The doorman sees me crossing the street, clocks my leather jacket and jeans, and grimaces at me as if to say, don’t even think about it. It's only when I get up close that he recognises me, and then that grimace turns into a kind of sneer while he waves me through. The boss took this place over a couple of months back, so now I get a bit of leeway on the dress code. Still not allowed up into the VIP rooms, though, so it looks like some things never change.
I get myself a drink and sit at one of the tables near the back of the room. Tonight I just want to watch, and think. The longer I work for the boss, the more places I come across like this, places he either already owns or he's making a move on. It's starting to feel like this town is just an ant farm set up for his amusement. So why don't I make a point of going out of town on my days off? You'd think I'd relish the opportunity to get off the leash. But I always end up coming back to places like this, where I can feel the boss's influence heavy and thick in the air around me. Maybe I should accept that I'm just another ant running around on the course he's laid out for me.
"Mind if I join you?"
I look up at the young guy next to me, and it takes me a moment to place where I've seen him before. He gives me a smile, looking over the top of his glasses at me, and then I remember. One of the junior bookkeepers, the one I talked to that time the boss sent me to pick up the ledgers. I remember that smile, and the way this guy lingered just a bit too long over handing the books over, looking me up and down a few times as if he thought he needed to be extra clear about it. I remember how quickly he scurried off into the office when the chief bookkeeper shouted for him, and I remember that the view from behind wasn't bad at all.
"If you're paying." I push my empty glass towards him. I should probably feel bad about making him spend his money, since I'm pretty sure I bring in more than he does, but I must be in a sour mood tonight because I find myself not really caring.
"Same again?" He picks up the glass and slings his jacket over the chair next to me.
I nod, and I watch him go over to the bar, trying to figure out whether he's just after a bit of flirting to liven his evening up, or whether he's really going to try to pick me up. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea, getting friendly with someone who has his hands all over the boss's books every day. Even a junior must get to see some interesting figures, and a junior could end up being senior one day, so maybe I should give this guy his money's worth. And he does look good leaning across the bar to collect his change, with those smart trousers pulled tight across what is, after all, a really nice ass.
So when he comes back, I pull his chair a bit closer to me, and take the drink out of his hand with a smile. "Thanks, uh…"
"Lloyd." He says, sitting down next to me.
I put my hand on his arm and give it a friendly squeeze. "Right. Thanks, Lloyd. My name's–"
"Oh, I know who you are, don't worry about that!" He gives me a kind of coquettish laugh, and takes a sip of his drink.
"Is that right?" I flash him a grin. "Well, I don't know what kind of rumours those gossips in the back-office have been spreading, but they're all true, every last one of them and then some."
"I can believe it," he says, giving me a red-hot look that tells me pretty clearly how much he'd like all those lurid stories to be true.
There's a smattering of applause from the tables in front of us, and I can hear the usual Friday night singer wrapping up his act, so I clap along politely but I keep my eyes fixed on Lloyd. He looks a bit nervous, but I reckon he really is up for it. And hell, maybe I'm underestimating him. He might be just a bookkeeper, but he's been around longer than I have, and who knows how many of the boss's new recruits he's been through. I might be the latest in a long line of rough trade.
"How long've you worked for the boss, then?"
"Oh, ages, since pretty much straight after I left school. Long enough to have seen a fair few, er… Staffing changes, shall we say."
He's blushing a bit now, but he looks like he's got more he'd be happy to tell me, if I keep pushing him the right way. It's cute, and I find myself wondering if he'll still be blushing like that once I've finished with him.
"I'll bet there are plenty of colourful stories you could tell." I put my hand on his arm and squeeze it lightly, just enough to redden his cheeks a little more. "If you were the indiscreet type, I mean."
All of a sudden the club is filled with the sound of a new singer's voice, and it's the kind that makes you stop and just soak up every note. I look over to the stage, and that's my first mistake tonight, because as soon as I lay eyes on the singer I'm hooked. It's a young guy about my age in a dark red suit, singing with his eyes half-closed and his hips swaying gently as if he's being touched by something a whole lot more pleasant than a spotlight. I recognise the song, it's just some sad old ballad, but the way he sings it… Well, those aren't sighs of sorrow he's breathing out against the microphone. As I watch, I can hear Lloyd still talking to me, and I know ignoring him means I'm probably wrecking my chances, but I just can't tear my attention away.
"Oh, him." Lloyd says, finally realising that I'm not listening, and his tone of voice gets my attention straight away. "No, no, you don't want to go near that one with a bargepole."
I glance across at Lloyd for a second, and I give him a raised eyebrow for good measure. "Why not? Is he the boss's son or something?"
"Hah!" He chuckles. "Oh god no, nothing like that. In fact, from what I've heard, the boss picked him up right off the streets like he did with you. No, it's just that anyone who gets involved with that guy… Well, they don't stay on the payroll for long."
"Yeah?" My gaze drifts back to the singer, and I let it run over each inch of that glossy black hair and immaculate bronze skin, while my imagination fills in the rest. Watching the way his lips quiver while he sings, the way his hand strokes up and down along the microphone stand, it's like someone's suddenly turned up the heating in here about ten degrees too hot. "What's his name?"
"Camille. Well, that's his stage name, anyway." Lloyd gives a little sigh, like he's done this speech before and he's getting tired of it. "I don't know what his name was before the boss got hold of him."
I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to try my luck with this Camille, but I've already got my sights on the bookkeeper, and I want to wrap this up first. One thing at a time, nice and simple. So I turn back to him, giving him another one of those grins he seems to like so much. "Well, if you don't know, then I reckon no-one does."
He seems to like a bit of flattery too, because all of a sudden he leans across and puts his hand on my thigh, under the table. "Fancy getting out of here?" He says, still looking like there's a chance he might bolt for the door before I give him my answer.
I put my hand on the back of his neck, stroking my thumb over the skin just above his shirt collar. "What do you think?"
I stand behind the bookkeeper while he unlocks the door, close enough that he can feel me pressing up against him, and he fumbles with the keys until he drops them altogether. Muttering something to himself that I can't hear, he crouches to pick the keys up again, and I take the opportunity to grab a handful of his hair and push his face down to grind against my crotch.
"You've been after this all night, haven't you?" I say, letting him feel every inch of my cock, jutting against the denim of my jeans and scraping against his cheek.
"Yes, but n-not out here!" He says, and that stutter just makes me want to keep going.
I let him go, but as soon as he's unlocked the door I grab hold of him again, one hand in his hair and one on his shoulder while I bundle him through the doorway. This time there's no complaining, just a faint little moan every time I grind against his ass. I throw him down onto the sofa and kick the door shut behind me, expecting him to wince at the bang it makes, but now he's on home territory it seems like he's full of confidence. He just looks up at me with those serious, hungry eyes, just waiting for me to make my next move.
"Come here," I tell him, grabbing hold of his shirt collar. He slips down off the sofa onto his knees in front of me, quick and eager now he's behind closed doors, and starts busily unbuckling my belt and unfastening my jeans like he's tearing through the wrapping paper to get to his birthday present. I can't fault him for enthusiasm, I'll give him that. As soon as he gets a taste of my cock, those busy hands disappear down into his lap, and I can hear him fumbling his own trousers undone. And I like that, there's nothing better than knowing the boy sucking your cock is getting off on it, so I grab a handful of his hair and fuck his mouth harder, giving it to him as deep as I can without choking him. But even as I'm trying to hold off, he's pushing forward and taking just a little bit more, just enough to make himself shudder and cough.
"Can't get enough of it, can you?" I pull my cock out of his mouth and let it slap against his face, drawing a wet smear of saliva across his skin. He makes a hungry little noise, rubbing his cheek against the shaft, and I give another hard yank on his hair. "Where do you want it, then? In your mouth or in that nice little ass?"
"My mouth… My face…" He murmurs, slurring so it's hard to make out, but I get the message. So I stick my cock back into his mouth and carry on fucking his throat, keeping both hands locked on the back of his head while I give him what he wants. That's when that damn song from earlier starts going through my head. I can just picture the singer on his knees like this, I can picture those lips sliding down my cock, all wet and smooth and soft, and I can almost hear the demanding little moans I know he'd make. And that's enough to finish me off, too soon for me and probably too soon for the bookkeeper, but there's no stopping it now. I pull out and let him have it, letting my come spray across his cheeks and tongue and right across those pristine glasses, until I'm spent and he's grinning up at me like I just made his day.
Getting carried away like that gives me a little twinge of guilt, so I decide I'm going to give him the five star service just to say sorry, and I haul him up onto the sofa before he's got a chance to finish himself off. One hand on his throat and one wrapped around his cock seems to do the trick, and I've barely given him a minute of attention before he's tensing and bucking underneath me, groaning like I'm wringing the life out of him. And when he's done, he looks up at me with those serious eyes again, only they're a whole lot softer this time.
Still, he might have taken a liking to me, but he doesn't like me enough to want me hanging around once he's finished with me, so I take the hint when he mumbles something about being tired. I've dried my hands and fastened my jeans before he's had a chance to take off his shirt, and I'm already on my way to the door when he calls me back.
"Drop by the office if you feel like another chat. And listen, seriously, leave that singer well alone." He takes his glasses off and just looks at me, almost like he feels sorry for me. "You don't want to end up like the others."
"Don't worry about me," I say, grinning over my shoulder at him as I leave. "I can handle myself."