Screwing the System (9 page)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alasdair picked up the chipped mug. Not his favourite, he noticed, but one of the promotional freebies from the company that unblocked their drains. He took a sip and almost spat it out again. She’d used Nescafé. Ouch. He really was in the doghouse. “Hey, I thought you were supposed to butter up the boss with proper coffee.”

“You’ll get the good stuff when you start talking to me, buster.” Mavis fixed him with a stare and wouldn’t back down.

Alasdair tried another sip of dishwater coffee before setting the mug down. “Look, it’s personal stuff. I didn’t mean it to interfere with work, but it’s okay now. All sorted.”

“Really?” Mavis’s arms remained crossed.

“Yes. Really.” He attempted to outstare her again, but the woman had obviously been taking lessons from someone. “You’re not going to leave until I tell you, are you?”

“I learnt from the best.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.” Mavis smirked and tapped her fingernails on his desk. “Come on. Time’s a-wasting. We’ve got a company to run.”

Looked like he’d have to tell her something, but how much would keep her satisfied? Alasdair decided to go for a minimal outline. “I had a date last weekend, and I bollocksed it up at the end. I thought he wasn’t going to want to see me again, but I just called him, and we’re going to give it another go this week.”

“Okay, so I have another grumpy Monday to look forward to, do I?”

“No. It’s all going to go according to plan this time.”

“Oh, Alasdair.” Mavis patted him on the hand. The woman clearly had no sense of self-preservation. “When are you going to learn? Relationships can’t be planned out like a business can. People don’t want to be managed by their lovers, especially when they’re a forceful son of bitch like you.”

“Some of them do.” Alasdair raised an eyebrow and smirked. Let her figure out the subtext.

“Oi! I don’t want details of your pervy love life, thank you very much.” Mavis’s cheeks flushed beneath her makeup, but her eyes sparkled. She slurped down the rest of her coffee and rose to leave. “Righty ho. Back to the grindstone. Oh, and do me a favour?”

Alasdair looked up.

“Try not to stick your foot in it this time around. I know you might not be familiar with these terms, but tact and diplomacy go a long way in a relationship.”

“Hey, I’m a master of tact. Really. I’ve got a diploma kicking around the place somewhere.”

Mavis snorted and closed the door.

Two days later, as Alasdair gathered together a selection of toys from his cupboard, Mavis’s words circled around his head. Maybe she’d been right.

Alasdair picked up his favourite cock cage, a clear acrylic one with soft, silicone nubs inside. Diplomacy. Didn’t want to scare Cosmo off. He sighed and put the cock cage back in the drawer. Another time, maybe. But for now he had to get showered and dressed, throw together a salad to go with the salmon steaks, and figure out what exactly he wanted to talk to Cosmo about while they ate. After dinner he’d be fine. He had a list and his bag of tricks. But polite conversation over the fish with an unemployed man sixteen years his junior?

Yes, that was going to be the real challenge.

By the time the doorbell rang, Alasdair was no closer to figuring out a safe topic of small talk, but when he answered the door, the words dried up in his throat anyway.

The man standing on his doorstep didn’t look like the nervous twink he’d picked up at the bar or the sullen youngster who’d sloped out of his house in the morning. No, this time Cosmo stood tall and proud, a defiant gleam in his eye. Alasdair took his time to look Cosmo up and down, appreciating the way the black jeans hugged his muscular thighs and the T-shirt pulled tight over his abs. Yes, it was good to have a sub with a decent helping of muscle on him.

“You’re late,” he eventually grunted, which wasn’t at all what he’d meant to say but infinitely more acceptable than
get those clothes off this instant, boy
. Besides, they weren’t playing right now, were they?

Cosmo shrugged and gave a smile that only lifted one corner of his lips. “What can you do? Wycombe rush-hour traffic.”

“Right. Of course.” Alasdair stepped back and held the door wide. “You’d better come in.” He tracked Cosmo’s arse as he walked inside, admiring the way his glutes swayed with his rolling gait. No doubt the lad was putting it on thick for Alasdair’s benefit, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“So, no orders this time? I can’t believe I’m going to be allowed into your house unmolested.”

Alasdair couldn’t believe it either, but he’d promised diplomacy, and that meant not confusing matters by inappropriate intimacy outside of their scene. At least, not until they were sure of where they stood with each other. Roll on the after-dinner questionnaire.

“Come on through to the kitchen. I’m in the middle of cooking.” He strode off, pleased to hear Cosmo’s footsteps following him.

While Alasdair heated the frying pan, Cosmo opened the fridge and began poking around.

“Have you not got any cider?” Cosmo sounded disappointed.

“Can’t stand the stuff. And I don’t want you drinking right now.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I want you to be clearheaded while we discuss things. Alcohol impairs judgment, and I don’t want you agreeing to something you’re not happy with.”

“You let me drink last week,” Cosmo grumbled, but he pulled out a carton of juice and closed the fridge door gently.

“Last week was different. Just a taster. This week is more serious.”

“And there was me thinking it was meant to be play.”

“Oh, there’ll be play too. Don’t you worry about that. I’m going to show you some of my favourite toys.”

“Promises, promises.”

With his back to Cosmo, Alasdair grinned. The man might be doing his best to sound sarcastic, but a tremor of excitement gave him away. Time to change the subject, though. He dragged out his one predetermined safe topic of conversation. “Heard any good tunes lately?”

“Funny you should ask that. I’ve been listening to the new Bat for Lashes album.” Cosmo’s voice was thick with innuendo. “Listening really hard. Over and over till I can’t take it anymore.”

Alasdair turned around, and Cosmo gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare that didn’t fool him for a moment. Okay. Two could play at that game. “I’m more of a Kinks man myself, but I’m partial to a bit of Ian Drury. Ever heard ‘Hit me with Your Rhythm Stick’?”

Cosmo’s wide grin lit up his whole face.

Chapter Seven

Dinner turned out to be more fun than Cosmo had expected. The food was delicious, and Alasdair seemed to be doing his best to relax and chat, even if it was painfully obvious he hadn’t listened to any new music since the dark ages. Okay, so it was pretty weird being sat around a proper table rather than eating off their knees in front of the telly like he did at home, but at least they were in the kitchen rather than some formal dining room. And while Alasdair wasn’t in his leathers, he’d changed out of his suit and into jeans and a black shirt open low enough to reveal a few inches of inked flesh.

When Cosmo finished his last mouthful of fish, he leant back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs. Alasdair was watching him intently, his steepled fingers resting against his chin. Goose bumps rose all over Cosmo’s body. He could get used to Alasdair using that hungry wolf look on him.

“So”—Cosmo rocked back in the chair as he spoke—“when’s this meeting of yours going to kick off? I hope there’s tea and biscuits, seeing as you’ve ruled out the hard stuff.”

“Kettle’s on the worktop behind you. Tea and biscuits in the jars behind. Milk in the fridge. Water in the tap. I’ll take mine builder’s strength, no sugar.”

Huh
. “I don’t remember signing up to be your slave, yet.”

“If you were my slave, I wouldn’t even have to ask. You’d know to get your lazy arse up the minute we finished eating. In fact, you’d be eating it down there, out of a dog bowl.” Alasdair grinned as he pointed at the floor. “Wearing a collar and a lead. Maybe a tail too.”

Cosmo was about to let rip with an indignant protest, but he spotted the spark in Alasdair’s eyes just in time. The man did have a sense of humour after all. Instead, he bounced up and yapped like the little Pekinese his nan used to have, before dropping to all fours and resting his chin on Alasdair’s knee.

The look on Alasdair’s face was priceless. Shocked amusement mixed with a good dash of horror. He cleared his throat and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Let me get one thing clear; I’m not actually into puppy play. Or pony play. If that’s your kink, I’ll do my best, but I don’t find it a turn on.”

Cosmo winked and snuffled at Alasdair’s crotch. “Puppy wants a bone,” he growled.

This time, amusement must have won out, because Cosmo felt a low chuckle rumbling through Alasdair’s body. Alasdair patted him on the head. “Maybe later, if you’re a good boy. We have some negotiations to get through first.”

Oh yeah. Back to business. Cosmo made a frustrated yelping noise, took one last sniff of Alasdair’s musky crotch, and went to make the tea.

When he returned to the table with the two mugs, there was a large bag and a clipboard sitting on it.

“Are you planning to interrogate me? The clipboard,” he added, in response to Alasdair’s quizzical expression.

“This? Oh, this is just a questionnaire I designed. To make sure we cover all the different areas, and so I can note down your hard limits.”

“Fuck’s sake. Do you ever turn the boss-man thing off? I mean, I dunno, it’s kinda hot n’ all, but doesn’t it get tiring, being so bloody organised and efficient?”

“How could being efficient be tiring? The whole point is to save wasting energy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you I don’t.”

Cosmo stared at Alasdair, trying to figure out if he was being deliberately obtuse. But no, he couldn’t detect a tease in that serious expression. He sighed and crossed his arms. “Okay, fine, I’ll do your stupid questionnaire. But just so you know, I don’t find clipboards a turn-on. In fact, they bring me out in hives. So do PowerPoint presentations and laser pointers. And don’t get me started on team-building exercises.”

“I’m surprised you even know what those things are, with your employment history.”

Bastard!
“Hey, I’ve watched
The Office
. God, if you turn into David Brent, don’t expect any action from me.”

“Objection noted. No Ricky Gervais impersonations.” Alasdair mimed writing something on his clipboard. “Now go fetch the fucking biscuits.
Please
.” They shared a grin and Cosmo did as he was asked. The heat of Alasdair’s gaze scorched into his back as he turned. Yep, maybe this interview wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“My limits first, then,” Alasdair began when they were both seated. “I’m willing to give most things a try with an experienced sub, but I’m not into pushing people beyond their limits or excessive humiliation. The most important thing I’m after is for you to trust me and to learn obedience. My only hard limits are no scat or blood play.”

Cosmo shuddered. Thank God for that. But did that mean… He considered some of the more extreme things he’d been Googling over the last week. “So you’d do anything else? Like, er, breath play? Or watersports?”

Alasdair’s lips curled ever so slightly. “Only if the idea turned you on.”

Did it? Cosmo squirmed as he imagined those thick hands closing around his neck. “I don’t think so.”

“Then we won’t do either activity.”

“But aren’t there things you really want to do to me?” He had to know what Alasdair was after.

“Of course.” Alasdair’s eyes grew darker, but he didn’t give off any other signals of arousal and picked up his mug of tea. “Thanks for this. It’s perfect.”

“Yeah. Good. But aren’t you going to tell me about any of that stuff? What you want, I mean?”

“Not just yet, no.”

“Why not? You just said you wanted me to trust you. How can I do that if I think you’re just waiting for the chance to get me chained up so you can whip me till I bleed?”

“I can assure you I wouldn’t do that. I don’t like drawing blood, and besides, I prefer rope, no matter how sexy chains look around your wrists.”

“Okay, then, tie me up and spank me senseless.”

“Would that be so bad? I seem to remember you enjoyed being spanked last week.”

“Yes, true, but…” What had his objections been? It was hard to hold on to them with the rush of lust that last suggestion had conjured up.

“Cosmo, listen to me. This is important, and I need you to understand. Right this minute, I want to find out what you’re interested in trying. I don’t want to influence you into thinking there are right or wrong choices, or that I expect you to answer a certain way.”

“Are you saying I don’t know my own mind?”

“I’m saying that the balance of power is very much skewed in my favour here. I’m older, stronger and richer than you, and we’re on my home turf. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a little in awe of me, despite yourself.”