All About Yves (15 page)
When Harris stepped up to Marco's dressing room door, he heard voices. The door was partially open and Yves was talking to Frazier North. Harris sidled into a dark corner and leaned against a wall outside the door so he could eavesdrop on their conversation. Harris wasn't above that sort of thing. He couldn't imagine why Frazier was there in the studio and Marco wasn't. Unless Frazier was traveling on business, he and Marco, the two sickening little lovebirds, were always together. Gay couples that were too happy made Harris's stomach turn, especially the monogamous ones. Most of the gay couples he knew had open relationships and fought all the time.
Harris leaned to his right. He heard Frazier compliment Yves and tell him he'd taken control and he'd saved the live show. Frazier said when Jasper had called and told him Marco was stuck in Vermont and wouldn't be back in time for the show, Frazier and the rest of the producers were ready to panic. There was no way they could have canceled a live show and there was no one else around who could have replaced Marco as well as Yves had.
Harris pushed the door open a little wider and looked inside. He had to see this. Yves was standing there in Marco's clothes with his head bowed, taking the compliment with grace and humility.
Then Yves removed his suit jacket and the white dress shirt he'd been wearing. Frazier's back was to him and Frazier didn't know Yves was undressing.
"You're going to be a fine model one day,” Frazier said. “There aren't many young men who can take over and look so natural and professional as you did tonight."
"Did you have any doubts?” Yves asked. He'd unbuckled his belt and it was hanging loose.
Frazier turned to face Yves. “There are a lot of good-looking young men out there who can model. But you have something different. You're not afraid to work hard and you're eager to learn. If you continue doing what you've been doing, you'll go far some day. I think you have a great career ahead of you, young man."
Yves spread his legs and opened the button on the waistband of his black slacks. “Is that what
you
want for me, Frazier?"
Frazier shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn't matter what I want."
Harris closed his eyes and shook his head. Frazier seemed to think this was all so harmless. The big fool had no idea that sweet, innocent Yves was trying to get into his pants.
Yves lowered his zipper halfway and the slacks slid an inch down his hips, exposing a thin line of perfectly trimmed pubic hair. “Of course it matters what you want,” Yves said, looking into Frazier's eyes. His bottom lip protruded in a pout.
"The only thing that matters is what
you
want,” Frazier said.
"I want it all,” Yves said, in a soft, serious voice. Then he unzipped his slacks and let them fall to his knees.
Harris blinked. Yves was now naked from the knees up, and his thick, eight-inch dick was hanging between his legs, begging to be sucked.
Frazier, however, just smiled and crossed toward him. He handed Yves a short black robe and said, “You'd better put this on. You don't want to catch a cold.” Then he turned his back on Yves while Yves stepped out of his pants and put on the robe.
When Frazier turned, Harris stepped to his right so Frazier wouldn't see him lurking in the hall. Harris had to control his breathing; he couldn't wait to see Yves's next move.
"Don't be afraid of me, Frazier,” Yves said. He didn't tie the belt on the robe. He left it open, exposing the front of his naked body.
Frazier smiled and faced him again. “Yves, I'm not afraid of anyone or anything, especially not a twenty-year-old boy."
"But I'm not a boy,” Yves said. “I'm a man, a full-grown man with needs."
"I'm thirty-nine years old,” Frazier said. “Trust me, you're still a boy."
Yves lifted his chin and looked into Frazier's eyes. “Sometimes I'm afraid of you,” he said. “I'm afraid of your strong shoulders and your big hands. Sometimes when I'm near you, my heart beats so fast I feel it in my ears.” He spread his legs wider and he had a semi-erection by then.
Harris, the consummate voyeur that he was, licked his lips and took a quick breath. Young Yves was practically begging Frazier to have sex with him. Harris hadn't expected a private show. But if he couldn't go down on his knees for Yves, at least he'd be able to watch Frazier suck Yves off.
Go ahead, Frazier, suck that big dick
, he thought.
But Frazier smiled and stepped back. “You're not quite as innocent as I thought you were. And you shouldn't tweeze your eyebrows so severely. It makes you look too much like a girl."
Yves grabbed his dick. He was fully erect now. “No one has sucked my dick in a long time,” he said.
"I don't suck
dick
,” Frazier said. “I get my
dick
sucked."
"I'm versatile,” Yves said. “I can be whatever you want me to be, Frazier."
Harris took a quick breath. He'd been wondering about whether or not Yves was a top or a bottom. Yves looked like a top, but now he was claiming he was versatile. Harris smiled; more than half the queens he knew said they were versatile when they were really bottom whores. He had a feeling Yves really was willing to be anything Frazier wanted him to be, whether Yves liked it or not.
"I have a partner,” Frazier said. “His name is Marco Denny and I'm in love with him. In case no one has mentioned it to you, Marco is my life."
"People tell me all kinds of things about you,” Yves said in a breathy voice. He reached forward and tried to grab Frazier's crotch.
But Frazier stepped away fast and lifted his arms in surrender. “Well, there's a rumor you obviously haven't heard,” Frazier said. His voice became deep; his eyebrows pointed down. “I don't fuck around with anyone behind Marco's back. And if I did, I'd be the one to go after him. I wouldn't want
him
coming after me."
Yves glared at him, then turned in the opposite direction. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. Harris had a feeling handsome Yves didn't know rejection well.
While Yves was sulking, Frazier grabbed his coat and said, “Don't be too upset. You did a good job as Marco's replacement on the show. You just couldn't pull it off with me, is all.” Then he stomped out the door.
When Frazier slammed the dressing room door, Harris slipped back behind a prop wall so Frazier wouldn't see him. Harris stood there in the darkness for a moment in shock. Frazier hadn't allowed Yves to seduce him. Evidently, Frazier was as deeply in love with Marco as everyone had always said he was. There weren't many gay men on the planet who would turn down a man like Yves Marisano.
A minute later, Harris knocked on Yves's door.
"Who's there?” Yves asked. His voice was abrupt and his tone sharp.
Harris opened the door slowly and smiled. “May I come in?"
Suddenly, Yves stopped frowning and he smiled. “Of course, Mr. Wolfe."
"I expected you to be surrounded by paparazzi and members of the press, my dear,” Harris said, in his best Joan Collins imitation. “And here you are, all alone, in a cute little black robe.” He stared at Yves's waist for a moment, then looked his body up and down. The robe was tied now, but it was so short it stopped just below his penis. Yves had the strong legs of a young swimmer, with long lean muscles and smooth firm skin. He didn't appear to be hairy from the waist down. If he was, he shaved regularly.
"Thanks,” Yves said. “But I'm just the replacement for Marco Denny. I only did what I had to do tonight to keep the show going as planned.” Then he sat down in front of the dressing table.
Harris sat down on a chair beside the dressing table and smiled. If he hadn't just heard the way Yves had tried to seduce Frazier, he almost would have believed Yves's modesty was sincere. So he laughed and said, “You're much too humble."
"I'm pragmatic,” Yves said, wiping stage makeup off his face with a tissue. “I'm nothing more than a back-up for Marco Denny. I'll probably never get a chance to do anything like this again. I know my place."
"Well,” Harris said, “a true pragmatist doesn't have to be humble or modest. He just has to see things the way they are. And he has to know how to play by certain rules in order to get the attention he so craves."
Yves turned and looked into his eyes. “I'm not sure I understand."
Harris reached down and placed his palm on Yves's firm young thigh. He squeezed it gently and said, “Your performance tonight was excellent."
Yves spread his legs wider so Harris could look under his robe. “It will be forgotten by tomorrow."
"It doesn't have to be forgotten,” Harris said. Then he slid his hand up toward the back of Yves's thigh and squeezed a little harder this time. “You have soft skin for such a strong young man."
Yves adjusted his body and arched his back. He allowed Harris to go far enough up the back of his leg so Harris could place his palm on his thigh and squeeze the bottom of his ass a couple of times. Then Yves stood up fast and smiled. He grabbed a large white towel and crossed to the bathroom door as if he were teasing Harris.
"Even if I stop being so modest,” Yves said in his timid voice, “I don't know how to play by the rules. I'm nothing but a back-up model. I'm no one special. I'd need a strong, powerful guide to help me mold my career as a model.” Then he opened his robe and let it slip off his shoulders. As the robe fell to his large feet, he placed the white towel between his legs to cover his genitals.
Harris blinked, then stood up. While he glared at Yves's naked young body, he licked his lips and said, “I have all the right connections. I'm strong and powerful."
Yves smiled. “Yes, you are.” He opened the bathroom door and tossed the towel on the white tiled floor. Then he lifted his arms high and stretched toward the ceiling, allowing Harris to view his entire body.
Harris's eyes focused on the huge penis between Yves's legs. His heart began to race and suddenly the small room felt warm. Yves's pubic hair had been trimmed into a neat little arrow pointing down. His light brown testicles were large and tight and smooth.
Harris removed his jacket and said, “Would you like some help in the shower? Afterwards we can go out for a bite to eat and talk. I'd like to write a column about you and about how wonderful you were tonight filling in for Marco."
Yves smiled and crossed toward Harris. He reached for Harris's right hand, lifted it up, and placed it on his bare ass. “I'd love some help in the shower,” he said. “And after you help me get all soaped up, I can bend you over in the shower and help you get what you want."
Harris took a quick breath; he wanted this young man inside his body. He placed his other hand on the opposite side of Yves's ass and squeezed gently. “I'd love to learn more about you. I've heard the story about how you were forced to go to one of those places where they try to make gay men straight again, and I've heard about your football-player boyfriend beating you up. You have an interesting past."
Yves reached down and grabbed Harris's wrinkled hand. He guided Harris’ sixty-year-old fingers toward his twenty-year-old dick. When his warm dick was in Harris's palm, he smiled and said, “Let's stop talking now and step into the shower,” he said. “We can talk later."
Harris giggled and he felt his face flush. “Oh dear,” he said in his most effeminate voice. “Are you trying to take advantage of me now?"
Yves said in a deep, low voice, “I'm just extremely attracted to intelligent, mature men. I admire you."
Harris gulped. He knew Yves was lying, but he didn't care. He hadn't been fucked in a shower by a twenty-year-old guy in ages, and he wasn't going to miss a good opportunity. And when he thought about all the fun he'd have writing his next column about Marco's back-up model for the magazine, his erection grew even firmer.
"Where would you like to go afterwards?” Harris asked.
"Are you saying you want me to take charge?” Yves asked.
Harris stroked his erection, and then ran the tip of his thumb across the head. “I'm counting on you to take complete charge tonight,” he said. “I adore a man who knows how to do that."
The next day, several newspapers mentioned how well Yves had filled in for Marco. And all of the gossip Web sites and pop culture news shows on TV mentioned the event, too. E! News even showed clips from the show and their host made a few edgy quips about the bulge in Yves's ample crotch. It didn't make headlines and it wasn't top news, but all the comments about Yves were more than positive. They raved about his looks, his ability to control an audience, and the way his dimples stood out when he smiled at the camera. No one said anything negative.
Molly couldn't understand how in the world anyone had even found out about Yves taking over at the last minute. She had assumed it would have gone fairly unnoticed. She would have understood if one or two people from the media had mentioned it quietly. News spread fast these days on the Internet. But there were too many stories that had been printed or broadcasted overnight and it didn't make sense. Molly knew that in order for comments about Yves to be posted or mentioned so quickly, someone would have had to make publicity phone calls to these journalists and bloggers. The only two people in the world who could have known about Marco not being able to go that night were Molly and Yves.
Two weeks after that, Molly dressed for a private lunch with Marco. They did this about four times a year, dressing formally and joking about having their “girls'” lunch together. They would sip martinis all afternoon and talk, picking at salads and breadsticks to keep them from getting too drunk. Molly was going all out that afternoon. She was wearing her new lime green Chanel suit and a hat. Marco loved it when she wore hats. This one was an updated variation of the old pill box design. Marco had always told her she was one of the few women he'd known who could wear hats well.
But Molly was still feeling guilty about what she'd done to Marco two weeks earlier in Vermont. She just wanted to forget all about it and move on. After that one show Marco missed, no one in the press mentioned Yves's name again and she thought Yves had slipped right back into complete obscurity.