Page 27 of Geist Fleisch
“Komme.” Callum hoped he had the accent right.
In stepped a tall man in a trim, dark suit, carrying a matching overcoat. His smooth hair was slicked back with wax that made it impossible to be sure of its true colour, and a clean shave heightened his sharp cheekbones and jaw. He looked Callum up and down, first with scrutiny, then with unabashed admiration. “Guten Abend.I did not expect us to be speaking German.”
A faint rumble in his stomach reminded Callum he hadn’t had dinner. Yes, that was absolutely the reason for it, no question.
“I haven’t learned much,” he admitted, suddenly aware of his cigarette and stubbing it out in the ashtray he’d forgotten to empty.
His client smiled kindly. “Good. I’m not paying for us to practice German.”
Callum nodded. “What… what do you want to do, then? And it’s one hundred marks, up front, all right?”
The man fixed him with a side-eye that somehow made him feel even more foolish. “Viktor was right. You’ve never done this, have you?”
Callum couldn’t deny the relief he felt at knowing Viktor hadn’t painted him as a regular colleague, but still… “I know what I’m doing.”
The stranger took out his wallet, peeled off three crisp notes and held them out to Callum. “One hundred and fifty. Then let’s talk business, yes?”
Was he supposed to refuse the unexpected raise? Not bloody likely. The money felt crisp and clean, even as he slid it into his greasy pocket. “Right then. What do you want?”
“To see you,” the man said with a smile. “To start, anyway.”
It took Callum a moment to register the simple request, but he quickly peeled off his shirt and began unbuckling his trousers, wishing at once he’d chosen more flattering underwear, or none at all.
The stranger circled him, inspecting his body in every detail, brushing Callum’s modest but decent musculature with his fingertips. “You play sports?”
Callum shrugged. “A bit of football.”
“Ah.” The man’s touch strayed to the cleft of Callum’s backside. “Yes, that’s clear.”
Callum heard the movement of cloth behind him before the man came back around front. Callum’s jaw damn near fell from its joint. Viktor had said nothing about his client having abs and pectorals chiselled straight off Mount Olympus. He shivered as the man stroked his cheek with those same cold fingers.
“I like to see men enjoying themselves,” the man answered. “I think you will, yes?”
“I…” An awful thought invaded Callum’s brain, punctuated with memories of the Saxon beauty who’d billed him the morning after. Was this man really going to payhimfor sex? Viktor was as hard up for money as he was. He’d heard of fairies being sold out by jealous ex-lovers and others with secrets too big to risk. Viktor would probably do it for a few lousy marks! And why, why was he doing this, after what he’d just seen? Thesmell of burning flesh… The thoughts shorted his brain, one after the other. “I can’t.”
“But you could take my one-hundred and fifty marks?”
“Here!” Callum fished them out, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
“And we have a deal. It’s not about the money.”
Callum lowered his arm, breathing heavily. “What?”
“Show me your cock.”
When another moment’s hesitation bought him no reprieve, Callum slid his underwear down, tugging several times on the flaccid meat that sprouted from a thatch of dark, ungroomed hair, trying to animate it.
The man interrupted him. “You don’t like men?”
“I do,” he protested. “Sorry. It’s not you.”
“I know that.” The man rolled his shoulders, pushing out his powerful chest as he leaned back on Callum’s bed, every muscle in his arms shaming Callum with its earnest showing off. “Do you want to touch me?”
Swallowing his nerves, Callum accepted the invitation, but even the smooth flesh of the stranger’s body couldn’t wipe the image of Max’s broken, bullet-ridden form from his mind. “I can… suck you off?”
“Perhaps we should talk instead? I think, my friend, that my body is not the most extraordinary thing you’ve seen during your stay in Berlin.”
Feeling his throat tighten, Callum pulled his underwear back on. “I think you should leave.”
