Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle. Jeffrey Round

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СКАЧАТЬ there was a reason Bill had planted himself there.

      Bill leaned in for a kiss wreathed in alcohol. Dan let it happen, playful at first. A hand reached out, massaging his nascent erection. Bill pulled back. His face said “impressed.”

      On-stage, a drag queen pantomimed giving head to some lucky eighteen-year-old. The boy looked anything but amused, though his expression fell short of frightened. Even the suburban kids were jaded these days.

      “Why don’t we get out of here?” Bill suggested.

      In another minute they were outside and on the way to Bill’s car. When Dan mentioned his address, Bill gave him a toothy grin.

      “Really? You live in Leslieville? We’d better go to my place then.”

      “Why? Are you closer?”

      “No. That’s just a bit low-rent for me. I don’t have a visa to go past Riverdale.”

      Dan stopped. “Since when is it acceptable to insult someone’s neighbourhood?”

      Bill’s mood shifted to surprised innocence. “Sorry — I wasn’t insulting you.”

      “No? What were you doing?”

      Bill grabbed Dan’s arm. “I was trying to be funny. C’mon.”

      Dan stood there, not moving.

      “C’mon,” Bill urged in pacifying tones. “I’m a little drunk. Forget what I said. Here — this is me.” He pointed to an Audi R8. He dangled the keys. “You know you want to.”

      Dan relented. “All right, but I’m driving.” He snatched Bill’s keys and slid behind the wheel.

      “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your neighbourhood,” Bill said, leaning against the headrest.

      “I live in Leslieville by choice,” Dan said. “Chances are I wouldn’t like your neighbourhood either.”

      “I live in an expensive part of town….”

      “Case closed,” Dan snapped. “I generally don’t like rich people.”

      Bill made a face. “Okay, I get your point.”

      They drove in silence for a while. Bill put a hand on Dan’s chest, tweaking his nipple through the soft cotton. “Do you like your neighbourhood? I’ve heard good things about it.”

      Dan turned his head toward him. “Drop it, okay?”

      They slid up Mount Pleasant and along St. Clair to a four-storey townhouse complex that made Dan think of ornate birdcages. He wanted to ask if they had a dress code but realized he’d be the one forcing the issue. The car slid underground and inside the building.

      Bill took Dan on a tour of his house. In the living room, the skyline stretched before them like a giant mural. Bill waited a beat before turning on the lights to give Dan the full effect. A Persian carpet rolled across the floor like a miniature sea, dotted here and there by chic aluminum furniture with translucent frames and rare wood finishings. They were the kind of pieces people bought to impress others as much as themselves. Bill suddenly seemed a lot less drunk than he had in the bar as he related tales of buying sprees and exorbitant prices. He tossed designer names casually about — Paola Lenti, Herman Miller, Breuer Wassily — as though he knew them personally, and gave the impression he did. Dan was clearly supposed to be impressed by the show, so he purposely kept his face impassive.

      Dan followed him to a bedroom where a four-poster bed took centre stage. A water feature trickled in a corner. The walls were hung with pictures arranged to catch the viewer’s eye from every angle. Bill had obviously paid a great deal for his taste.

      Bill had them both undressed in seconds, pushing pillows and linens onto the floor. Dan had been right: Bill liked it rough. He was all slither and slink, posing in positions that suggested submissiveness-to-order copied from the best porn videos.

      “Get you rich boys out of your clothes and you’re all the same underneath,” Dan said.

      For the most part, he went along with Bill’s fantasy, though he refused to bareback when Bill asked.

      “C’mon — I can tell you’re healthy,” Bill pleaded.

      “Uh-uh,” Dan said, his cock see-sawing between Bill’s legs. “This little traveller doesn’t go underground without a protection suit.”

      “That’s no ‘little’ traveller,” Bill said, wriggling into position. “Please! I want to feel you in me.”

      There were condoms on the bedside table. Dan picked one up. “You’ll feel me. I promise.”

      Bill grabbed his hand. “Just put it inside me for a second,” he said. “Just one second!”

      Dan gave what he hoped was a reprehensible stare. “What kind of attitude is that for a doctor? Besides, I’m a responsible dad. I can’t get sick — I’ve got a kid to take care of.”

      “What?” Bill’s mouth was agape. “You mean your sperm has fathered a child?”

      “That’s right.”

      “A real live daddy? Now I really want you inside me!” Bill exclaimed, gripping Dan’s erection.

      Dan slapped the hand aside and unpeeled the condom over his cock. “If you want this to happen, you’d better behave. And I need extra large next time.”

      Bill gasped as Dan wedged himself in with no niceties. “Oh, yeah!” he exclaimed. “You wonderful beast!”

      It was over the top, but at least Bill hadn’t made him feel like a mercy fuck for being the victim of a radiation leak, the way others had. The sex always went fine, but usually that was the end of it. Dan could tell by the looks on their faces. The more satisfied they were during, the sooner they hoped he’d pack up and leave afterwards. Somehow, covering up his prizefighter’s body always brought attention back to that face.

      It’s not that it was ugly, and it’s not that it wasn’t. In school, Dan had been taunted by the other kids. A cruel scrawl on a washroom wall claimed he’d been the victim of a nuclear attack, conjuring images of holocausts and radiation mutation. He had a brooding quality, an intensity that scared people. The eyes were what held you — grey-blue, ghostly. Like they’d seen too much. There were fine features — the broad cheekbones, sharp brow, and long lashes — but the overall effect didn’t add up to a pretty picture. The broken nose and red scallop racing from his right cheek up to his eye told part of the story. It begged wariness on the viewer’s part. So did the rough skin that bore the traces of a memorable battle with acne, the permanent outline of a beard and the jaw that was rugged at one angle but menacing at another. It was the face of a man you might enjoy being roughed up by — a well-aimed slap, a welt or two — and then escape before one or both of you took the fantasy too far. It was a face you might expect to see inset in the tabloid coverage of sex crimes, with an earnest police report warning area residents to lock their doors at night and to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity. It was a face your mother would tell you to stay away from.

      Bill’s mother must have been an exception.

      Dan СКАЧАТЬ