Fallen Into You

by Remmy Duchene

  “Did you want to start with a drink?” a voice asked.

  Abhay whirled around and noticed a man seated there. He’d been so still, Abhay had missed him. “Who are you?”

  “Your entertainment for the evening.”

  “I want to see your face.”

  “Strange,” the man said. “Most men don’t want to know what I look like at all. They just want to see my ass.”

  “I’m not most men.” Abhay rested his back into the seat and tilted his head. “And as much as I’m sure I’d love to see your ass, face first.”

  The man leaned forward and rose. Abhay guessed he was about six foot of muscle. He wasn’t bulky muscular but rather sleek, perfect for a designer suit kind of muscular. As he neared, the man hunched down, his pants splaying over some well-defined thighs, Abhay recognized him. “What’s your name?”

  “The Gentleman.”

  “Your real name.”

  “Why is that important?”

  Abhay sighed. “I’m Abhay Chetan.”

  “You’ve never done one of these before, have you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  The Gentleman smiled, a glorious look that sent shivers pulsing down Abhay’s spine. It was the same heat Abhay had felt the moment The Gentleman had pressed up against him earlier. The dancer still smelled divine with a body that made Abhay want to open himself up again to being with someone. But the last time he’d had those dreams they’d crashed and burned.

  “Well, Abhay,” The Gentleman’s voice pulled through his thoughts. “Telling you my name is against the rules.”

  “And who will know? We are alone in here, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. We are. But there are cameras.”

  “What if I said I don’t want you to take your clothes off for me? I just want to talk to you.”

  “Then I’d tell you I’m not your therapist.”

  Abhay laughed. “Very well. If you don’t want to talk and there are cameras in here then I suppose you’d better show me your ass—after you tell me your name.”

  Something flashed inside The Gentleman’s eyes but Abhay could have been mistaken. After all, the room played tricks on one’s mind in the dark. He watched, holding his breath as his performer rose again, this time to rest one knee on the sofa between Abhay’s legs. He leaned in, smelling like cinnamon and fire. Abhay bit back a moan and forced his hands to remain pressed against the leather surface of the sofa.

  “You can call me Matt,” The Gentleman whispered into Abhay’s ears. “Are you ready to begin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you wish to take charge, or do I?”

  “Um…” Abhay shook his head to clear it. “What?”

  Matt breathed against the side of Abhay’s face, before catching Abhay’s ear between his teeth. “Some men love it when I’m rough with them. What’s your poison?”

  “Rough? Are we still talking about dancing?”

  Matt laughed, a sexy, guttural sound that had Abhay tenting his pants.

  “Stand,” Abhay managed after a series of deep breaths. “When you begin, turn your back to me.”

  Matt did as Abhay instructed, his body swaying from side to side in rhythm to the soft music that was being pumped into the room. Abhay hadn’t noticed it before. Matt had put him in a trance, made him blind, deaf and clueless to everything about his surroundings but the arch of Matt’s back turning into his ass. Licking his lips, Abhay tried to sit still, to be passive so his arousal would go away, but Matt’s suit hit the floor, followed by his shirt, and the tattoo spanning Matt’s shoulders made the hardness worse.

  “Turn around.”

  Once again Matt complied, and though Abhay knew the rules, he wanted to swipe his tongue over Matt’s hard pink nipples. Abhay sat on his hands, eased into the material of the sofa and allowed his eyes to feast on Matt’s body, down his perfectly sculpted abs to where Matt’s belt sat unbuckled.

  “Slowly,” Abhay said. “Zipper down.”

  Matt’s hips gyrated and his abs contracted then loosened. The zipper glided downward under a finger and Matt started easing the pants down his perfect thighs. When he stepped out of them, Abhay smiled. “Now turn around.”

  This time, he was left speechless. The jockstrap Matt wore left nothing to the imagination in the back. The dancer was perfect in every single way and there was no denying how Abhay felt in that moment. He chewed on his bottom lip. The urge to touch, to fall on his knees and crawl forward for a taste rose inside him like a storm brewing on the horizon. Maybe it was his years of being celibate. Maybe he was just so depraved that every naked man he saw churned this kind of raging wildness in him.

  No, the other dancers had done nothing for him. And he hadn’t been paying much attention while Matt had been on the stage. He’d been too busy trying to hide the arousal in the front of his pants from the little impromptu dirty dance Matt had given him.

  “Damn.”

  “Does that mean you like what you see, Abhay?” Matt asked cheekily.

  “You have no idea how hard it is not to touch you right now,” Abhay admitted before he could stop himself. “I think you should get dressed.”

  “You’re a grown man. You can control yourself.”

  “Yes and it’s becoming increasingly difficult. I want you to take a look at what you’ve done.”

  Matt spun slowly and his eyes dipped to the front of Abhay’s pants. Abhay trembled under his stare. His heart raced faster and harder as Matt looked at him.

  “That means I did my job,” Matt said.

  “Please, get dressed.”

  Though he hesitated, Matt put his clothes back on and took a seat in the chair he had been sitting in earlier. Only this time, he scooted forward to rest his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers.

  “I don’t understand you,” Matt said. “You came here to see naked men, didn’t you?”

  “I came here to shut my friends up,” Abhay replied. “It’s my birthday and they figured the best way to celebrate it is to be here.”

  “I see. What did you want to do for your birthday?”

  “A nice dinner, maybe watch a movie then curl up in front of the fire with a glass of whiskey and a book.”

  Matt tossed his head back and laughed until he snorted. “Whiskey and a book in front of the fire? Do they even make men like you anymore?”

  “Make men like me?”

  “Every man I know would rather come to a place like this on their birthday. They want the party and the noise. Yet here you are wanting peace and quiet.”

  “What’s wrong with peace and quiet?”

  “Nothing.” Matt leaned back. “Nothing is wrong with it. I just didn’t think the life machine cranked out any more like you.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be offended or flattered.”

  “It’s a compliment. Trust me. Are we done here?”

  Abhay wanted to tell him they were far from finished. He wanted to tell Matt the only way they’d be finish was if Matt dropped to his knees and…

  “Abhay?”

  “Yeah? Sorry.” Abhay nodded. “Yes, we’re finished here.”

  Matt scooped up his tie from where it was on the floor and rose. “It was nice talking to you, Abhay. Happy birthday, even if it is after midnight.”

  “Thank you.”

  Matt headed for the door but stopped. “This might be none of my business, but don’t go back into the closet. It’s dark and lonely in there.”

  For a silent moment, Abhay stared at Matt, wondering why he would say that. It seemed Matt had seen through the worries inside Abhay’s soul. That irritated Abhay, making him frown. “You’re right. It isn’t any of your business.”

  With that, Matt left him alone. The good news was his arousal was gone. The bad news was his mood had been altered so all he wanted to do now was go back to his condo, change and head down to the all-night gym to bash the stuffing out of something or someone…

  He didn’t care which.

&nbs
p; Chapter Three

  “Mr. Chetan?”

  Abhay turned from the glass of his office and looked down at the phone on his desk. It was a miracle he could still see the oak underneath because the desk was piled high with paperwork and drafts of software he’d written out by hand. With a sigh, he reached across and pressed a button on the phone. “Yes, Beverly?”

  “Mr. Raja-Masterson to see you, sir.”

  “Send him in.”

  Though he’d tried to get Beverly not to address him like that, she wouldn’t hear of it. She was an older lady and it felt weird having her call him sir. Still, she was a career secretary and insisted formalities be adhered to at all times. When a knock came at his door, Abhay reached for his jacket. “Come in.”

  Ravinder Raja-Masterson entered and closed the door behind him. The smile on his face was refreshing and Abhay welcomed it. He hurried around his desk to hug his friend, a man who had saved both his and his sister Priya’s lives a few years back.

  “It’s good to see you,” Abhay said. “Your husband is the devil.”

  Ravinder laughed. “I heard about the Thornless Rose.” He sat on one of the chairs in front of Abhay’s desk. “Sorry. We had to think of something to get you out there. I mean, you haven’t had a man in years.”

  “I know. It’s not like I don’t want one…look, enough about me, how was Italy?”

  “Same old,” Ravinder sighed. “I managed to get Protello’s up and in the good graces of the public again. I don’t know why it’s so hard for people to be faithful to the person they chose.”

  “I supposed Antonio has learned his lesson,” Abhay said. “Not every dark hole needs to be filled.”

  “Yeah. Some dark holes bite.”

  Abhay laughed. “Listen, Ravi. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Um…” Abhay fell into the second chair and twisted it against the wooden floor until he was facing his friend. “Do you think I’m in the closet?”

  “Wow.” Ravinder exhaled. “You, in the closet? Well, I don’t think you’re necessarily in the closet. I think you’re just less experienced than most men your age.”

  “Less experienced. Why does that sound like another way of saying I’m a closet case?”

  “I don’t know, Abi. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “The dancer last night…”

  “You know he’s just a stripper, right?”

  “No.” Abhay rose and walked over to the window again. The view led to the mountains and he could see skiers and snowboards zipping along. “He’s more than that—he has a brain in his head. When he danced for me I was so turned on, almost as if I was going to burst into flames.”

  “That was the point.”

  “You don’t understand.” Abhay turned to face him. “When I was watching all the other dancers, all I felt was bored to tears. Not tenting, no tingling, nothing. Then this man had me alone in a room, and the moment I was near him I…”

  “You what?”

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Abhay shrugged. “It’s the blue balls talking.”

  “And the fact you haven’t been with anyone in a while.”

  “You see, that’s what scaring me now.” Abhay approached Ravinder and sat on the edge of the desk. He folded his arms and met Ravinder’s brown stare. “Last night I was telling him what to do and enjoying every second of it. I’ve only been with one man. And even then there was no emotion—no feelings. But as I went to bed last night I kept having this dream of holding him down and…I think I’ve waited too long and now my body…”

  “Abi, there’s no shame in liking what you like,” Ravinder told him. “Rough, soft, loud, quiet—it’s all about what turns you on.”

  “Do you let Thaddeus hold you down?”

  Ravinder grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “As often as possible.”

  “Really?” Abhay’s cheeks heated. “And he likes that?”

  “Depends on the day. Sometimes he likes it when I restrain him with his ties.” Ravinder shrugged. “It’s not always about only giving or only taking. What makes Thaddy and my relationship work is we give and take.”

  “Are we talking about sex or in general?”

  “Both.”

  “Ravi—would you think any lesser of me if I wanted to see this man again?”

  “No,” Ravinder said. “But as your friend please don’t begrudge me for saying this. He’s a stripper. His job is to turn you on. Do not fall for this guy.”

  “Are you saying he’s beneath me?”

  “No. Not at all. What I am saying is be cautious. Find out what you’re feeling first before you go after him. You need to go in knowing that sometimes you get what you pay for, other times you don’t.”

  Abhay nodded. “This conversation…”

  “Stays between us,” Ravinder said. “I got your back, Abi. You should know that.”

  “But if Thaddeus asks…”

  “He won’t,” Ravinder assured him. “No. I haven’t seen you in a long time. Feng and I want to take you out for lunch.”

  “Feng? Where is he?”

  “He will be meeting us at Clover in a few minutes,” Ravinder said. “Come on, get the lead out.”

  Abhay laughed. “Wait…this isn’t one of those days where I turn up and everyone is a couple except me, is it? I don’t know if my soul can take one of those.”

  “No. It’s a me, you and Feng having lunch and talking like old times. Now come on. Grab your shit and let’s go!”

  The day ended and Abhay finally got the chance to sit in front of a fire with a book. But even as he tried reading, none of it was sinking in. His brain kept bringing him back to Matt. Matt’s body, Matt’s eyes, Matt’s lips—Matt’s ass. He slammed the book closed and grabbed his keys, phone and wallet. He exited the condo and descended into the underground parking for his car.

  ‘He’s a stripper. His job is to turn you on. Do not fall for this guy.’

  But even as he sped through the center of Bathsheba, the night glowing around him and horns blaring, Ravinder’s words and Matt’s body were like a force inside his head. Both collided repeatedly, making him whimper at the pain it caused behind his eyes. Still, he pulled into the parking lot of the Thornless Rose, not even knowing if Matt was working that night. When he entered, the place still radiated elegance. Hell, if a person didn’t know it was a strip club they’d just think it was a high-end bar.

  Dumping his keys into his pocket, Abhay made his way over to the bar and leaned in to speak with the bartender. “How do I set up a private dance?”

  “Talk to Pat,” the bartender said, motioning to a woman sitting at a fancy table that was raised above the ground level.

  Abhay nodded and made his way through suit-clad men until he could climb the steps to speak with the woman. “Hi there. I want to set up a private dance.”

  “Sure. Any particular dancer you had in mind?”

  “The Gentleman.”

  “Oh yes. A crowd favorite. Let me see here—he is—oh wait, someone just canceled. He has a spot opened in half an hour in the Midnight Room.”

  “He is that popular?” The thought that other men were looking at Matt, possibly touching him, made Abhay angrier than he cared to admit.

  ‘He’s a stripper. His job is to turn you on. Do not fall for this guy.’

  But Abhay was a little too far down the rabbit hole. Though he wasn’t in love with Matt, he had to see him to get him out of his system. Hell, he didn’t even know if Matt was The Gentleman’s real name. After all, Matt did tell Abhay that he wasn’t allowed to give his real name—hence the stage name.

  “Yes,” Pat replied, pulling Abhay’s thoughts from the conversation he’d had with Ravinder earlier. “Tonight he doesn’t go on stage at all. It’s all private dances. One client tried booking him for the whole night. That’s not allowed, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, so for private time, t
he charge is two fifty an hour. Cash, debit or credit?”

  Though it shocked him that it cost so much, Abhay didn’t bat an eyelash. He pulled his credit card out and handed it to her. After she swiped it, checked his identification and handed his things back, she smiled. “We will have someone escort you to the Midnight Room when the time has come.”

  The fact that Abhay knew the route as if it were stamped to the inside of his eyelids didn’t leave his lips. Instead, he nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  Abhay checked his watch. It was just about nine. He didn’t care to see any other dancers on stage and he couldn’t drink since he’d be driving home, so he went back to the parking lot to wait his turn with Matt.

  Time dragged on. Perhaps because he was checking his watch every few seconds or so, but it felt like an eternity before it was almost time. He hurried back inside and was swiftly escorted to the same room he’d been in for his birthday. This time, he knew Matt was there. He expected him. When he entered, Matt smiled and tilted his head, a curious expression on his handsome face. His brown eyes flared with an unknown emotion and he pressed his lips into a thin line.

  Abhay noticed the music playing in the room.

  “You’re back,” Matt said. “Do you want to talk or watch?”

  “I thought you weren’t my therapist.” Abhay took a seat in the same sofa. This time, he stretched his feet out before him and relaxed.

  “I’m not. But you are a talker, Abhay. This is all on your dime. Whatever you want us to do, we’ll do.”

  “You make it sound like if I wanted…”

  Matt laughed. “Except that. Chris Rock was right when he said that there’s—”

  “No sex in the champagne room—got it.”

  “You know your pop culture. I’m impressed.” Matt eased forward and rested his elbows on his knees, using his palms to prop up his head. “So, do you want to talk, Abhay?”