The Darker Side of Trey Grey

by Tara Spears

  “God, it’s a God,” I muttered to myself, biting down on the rim of my glass over the chiseled long-haired blond milling through the crowd. Molly followed my eye line then coughed.

  “You okay?” I asked keeping an eye on Thor as he stalked down the stairs. Then I had an Oh my... moment when I realized I still wanted to fuck the sexual daemon from my childhood.

  She nodded, glancing sternly at me. “I thought you were straight,” she said in all seriousness.

  “Really?” I said mockingly.

  She flagged her hand between us. “No, but a girl can pretend, and you just shot that all too shit for me,” she said in a disappointed tone. “I suppose you’re too... everything, to be straight.” She sighed profoundly.

  “Molly, darling, I’m as straight as you want me to be,” I told her, running a sympathetic hand down her back while my eyes stayed glued to the God.

  “Ah shit, he’s coming over,” I hissed through my teeth. I never get nervous around anyone, but he had me wondering if I looked okay, if my clasp on my chain was in back, if my eyeliner was smudged. Damn it. He was just a pretty thing to play with.

  “We are talking about the scruffy blond right?” Molly asked pointing her finger right at him, he didn’t miss it and crooked his lips.

  “Shit, Molly. Put your fucking finger down,” I said between my teeth.

  She laughed at me, a big open-mouthed guffaw if there ever was one.

  “That’s my baby brother,” she blurted, still laughing.

  My head snapped towards her.

  “No shit?”

  She nodded, straightening with some effort. I didn’t have time to think about the irony, or time to find it amusing, as he had arrived. All six luscious feet of him.

  “Matilda.” He bent down and kissed her cheek then inspected me with a frown. “A little young for you, don’t you think?” he asked, unkindly.

  I guess good manners didn’t necessarily go with God like looks. I was opening my mouth to retort when Molly kicked my boot.

  “Fredric, you are being rude.” She glared petulantly at him.

  “She was having trouble catching the attention of a bartender. I helped her out, and now we’re chatting,” I told him, noticing his long hair must be forty shades of gold, at least. I could imagine wrapping that ponytail around my hand as I rode... Okay, enough of that.

  He stabbed me with disapproving hazel eyes. “You realize she’s probably twenty years your senior and married,” he accused, but his rancor was waning. Even so, he had enough steam to shoot at his sister; “Poor Andrew. I don’t know why he puts up with you.”

  Molly withered under her brother’s words, and sagged back against the bar as she folded her arms protectively around herself. Even though he was quite a bit younger, it was obvious he could demean her with little effort. And he appeared to know just the weapons to do so.

  “I said we were chatting, not fucking,” I defended, then took a large gulp of alcohol wondering if I was about to get punched, and if I was, figuring I would need it to dull the pain later.

  However, in a surprising show, Fredric’s lips quirked up and Molly stifled a laugh under her hand. Crisis averted for now, but the night was still young, and thankfully the drinks were free.

  “Freddie Fangor,” he said, extending his hand to me.

  “Trey.” I took it, hoping for a shot of excitement or at least the quiver of lust when we touched. But there was nothing except a warm hand against my cool one.

  He, on the other hand, seemed caught in a lascivious web as his face warmed, eyes darkened, and he actually grabbed his lower lip between his teeth.

  “Trey? No last name?” he asked in a gruff tone.

  I had close to three shots of Stoli in me, and I was beginning to feel the effects. It was probably all alcohol induced fancy, but I still wanted to play with him. And I never wanted to fuck for fun. I was reasonably sure more alcohol would kill off the dejected feeling slithering down my chest so I could do just that without remorse.

  “For now, no,” I replied then added. “I think I’m going to mingle. Molly.” I bent down, brushing my lips along her cheek.

  “Have fun, Trey,” she said, raising her glass along with her eyebrows. I clinked my glass to hers as I gave her a glare of warning over the fact she now had my name. The corner of her mouth lifted mischievously, but her green eyes told me she understood.

  I dipped my chin at Freddie then sauntered off into the crowd. If he was truly interested he would find me. Hopefully more inebriated and better prepared. If not, well, who needed him. The thought had me sighing completely out of character. I may not need him, but I kinda wanted him. Okay, I definitely wanted him if only to satisfy my youthful fantasies.

  Not fifty feet from the bar, I was caught up by a rainbow-haired pixie of a girl literally panting for me. She was resplendent in a glittered lime collar and short lead. Her gauzy cornflower-blue handkerchief dress floated around her. It goes without saying she was respectful to a fault. The girl was subtly indicating she wanted to dance, her eyes darting towards the dance floor below, then to her sandaled feet, as her body swayed.

  Leaning in, I told her, “A pixie belongs in a cage, not on a collar.”

  She almost convulsed into an orgasm right there. What the fuck, she was cute. I downed the rest of my drink, and set the glass on the closest table.

  “Come.” I took her lead, and led her to the dance floor.

  The next hours blurred into a gluttonous assortment of bodies tugging me one way or another on the dance floor. I shunned the doms that showed interest with a firm glare, and stuck with the more respectful subservients. A few starry-eyed souls brought me drinks and I threw them back aggressively. I never doubted I would be popular, yet this was going beyond, way beyond, into infatuated adoration, and I couldn’t deny I felt a bit dizzy with the power I had over these rich players.

  With a sudden jolt everything was too warm and uncomfortable. I found myself with my tongue shoved into the pixie girl’s throat, a boy massaging my back, and an emo chick rubbing up and down my leg. Jesus, how much shit did I have to drink?

  Disentangling the bodies, I held up my hands and departed in search of someplace quiet. Obviously too drunk to think straight, and unmistakably too drunk to drive, I needed to wind down before I could climb behind kitten’s wheel.

  The world wasn’t tilting yet, but if I walked too fast I couldn’t walk straight. It was an effort to pull myself up the marble steps, and I gave up after two flights. I stumbled down the corridor until I found an unoccupied puffy red chair tucked behind a Grecian style black marble pillar. Sinking in, I laid my head back and took several deep breaths to clear my head.

  I had to admit I was having a good time. This was college boy fun with a wet splash of my world, and it was a comfortable combination. I would need to think about the redhead’s proposition more thoroughly, when my mind was running on all cylinders again. I giggled. Right now it needed a valve job.

  I felt my eyes getting heavy, and struggled out of the comfortable chair. Dozing would turn to full out sleep, and that would not be a good idea. Walking, that was a good idea.

  I had wandered the corridor up and down a few times when I noticed the action in one of the playrooms had turned lurid. This particular glass case was set behind a pillar and tucked into a corner, making it almost invisible.

  The woman, dressed in purple leather and spiky thigh-high boots, leaned into the back of a slightly pudgy, dark-haired man cuffed to a wooden cross. I caught the pink strike marks along the edge of his ribcage then saw the thin hog whip discarded on the floor.

  Even though they were here to entertain the patrons, for some reason I didn’t want them to catch me peeping. I was about to move on when I noticed the glass was grayed. One-way glass. I had been privy to it on a few occasions when I visited Fairfax. It made sense actually. We could watch, yet they couldn’t see out, giving the illusion of privacy. Of course they knew we could see them. However, being in the s
ex trade, there were times I wasn’t in the mood to be openly observed.

  I leaned a shoulder against the pillar as I watched the woman discreetly jacking off her sub. I chuckled when his hips moved and she pinched him hard for the discretion, her black nails leaving pink half moon marks on his white ass. Hadn’t the guy heard of nude tanning?

  “Have you ever played?”

  I turned to the masculine voice and found Freddie, arms crossed, with a demure-pissed off look on his face. It was an odd combination, but on him somehow it worked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Bottom or top?” he asked, running a thumb over his lower lip.

  “Both,” I replied, turning back to the scene without further elaboration.

  “Me too.” He leaned against the pillar behind me. “You seemed to be having a good time. Did you have a good time, Trey?”

  “Did you come find me just to ask if I was having a good time?” I giggled. Not, not drunk yet.

  “No— She’s using a toy on him... crafty bitch isn’t she?”

  I tilted my head at Freddie’s observation and noticed the man’s ass clench then relax. Sure as shit, she was.

  “Think she’s risking her job?” I asked speculatively.

  “Naw. I saw a few others pushing the limits of legal display.”

  “A voyeur eh?” I teased.

  “No. I was bored waiting for you to leave your entourage.”

  His voice blew warm against my neck and I felt a small frisson of lust stir.

  “Trey, can I touch you?”

  Shit, he was asking my permission. I never would have pegged him for a submissive. “IT” stretched, then mumbled and went back to sleep. Despite my body’s lackadaisical response, as a whole I was becoming more intrigued with Mr. Fangor.

  “You can touch me,” I replied.

  His hand ran tentatively up my thigh, and it was nice to have someone soft and experienced touching me with veneration. I leaned back against his chest, soaking in it.

  We stayed like that, Freddie caressing my thigh, my hip, my waist while I absorbed his warmth as we watched the scene’s climax. When the man came there wasn’t any emission and I realized, with mixed feelings of relief and disappointment, he was wearing a condom.

  “Trey?”

  “Hm?”

  “I don’t do this... I never do this, but... will you come home with me?” Freddie asked, his hand stilling.

  “Can I fuck you?”

  “Yes.” His breath whispered the word through my hair and “IT” came fully awake. I was sure it was the alcohol talking, but I wanted him and I never wanted anyone.

  I heard myself say, “Yes.”

  When the blast of cool briny air hit me I regained some reason.

  “Freddie, you have to bring me back here when we’re done. No exceptions, understand?” I told him while we waited for the valet to bring his car around.

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “Freddie, no exceptions, no matter what.”

  “Trey, I got it. No exceptions. Back here when we’re done.” He tilted his head, sealing his promise with a kiss and some tongue. When he pulled away, I bit and held his lower lip for a second before releasing him.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  He bowed his head, nodding earnestly, and I let my inhibitions slip to the pavement just as a black Masserati pulled up to the curb in front of us. Fuck even his car was sexy.

  Chapter Five

  “Jesus, Trey, I wasn’t enough so you jacked off in your sleep? That’s a bit of a slap in the face.” The masculine voice pulled me forward into a state of grogginess.

  I tried to clear out the nightmare remnants from my head, but they were pulsing in and out of existence with the resident pounding there. Drunk asshole, jacked me off while I slept. Fucking rapist. That’s all you are, Willie. Oh man, my head hurts.

  A very real hand traveled down my thigh, and I snapped to the present. My mind stumbled, and then twisted in horror as I felt the slime stuck grotesquely to my hand and belly. Oh God. I moaned and right then I realized there was a man moving suggestively against my back. His hard-on was pressed into my ass crack, leaving a damp streak where it touched me. I started to gag, and clambered from the bed as everything lurched around me.

  My palms pressed into my eyes. I felt something wet and sticky on my cheek and eyelid and pulled my hands down. I started to gag and grabbed my stomach. The feel of semen on my belly caused an instant reaction and I retched violently onto the dark blue carpet.

  The man uttered something I didn’t catch through the keening in my ears and head. I straightened, letting the drool trickle down my chin, too afraid of what was on my hands to wipe it off. I looked at the stranger staring at me.

  “Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I?” My voice cracked.

  I shuddered and looked wildly around the room. It was grey and blue, expensive... I had never seen it before. How had I gotten here? The blond man shook his head as he gave me a dumb look.

  “Shit... Trey, buddy, you had a lot to drink last night.”

  My eyes snapped to the stranger. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

  “Calm down. Probably in the living room where we took them off,” he said with a coy smirk.

  An icy shiver ran all the way to my toes at that implication, and the room began to spin. Oh God what happened?

  “You fucked me?” I squeezed out through a tightening jaw.

  “Not exactly.” He blushed, and for a moment I thought I recognized him then it flittered off before I could grab hold of who he was.

  What the hell does not exactly mean? Everything around me wavered. Not my room. Why wasn’t I in my room? I should be in my room!

  I have to get home. That’s all. I’ll be okay once I get home. I stumbled forward, out the door into a long white hall and ran down the hardwood. Door. I needed the door. But there were only small interior doors here. I needed a big door. There... a big arched wooden door.

  When I reached it, the scene in the living room hit me like a fist to the gut. Clothes, some of them mine, and brown couch cushions were scattered all over the floor. I noticed a pink condom next to one of the cushions harboring a dried dribble of... I covered my mouth. “Mmmm.” I spun away from the debauchery, slamming into the door. I grabbed the handle and heaved, but it didn’t move. I kept tugging, and tugging, but it refused to budge.

  Focus. Focus. Focus. I banged my head against the door. Locked. Probably locked. Glancing down I grabbed the deadbolt, twisted and the door flew into me, crashing into my face. Everything began to dim. Home. The word screamed in my head, reviving me. As I removed my hand from the lever, the skin stuck and I shot forward, gagging. I made it to the portico before doubling over and vomiting onto the slate.

  Something lashed tightly around my waist and I swung hard, connecting with the strangers face, and I was freed. I bolted away, fell down the stairs, hit wet stone, and clambered up. Where the fuck am I?

  Grass, water, a bridge, I spun around and saw another bridge. I was facing Mercer Island. I-90. North, I have to go north. My fists banged into my head. Think. I swung left and my feet began to move, and soon I was running through the rain to safety. To my room. I just needed to get to my room.

  * * * * *

  I smelled soot, felt the warmth, and heard the crackling of a fire. It took me several long confusing seconds to swath out the after effects of whatever drug was hazing my mind. Then several more to recall a few tidbits of what had happened to put me here. My limbs were heavier than my eyelids, and my mouth was viscid.

  “You drugged me,” I croaked to the man sitting on the arm of the couch watching me apprehensively. He relaxed the moment I spoke.

  “I didn’t, but yeah, the doctor did. You were going to hurt yourself.” He sighed heavily. “Trey, what the hell was that?”

  Snippets of a terrified escape swam through my head.

  “Me. That was me.” I struggled to sit up and moaned. As I clenched my head in my ha
nds, waiting for the washy feeling to subside, I filtered through the scant memories there. The club, Molly, Molly’s brother Freddie... that was it, that was what I was looking for in there. I went home with Freddie and what? I shook my head to clear it and cringed. That was stupid. I knew better than to move after someone sticks a needle in me.

  “Water?” I asked without moving.

  Freddie shoved a bottle of water into my line of sight, which I had solidly on the black and brown rug under my feet. I swallowed down a third, then recapped it and set it next to my bare feet. I looked curiously at what I was wearing, and swallowed a groan. I refused to freak out. The big grey Athletics t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants smelled fresh and clean, yet I was wearing someone else’s clothes and I didn’t know a damn thing about the person that normally inhabited them.

  “What happened?” I asked, to take my mind off the clothes.

  I couldn’t seem to recall anything after... fuck... the car, his sexy car and, I think, sex on his car. I scrunched up my face trying to remember, but only succeeded in making my head hurt more.

  “I don’t really know. You went off the deep end, I think,” he said, his tone quiet.

  “How deep did I go, Freddie?” I glanced at him without moving my head.

  He turned away, rubbing his hand across his mouth and chin. A purple bruise cuddled along the outer edge of his eye, and caressed his cheekbone. Aw crap. I must have hit him.

  “I’d say you jumped off the high dive, Trey.” He brought his eyes back to me and narrowed them. “You scared the shit out of me. You don’t remember any of it, do you?”

  I shook my head still encased in my hands. “It’ll come back. It always does.” I dropped my hands as I glanced at him, cringing I lifted a hand and gently touched the bruises. “I did that, didn’t I?”

  He nodded and smirked at me. “You have a pretty good left hook when you’re out of your mind.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry... and thank you for not calling me crazy.”