The Administration Series (176 page)

"This way, please, sir."

After the ominous approach, the mundane office reception area beyond was both a mild surprise and a disappointment. Expensively decorated, though, and obviously new — no routes worn into the SimTech-blue carpet, or impressions on the seats of the grey leather chairs.

A receptionist he recognised from the university campus SimTech building handed him a security badge with his name and picture — a rather flattering one, and Toreth wondered for a moment where Warrick had found it. Of course, it could easily have come from the sim records. He clipped it onto the lapel of his jacket and nodded to the guard.

They passed through two more sets of doors — secure access but no longer so heavily built — then into a lift up to the ground floor. When the lift doors opened, a hum of voices met them.

Toreth stepped into an open space surrounded by half a dozen rooms, partitioned off with glass walls. The expanses of glass would opaque for privacy; all but a couple were currently clear. The suite of rooms had all been decorated for the party, but Toreth guessed that in their real lives they were meeting rooms and places to entertain visitors. A thick grey carpet, with the SimTech logo woven into it, covered the floor, and in the centre a disconnected sim couch stood on a matte grey metal pedestal. Deeply upholstered blue sofas and low tables in the same material as the pedestal surrounded it.

Expensive people in expensive clothes occupied the rooms, filling them with a background noise of cultured voices and perfectly pitched laughter. Corporate animals relaxing in the comfort of a herd of their peers. Light glinted from champagne glasses and jewellery. Toreth breathed in — alcohol, food, perfume, aftershave. Money. Funny how it
was
possible to smell it. Even the faint new-building smells of carpeting and paint had a classy touch, a richer edge.

"There you are."

Toreth turned to find Warrick beside him, smiling warmly.

"Okay, what's the occasion?" Toreth asked.

"We finished the first production run today. The units are in the warehouse right now — " he gestured to the right-hand wall, " — waiting to be shipped out. Except for that one in the middle — that was the very first one completed."

"Great. Do I get a drink to celebrate?"

Warrick laughed and beckoned over a waiter.

Once Toreth had acquired a glass of champagne, he raised it to Warrick. "Well done. Fucking excellent."

"Yes, it is." Warrick grinned, looking happier than Toreth could remember seeing him in any context that didn't involve sex. "Absolutely fucking excellent in every possible way." Then he looked across the room, and lifted his hand to someone. "One moment. I'll be back directly, I promise."

Toreth nodded, not believing him for a second.

After Warrick had departed, Toreth had another drink and looked more carefully around the crowd, recognising many of them. Asher Linton and her husband Greg, Lew Marcus, Dillian, a sprinkling of the senior staff — all the usual suspects for a major SimTech event. He spotted familiar faces amongst the sponsors too, including Marc and Caprice Teffera. He'd never seen so many corporates looking so happy — even Lew Marcus was smiling. Although that was hardly surprising when there were so many young women with trays and short skirts.

An evening for high-powered sponsors and employees only. And him.

Even after all this time, it occasionally surprised Toreth how much he'd grown used to these events. Forays into the corporate world with nothing to do but enjoy the free food and alcohol and try to amuse himself. There would usually be, somewhere, a group of other peripheral people, the spouses and partners of guests, and Toreth would kill time talking to them. And occasionally a little more than talking, although he did his best to be discreet about it. Nothing put Warrick in a worse mood than catching him swapping numbers with a sponsor's wife. Except, possibly, if it were a sponsor's husband instead.

In this case, Toreth realised quickly that he'd met the other halves in the crowd before. All had already proved unattractive or unavailable, except for the two women and one man — previous conquests — who determinedly avoided his eye.

However, buoyed up by the infectious atmosphere of excitement and triumph, Toreth didn't mind.

Time passed. Champagne flowed freely, helped down by delicious canapes. Toreth flirted idly with one of the waitresses and watched the guests.

Eventually Warrick appeared again, this time holding a glass of what was probably iced water — he'd be staying sober to ensure things went smoothly. There was a brief pause as Toreth conveyed to the waitress that her presence was no longer required, then he turned to Warrick.

"Everything going well?" Toreth asked.

"Perfectly, I would say." Warrick checked his watch. "We've got a little time. Come upstairs — I should show you round the place, since you're not likely ever to need to come back out here."

Toreth nodded easily and followed Warrick back to the lifts, acquiring a fresh glass of champagne on the way. He didn't particularly care about a tour of the offices, but upstairs sounded promising.

For a production facility, the lift was certainly plush, with a carpeted floor, and mirrors on the upper half of the walls that gave Toreth some interesting ideas. He watched the floor numbers tick smoothly past — two, three, four. Of course, customers might make it into this part of the building, and SimTech would want to impress anyone who could afford —

The lights went out and the lift dropped sickeningly, then juddered to a halt as the safety systems caught it. Toreth stumbled, keeping his glass miraculously upright, reaching out with his other hand and finding nothing to grab.

"What the
fuck
?" he exclaimed.

The lift remained pitch dark, except for a small green square of light, reflecting back and forth from mirror to mirror, away into infinity. In the blackness, it was oddly hard to judge how far away it really was. Combined with the sudden drop, it left Toreth disoriented. Something bumped his forearm, then a hand closed round it.

"Don't worry," Warrick said. "We've been having problems with the power all week. The emergency system will cut in soon."

They waited.

"Or not," Warrick added. "Be careful if you move — I spilled some of my water, and probably the ice. I'll put the glass down by the wall." He released Toreth's arm, and the green square disappeared, reflections and original, obscured by Warrick's body.

"The lifts are comms shielded," Warrick said. "In fact, everywhere in the building is. But there's a link to security somewhere over . . . here. Hello?" A pause, then Warrick said, "Yes. This is Doctor Warrick. I'm stuck in one of the lifts. Can you — " A much longer pause. "I see. Very well. No, no, concentrate on the guests first, naturally. Thank you."

The emergency panel closed with a metallic click, and the green square reappeared.

"Well?" Toreth asked.

"We've lost power to the office end of the building. They have no idea why, as yet, but for some reason part of the emergency system has shut down too. The drawbacks of highly automated systems. It will take at least twenty minutes to bring the generators on line manually, assuming whatever's wrong with the system will allow them to do it."

"And if it doesn't?"

"They'll need to find the fault and fix it. No telling how long that could take. Damn."

Toreth moved over carefully towards the light. Now his eyes had adjusted, it was bright enough to reveal Warrick as a dim shape.

"Well, as long as it isn't anything serious," he said.

"But it is. Everyone else, including the sponsors, are as much in the dark as we are." Warrick sighed sharply. "So much for a celebration."

"Oh, they'll love it." Toreth reached out and found Warrick. Judging by his voice, it must be his front. He slid his hand up Warrick's arm, then moved round to stand close behind him. "Bit of excitement, people will remember it. Give them more of a reason to talk about it tomorrow."

"Mm. I suppose so."

Toreth drank some champagne, and offered the glass to Warrick.

"Security will find torches or something, and it doesn't take electricity to open bottles. Pity we didn't bring more to drink." Toreth lowered his head, and his voice. "We'll just have to think of something else to pass the time."

Warrick sipped the champagne. "If I didn't know it was impossible, I'd think you'd arranged this." He pulled away, but not very far, and added, "There are cameras in all the lifts."

"They don't have any power. Not for twenty minutes."

"Unless the systems power up by themselves. There's always a chance they could come back on any moment."

Toreth slid his hands down, pulling Warrick's wrists behind him and pinning them. Warrick still held the glass by the stem, twisting his fingers round to keep it upright.

"And what, exactly, are you going to do to stop me? Run? Nowhere to go. Scream? Who the fuck will hear you? Fight? I'd like that."

Warrick drew his breath in, then let it out on a long, slow sigh.

Toreth released his hands and took the glass from him. "Strip."

Warrick turned, his face lit faintly from the side. "No."

"If you don't, I'll tear your clothes off."

"Toreth,
no
." Then, as Toreth took a step forwards, Warrick held up his hands. "Yes. All right."

Toreth took the items one by one and folded them. A requirement for fast dressing wasn't unlikely. He glanced up towards the blinded camera and the familiar thrill of danger, of the risk of discovery, of being seen with Warrick, shivered down his spine.

Naked, Warrick's body showed far more clearly in the lift, shadowing dimly in the surrounding mirrors. The darkness still hid Toreth himself, and he savoured the thought as he set the clothes down in the corner.

"Put your hands behind your back. Close your eyes."

The pale gleam of the whites of Warrick's eyes vanished. Toreth dipped his finger in the champagne, bubbles tickling, and then rubbed the tip over Warrick's nipple, feeling it harden. He repeated the wet caress on the other side, then bent down and licked. Warrick hissed, flinching minutely before pressing back against Toreth's mouth.

"Keep still." He moved to the other side of Warrick's chest, savouring the dry tang of champagne on his tongue and a faint hint of sweat, probably from the shock of the lift dropping.

Toreth straightened and put the glass to Warrick's lips. "Drink. Finish it."

Warrick tilted his head back, and Toreth heard him swallow. When the last champagne had gone, Toreth stroked the glass over Warrick's cheek, then down his chest, over his stomach, barely brushing the cool glass over his skin. Up again, skimming over his ribs, to finish by drawing a line down his other cheek.

Quick, quiet breaths sounded loud in the silence of the lift. How rare, Toreth realised, to be somewhere both indoors and completely free of electrically generated noises.

"Kneel."

A hesitation, and he thought Warrick might protest again, but instead he knelt and bowed his head. Probably wanting to get this over with quickly. Toreth checked his watch and smiled.

"Better." He set the champagne glass down beside Warrick's glass of water, then stood in front of him. Dark changed to pale as Warrick looked up. Toreth pictured the scene, how they would look on a monitor somewhere as the lights came on. Guards anxiously watching to see what kind of a mood the director was in.

The position reminded him of something they'd done a long time ago, during the early days, only a few months after Tanit's death. When they'd been exploring and pushing boundaries, something they didn't do enough of anymore. It had been light then, because he'd wanted to watch Warrick's face as they talked. Now he knew him well enough that he didn't need to see it clearly.

"Are you hard?" Toreth asked.

"Yes."

He knelt in front of Warrick, as close as he could be without touching him. In the darkness, he caught a hint of movement from Warrick's eyelashes, but before he could say anything, they stilled.

"Tell me why," Toreth said.

"The way you held my wrists. The threat. When you touched me with the glass, I imagined it was broken. Your voice." Warrick's own voice was tight, strained. "Being naked when you're dressed makes me feel vulnerable and that's very arousing. Uncertainty, because we haven't done anything exactly like this and I don't know what you're planning to — to do to me. What you want from me."

"I want you to tell me why all that makes you hard."

Warrick's head bowed.

"No," Toreth said. He twisted his left hand into Warrick's hair, forcing his head up, then releasing his hold. "Let me see your face. Now, tell me why."

"I don't know," Warrick said after a moment. "If there's an explanation, it's biological, or it's so far back I can't find it. It frightened me for a while. A long while, even though I didn't allow myself to think about it. Now I know it's part of me. There is no why. Toreth — " His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Touch me again. Please."

He laid his hands lightly on Warrick's shoulders, feeling him twitch, then spread his fingers, running his thumbs up and down Warrick's throat. Warrick's lips parted, barely visible. This was where they'd stopped the conversation before, all that time ago. Even now the temptation to kiss Warrick, or to stand up and fuck his mouth — to take him, to possess him unequivocally — almost overwhelmed him.

He stroked gently along Warrick's collarbones, and Warrick shivered.

"There are drugs that give men erections no matter what," Toreth said. "We use them at work, for prisoners with the right psych profile. Mix it with something else, so they don't know we gave it to them. Scares the hell out of some prisoners to get that kind of response to being hurt. They'll talk to stop that as much as to stop the pain."

Warrick tensed under his hands. "You know I don't like to hear about I&I."

Normally, that would have closed the conversation, but in the darkness, Toreth felt oddly confident that he could press on. "You're right, I do know. You hate I&I, you fuck me. So how does that work?"