Page 41 of Blackmail
By the time we’re changed, all of us wearing some variation on the standard “uniform” for these sorts of things—booty shorts with a tank top, or booty shorts with no tank top, you get the idea—and about to head out to the floor, Ravi is looking so pale that his typically brown skin looks practically Caucasian.
“You okay?” I give him a once-over, checking for any obvious signs of medical distress. He’s probably not going to want me to grab his arm and check his pulse, but I don’t want any newbies passing out on my watch.
He nods a little too fast. “Sure. Definitely. Yep. Yes. I mean, a little nervous. But I’m good. Also—” He gestures to where Adam and Troy are huddled in the corner. “—Adam was testing his blood sugar, and I don’t do so well with the sight of blood.”
“Sorry, man. All done now.” Troy’s holding a little glucometer up to Adam’s finger. It beeps, and he says something in Adam’s ear before packing it away in his gym bag.
I’m about to enter the party when a hand grabs my arm. I’m taken back to when I first met Sebastian, when his bruising fingers dug into my skin. I’m flushed with heat before I realize it’s not him, and I’m staring at Ravi’s worried face.
“Umm. You’ve still got a lot of bruises.”
Before I glance down, I already know what I’ll find. I chose to wear all white for tonight’s festivities, which will pop under the black lights they always tend to have at these things, hopefully making the marks harder to see. If I’d seen someone who looked like me on the street, though, I’d have pulled them aside to ask if they needed help.
I may need help.
Most of me aches, especially where Ravi’s grabbing me. It takes focus not to take my mind back to the activities that created these marks.
“It’ll be fine. The lighting is dim. Everyone out there is wasted. Chances are good nobody will even notice.” I try to shrug, to act casual and carefree, even though I’m looping fast through anger and horniness and back again at these lingering reminders of how foolish I was last week.
Never mind how extremely hot it was, how I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Damn that gorgeous scar-faced bastard for being precisely what I want in bed. What I hate wanting.
“Tell you what.” Ravi’s still looking uncertain, so I take him by the hand and pull him toward the door. “You can help me out.”
“H-how?”
We make our way out to the floor. There’s a makeshift dance area with drunk people grinding on each other. The perimeter is loosely marked by four mini mirrored platforms, which I assume are where we should put ourselves. I’d ask, but I don’t know who the host is, and I’ll do many things before seeking out Tony to ask for information.
One of the platforms is in use. Two curvy bottle blonds who have misplaced their tops are dancing and making out while many bros in backward ball caps look on. I lead Ravi to another one and pull him up with me.
“Here,” I say as I pull him close. “You dance with me. You’ll feel less exposed having someone to share the platform with, and having another person in front of me will make my bruises less obvious. Like Brennan says, ‘Always look for the win-win.’”
Look at this shit. Simon, gay sherpa to the baby hos. Who would have seen that coming?
A bass-heavy techno track plays. I move in time to the pulsing lights with my arms thrown loosely around Ravi, hoping he’ll get into the groove. After a moment of hesitation, he does.
“You’re right,” he half shouts over the music, “dancing with someone else feels less scary.”
I nod my understanding. “The first one of these I ever did, I was in the center of a room wearing nothing but a pair of sneakers and what can loosely be described as a thong. I felt so weird and exposed. The more you do it, though, the easier it gets.”
His lips are pursed, his forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
“Everything’s hard until it isn’t. Brennan told me that. Some of the best advice he’s given me.”
“You almost sound like you like him.” Ravi looks surprised. “He seems kind of dangerous.” Though the twink almost has a gleam in his eye. Maybe it’s all the flashing lights in this place.
“Brennan’s a complicated guy. At the end of the day, I respect him, and I’ve learned to listen to what he says. For example: Did he give you the standard rules for these types of parties?”
“Sex at your own risk, no illegal substances, and afterward you develop amnesia.”
“Right. I’ll add to that, never drink anything one of us didn’t give you unless it’s in an unopened can. Bottles are easier to open and reseal.” I gesture to the room at large. “That’s especially true if you’re a rich fuck with too much time on your hands and no appreciation for consequences. Rules apply for any date. They matter even more at these parties. Troy once grabbed a bottle of cola off a communal table, thinking it was safe. Adam had to drag him to a quiet bedroom until he could function again.”
Ravi nods, looking thoughtful. I still get nervous vibes from him, but we’re all nervous at first. We’ll see how things go.
“You know, I’m not here to judge at all. We all come to Brennan for work for different reasons, but if you’re uncomfortable, maybe you want to look into something else. You seem a little quiet and serious for this lifestyle.” I wink at him, hoping for a smile, but no luck. “I just want to make sure you’re cool with this. Nobody’s pressuring you, right?”
I’m pretty sure Christian’s boyfriend got him into escorting. At the time it seemed a little unusual. Now it seems like something darker.
Ravi shakes his head. “No. Nobody’s forcing me. Not…” He takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly. A sudden smile spreads across his face. “No. I’m here because I want to be. It’s sort of exciting, it’s just…new. It’ll get easier, like you said. Right?”
