Chris is looking for a red rose. Cliché, yes, but also easily obtainable and highly visible against the charcoal jacket in whose lapel it should be tucked, which he was told would be his companion’s identifying features. God, Chris loves a man in a charcoal suit.
The hotel lounge bustles with activity. It’s a Friday night, so the bar is surrounded by business men and women either celebrating this week’s wheelings and dealings or trying to forget them in a haze of alcohol. Chris can’t imagine that the man he’s looking for is among that crowd. He scans the booths, looking for a dark head of hair and the rose.
He finds both tucked into a booth at the far end of the lounge and oh, the man they adorn is truly a vision, all dark eyes and sensual mouth. Chris practically glides across the room, heedless of the stumbling patrons and overworked waitresses, until he’s standing by the table. Upon seeing Chris, the man rises easily, smoothing his tie and offering his hand. “You’re Christopher Whitelaw?”
“None other,” Chris says, enjoying the other man’s strong handshake. “I’m afraid the service didn’t give me your name.”
“Zachary,” he says with a small, mischievous smile, and Chris looks him up and down appraisingly. Looks to be worth the money, this one.
“Mind if I have a drink before we begin?” Chris asks, sliding into the booth opposite Zachary, not bothering to hide the pleasure he takes at glancing over the other man’s handsome face, the strong set of his shoulders, the grace of his hands as he clutches his own drink.
“Please do,” Zachary says. “It’s your time, after all.”
When the waitress stops by, Chris orders scotch, neat, and flirts with her until she actually manages to crack a smile. He looks back at Zach to see one manicured, elegant eyebrow raised. “Oh, don’t be jealous. Just brightening her evening.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were showing off,” says Zachary with thinly disguised amusement.
Chris smiles back coyly. “Now why would I need to do that? I believe I’m assured of your attentions for the rest of the evening.”
“I’m an escort, not a psychologist,” Zachary says, leaning back in the booth and scanning the whole of Chris’ upper body. “But if I had to guess, I’d say you think you have something to prove to me.”
“And what would that be, oh keen observer of human behavior?”
Zachary waits until the waitress has set down Chris’ drink, winked at him, and walked away before locking eyes with Chris and answering, “Your desirability. Your obvious lack of need for purchasing my services.”
“And yet, here you are,” Chris says, taking a long, slow drink without ever looking away.
“Here I am – ready, willing, and irrefutably able.”
“Irrefutably able,” Chris repeats, licking his lips. “I like that.”
“If that impresses you, prepare to be utterly awestruck by my other talents,” Zachary says softly with a slow smile that’s nothing short of lascivious.
Chris swigs his drink. Maybe the eagerness is breaking character a bit, but if he doesn’t get Zach upstairs soon, he’s going to drag him right across the table and have his way with him right here. “I believe I’m finished with my drink. In fact, I’m a bit tired of this environment altogether – too many people.”
Zach stands, effortlessly as ever, and nods toward the bank of elevators. “Lay on, Macduff.”
As the elevator doors close, Chris can’t help but grin – this is going to be so much fun. Even better than the bar, now that they’ve got a ridiculously expensive suite at their disposal. And he’s totally gonna get Zach back for that Bones-esque psychologist line.
Tired of This Town Again, a week later, PG-13
The hotel lounge bustles with activity. It’s a Friday night, so the bar is surrounded by business men and women either celebrating this week’s wheelings and dealings or trying to forget them in a haze of alcohol. Chris can’t imagine that the man he’s looking for is among that crowd. He scans the booths, looking for a dark head of hair and the rose.
He finds both tucked into a booth at the far end of the lounge and oh, the man they adorn is truly a vision, all dark eyes and sensual mouth. Chris practically glides across the room, heedless of the stumbling patrons and overworked waitresses, until he’s standing by the table. Upon seeing Chris, the man rises easily, smoothing his tie and offering his hand. “You’re Christopher Whitelaw?”
“None other,” Chris says, enjoying the other man’s strong handshake. “I’m afraid the service didn’t give me your name.”
“Zachary,” he says with a small, mischievous smile, and Chris looks him up and down appraisingly. Looks to be worth the money, this one.
“Mind if I have a drink before we begin?” Chris asks, sliding into the booth opposite Zachary, not bothering to hide the pleasure he takes at glancing over the other man’s handsome face, the strong set of his shoulders, the grace of his hands as he clutches his own drink.
“Please do,” Zachary says. “It’s your time, after all.”
When the waitress stops by, Chris orders scotch, neat, and flirts with her until she actually manages to crack a smile. He looks back at Zach to see one manicured, elegant eyebrow raised. “Oh, don’t be jealous. Just brightening her evening.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were showing off,” says Zachary with thinly disguised amusement.
Chris smiles back coyly. “Now why would I need to do that? I believe I’m assured of your attentions for the rest of the evening.”
“I’m an escort, not a psychologist,” Zachary says, leaning back in the booth and scanning the whole of Chris’ upper body. “But if I had to guess, I’d say you think you have something to prove to me.”
“And what would that be, oh keen observer of human behavior?”
Zachary waits until the waitress has set down Chris’ drink, winked at him, and walked away before locking eyes with Chris and answering, “Your desirability. Your obvious lack of need for purchasing my services.”
“And yet, here you are,” Chris says, taking a long, slow drink without ever looking away.
“Here I am – ready, willing, and irrefutably able.”
“Irrefutably able,” Chris repeats, licking his lips. “I like that.”
“If that impresses you, prepare to be utterly awestruck by my other talents,” Zachary says softly with a slow smile that’s nothing short of lascivious.
Chris swigs his drink. Maybe the eagerness is breaking character a bit, but if he doesn’t get Zach upstairs soon, he’s going to drag him right across the table and have his way with him right here. “I believe I’m finished with my drink. In fact, I’m a bit tired of this environment altogether – too many people.”
Zach stands, effortlessly as ever, and nods toward the bank of elevators. “Lay on, Macduff.”
As the elevator doors close, Chris can’t help but grin – this is going to be so much fun. Even better than the bar, now that they’ve got a ridiculously expensive suite at their disposal. And he’s totally gonna get Zach back for that Bones-esque psychologist line.