Dirty Dining (18 page)

Having sex with him had been everything he’d expected—and so much more. It had been as satisfying as he’d hoped and even more fun. Jeremy was sexy and inventive, but best of all, he was genuine. He’d had the same mix of fear, trepidation, and shyness Brice did. It hadn’t felt like he was fucking a whore. It felt like having good, clean sex with a hot friend he’d always wanted but worried it would ruin their friendship.

But to Brice’s relief, the sex hadn’t ruined things with Jeremy at all. It meant their relationship—however it was defined—had just moved to a new level.

F
OR
THE
next month, Brice met Jeremy for two dinners and overnights per week. Jeremy didn’t work at the club at any other times. Some nights they only kissed during dinners, and other times they went much farther. One night they went upstairs after the first course.

One Wednesday morning, Brice was trying to tie his necktie and get to work for a meeting certain to be far less interesting than another hour with Jeremy, who sat on the bathroom counter naked, sliding a hand along an erection he insisted needed Brice’s immediate and urgent attention.

“You are going to kill me,” Brice said and flipped the tie over his shoulder as he bent down to help Jeremy with his problem. He spent an enjoyable fifteen minutes making Jeremy squirm, scream, and squirt, in that order. By then he was so hard Jeremy reciprocated, on his knees, promising not to spill a drop of anything on Brice’s trousers. Brice watched Jeremy in the mirror, round ass and balls bobbing as he sucked Brice off—still wearing shirt, tie and freshly pressed trousers. And true to his word, Jeremy swallowed down everything.

He sat back on his heels with a grin. “Think of this while you’re in your meeting.”

“You make me want to…. Damn, you know what you do to me!” Brice teased as he cupped Jeremy’s chin in his hand and leaned down for a spunky kiss. “I can’t wait until Saturday.” They shared another long, deep kiss.

“Brice, you like baseball?”

The non sequitur took Brice aback for a moment. “Yeah. Love it.”

“G
IANTS
OR
A’s?” Jeremy asked, not wanting Brice to leave.

“Giants. And not just because they might actually win the pennant this year.”

“Beats another nail-biter hoping they get a wild-card spot.” Jeremy grinned and kissed Brice again. “Now go to work. I have to get to the lab.”

“I hate leaving.”

“I know.” Jeremy waved, still on his knees, cock at half-staff as Brice left.

During the cab ride to the office, he flipped through memories of the last twelve hours with Jeremy. His phone rang, and he put a hand into his breast pocket to retrieve it, encountering an envelope he didn’t recall putting there.

“Yeah, Ron, I’m on my way. Ten minutes.”

“Don’t rush. Meeting’s postponed a week.”

“Fuck.”

“You weren’t really looking forward to it that much, were you?”

“What? No. Something else. See you in ten anyway.”

Brice exhaled loudly. He could have stayed with Jeremy…. He put the phone away and picked up the envelope, which had fallen onto his lap. A small white envelope, the kind used for thank-you cards, with nothing written on it.

He ripped it open, and a single small piece of cardboard fell out.

A ticket to the Giants game on Friday night. One ticket.

Now Jeremy’s strange question made sense and brightened Brice’s day and the rest of the week. He wasn’t sure if it meant what he thought it did, but he hoped like hell it did.

F
RIDAY
AT
six thirty, Brice made his way to the Giants’ ballpark, AT&T Park, or whatever they were calling it this week. He headed for the lower infield seat indicated on his ticket. It was a good seat, close enough to the field to see the players’ faces. Brice preferred these seats to the fancier Club section or the exclusive Sky Boxes high above the action and the crowd.

The park was packed for a Friday-night home game, even though they were playing the Padres, currently at the bottom of the entire National League. The fair-weather fans always showed up in droves after a World Series win and with the great season they were having this year. The teams warmed up on the field while the seats filled. All but the one next to Brice. He glanced around, searching the walkway, hoping he hadn’t gotten his hopes up for nothing.

The first inning came and went, and so did the second. The seat next to Brice was still empty. The Giants were winning, but the game held no appeal for Brice on his own, even though the ticket had been a gift from Jeremy. Brice got up and made his way inside, ready to go home to an empty apartment and something from the freezer or take away from the diner or Indian place around the corner.

Then he smelled the aroma of grilled onions. Even the lower levels had decent food here, so he decided to grab a bite at the ballpark, then go home.

J
EREMY
HAD
gotten stuck in the lab later than expected. If he didn’t wait for the instrument sequence to finish, he’d have to start the whole thing over, which meant at least two wasted days and wasted resources. He gave it fifteen more minutes before he’d bail. He could still get to the ballpark during the first inning.

Five minute later, the samples still hadn’t finished running, but thankfully his undergraduate lab assistant, Rhoda Bering, came in to check on another of Jeremy’s experiments.

“You’re here late, Jer. You smell great.” She winked.

“I miscalculated, thought they’d be done. I’m late for a date.” He smoothed his shirt.

“Anyone I know?”

“Someone I’ve had my eye on a long time. It’s kind of a first date. Giants.”

She glanced at the clock. “First pitch is in five minutes.”

He nodded.

“Get going. I’ll take your stuff out when it’s finished. Tell me what I need to do. You go now. Call me from BART with instructions.”

“I love you, Rhoda.”

“Yeah, I know. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Go have fun. Kiss and tell?”

“It might scar you for life.” He hoisted the messenger bag over his shoulder.

“God, I hope so.”

He planted a kiss on her cheek and ran for the door.

Of course, BART was fucked up. It was crowded even going into the city, thanks to the game, and they got stuck in the transbay tunnel for no reason. When they finally arrived at Embarcadero, Jeremy raced to the MUNI platform, wondering whether it might be faster just to run the mile and a half. Why hadn’t he brought his bike? He’d run a hell of a lot farther in triathlons, so he hoofed it.

It was the top of the fourth inning when he got to his seat, only slightly winded, but the one next to it—Brice’s—was empty. It was still before eight, and Brice worked late a lot, though rarely on Fridays. Hopefully he was still coming. Jeremy would stay till the end. He didn’t have Brice’s phone number, didn’t even know what company he worked for. Those were the rules. Even seeing each other here at a baseball game was against the rules. But Jeremy had only given Brice a ticket; they hadn’t actually made a plan to meet outside of the Dinner Club. Technically, they hadn’t broken that rule. Brice was a lawyer; he’d explain the logic behind that if Thomas found out.

The fifth inning started. Jeremy couldn’t concentrate on the game. His stomach was still in knots, half from the excitement of seeing Brice, and half from fear they’d get caught. Add in another half of worry Brice wasn’t coming. He must have seen the ticket. Jeremy had put it with his cell phone. Why hadn’t he checked the number while Brice was sleeping?

Jeremy couldn’t help glancing back to the steps more often than toward the field. He lost track of the score and the game.

“You waiting to meet someone?” the guy next to him finally asked during a lull in the game.

“Yeah.”

“He left in the third inning. Had the same look on his face, though, and kept checking the entrance.” The guy turned his attention back to the field and shouted as the ref made a bad call on a pitch.

Jeremy’s mood lifted momentarily: Brice had come after all! But then it plummeted. He’d left.

“Thanks.” Jeremy got up and began to climb the steps to go inside. No point in sticking around. He had his head low, shoulders slumping, when he heard someone shouting above him. The words sounded familiar, but there was a roar of the crowd drowning out the voice. Then a lull.

“Jeremy! Wait!”

He turned to see Brice elbowing his way through a crowd of guys chugging beers while waiting in line for more.

“Brice?” Jeremy stood there like an idiot as Brice rushed up and pulled him into a hug.

The crowd roared again, like they were cheering for Brice and Jeremy. They kissed and kept kissing.

“I’m sorry I was late.”

Brice pushed hair back from Jeremy’s eyes and grinned. “I should have waited. I just wasn’t sure you were coming. I thought I had misunderstood the ticket.”

“Let’s go back and watch the game. Sounds like we’re missing something good.”

“We can watch the highlights later. Let’s not waste tonight on baseball.” Brice put his arm around Jeremy’s waist. Jeremy’s heart pounded like it would take off right out of his chest. He nodded, and they headed for the exit.

They walked back to the Embarcadero and strolled along the bay, watching the twinkling lights of the Bay Bridge reflected in the choppy waters below. An icy breeze chased them north, and they stayed close for warmth in the autumn evening chill.

They were approaching the Ferry Building when a man and a woman stopped them on the street.

“We’re trying to find Boulevard. Can you help us?” the man asked. The woman had her arm in his and looked particularly windblown. She was wearing strappy high heels and had the look of a tourist about her—probably surprised how cold Northern California could be even in early autumn.

“Sure,” Brice said. He pointed across the street. “Just there, on Mission.”

“Thank you,” the woman said, and they walked off.

Jeremy could hear him saying “I told you it was over there.”

“Honey, it’s our anniversary. For once, let’s not argue,” she replied, voice fading as she moved in the opposite direction.

“Did you eat?” Brice asked, pulling Jeremy close again.

“No. I didn’t have time.”

“Have you eaten at Boulevard?”

Jeremy shook his head. He’d heard of it, one of the best—and most expensive—restaurants in the city. It wasn’t on a grad student’s budget.

“You’re in for a treat. Come on.” Brice tugged Jeremy’s arm, and they raced across the street, outrunning approaching traffic when the light changed as they were only halfway across.

They landed on the other side of the Embarcadero, winded and laughing. Brice opened the door to Boulevard for Jeremy, and warmth and a wall of sound greeted them as they entered.

“This place is packed.” Jeremy glanced around at several people waiting to be seated, including the couple they’d just met. “And people are wearing ties and fancy clothes.” He looked down at his jeans. Even the best pair he owned wasn’t good enough for this place.

“Those are tourists. This is San Francisco. You’re fine.” Brice’s smile put Jeremy at ease.

Brice approached the hostess stand.

“Good evening, Mr. Martin. How are you? How many in your party this evening?” She smiled, and her tone made it sound like Brice was a regular. She looked down at her reservation book.

“You booked a table?” Jeremy whispered.

Brice put an arm around his waist and replied to the hostess, “Just two tonight, Shelly. Do you have a quiet little table?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And if you can, will you see if you can seat the couple waiting at the end of the bench fairly soon?”

“They don’t have reservations, but I can do some rearranging for friends of yours.”

“Thank you. And add their check to my bill. It’s their anniversary.”

Shelly led them to a table off to one side, away from the flow of servers and customers, and handed them menus. “Do you want to order drinks or start with a bottle of something?”

“You come here a lot?” Jeremy asked once she’d left.

“Business dinners. I’ve never been here on a date before.”

A date.
The words warmed Jeremy even more. He hadn’t thought of the ball game as a real date, even though that’s what he’d told Rhoda. But now it felt official.

They had wine with dinner, and after the waiter served the first course, Jeremy picked up his fork, then paused. “It’s strange sitting across from you at dinner.”

“Would you rather feed me?” Brice asked.

Jeremy shook his head, feeling his cheeks warming.

“Well, come sit here next to me anyway.” He scooted Jeremy’s chair closer so they were shoulder to shoulder, knees touching.

Dinner was delicious and romantic, and Jeremy never wanted this evening to end. For a few hours, it felt like a real date. They were having coffee when the out-of-town couple stopped by their table.

“Thank you so much for making our evening. We can’t possibly thank you enough for dinner and the Champagne.” The woman leaned down and gave Brice a hug. The man nodded and shook Brice’s hand, and the woman hugged Jeremy too. “You’re very lucky,” she whispered in his ear.

Jeremy felt very lucky tonight. At least so far. She would never dream what his real relationship with Brice was. But for now, Jeremy could pretend they were just like any other couple.

After Brice paid, they walked outside into a biting wind coming right off the bay.

“Thank you for dinner, Brice. It was lovely.”

“My pleasure.” He paused. Jeremy wondered if Brice was thinking the same thing he was: how odd for Jeremy to be fully clothed at the end of the meal. If he was comparing tonight to their usual dinner interactions, he didn’t mention it. “Do you need to get back to Berkeley?”

“Not right away. BART goes till around one. I’ve got plenty of time.”

Brice’s smile drifted away. “BART?”