Page 10 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
“You spying on me?” It wasn’t a joke or a rhetorical question.
“No. But when you do something so out of character it gets noticed. Same fella you had a drink with when the troublemaker got tossed out? Now, that first time I can kind of understand. It might even come under the heading of fostering good customer relations. But a second invite for a private drink?” Kelvin lit up a cigarette, drawing hard, the paper glowing red down one side before he expelled and narrowed his eyes as he studied me through the smoke. I met his gaze, refusing to take the bait.
When I’d seen Kit standing across the road from Euphoria,something inside of me had sparked into life. I’d been so pleased to see him, when I was never pleased to see a guy more than once. Not that more than once ever happened for me, where a man was concerned, yet I’d wanted to sit and talk and get to know him more, when I never wanted to talk to or get to know any man.
Kit had flicked every one of my switches, and pressed all of my buttons. Blond, lean, smaller than me all round, it was how I liked my men. Yes, I had a type and Kit was it. Yet, there had been so much more to him than that pared down list of attributes. He’d put me at ease, after the surprise of seeing him, and made me laugh when laughter was increasingly feeling like a scarce commodity in my life. Maybe that was why I’d been on the verge of asking him out. A date? Jesus fucking Christ. I shifted in my seat, feeling suddenly itchy and tingling. Men who lived the kind of life I did didn’t go on dates. Perhaps Kit jumping off the deep end over the dancers and walking away was a blessing in disguise, because my world wasn’t a safe place to bring a civilian into. As he’d walked away, swallowed up by the heavy crowd on the dance floor, I’d been confused, annoyed, disappointed, but something else, too. Something new and strange, as if I was losing something I didn’t even know I’d wanted.
I’d taken Kit’s departure, which had left an itch I couldn’t scratch, out on the staff, before I’d worked my way through half a dozen men or more, and none I wanted to talk to.
A hard whack on the arm brought me back to the present.
“Oi, wake up. I said, Mateo’s a kinky fucker. Thank God.” Kelvin waved a wad of papers at me, smeared with a buttery thumbprint. We were back to business, all talk of Kit over with.
Kelvin snorted. “Puppy play. Have you seen the price ofharnesses and leashes? It’s bloody outrageous. And treats?” Kelvin shook his head.
Puppy play wasn’t all that was on the very detailed list. I took the grease smeared papers from Kelvin.
“Pony play. I’m never sure how that differs materially from puppy.”
“Hooves,” Kelvin said, although it came out more like ‘ooovez’, due to his jaw working overtime on the last of his sandwich. A little piece of bacon stuck out from between his lips, looking like a dried-up tongue. He swallowed and took a gulp of coffee. “And saddles, bridles, and riding crops. Giddy up, Dobin! Neighhhhhh!”
I met his eye and laughed; I couldn’t help it. This was Kelvin at his best, irreverent, funny, and taking the piss. It was the Kelvin who was a million miles away from the one who was pressing for a business arrangement with the scumbag Mehmet Aksoy.
“You kink shaming, Kel? Puppies and ponies make us a lot of money.”
“True enough, and whatever gets a man hot under the collar.” He shrugged. “Kink is cash, and that’s all I’m interested in.”
I roamed through the list. Rubber and latex enclosure. Total power exchange, with participants being auctioned off. Carnival of Kink.
“Locker room lust. And construction zone. That’s a new one on me,” Kelvin said. “It’ll need a trip to B&Q for hard hats and tool belts. Every man to his own, etcetera, etcetera, but people never cease to amaze me. What’s wrong with a decent, straight forward shag?”
I didn’t disagree, but floating other men’s boats brought in a pile of money.
The list seemed to be endless. Uniforms of various kinds.Schoolboys. I wrinkled my nose, but the schoolboy theme was ever popular, even if the lads who dressed up in shorts and blazers and carried satchels had long since left the classroom behind. There were even a couple of Christmas-themed ones, featuring dirty little elves who’d never take a starring role in a church hall panto. There was also a list of names of the boys who’d said yes, including most of the new recruits, friends of well known and well established employees who’d passed what Kelvin always called the probationary period. A lot of money needed to be paid out, but the parties would be bringing in more. Way, way more.
“Water sports. Christ. I can never understand why somebody would want to be pissed on.”
“Bloody disgusting, and talk about unhygienic.” Kelvin’s voice was full of suburban indignation, and I laughed, although the suburbs was where a lot of this stuff happened.
“We ought to charge extra for that one. The house always needs an extra deep clean after. Add on an additional twenty percent.”
Kelvin nodded his agreement. We made our way through the list, making amendments and notes to be sent back to Mateo.
“We need to keep a tight hold on the catering,” Kelvin said. It wasn’t just the food and drink he was talking about. “We don’t want anybody bringing in their own gear, stuff we can’t trace back to source.”
“Denny can supply what we’ll need, and it’s always top end.” Denny, who looked like everybody’s kindly granddad, was our supplier of choice. We’d established a good business relationship, which both parties were keen to keep on track.
Cocaine. Poppers. Tina. Special K. Meow Meow. The current drugs of choice on the gay sex party and chemsex circuit, but there were others we could and would add. Thepunters were discerning, after all, and would want the choice. They were willing to pay dearly for it, and some of them did in ways other than cash.
Notes were made, action points agreed, along with the number of boys needed to make the parties go with a bang.
“Lump sum payment per participant, per party,” I stated, giving a figure that had Kelvin’s brows arching. “The parties make us a lot of money, so we need to ensure they’re worth the lads’ participation. We pay the best, we get the best. Like any business.”
Kelvin shrugged. “True enough. You interested in any of these?” Kelvin taped a nail on the stapled together sheets. “I can just see you with a ponytail stuck up your arse, chomping on a pile of oats, or carrots, or whatever it is horses eat.”
I gave him the finger. “Not interested in any kind of dressing up. Even wigs.” I didn’t go anywhere near our employees, ever. Too close to home, too messy, the men too known.
“I quite like a bit of the old fancy dress, but maybe I’ll save it for Halloween. Right, I’ll give Mateo the okay to get moving on this, and I’ll speak to Denny as well. Now to agenda item 2 point 1…”
