The Gentleman Has Left the Building Page 3

  “Relax, buddy. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. It’s all in the name of fun. Besides.” A grin lit his pale skin. “You won’t be single. I’ve hooked you up.”

  “How have you hooked me up, exactly?”

  “It’s her first time at one of these things and I’ve said that you’ll look after her. So that’s what you do.”

  “What do you mean, look after her?” I said.

  “I mean…look after her.” He patted my leg. “For God’s sake, Rhys. Just be confident with her. With some women, it pays to be bossy.”

  I eyed him with grating suspicion. “This had better not be a pisstake.”

  “Dude. What do you take me for?”

  Best not answer that.

  The evening was warm and a bit sticky, and I leaked sweat into my collar in a little noose of heat. Thank God I'd opted to avoid a tie. The townhouse was already filling with guests as we arrived, and Aidan took me through to a huge galley kitchen with glass-fronted wine fridges. A conservatory glistened at the far end, its transparent ceiling licked by vines and towering trees. Out on the terrace, candles lit the paving stones and flickered in the light air, and a group of willowy girls in short dresses congregated with their Champagne flutes and cigarettes.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, really. Leather sheeting? Wrinkly MILFs? An 80s glass bowl full of car keys and condom packets? Whatever had crossed my mind, it wasn’t…this. Over and over, I reminded myself why I was here: this was the new Rhys. Confident, attractive. New Rhys had standards, and here, the bar was set high.

  “Rhys. This is Elijah. He’s been coming here so long, he’s practically vintage.” Aidan nodded at a stocky twenty-something with a light shadow of blond stubble. “Elijah, I told you about Rhys, yeah?”

  He shoved balled fists into his blue pinstripe trousers. “Indeed.”

  “Right.” Aidan clapped me soundly on the back. “I’m off upstairs to sort the music out. The bathrooms are over by the potted ferns, Magdalena’s in charge of the drinks on the breakfast bar. I’ll be back when your lady arrives, okay?”

  “Okay,” I managed.

  Then he bounded off towards the staircase, apparently shouting at somebody on his phone.

  “So,” said Elijah, “first time, eh?”

  “Just…observing, mostly.”

  He started laughing. “I heard Aidan hooked you up, man.”

  “Yeah, but who knows if she’ll like me?”

  He looked me up and down, shrugging. Crap…just put me back in the pub where the men don’t check me out like rib-eye steak. That wasn't normal, was it? I didn’t care if I got laid anymore. I just wanted...

  “Don’t look so terrified,” said Elijah. “Seriously, you’ll be fine. Relax, have a drink. Chat to a few of the girls.” He winked at the cute little group on the terrace. “They’re all on the prowl, y’know.”

  Re-he-heally?

  “So…say you pick up a girl,” I began. “You don’t start going at it in the room, right? I mean…there are places for that sort of thing.” Because I wasn't a fucking circus monkey, that was for sure.

  He laughed again, his eyebrows mashing together in amusement. “You do what you want. Find a corner, go back to her place, throw some shapes on the couch. Nobody will mind, okay? You might surprise yourself. Magdalena!"

  A very petite brunette stalked over with a tray; she wore a black shift dress that hugged her breasts and hips, and high, nude heels. Just the kind of outfit I’d love to see Nicole in. Ahem.

  “Champagne?” she said.

  And she had a French accent. Ooh la la; bonne soir, Magdalena. Je suis mange tout le grande tete du vache? (That was the grand sum of the French I remembered from high school, and I think it stood for I am peas a big cow head).

  “Don’t mind if I do,” I croaked, folding my fingers around the skinny stem of a flute. She shot me a filthy smile--the kind that makes a woman’s eyes sparkle and her shoulders heave--before stalking off up the stairs.

  Then the music began and the lights dimmed. My first swingers' party.

  Fucking hell.

  Elijah’s bold company was comforting as the room began to fill. It wasn’t a heaving crowd but then it wasn’t a massive space either, and Aidan seemed to bring mostly couples through for drinks. They were professionals, some younger than others, and they were dressed for a dinner party. Oh, there was a hint more cleavage than might have been appropriate, the odd tighter shirt on a guy--but really, from the smart chit-chat to the polite hair-tosses and smiles, they were shockingly normal.

  I didn’t know whether to be relieved….or disappointed.

  “Are you waiting for a girl?” I asked Elijah. We’d claimed a spot on the terrace opposite the group of leggy, willowy things, and he’d swiped beers from one of the glass fridges.

  “Nope. I prefer couples, actually. Could find a girl in a club.”

  I nodded as if I knew exactly what he was talking about. Oh yes, I book parties for all my threesome needs, ra ra. “Is that your…thing?”

  “Well.” He chuckled, swinging his bottle between his thumbs. “I’ve got a lot of things.”

  “Rhys!" Aidan was dragging a girl-shaped creature along by the hand, but I couldn’t see much of her between the oscillating partygoers and the shade of the darkening sky.

  “I’ve got somebody I’d like you to meet,” he chirped gleefully, pressing her hand into mine. “This is Lei-Lei.”

  She cleared her throat. “You can call me Leila.” She smiled and raked her nails across my palm, just lightly.

  Oh fuck. Fuck.

  I didn’t know where to look. Her face alone made me feel indecent. She’d drawn her auburn waves up so they fell about her face in layers, and I got the impression she’d sorted it into handfuls for easy grabbing later on. Her lips and cheekbones were streaked with raspberry, and her fitted little jersey dress hugged a pair of sloped, peeking breasts. And her legs…seriously. When did a woman wear stockings unless she was trying to seduce some poor sod?

  Oh, let it be me. I'd change my name by deed-poll if I had to. Poor Sod Frost has a ring to it, right?

  “Aid says you volunteered to look after me,” she said. “That’s really nice of you.”

  “Yeah. Well.” I dropped her hand; if I kept hold of it much longer then I’d start sucking her fingers. “Can’t have you alone in a place like this, eh?”

  “So what do you think, Lei-Lei?” Aidan patted me roughly on the shoulder. “Good choice? Do I bring home the goods, or what?”

  “Ignore him.” She rolled her eyes as she took my arm. “He’s always this obnoxious.”

  Elijah brushed her shoulder. “Would the lady like a drink?” he asked.

  “Oh, please. But just a small one.”

  He gave me a thumbs up and a wide grin as he disappeared in the kitchen, eying up a blond in a suit on his way.

  “Lei-Lei, do I read him the riot act, or will you?” Aidan narrowed his eyes at me. “She’s got a three-point code.”

  I blinked. Panicked. “A what?”

  “Seriously, Aid--do one!” She moved from me to tickle him and he wriggled away from her, grunting.

  “Okay, okay,” he groaned. “I’m leaving. You two have fun now. Don’t do anything Marc Anthony wouldn’t do!”

  I looked at Leila as she returned to my arm, and we both burst into giggles. Mine were manly giggles, of course--mainly because I was watching her breasts quiver. They were rubbing just slightly against my elbow, and nnnggh…I felt the firm grate of her nipple. Jesus.

  “So.” I guided her back to the terrace wall I’d been sitting on and watched as she sank down, tucked her knees together. Stocking-clad legs. Dainty heels. Where was I, again? “What brings you here?”

  She cocked her head. “I could say the same to you.”

  “Touché.” I swallowed. “I guess…I’m looking for something different. Some fun.”

  “That makes two of us, then.” She edged closer towards me on the wall,
our shoulders bumping. “How long have you known Aidan…?”

  “Not long. Why?”

  “Because you’ve got that look on your face that says, what the fuck am I doing here? And that could only happen if you didn’t know him very well.” She giggled again and it was aural porn. “He’s a bit of a naughty boy, hmm?”

  I frowned. There are some things a man doesn't ever need to know about his mates. “He is…?”

  “Ah, don’t worry. I promise not to abuse you. Well.” The giggle climbed an octave as her fingers played over my thigh.

  It was then that I noticed the chunk of an emerald on her third finger. Ah, fuck. It sniggered at me in the candle-light; like you had a chance, anyway.

  “So…um. How long have you been engaged?” I asked.

  “A while.” She drew her hand back and fiddled with the ring. “What about you, are you with someone?”

  “Me? No. No. Single.” Another gulp. “So how come you’re, erm…” I gestured to the house weakly. "Here?” And where was the idiot who’d let her come to this thing alone?

  She knew what I was thinking. I saw it in her bemused smile. “I’m allowed, Rhys."

  “Allowed to what?”

  She pressed her hand back on my thigh, just tickling the inside. She might as well have scraped it with a razor because the whole hulking surface of me was alkaline desire.

  “You know," she murmured. "Allowed to play.”

  “Really?” I said it a lot louder than I meant to, and it was weighed down with a suspicion I didn’t know I had.

  “Really.” She laughed. “You’ll find it’s quite normal at a party like this.”

  “This isn’t your first one, is it?” I said dryly.

  “Kind of. Aidan told me he had somebody I’d like, so…”

  She was telling the truth. It softened the flush along her collarbone, caused the pout of her lips to swell. In that second, putting a hand on her knee felt the most natural thing in the world.

  “That makes two of us,” I whispered. I loved the way her smile flashed me a hint of pale pink tongue.

  “Yeah…where have our drinks got to, do you think?”

  I glanced about the terrace, squinting in the candle light. “Elijah’s--um.” Oh dear God. Elijah was sitting back in a deck chair, still fully clothed, but the woman in the suit was bobbing slowly in his lap. He had a fistful of hair as he grinned up at me.

  “He’s being blown on the patio,” she said with comic normalcy. “Now there’s a man who doesn’t waste any time.”

  “What the fuck? He’s barely been gone five minutes. Do they sprinkle everyone with magic fuck dust at the door?”

  “Something like that.” She patted my leg as she started up. “I’ll go and--”

  I eased her back down gently. “No, no. I’ll get the drinks; you stay put.”

  A cinnamon eyebrow arched at me; playful, eager. Inviting. “Is that an order?”

  “Would you like it to be?” Oh fuck. I was better at this than I thought.

  The kitchen was full and raucous now, wine-tainted laughter rising above the music and the click click of heels dancing over the stone floor. Magdalena refilled her tray of glasses as she fought off the swatting hands of two older men. I spotted Aidan near the doorway and hurried over, tugging him away from his clipboard.

  “Aid,” I said through my teeth. “I want to know what you’ve drugged her with.”

  The wide smirk almost split his face. “Who, Lei-Lei? She doesn’t need drugging. She’s like that all the time.” He seemed to find my gape of horror vastly amusing. “Not for everyone, you pillock. Didn't I tell you that you're hot? Like her. A proper ten there, huh?”

  “A proper ten? She’s like--like--”

  “She’s like, left on her own at a party full of carnivores,” he cut in, leaning to whisper. “Now listen up: be courteous. Take her home, enjoy yourself.” A pause, just for effect. He wanted to hear me swallow. “She likes it when you tell her what to do.”

  I should have asked how he knew that but frankly, I was past caring. I nodded dutifully, mouthed my thanks and hurtled back towards the bar, where I swiped two glasses from Magdalena’s fresh tray. The first one disappeared down my throat in a single mouthful; the second, I took back to Leila and proffered it like a badge of war.

  “Ooh, Champagne.” She stood up to accept it. “Thank you, Rhys.”

  “A pleasure. So…um." Conversation. It begged to be made. "What do you do?”

  “I’m a lawyer. Tax, acquisitions, that kind of thing. How about you?”

  “Advertising. I design--hey, what are you doing?”

  She teetered on tip-toes to examine my earlobe. “Sorry. Just checking for an earring.” She bit her lip. “Long story. You don’t mind, do you…?”

  “No, no.” I lifted the glass from her hand, stretched forward to balance it on the wall, and that was when I felt it: her warm mouth and flat teeth grazing along my ear. “Oh.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  Her voice was muffled with breathy languor, and I found myself wrapping am arm around her waist. The scent of her hair rushed up into my nostrils--sugar and nutmeg and mellow heat and hairspray--I just wanted…

  …to kiss her.

  But she got there first.

  We played tongue games. She was the kitten. I was the ball of string. Then when I got over the initial rush of it--she’s kissing me, fuckin’ A!--I relaxed into it, crossed the border, took charge. The way she arched back as I leaned in, pressed up to me…electric. The house, the people, they fell away. Sparks spewed indecently and I felt like we ought to stop and clean up our mess.

  “Rhys,” she said softly, “we don’t have to stay here.”

  Oh, she knew what she wanted, all right. Everything about this was too good to be true. Well...aside from the emerald on her finger which made me nervous if I looked at it for too long.

  In the slope of her neck, I mouthed words before I said them. Needed to practice my rusty charms. To be desired, the thick, coarse pull of it, I'd almost forgotten how addictive it was. “I could take you home with me, if you want.”

  “We’ll go to my place--ahh…” She mewed as I sucked at the hollows of her throat. “It’s only ten minutes away.”

  “Okay then. Good. Good.”

  I lead her back through the simmering party with a firm grip on her hand. Defences were broken and restraint had waned; there were bodies dressed with each other on the stairs and in the corners. But they were dull. Boring. This girl at the end of my arm with her pulse shivering against mine--she was the big news.

  “Sneaking off already? You whore.” Aidan grabbed Leila by the waist and she pretended to slap him.

  “Hey. Less of that, please.” I sounded like someone’s dad.

  “Rhys, we’re all whores here. It’s okay.” He released Leila, draped her jacket over my shoulder and then pushed the two of us together so that we bumped awkwardly. “Ah, look at you two! All bashful and horny. My work here is done.” He gave a great, mocking sigh, a wink, and then bombed back off towards harassed Magdalena.

  On the terrace, the air had been warm. Maybe it was Leila’s proximity or the great cloud of body heat emanating from the party. As we stepped out on to the pavement, the breeze caught me right in the face and my skin burned in the cool grip of it.

  We were free.

  “Do you always let him talk to you like that?” I found myself saying.

  “Oh, don’t worry about Aidan, seriously. I’ve known him for ages. He’s like my brother.” She squeezed my arm. “It was very sweet of you to stand up for me though.”

  “Just being a gentleman.”

  “Ooh, I’m spoiled.” She giggled, and the high little octaves lunged to a crude chuckle. “I hope you’re not always this courteous. Not everywhere.”

  Thank fuck for the belt that obscured my hard-on. I was dizzy with the loss of blood from my brain.

  The flirting only got worse from that point. I kept trying to steer away from
innuendo--hell, I needed a break before we started proper--but she was leading in more ways than one, and just a tiny inflection on a word made my heart thunder. She dragged on syllables, slid her gaze to me with deliberate slowness. When she bit her lip, when it grew plump under those teeth…I shoved her up against somebody’s fence and took her mouth until she tugged on my collar in complaint. Poor girl needed to breath.

  We made it through the lobby of her smart apartment building, into the dimly lit lift…and then the walls beckoned again. Close the space. I took her hair in fistfuls this time and rubbed my cock against her belly. Don’t get me wrong--I was still nervous. I ached with it in the pit of my stomach, but she tasted syrupy, like an antidote. If I could eat her all up, I’d be better. Mmmph.

  The hall of her apartment smelled like candles and coffee. We kissed with grinning mouths as our jackets were peeled away, and then she led me to a door in the dark. The lamp swallowed the room in a buttery glow; there was a massive bed, book cases, a carpet that winced with the weight of me. No picture frames, no dressing gown...this was for guests.

  There was only one reason she'd brought me to a guest room: she shared this apartment with her fiancé. I stuck to the floor when I realised, and my nerves warred nausea.

  “Rhys?” Leila slid off the edge of the bed and came to embrace me. “Is everything okay?”

  I stiffened. “Yeah…um. Where is he?

  “He?” She gave an awkward little smile. “I’m allowed, remember? You won’t be suddenly punched in the face, I promise.”

  My hands slipped to the tops of her buttocks; they curved right into my palms. A lovely fit. Argh.

  “I’m not really used to all this,” I confessed. “Not that it isn’t good. You’re great. Gorgeous, in fact.” I squeezed her arse and she moaned softly. “Absolutely gorgeous…”

  “Shh.”

  Another kiss, intrepid on my part. I was mashed so hard against her that I half thought I’d need my passport. All the while, she melted and swayed, following each lead I dared to make.

  “Just. One. Thing,” I uttered. Peck, lick, kiss. “This three point code. Was Aid being serious?”

  “Oh. Well…let’s see.” She began unbuttoning my shirt. “No marking me. You know, no bruises, lashes, bites. Carpet burns.”