perhaps if I ignore these arseholes they’ll go away
.

“Hey, dickhead. I’m talking to you.”

Lenny groaned softly. The tube station was packed due to the late rush hour and the delay. He really didn’t need the aggravation. Also his head itched from his wig but he daren’t take it off because underneath he’d be a sweaty, mussed-hair mess. Lenny hated bad hair days, especially when it was his own.

Not going to go away then? You prick.

Occasionally, when he travelled home in his Laverne persona, it caused some raised eyebrows and invited more than a couple of derogatory comments and snide remarks. Normally Lenny changed back into his ‘man’ clothes after work but tonight, he couldn’t have been arsed. He was eager to get home; it had been late and the thought of changing and removing everything had been too much bother. It was only three tube stops to home, so a short ride, but still. Usually no one seemed to notice him, everyone too busy staring into iPads or mobile phones, or simply gazing hopefully down the track as they awaited their ride.

Once or twice as Laverne he’d had to kick a guy in the balls because the men had gotten a little too aggressive and insulting. That must have been a sight to see for onlookers—a broad-shouldered woman in a skirt and low-heeled boots whirling her way through a series of Taekwondo moves—because Lenny could take care of himself. He’d studied martial arts and boxing in his twenties for close to five years, but he really didn’t want to resort to violence on a crowded station platform if he could help it.

He turned to face the man passing comment. The man was well dressed, in his late forties, early fifties, with the red nose and blotchy face of a heavy drinker. His companion was a skinny, bottle-blonde woman of around the same age, and Lenny’s discerning eyes noticed her tacky knockoff suit. She certainly didn’t look like the type to afford the real thing. Lenny sniffed. Classy was not a word he’d have used for the pair.

Why the fuck do arseholes have to cause trouble?

He tried a polite smile. His lips were dry and devoid of lipstick because, after work he couldn’t be bothered to apply more.

“I’m trying to get home, same as you. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

He saw them start at his deep voice and the woman had the grace to look uncomfortable. She looked away, pretending to peer down the track for an approaching train. The man, however, didn’t give up so easily.

“I mean, what the hell? You’re a man in women’s clothing. What’s all that about?”

Lenny’s temper flared. “Leave me the hell alone,” he growled. “It’s my business how I dress. Leave your fat, ugly nose out of it.”

The heat in the tube station was causing rivulets of sweat to run down his forehead and into his eyes. And it was only mid-June. Heaven knows what it would be like in the height of the July and August summer months. He wiped the sweat away irritably. He smelt his own sweat beneath the antiperspirant he wore. Under his suit pants his barely-there silk briefs clung to him. The inside of his thighs were chafed.

Where the fuck is that damn train?

There was a flurry of activity on the platform and Lenny looked up to see his heckler standing right beside him. He tensed, hoping things weren’t about to get ugly. Everyone around them looked at uneasily.

“You don’t get to speak to me like that,” Red Nose said angrily. “I was only asking you a question.”

“A question you have no right to have the answer to,” Lenny shot back. “Like I said, it’s my business. Now fuck off.” The time for niceties was definitely over.

Red Nose growled and his arm came up, as if to slap or punch him. Instinctively Lenny blocked it, and in one fluid moment, he had the guy in a headlock, the man pressed close to his own body as he growled softly into his ear. “I said leave me alone. You don’t get to touch me. Now are you going to resist so I can knee you in the knackers and you can amuse your lady with your high voice or are you going to back—the—fuck—off?”

The panic on Red Nose’s face was almost funny but Lenny was in no mood to be amused.

“I’ll back off,” Red Nose squeaked. “Let me go.”

Lenny released him and the man scurried back, his bravado returning as he got further away, back to his stunned, open-mouthed partner.

“Wanker,” Red Nose spat as he nursed what was probably now a bruised arm. “That’s assault, that is. I should sue you.” He looked around wildly, probably for a security guard.

Lenny closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had probably overreacted, but the guy was a douche bag. He hoped he wasn’t going to be harassed by the station authorities.

A quiet voice piped up from among the platform dwellers. “I think we can all safely attest to the fact you started this, you bully. This woman here was defending herself.” The three women standing a few feet away smiled at Lenny. Behind them three big men, probably their partners, stood protectively. One of them nodded his head at him in support.

The woman continued. “You can call the authorities, but I think we’d all agree here that nothing really happened?” She waved a hand towards Red Nose. “Most of us here are all part of the same Sherlock Holmes tour, and I feel pretty sure we’ll all say you were the tosser and not this lady.” She looked around at the milling crowd. “Am I right?”

The crowd nodded in various stages of assent and there were murmurs of “Absolutely,” and “Sure. We all saw what really happened.”

Lenny felt a surge of warmth at the fact people were standing up for Laverne. A strong wind blew down the tunnel and he breathed a sigh of relief that the train had arrived. He mouthed a grateful ‘Thank you’ at the woman as they all clambered on board the train. She winked and then was lost in the melee of weary passengers struggling to get home. Red Nose and his lady friend were swallowed up in the same influx. He did catch a glimpse of the man glaring at him from among the other passengers and Lenny was childishly tempted to pull a tongue at him. But he resisted and instead held on tightly to the overhead rail as the train pulled out of the station.

When he got home he showered, changed clothes and poured himself a stiff drink. Then he sat down to watch the latest porn offering from Vanguard Studios, called
Boys of Bayshore
. He couldn’t concentrate on the onscreen action though, as one of the performers in the film, a very talented black actor called Griffin Damson, reminded him of Brook.

“Hell, Griffin is hot,” he murmured, as he reached inside his loose drawstring board shorts and fondled himself. “But nothing like Brook…”

Lenny closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room wash over him, his arousal and slowly growing erection transporting him elsewhere, blocking out the street noise below. The noise and grunts of the men onscreen spurred him on as he smeared his own fluids into his palm and slowly, agonisingly, tugged himself to thoughts of Brook’s hands on his cock, the glistening smoothness of his ebony skin and the pink of his lips as he sucked him to distraction.

Lenny braced his bare heels against the couch seat, back arching as he thrust upwards into his hand. He remembered pushing inside Brook for the first time, and the first time he’d had his ex-lover’s sizeable cock up his own arse. Thoughts of that drove him on to jack himself harder. He’d not had sex for a while, what with Ryan being out of town and not being in the mood to have random stranger jerkoffs or blowjobs at the clubs he usually frequented.