by Jerry Cole
“This isn’t the way I imagined this would go,” Simon admitted, chuckling at Sparkle’s exuberance over anything to do with interior design.
“Well, nothing here is the way I thought it would be. So now we’re both in unfamiliar territory,” Sparkle said, with a smile.
“I’d like to make it a little less unfamiliar,” Simon said, tugging Sparkle closer. His thumb rubbed the inside of Sparkle’s wrist in firm circular motions. Simon rarely had to do more than express interest to convince his conquests to come to him, but he was learning that Sparkle was nothing like the men he was used to bedding.
“I’m sure you are familiar with some of the others here. I’m interested, but I’m a headliner, on and off the stage. I don’t share the marquee,” Sparkle said, his upturned face nearly making contact with Simon’s lips.
“Is that your final answer?”
Sparkle took a deep breath and backed away from the flames that threatened to consume them both. Mr. Sexy Smile was a charismatic man with a vision, an amazing body, and enough sex appeal to qualify as the World’s Sexiest Man every year, from now until he died.
But, Sparkle was done with one night stands and disastrous affairs he knew could never become more than an interesting story to tell over cocktails. He wanted what he spent his nights reading about in his ever-growing library of romance novels. He wanted what his best friend Jerrod had with his new lover. He wanted somebody who was going to be there once the sparkle wore off and he was just plain old Sean.
“I’m sorry, but I think it is,” Sparkle said, finally prying his hand out of Simon’s warm, strong grasp. “It’s been fun. You have a great place here.”
“Simon.”
“Huh?”
“You have a great place here, Simon. It’s my name, Sparkle Jones,” Simon said, as he watched Sparkle walk away.
“It’s Sean,” Sparkle said, tossing his hair over his shoulder as he walked away. The diva soon spotted a familiar face and, locking arms with the redhead with a post-coital glow, walked away.
Simon shook his head and palmed his semi-erect cock. Giving his name was something he never did. It was more than a rule; it was the rule. He also never held hands, unless you counted guiding some fresh-faced twink’s hand up and down his cock, as hand holding.
“You are getting soft in your old age,” Simon said to himself.
“I am pretty sure I can fix that. You don’t look too old to me at all,” said a naked blonde sporting a beaded lip ring. Simon gave his thin frame a once over; his key was around his right ankle.
“I’m sure you can, but be gentle,” Simon said with a devious smile, leading the eager volunteer to someplace quieter.
***
Simon parked his car in the executive slot and exited the parking garage alone. He was often one of the first people in the office. It was a habit of his. One of the many from his strict upbringing and its hard-working Protestant roots that he found impossible to break. Not that he tried very hard. His position, his life, was possible because of the constant drumbeat of “hard work, cleanliness, and discipline” that his mother implanted in his head. He paid his taxes, obeyed the law, and had impeccable business ethics. Simon regarded it as the price he paid to be allowed to play freely in his private life.
He caught his reflection in the chrome walls of the elevator just before the doors opened. His black, wavy hair combed away from his face and parted on the left, suit and tie in a standard blue and classic cut, briefcase, gold watch—even his smile—was immaculately maintained. He was the spitting image of the man his father always wanted him to be.
“Good morning, Mr. Burns, I didn’t expect to run into you,” said Jerrod Polaski, as he and his assistant boarded the elevator.
Jerrod was an up and coming accounts manager at Taft, one of the largest financial institutions in the country. Until recently, he had been eyeing the open project manager position, but recently, his focus had changed. It seemed that Jerrod had taken a lover, and rumor had it that his assistant Aaron Black was his new paramour.
Simon eyed the pair as they disembarked and walked back to the office they both shared, breakfast in hand. If it were true, he could see why the charismatic image consultant might tempt Jerrod. Aaron was that special blend of chic vulnerability and unquestionable masculinity. His baby face and eager demeanor made him cute to watch, even from afar.
Simon felt a tugging in his chest and a sharp pang of emptiness that he routinely chased away with good wine and hot sex. Lately, his methods were less and less effective. He found himself playing with the idea of having more, but he was never sure of what. His father would have told him to settle down and find a nice girl, as if vowing to sleep with the same person night after night would solve all his problems. Simon still found the idea laughable. The old man had taught him many valuable life lessons, but monogamy was one he simply couldn’t master.
Simon arrived in his office with his agenda in hand. He didn’t bother with coffee; his secretary would see to that when she arrived. Instead, he stopped to dial the nursing home where his mother resided.
“Sunset Gardens, Vicky speaking, how may I direct your call?”
“Good morning Vicky. May I speak with Victoria Burns, please?”
“Oh, Mr. Burns, it's you again. Good morning! One minute, I’ll see if she’s awake. She had a rough night last night,” said the eternally effervescent orderly.
“That seems to be happening more and more often lately,” Simon noted.
“Unfortunately, that is the nature of the disease. You might want to have her reevaluated and see if a change in her prescriptions might help her.”
Simon sighed. Alzheimer’s was a horrible and cruel disease. He still remembered the day he had to admit to himself that he couldn’t care for his mother the way she needed to be cared for. He never felt so useless before or since. He looked into several care and treatment options.
For a while, he kept her at home with private nurses. Over time she became abusive and violent, the paranoia so thick, that she refused to eat anything they prepared, or even to bathe. He dreaded business trips, not knowing what state she would be in when he got back. Her COPD only compounded the problem, and eventually he had to admit that a special care facility was the best option for her.
It broke his heart. It still did, every time he visited.
“Mr. Burns, you’re in luck. She’s up and seems to be in a good mood. I’ll hand the phone over,” Vicki said.
“Hello?” The fear and confusion in his mother’s voice was obvious.
“Hi Mom, it’s me, Simon,” he said.
“Oh…Simon…yes, how are you my brown-eyed boy?” she said, sounding slightly less lost, as her mind grasped at the thread of memory.
Simon smiled as he replied in the affirmative. His eyes were blue.
***
By the time lunch time rolled around, the sadness of the morning was all but forgotten. Simon wasn’t the kind of man to dwell on anything. He always dealt with what was in front of him. Wishing things were different or longing for days gone by was a sure-fire way to wrinkles and an ulcer. He wasn’t having either.
Simon stepped out of the building in the heart of the financial district and took one crisp breath.
“Okay, I will just meet you there,” said a familiar voice behind him.
“Sean?” Simon turned to see the welcome face. Sparkle spun around at the sound of his voice. “I thought it was you.”
“It’s nice to see you again,” Sparkle said with a wry smile, his eyes darting around nervously.
“You too,” Simon said, letting his eyes roam over the flamboyant man’s face. He knew calling out to Sparkle was a mistake the moment he opened his mouth. He never acknowledged his partners during office hours. Technically, Sparkle wasn’t a partner, but Simon wasn’t so sure that made any difference. There was an awkward silence between them as both men stood looking at each other and grinning like guilty teenagers.
“If you aren’t m
eeting anybody, would you like to have lunch with me?” Simon cringed inwardly, knowing that Sparkle was meeting somebody and silently praying that he would be willing to ditch his lunch date to keep him company.
“Yeah, I am supposed to meet my friend and his boyfriend,” Sparkle answered.
“Oh, maybe—”
“But if you give me a moment, I can always make time for a new friend,” Sparkle interrupted.
“Oh. Okay,” Simon said, smiling broadly.
Simon shifted his weight back and forth as he waited for Sparkle to make his excuses. It wasn’t often that he got an itch he just had to scratch, but when he did, he was loath to deny himself the pleasure.
Watching Sparkle speak was a seduction itself. The prominent cheek bones only highlighted his honey brown eyes and long, thick lashes. Simon spent nearly a minute trying to decide if his arched eyebrows gave his eyes a cat-eyed look or if Sparkle dared to wear makeup in the middle of the day. He seemed like the type who would dare. And yet, it didn’t seem like the childish antics of a petulant twenty-something trying to push the envelope of gender norms. On Sparkle, it seemed natural. He was himself, Simon realized, and that was what made him so damned beautiful.
“Looks like I have it all sorted. So, where to, handsome?”
“Would it be wrong of me to suggest, back to my place?”
Sparkle glared at Simon.
“No, not like that. Although, if you change your mind about that, I’m always willing. But, I want to get to know you, Sean ‘Sparkle’ Jones. And I want you to be impressed by me. So, I’m offering to cook. I want to make you lunch,” Simon said, meaning every word.
Sparkle didn’t answer, but continued to stare at Simon’s face, as if searching for the answer to a puzzle.
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m just as shocked as you are. I’m not a lunch date kind of guy. But, you…intrigue me.”
“Okay, but just lunch,” Sparkle agreed, letting a secret smile slip past his lips as he followed Simon to his car. “I can’t have you falling in love.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Simon said with a smile.
“Uh huh, famous last words,” Sparkle said, pursing his lips and pivoting on his right foot. Sparkle slid into the passenger seat of Simon’s luxury sedan and adjusted his seat to make room for his long legs. As Simon circled the car, Sparkle reached over and unlocked the door.
“You’ve got good manners,” Simon noted as he started the car.
“My mother may be a Bible-thumping bigot, but she raised me right,” Sparkle said, his voice devoid of any irony or sarcasm.
“Mothers don’t always end up being the person we hoped they would be, but the good ones do what they can,” Simon said, a note of sadness in his tone.
“Don’t we all,” Sparkle agreed.
Chapter Three
Sparkle couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so much. He was always smiling. It was his job. He was perpetually smiling, but he rarely laughed. This afternoon had been a welcome break from the life of fake smiles and canned applause he was used to.
“So, Sparkle, I know you have a show and fans, but what exactly do you do?”
Sparkle tossed his head and laughed.
“My best friend says I’m a slash.”
“A slash?”
“I’m a model, slash actor, slash choreographer, slash dancer, slash host, slash whatever ‘they’ need me to be, if the money is right and on time.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It CAN be. Honestly, I started out doing drag shows and bussing tables, and once I got a taste of the limelight, I went for it. Hard. I didn’t really think about branding or anything. I just wanted to be wherever the lights and cameras were. I wanted to work with all the pretty people and wear the fabulous clothes. I even auditioned for a reality show.”
“And did you achieve that?”
Sparkle hesitated before answering. That was a question he was asking himself more and more often.
“Maybe.” Sparkle took another sip of his wine. “And what about you?”
“Amateur porn star,” Simon replied, with a straight face.
Sparkle spit his wine and the pair burst into laughter.
“I must be getting better at telling jokes. I’ve never had anybody do an actual spit-take before.” Simon’s sonorous laughter was infectious, soothing Sparkle’s nerves and weakening his defenses.
“Are you sure you haven’t done anything to the wine?” Sparkle said, swirling the contents of his glass in front of Simon, who promptly refilled it.
“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” Simon admitted, joining Sparkle on the leather sectional in front of his fireplace. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon, bathing the room in a soft glow that made the cavernous penthouse seem much more intimate.
Upon arrival, Simon had called into work and cleared his schedule for the afternoon. Then, he traded his severe blue suit for distressed denim and well-worn cashmere. The effect was not lost on Sparkle. Nothing was lost on Sparkle. He had to admit that Simon was all the things he wanted in a man, except for one. He was completely uninterested in commitment.
“You know, you really do look like Clark Kent,” Sparkle said.
“Really?” Simon asked.
“Yeah, you even have the cleft in your chin.”
“I don’t think anybody has ever said that to me before.”
“Liar,” Sparkle accused.
“No, I’m not lying.” Simon looked Sparkle in the eyes as he spoke.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
“You lie a lot?”
“Only…” Simon hesitated as he realized what it was he was about to say, and just how disastrous it would be to admit.
“Only to people you sleep with,” Sparkle interjected. “Well, I got no time for lies, so I guess I’m going to have to keep my pocketbook closed. It’s a shame, though; I was feeling you,” Sparkle cut his eyes at Simon and drained the last of the wine.
“Ouch, friend-zoned on the first date,” Simon said, looking almost relieved.
“My, you took that well,” Sparkle said, putting one well-manicured hand on his hip.
“I saw it coming,” Simon said.
“No regrets? No desperate and embarrassing attempts to get me to change my mind? Goddamn, not even a cloud in the sky?” Outrage animated Sparkle’s face.
“Would it help?”
“No,” he said quickly, all of the bluster evaporating instantly. “You’re too much, and none of it’s good for me. Your food is amazing, but all those sauces and carbs are going to be hell on my thighs.”
“I like your thighs.”
“You keep feeding me like that, and they’ll be big enough to feed a family of four. And what’s with all this maturity and silent acceptance? It’s not good for my ego.”
“Don’t you have enough fans?”
“That is not the point, and you can NEV-VER have enough fans,” Sparkle declared, turning the word ‘never’ into a two-syllable event.
Simon chuckled and leaned in closer to the outraged man. “I’m too old to play games and argue. So, let me level with you. You aren’t my type. I go for something a little more macho,” Simon stated in a voice that was pure seduction.
“Oh really?”
“Really, and yet, here we are. I don’t like attachments or drama. I don’t bring my dates to my house, and I never give them my real name,” Simon confessed.
“So then, why are we here?”
“Because you fascinate me. You’re like a tempest all wrapped up in a pretty face and a tight ass, and I want to have you,” Simon said, his demeanor turning dark and serpentine.
“Have me?”
“I want you to be mine.”
“And will you be mine?”
“That’s not part of the deal. The deal is you get to have things nobody else does. You get to come here, know me better and I will look out for you…”
“But
?” Sparkle asked.
“But this isn’t a fairy tale. We aren’t going to go riding off into the sunset. And when it stops being fun, we’ll end it,” Simon proposed.
“You mean you will end it, just as soon as I’m not fun anymore,” Sparkle countered.
“Call it what you want.”
“And what makes you so sure that you won’t fall in love with me? Why are you so sure that I won’t be the one to walk away?”
“You might. If you happen to run into your knight in shining armor, by all means, follow your heart. But until then, be mine,” Simon said, his face as calm as if he were proposing terms for a business merger.
And maybe he was, Sparkle realized. This wasn’t a declaration of love; it was an offer to acquire rights.
“Does this deal have an exclusivity clause?”
“Should it?”
“You aren’t the only one with a full dance card, Simon. I’m not exactly chopped liver,” Sparkle crossed his legs. Usually his agent did most of the negotiations for him. But he had dealt with enough contracts to know how to make a deal.
“I told you, my days of waking up unsure whose panties I’m wearing are over and done with. I’m not asking for much. I just want to know that, for as long as it lasts, it’s just you and me, unless a mutually agreed upon third-party joins the partnership,” Sparkle said, cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow at the stunned banker.
You aren’t the only one who knows how to play this game, Sparkle thought to himself as he watched Simon mull it over. It didn’t sound like a lot, but for a man like Simon, fidelity was almost like death. The idea of sleeping with the same man every night sounded like a punishment. Sparkle knew that and didn’t expect him to agree.
“Fine, maybe I’ll get you out of my system faster this way,” Simon said.
It was Sparkle’s turn to look shocked.
