Flowers for the Gardener

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  What did Ethan see in him? Why might a man like him want sex with the boss other than as an act of retaliation?

  Did the reason matter? The man was…beautiful in his way. A little rough, a bit of rough come to that, but the toughness was an irresistible part of the allure. Real. Ethan worked hard. Did he play hard?

  As Rich swallowed, the sound of his gulp resonated, eerie in the tiled space.

  His mother was gone for the day, Sapphire away. The cleaners weren’t due, which left Rosie busy in the kitchen. No one to act as witness if he brought Ethan into the house.

  What was he thinking? Hard to imagine taking Ethan to his room. Where else might they go?

  He knew where he wanted to take the man for their first time. First and last if the gardener played an underhand game, but might be one of many entertaining incidents if he didn’t.

  The temptation to believe Ethan when he said he didn’t intend blackmail was strong, but what if the man lied? Not that it mattered. Rich wouldn’t give in to such a thing, and if it came to that, he’d tell his mother. Tell the world if need be, but the timing was off. No one should be forced until they were ready and some of those at his father’s firm might not appreciate a public scandal. Gay sex might not be so newsworthy nowadays but the head of a company having sex with his gardener might if worded the right way. As in behind his grieving mother’s back a couple of weeks after his father’s funeral. He didn’t want her upset like that, and was closer to the mark of why Rich contemplated what form retaliation could take. If Ethan tried, the most Rich might do was to endanger his job. As plans went, he couldn’t rely on so simple a warning. No. He would need to be more unscrupulous.

  The answer made him queasy. What if he threatened to sack Ethan’s father? The solution went against his principles. True, the alternative meant staying away from the man, and yes, he might find it hard to explain sacking an employee to his mother—find the idea of the dismissal difficult—but she said she wanted him to make executive decisions. Staff came under that heading. Though unsure of his ability to go through with such a thing, and to do so would be a breach of employment law, a deep breath, two, three, hardened his resolve…for a brief moment.

  Fine, he kidded himself—no way would he eject the old man, under any circumstances, least of all as retaliation—but…Ethan didn’t know. Should he give sincere consideration to an empty threat?

  Scheming like this came from the genes inherited from his mother and unsettled his stomach, all his plotting moot…as long as he didn’t take Ethan up on his offer.

  At the next doorway, Rich paused, running his fingers over the embellished frame. This shade of dark oak—the worst possible colour in his opinion—ran through much of the house. His life, at least for the foreseeable future, was to exist within these walls and oversee his father’s business affairs—a lonesome prospect.

  With his eyes closed, Rich rested his forehead against the wood and breathed. Couldn’t he have something for himself? Could the reward be Ethan?

  A year of celibacy trailed in his wake. A similar few months stretched ahead. Whatever course he chose for the business, any decisions, plans, or redesign, required time. During that time, must he continue to pretend he didn’t feel trapped? The sense of isolation might drive him insane.

  A vision of him running naked through the manor, pulling out his hair, made him chuckle, smirk, winch, and shed a tear. Contact with Ethan might help him retain his sanity. If they both wanted sex, no harm done. Ethan could be Rich’s outlet.

  Decision made, he faced the next problem. How to get Ethan up to the house? An hour had passed since they parted ways, and the idea of running out in the vain hope of finding the gardener still in the cabin was enough to make Rich want to forget the whole thing, but if Ethan happened to linger there…

  No. For all he knew, they might end up screwing in the shed and he didn’t want to. Moreover, he didn’t want it to happen on Ethan’s turf, so to speak. To maintain any authority, he must find somewhere comfortable. He knew where. All that remained was the question of getting Ethan there.

  Rich took off at a run, first stopping by the restaurant-sized kitchen Rosie supervised, on the pretence of snagging an apple and fetching a glass of water. Once certain Rosie was in the midst of a baking session—an event which often took half a day—he went on to the study. There, he scanned the book of employees, full and temporary, and, as he hoped, the list included Ethan’s mobile. Having transferred the number into his phone, with slight hesitation, Rich rang it.

  “Meet me by the swimming pool,” he snapped out the moment Ethan answered. For long seconds he heard nothing but silence, was about to speak again when Ethan replied.

  “So now I’m to jump at your beck and call?”

  “It’s not…I didn’t mean…” To think he was supposed to run his father’s company when unable to give orders to one gardener. “Not what I intended. We have the opportunity.”

  “And you want me. Yeah, I know.” This time, Ethan sounded self-satisfied and smug.

  Might as well accept the futility of arguing. To argue would make him appear foolish. “Do you want to come or not?”

  “Oh, I wanna come all right.”

  The double entendre brought heat to Rich’s face.

  “Problem is, I should be working.”

  Funny how Rich forgot, the accusation, expecting Ethan to come on demand, as it were, true. Might be possible a little bigotry controlled some of his actions after all. He owed Ethan an apology and resented being placed in such a position by an employee. Again, the possibility of a hidden meaning made heat crawl up his neck.

  “I’ll make an excuse for you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Something.” At this point Rich contemplated helping the man catch up with his work. “If mother notices—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about mother.” The rich tones of Ethan’s voice mocked. “She wouldn’t recognise a hydrangea from a honeysuckle and she ain’t gonna care to check up on what I’m doing. But I do need to tidy up a bit. I can be there…” A pause ensued during which Rich pictured Ethan peering at his watch, the wristband encircling a muscular wrist Rich longed to grasp, rotate, and kiss. Maybe lick. “By half past,” Ethan concluded.

  “Fine. Come in from downstairs. I’ll unlock the door.” Rich hung up before Ethan said another word. Twenty-five minutes. Time to reach the pool, change into his swimwear, and prepare.

  For what? Ethan claimed he wanted Rich to fuck him, but did he mean it? Rich hoped—the idea easier to bear, more dominant. He didn’t think he could stand to have Ethan enter him; he’d never last.

  * * * *

  Well, well, well. Ethan stared at the phone for some moments after Richard ended the call. Took him time to accept what he struggled to believe. Not that he doubted Richard’s interest. The man was male and many a man found the offer of sex difficult to refuse, head turned by the small leading the bigger in compromising directions. Still, he suspected the moment Richard made it back to the house—cleared his head, and wanked, if the need proved too heated and distracting—the man might have come to his senses. Why invite Ethan up to the ‘big house’ if he didn’t mean to follow through? Would Rich lose his nerve? One way to find out.

  In a rush, Ethan heaved at the wheelbarrow in which lay another pile of garden waste and hotfooted it back to the shed. Another lot tipped on the compost heap and he was free to put the barrow away. Wouldn’t be possible to do so on an average day but…no way could he call this day typical. Times changed. The estate no longer ran the way it once did with his father in charge. These days, they sometimes called in two other gardeners—the land hereabouts too vast to manage even with limited help—but on this day, Ethan tended the grounds alone. His teasing Richard arose from an urge to complain when the man wanted him to drop everything, nothing to do with not being able.

  He collected his tools, cleaning off those requiring urgent attention, before locking the lot away, and runnin
g to the staff house. If he hurried, he would find enough time for a quick wash. Nothing too obvious or elaborate, but Richard wasn’t the sort to want soiling. Which was why a bit of ‘how’s your father’ might do the man good.

  Chapter 5

  When Richard said he’d leave the door unlocked Ethan should have asked which one. The room housing the swimming pool incorporated six sets of French doors every one with locks. Annoying but required the effort of a few minutes to work his way along the row.

  No need. As his boss appeared on the far side and pointed to the door closest to the end of the house, Ethan quickened his pace. He stepped in from the raw air to find the long marble tiled room stifling. Humid. The white and grey space off-set the bright blue of the pool.

  Richard stood on the other side of the water near one mosaic column, looking as if he might topple any moment and needed one to lean on.

  The two men stared across the expanse for a long moment.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  Ah…straight to it. The authoritative stance Richard tried to take might have worked if his voice didn’t waver.

  “You take something off first.” Ethan gestured with his chin to the dressing gown covering Richard to the ankle.

  “Leaves me at a drawback.”

  “Why? Are you naked under there?”

  “No.”

  “Didn’t think so.” As always, Ethan enjoyed teasing.

  “I’m wearing swim trunks.”

  “Going swimming?”

  “I don’t…know.” One glance at the pool pinched Richard’s brow. “We can, if you want.”

  Never having expected to set foot inside such a private area of the house, Ethan allowed a few silent seconds to pass during which he took in more of the room. Though not Olympic sized, the pool was far from small. He stood with his back to an expanse of glass doors. On the other side, more windows, round, made him think of portholes. Padded chairs lined the the side of the pool, interspersed with tall green plants and perspex coffee tables. Not a suitable place to screw around in sight.

  “Do you want us to do it in the water?”

  “N-No.”

  Though Ethan enjoyed the discomfort on the other man’s face without shame, they were getting nowhere fast. “Lead on.” Did he see disappointment? Why? “If you want me to strip, show me where.”

  Another series of subtle changes passed through Richard’s expression, anything from surprise to trepidation, excitement, or delight.

  This time, after a slight pause, Richard led the way.

  * * * *

  “I didn’t know this place has a sauna.”

  No reason Ethan would but now the man saw, Rich fought embarrassment. The distinction highlighted yet another difference in their social standing. “We’ve a full gymnasium and…” Who on earth used the word gymnasium? Why not abbreviate it to gym? As for the rest, Rich waved a hand toward the treatment room where, through the open door, a massage table stood in view. “There’s no staff for this.” His face burned. “I mean, there is. Not on site.”

  “A masseuse at your beck and call, hmm?”

  “Something like that.” Admitting it thickened his throat and brought on the urge to cough. “Not as we have much use for her. Not touched any of this for several months.” His father’s morning routine always included a run on the treadmill for as long as Rich could remember but, before his death, the man’s ill health, lasting for more weeks than any half-decent person deserved, put paid to the ritual. Now his father was gone, and too young, he had difficulty imagining when anyone might want much of the equipment. Except for the sauna. The room remained Rich’s domain.

  “No one else comes here,” he continued, unsure whether he tried to reassure his visitor or himself. The heat at last slipped out of his face, so he gazed at his guest without fear of blushing. “I enjoy a steam. This is my space.”

  “Private.” Ethan grinned as he examined the room with its wood-lined walls. Rich had set the temperature to warm but not roasting. Though not stone, the heating range allowed the area to be used similar to a Roman laconicum—a snug quiet place where his mother wouldn’t interrupt him, where people wouldn’t put pressure on his time. To say so might fill many a mind with licentious notions when the best activity Rich used the room for was reading. Other times, when he nudged the thermostat higher, he attempted to melt, to silence his mind.

  Not today, though.

  “Guess we can make this comfortable.” As Ethan kicked off his shoes, Rich stored them in a nearby locker, tingling from ingrained customs. If Ethan noticed or considered it odd, he said not a word. Impossible to shake a habit of tidiness, but his grounds for putting Ethan’s clothes away were far more practical. If anyone happened to glance in—though the chances were slim—Rich didn’t want someone to spot Ethan’s shoes or any misplaced scrap of clothing. He turned back to fetch Ethan’s shirt as the man took the garment by the hem and pulled it over his head.

  Shock pinned Rich to the spot. Ethan was ripped. Not as in shape as many men, but for his size…perfect. Light tan. Lean but muscles defined. The man worked out on the job. The observation led to earnest images of Ethan having a workout with Rich as his method of training.

  “We need towels. Towelllsssss.”

  The word drawn out and emphasised brought Rich out of his trance and aware of Ethan’s smirk.

  “Oh. Yeah.” Plenty of huge and fluffy towels filled the high shelves of the cabinet beside the sauna. The need to grab a few provided him with respite. Trembling hands caused him to lose his grip, several towels dropping to the floor. Ethan crouched to retrieve them, fingering the fabric. Frozen, staring at the top of Ethan’s head, Rich waited.

  “Nothing but the best, huh?” He sounded sardonic. “Makes one question why you’re fucking around with the gardener.”

  Why, indeed, though his reasons were nothing to do with social standing, which meant little to Rich. He opened his mouth to say so. Stopped. Said nothing as Ethan stood and moved away.

  The idea this would piss off his mother added a thrill, but was not why he longed to be in Ethan’s arms. No doubt, the man wouldn’t believe him and Rich didn’t want to spend half of their time together protesting or disguising any misguided embarrassment.

  “Come on.” Ethan glanced over his shoulder, framed by the doorway leading into Rich’s favourite hideout. Might be his best-loved for different reasons by the end of the day. Either that or he’d have sullied the place.

  They carried the bundle of towels into the sauna and shut the door. The men worked to spread the cloth out to pad a section of the seats.

  “Off with the robe.”

  So, Ethan thought to give orders? Why not, and why did the idea make Rich hard? Good thing he kept his back to the other man but when he turned around wearing nothing but swimming trunks, Ethan was bound to see…well, more. More by the second as his penis swelled.

  Stupid belt wouldn’t come loose. His fumbling attempts came to a halt as Ethan said, “Wait.” A hand squeezed his right shoulder. Warm lips drifted one side of his neck, bringing forth a shiver. A kiss meandered along the curve of his ear as Ethan eased the dressing gown off one of Rich’s shoulders. The robe slipped off on the other side when Ethan repeated the action. Touches so light, so seductive, Rich fought not to quake.

  Ethan sensual? Romantic? Gentle? Shockingly delightful. Did Ethan set out to surprise him?

  Perhaps, for Ethan spun Rich around, and moved in so close, Rich feared he might poke Ethan with his erection. Amazing to think his cock failed to find its own way out of his trunks.

  “Unexpected, eh?”

  Took a moment for his brain to catch up. So, Ethan read his mind, predicted his reactions. Played with him. Difficult to decide whether it were in any way dreadful. He needed a few more seconds to swallow around the thickness in his throat and spoke.

  “You next.”

  “Hmm…I took off two shoes and a shirt. I’m two up.” Ethan’s eyes grew heavy and hooded. Th
e man’s fingers performed a light rendition over Rich’s skin, up and down his side, shy of tickling, tormenting even so. Took resolve not to bat the hand away.

  “But…I…I’m only wearing two things. You still have two left.”

  Those full lips curved. “Do I?”

  More precious seconds ticked by while Rich figured out what Ethan implied. “Oh.” Rich’s face heated at the notion of the gardener coming up to the house no underwear beneath his jeans, though if privileged to such thoughts, Ethan would believe him Victorian in his outlook. Rich’s penchant for blushing wasn’t purely one of embarrassment—not due to nudity or sex—but the undeniable sensation of being out of control. Not as he ever maintained self-will without a struggle. From the moment of his birth, his parents mapped out his life. The longing to rebel came naturally to him, always did, difficult only in its execution. He always fought for freedom. So why did the idea of someone such as Ethan ordering him around appear so enticing?

  He’s not family.

  No, and in there lay the answer but now was not the time for self-analysis. Later, when alone in his room, he could sit up half the night and ponder. Think about what he wanted from all this, too. As to what might or might not happen next…

  “You s-said…”

  “Hmm?” Gaze flicking over Rich’s shoulder, chest and torso, Ethan appeared lost in appreciation, which did much for Rich’s ego, but nothing to move things along. Besides, the inspection made him uncomfortable. His cock jerked as a reminder. God…would he, in truth, find Ethan naked under those jeans? The man hard? Did his cock push at the denim? How long and how thick? Rich longed to fall to his knees, release Ethan’s dick and suck. His throat clicked as he swallowed.

  Embarrassing, this desperation, if understandable. Still, not yet. Not so fast, no matter how much his nerves shrieked for him to touch and be touched. After so many months of celibacy, he could wait awhile longer. For all he knew, this might be a onetime opportunity. No point in him wasting the time in swift but forgettable satisfaction. He needed more.