Page 8 of The Billionaire's Service

4

When Nicolas greeted me at the studio door, he looked slightly haggard and spent from a long day of work. He wore a t-shirt smeared with sweat and sawdust, and tiny beads of perspiration stood out across his bald head. Nicolas wore gym shorts instead of his usual jeans. The shorts were a sign of a vigorous day of physical work.

I was still wearing the conservative suit I chose for my committee meeting. Nicolas ignored any careful respect for my clothing and grabbed me in a bone-rattling hug. He followed with one of the deep kisses that always fueled my addiction to my Master.

Filled with love, respect, and lust for Nicolas, I fell to my knees just inside the door. Leaning forward, I kissed his stiff bulge through the shorts and gazed up into his eyes. “I love you, Master.”

Nicolas’ white teeth sparkled when he grinned at me and ruffled my hair, spreading sawdust through the strands. “It sounds like you had a great time at the committee meeting. That kind of work can drive me mad, but I think you’ll be outstanding. You have twice as much patience with people than I do.”

“You’ve had plenty of patience with me.”

Nicolas’ fingers gripped my hair tightly. “That’s a different matter.”

I reached up and brushed some of the sawdust from Nicolas’ t-shirt. “Have you been working on new projects?”

“Yes—I’m working with wood now. I bet you couldn’t have guessed that.”

I couldn’t resist slipping the fingers of my other hand up under the t-shirt to caress Nicolas’ hard abdominal muscles. “I think it’s the only way you end up covered in sawdust unless you’ve been rolling around in a giant hamster cage.”

I heard Taylor’s voice call, “Hey there, Mr. Rowley!” Seconds later, he appeared in the studio behind Nicolas, pushing a large broom from one side of the studio to the other.

Taylor was shirtless. Despite the lump in the pit of my stomach, I leaned to the side and glimpsed his youthful body. Taylor had a muscular build with a narrow waist, broad shoulders, and a smooth chest. His pec muscles and biceps were particularly well developed. He disappeared out of sight and called back to us, “Just a minute while I finish up the sweeping, and I’ll join you.”

I climbed to my feet and whispered to Nicolas, “Is that the professional studio uniform?”

Nicolas frowned. “Come on, Ryan. You know it gets hot here in the studio when I get rolling on a new project.” He tugged at his own shirt soaked in sweat to emphasize the point. “Taylor asked whether he could take his shirt off, and I said, ‘Sure, knock yourself out.’”

“Can I see what you’ve gotten done today?”

“No, it’s under wraps for now. You’ll see it soon, but we only started it today. Taylor’s a big help. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

As if his ears were burning, Taylor jogged up behind Nicolas and then stepped to his side. He was wearing jeans and sneakers, and his hair was damp with sweat and sprinkled with sawdust. Taylor reached a hand out to me. “Great to see you again.”

I shook the hand. The firm grip matched Taylor’s body. If he failed as an artist, he had the potential for alternative career options as an athlete or perhaps a model. I clenched my jaw and decided to try hard to be charming and civil. “How is the work here? Is it a good experience helping out a working artist?”

Taylor flashed a spectacular smile. “It sure is. I’m used to working in paint. Mr. Fairfax’s work is much more—um—physical. I think that’s the best word for it.”

I failed at suppressing a sigh. I was sure that Nicolas heard it. He gestured toward the interior of the studio. “Let’s all sit for a few minutes. Taylor has to leave in about five minutes, but we can all relax until then.”

Nicolas turned to face Taylor. “Did you finish the sweeping?”

“I did. It looks like it’s all cleaned up for the end of the day.”

“Good work. Sweeping isn’t the most glamorous job, but an apprentice has to start somewhere. One of these days, you will have one of your own.”

Taylor smiled again. “Aww, thank you. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

We all strode across the studio toward a bright orange overstuffed sofa Nicolas rescued from the throwaway pile outside a local furniture store. He sat at one end and pulled me down next to him. I lost my balance and tumbled against his body. Then, Taylor laughed and settled in on the opposite end.

“I hope one day to have my own partner and be half as happy as the two of you.” Taylor’s comment cleared up one question in my mind. He was into men. I watched as he leaned back and scratched his chest near a nipple. He would have plenty of men lusting after him. He probably already did, but weeding out the right one might be a complicated process.

I turned my head toward Nicolas. He was looking at Taylor. I would have given him a large sum of money to read the thoughts inside his head. Instead, I placed a quick kiss on the side of his neck before settling my head against his shoulder.

One of my eyes remained trained on Taylor. I couldn’t decide whether he was looking specifically at Nicolas or staring at us together. I glanced at his crotch and then pulled my eyes away as quickly as possible. I wanted to slap myself. Both Nicolas and Taylor were only trying to be friendly, and I obsessed over assigning deep meaning to every action.

Taylor asked, “Have you ever tried any type of art, Mr. Rowley?”

Nicolas chuckled softly and ran his fingers up inside my suit jacket. “Ryan is a work of art.”

---