Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (27 page)

Dom’s SquareCubed management had also helped push Sebastian into

the heavens. Greg Myers might be the junior partner, but his

suggestions for marketing Sebastian’s weird mix of Goth-influenced

swamp speed metal had always worked to financial advantage.

Remember, Sebastian had ignored Greg’s advice. Consequences

loomed ahead.

Four men dressed in traditional garb Sebastian always associated

with the Sheik stood chatting with Dom. Sebastian hovered in the

doorway. Others already looked his way in surprise. Wait. Did he see

Raunch dressed in a pink maid’s uniform? Ouch. Rapper Tony D clad

in a pink and purple kilt? Songbird Hetta Carmen dressed as a butch

biker? Great to realize Dom had played the, “wear my outfit or else,”

game with other musical guests. Sebastian half wondered why the

Saudis weren’t dressed as orthodox rabbis. Of course insulting the

moneymen never sounded wise.

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“Sebastian!” Atkins waved his trademark red rice paper fan

toward Seb.

“Dom!” Sebastian manufactured a winning smile for the big man.

He swore Dom had consumed a few naughty bands into his protruding

belly.

“Look at you. Splendid.” Dom shut his fan, reached out and ran

his fingers down Sebastian’s lapels. “You obey orders in a superb

manner.”

“Yep, I am your perfect lapdog.”

“You don’t appreciate the suit?”

“Hey, I wore the bloody thing here for you. Now can I change?”

One cold word slapped free. “No.”

Ouch. Sebastian swallowed in anxious consideration. His career

begged him not to fuck up. “Fine, grand, I only think the suit is a little

warm for the summer evening.”

“But you look fabulous in the tailored lines. Now come on, you

naughty boy, don’t pout at me. See, you’re not the only mischievous

boy experiencing an attitude adjustment. Raunch is ready to storm

out.”

Sebastian glanced at the pink-clad punker. Raunch scowled in epic

fury. “I don’t blame him.”

“He owns nice knees. I never realized the detail before today.” A

trilling giggle set Sebastian’s teeth on edge. “Did you see Greg?”

“Greg Myers? Is he here? I need to talk to him.”

Dom waved his closed fan to the left. “The poor boy sulks in the

corner. Come on, Jimmy, where’s the champagne for my guest?”

Dom beckoned to a waiter. A glass appeared in Sebastian’s hand.

“Special for you. Drink up.” Fingers pinched Seb’s sculpted cheeks.

Dom’s round belly pressed against Sebastian’s middle. “Drink up for

me, cutie pie.”

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Cheek-pinching made Sebastian feel like an infant. Infuriating.

Champagne wasn’t Sebastian’s drink of choice but when Dom

ordered, Sebastian performed. He drank down the bubbly and shook

his head. “Ooo, bubbles always choke me.”

“But they taste fine, eh? Jimmy, bring the bottle for my good

friend.” In a blink Jimmy placed a cool bottle in Sebastian’s left hand,

took his used glass and inserted two glasses in his right hand. “There

you go, Sebastian. Have fun.”

Sebastian glanced at the label. He whistled in appreciation. The

singer might not understand fine bubbly but he understood Dom saved

his Roederer Cristal Rose Limited for the most important guests.

Wow, great, the world appeared a little less threatening. Why

would Dom bestow pricey bubbly on someone he despised? See, all

better. “Thanks, Dom.”

“Give some to Greg. Cheer him up.”

“Will do.” Rock and roll attitude screamed for Sebastian to

swallow from the bottle. He gulped down a mouthful and grinned.

Tasty.

To Sebastian’s dismay, Dom smiled in what looked liked secret

satisfaction before he turned back to his Saudis. No scolding? No

nothing? Weird. Fine, whatever, on to nail down Greg. Sebastian

downed another mouthful. The bubbles tingled into his stomach.

Wow, instant light buzz.

A black leather cap poked over a designer red and white candy

swirl velvet couch. Where was Greg? No one else occupied this area

of the room. Sebastian walked around the couch’s right side and

almost dropped glasses and bottles on the Italian tile floor.

Wow.

Sensational. He never realized Greg hid such prime sculpted glory

beneath his usual conservative work suits. Slim but tight, yummy,

Sebastian’s prime flavor in men. “Dude, nice outfit.”

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Huh? Greg started out of his raging sulk and stared up in attack.

His stare beheld the glorious spectacle of Sebastian clad in a designer

suit. Wow. Everything made sense. “It appears Dom wants us to

switch places.”

“You look fabulous.” Sebastian set the champagne flutes on a teak

end table. He poured out two brimming measures. “Here, expensive

bubbly from the man himself.”

A fresh scowl fractured Greg’s face. “You mean from the

controlling asshole.”

“He whom from all manna flows. Hey, why so touchy this

evening?” Sebastian poked a finger into Greg’s taut abs. “You look

super fine in this outfit.”

“Do I?” Greg glanced over his pale, naked torso, the expanse

barely covered by the skimpy leather vest. Tight to the point of

uncomfortable black leather pants and heavy silver and leather

engineer boots completed his butch outfit. Secretly Greg hoped he

looked hot but the fear of exposure lessened his usual business

confidence. Sebastian’s praise stirred his cock. Of course the sexy,

black-haired bitch sprawled down on the couch in wanton dishevel.

The suit refused to contain Sebastian’s earthy physical appeal. The

man was designed to seduce no matter what.

“Don’t act coy.” Sebastian’s fingers tickled Greg’s reddish

hairline peeking above his beltline. “Sweet abs. Someone works out.”

“Of course I do.” Greg winced away from Sebastian’s physical

flirtation. Why? Wasn’t this what he wanted for so long?

“Ooo, chill down, dude. You are living proof you can take the suit

off the dude but not take the dude from his suit.” Sebastian saluted

with his glass and sipped. Why did Greg act weird to him?

Ha-ha. Greg glowered in annoyance. There, they resumed their

normal bicker status. “Aren’t you just the witty sage today. Hire any

orchestra-loving assholes lately?”

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Unfair! Sebastian winced in chagrin. “Low blow, my man, low.

So that’s why you refuse to return my calls.”

“Give the man a gold star. I am so pissed at you. Guess what, the

partners still blame me for not stopping you. Dom blames me for not

stopping you. Yeah, great, you signed the contract to absolve me from

blame but I am still the fucking whipping boy for your nonsense. As

long as I deal with your nonsense I’ll never make partner.” Greg

tossed down a mighty gulp.

Great, more guilt rolled over Sebastian in precise flow. The singer

finished his first glass of bubbly and refreshed the contents. “I confess

the entire mess is my fault. What can I say? The live orchestra

sounded immense behind my music. What amazing dimension. Those

shows told me my music traveled beyond the classic head-banging

redundancy. The orchestra made me feel like a true musical artist.

You understand? The music offered me respect.”

What? Greg blinked in bewilderment. “Now you tell me you want

to feel like a true artist? Since when?”

“Since always. Since learning how to play the violin at age six and

scaring the rural music teacher with my talent. Pure music burns in

me, Greg. I turned my art into music for the masses and the

transformation makes me happy.” More champagne halted his all-too

truthful words.

Speaking of burning, odd burning raced through Sebastian’s veins

and teased his cock. Huh? He glanced at Greg. How come he never

realized how sexy his manager appeared in his sweet, conservative,

pale Irish way?

“I’m glad to hear the news but you should have talked to me

sooner! A string quartet. Ever think along those simple lines? A string

quartet onstage every night. The way you acted I only heard a huge

ego demanding a full orchestra for the entire tour. Do you understand

why I doubted your judgment? Do you? I tried to help you and you

acted like I turned into something nasty on the sidewalk. You made

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me feel like your enemy.” Greg slopped back his champagne and held

his glass out for a refill.

The men drank in silence.

Sebastian bit his lower lip. His Mum and Dr. Dawm ganged up on

him. “I do understand. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

A champagne glass fought not to hit the floor. “Wait, did I just

hear ‘I’m sorry’ from your legendary lips?”

“You did and you’re about to hear, well, feel something even

more special.” Sebastian leaned over and planted a hard, wet kiss

against Greg’s surprised lips.

Searing fireworks exploded in Greg’s mind. He released a muffled

sound which morphed into a strangled, “mrrphghahhh” until he

succumbed, wrapped his arms around the singer’s muscular back and

squeezed him close. When Sebastian rolled back, Greg rolled atop of

his body and thrust his fingers into Sebastian’s wild black mane. The

act trapped their faces together. Tongues thrust forward and tasted

expensive champagne. Cocks met unexpected restraints and tried to

push free.

Greg drew back in gasping desire. “Do you know how much I’ve

wanted this from you?”

“A simple, “hey let’s fuck, dude,” always works for me.”

“Excuse me, I am not one of your rock and roll sluts.” Greg

wasn’t, not at all. Before this party his fear allowed him to connect

with a mere three men. Tonight ripped away his fearful curtain and let

in the light.

“No, you’re a suit slut. I love the radical transformation.”

Sebastian squirmed against Greg’s smooth, firm leather-clad thighs.

“Let’s find a place to make our mutual fantasy into reality.”

“If I remember correctly there’s a closet directly off the game

room.” Greg remembered fleeing there last year while sobbing in

remorse.

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“Lead the way, dude. Wait, we need another toast. To the

unexpected.”

“Indeed.”

The pair clinked glasses and drained the champagne. Sebastian

shook his head in amazement. “I think good old Dom spiked the

punch.”

Greg blinked in complete gecko-confusion. “So what? We didn’t

drink punch.”

“Follow the bouncing ball, dude. Dom spiked the bubbly. Granted

I want action but this weird flush attacking my skin tells me we’re

dosed. My ready to pop cock tells me the same story. He dosed us.”

Moral outrage competed with Greg’s ready to fuck lust. “That

fucking asshole! I need to…”

“Fuck me as soon as possible. Shut up and come on. Take me to

your closet, dude. We’re out but now it’s time to go in and fuck.”

The eager men stumbled into the large closet. A jumbled

assortment of outdoors clothing, games, paddles, fishing poles, nets,

boots and raincoats filled the space. “Weird. I expect to find part of

the Titanic in here.”

“Badminton. I love badminton. The whole shuttle cock thing is

sexy. Just like plumbing. Imagine a toilet having a ball cock.

Amazing.” The beginning to tingle in hot flaming lust Greg held up a

rolled net and metal poles. A roll of white line sat coiled under the net.

“Security. Yeah, I desire security.” He looked up and grinned in

manic glee. “Play along with me?”

The close to flying into the sky Sebastian cocked his head in

confusion. “Play what?”

“Captive.”

“Sure, dude! Tell me what to do.” At that moment in time if Greg

told Sebastian he wanted to fuck in the middle of the Cross-Bronx

Freeway, Sebastian would call Roland back to drive them there. Given