by Jodi Payne
Chef cleared his throat and was suddenly very interested in a certain form on his desk. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Apparently, the staff was observant. That wouldn’t do; it didn’t reflect well upon him at all. So, one afternoon, after teasing a house boy into telling him what time Nikki usually took his break—and then rewarding the boy with a spanking—he decided to have a smoke behind the club. He didn’t smoke often; it was an affectation mostly, but he enjoyed it when he chose to indulge. He took a long drag as Nikki slipped out the back door, trying to look nonchalant. He would have failed with literally anyone else in the club except for Nikki himself, as he had no need to smoke outside with the dumpsters.
“Hey.” Nikki greeted Bradford with a smile and opened up a bottle of Coke.
“Oh, hey there.” Bradford tried to sound casual but remained inwardly appalled at himself. He was the Master of this gentleman’s club after all—he had final say on everything that had to do with anything and anyone, and yet here he was, making up excuses and stalking this young man like a starry-eyed teenaged girl. “On break?”
“Yeah.” Nikki took a swig. “Hot in there today.”
It’s rather warm out here, too. Bradford took another drag. This felt like role play. It felt like a scene he’d taken pains to set up. A powerful and handsome gentleman (if he did say so himself) and a pretty little twink meet “accidentally” in an alley. Only this was actually happening, and he was certainly not in control.
Not at all.
It would be humiliating should any of his contemporaries find out.
“How is everything going for you?” There. That was a reasonable question for an employer to be asking. “Settled in?”
“Yeah.”
It didn’t appear that Nikki was one for many words. That was just as well—he didn’t need to hear the boy speak; he just liked to look. He let his eyes shamelessly peruse Nikki’s body. Nikki was shorter, and although those shoulders were still narrow, the boy didn’t look as bony as when he’d first picked the young man up.
Hired. Not picked up. Hired.
Semantics.
Nikki was petite in stature, had a boyish face, and those sapphire eyes shone so brightly from under unkempt, dishwater-blond bangs that they truthfully took his breath away, and made…other things stir. Pretty to look at. Decidedly of legal age, thank God, but was the boy too immature for…? Well.
“Where do you go when you leave here in the evenings?” he asked, making small talk as he tossed his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. He envisioned Nikki living in an apartment with several other young roommates, maybe artists or college students, next to, perhaps, a local bar where Nikki would pair up with—who? Girls? Boys? He honestly couldn’t be sure. “Where do you live, Nikki?”
Nikki looked up and met his eyes again. “Here and there.”
“Oh?” Hm. Curious.
“Yeah.”
“Such as?”
“Well, like here.” Nikki gestured to a corner of the back stoop. “Or over there.” The boy pointed to a flat slab of concrete next to the line of dumpsters that served the club. It was covered by a wide awning. “If it’s raining.”
He laughed lightly. Surely the boy was putting him on? But Nikki watched him, the boy’s face still as stone.
“You…out here?” he stammered.
Nikki nodded. “I can move on if you want; there’s a bench out by the subway station that no one usually claims. It’s nice and dark there too, so the cops let me be.”
The boy was…homeless?
Homeless.
He stared at Nikki, seeing the boy entirely differently than he had just moments before. He hadn’t even considered the idea that Nikki didn’t have a place to stay, a roof over his head, or a bed to sleep in. “I pay you, don’t I?”
Nikki snorted, and the boy’s reply was the most he’d said to Bradford at one time since the day they’d met. “Yeah, but…you’re joking, right? Wait. You’re serious? I mean…do you have any idea what rent costs in this city? I can’t afford—”
“But surely you could find—”
“Roommates?”
“Well, yes. As a start.”
Nikki leaned toward him. “Boys without last names have a very hard time finding housing in this town.” The boy kept his voice low as he used Bradford’s words against him, and with that, Bradford’s world tilted heavily on its axis, so sharply he knew it would never—shouldn’t ever—go back.
The boy’s words stung him worse than any flogger could. In one breath Nikki had taken him down several notches, as expertly as a Dom might upbraid a presumptuous sub.
He opened his mouth to reply but found he was unable to shape what he was feeling or thinking into anything coherent. After a long, awkward moment, all he could manage to say was, “I’m terribly sorry.”
Nikki tossed that head of unruly blond hair. “Right. I’ll come by next week to pick up my pay.” The boy got up, putting the cap on the bottle of Coke.
“No. Wait.” He barked the order loud enough that Nikki froze in place. “No, Nikki. I’m not firing you. On the contrary,” he told the boy, speaking slowly, “you must have a raise.” He turned and headed into the club through the back door, brushing past Nikki, entirely too humiliated to look at the boy any longer. “And it appears that we are in need of staff housing. And I really have to reevaluate how I hire people. And…Jesus Christ!”
When had he turned into such an arrogant, privileged, insensitive asshole? How had he allowed himself to become so out of touch? He knew better. He absolutely did. He was raised better for one thing, having had no privilege at all as a young man, and there was no denying that his mentor, Harrison, had taught him better by example.
He left Nikki standing and staring at him from the back doorway as he made his way through the kitchen and into the club via the dining room door. He would look into his payroll practices immediately.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
Everyone in the kitchen was watching him as he left the room, he knew, and hearing everything he’d just said.
It was just as well, really.
3
As the door to the dining room swung closed behind Bradford, all eyes slowly turned on Nikki.
Nikki casually took the cap off his Coke and took a big swig, then had a long look around the room. No one was moving. No one said a word. They just stared at him, frozen in their tracks.
“What?” he asked, finally.
The sound of his question seemed to wake them, and he found himself suddenly surrounded by the kitchen staff, who started firing off questions.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you say to him?”
Nikki shrugged. “I just told him I’d been…I mean, that I couldn’t afford rent.”
“Is he taking you on?”
“Is he, what?” Wasn’t he already on? “I mean he offered me a raise.”
“He was talking to himself. Did you hear that?”
“Hey! Hey.” Chef’s voice boomed over their heads. “All of you. Back to work, we have dinner to prep. Now. Everyone. Go on.”
The staff scattered with mutters of “Yes, Chef,” and “Sorry, Chef,” until Chef was able to approach him.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” Well, he said “No problem,” but he was actually thinking, What the fuck was that?
“It’s not often we see the boss all worked up, is all. I’ve been here a long, long time, and I don’t recall him ever looking like that. I’ve never even seen him lose his composure in front of the staff. That was quite a thing.”
Nikki shrugged. “I guess?”
Chef found him a stool and told him to stay put. That was fine, he was still trying to get his head around what just happened. He was totally confused, and he was still pretty sure he was getting fired. It had been a sweet gig while it lasted. He couldn’t remember the last time he was able to keep a job
for a whole month.
“Are you okay?”
“Huh?” Nikki blinked at the kid who’d stepped in front of him. “Yeah. Sure.” He knew this kid. He’d seen him around. What was his name? “It’s Brian, right?”
“Yep,” Brian replied cheerfully. “Master Bradford says I should take you home.”
“…home?” Hadn’t they just had this discussion?
“To his brownstone. Next door. He says to help you get comfortable, and he’ll be along in a couple of hours.”
Nikki frowned. “I don’t think I—”
Brian nodded. “He said you would be reluctant but that I should tell you that it’s not a contract; it’s just a place for you to stay tonight. You’ll have your own room.”
“Okay, you two. We have work to do in here. Brian, can you finish your conversation with Nikki elsewhere, please?”
“Oh. Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.” Brian took Nikki by the hand and led him out of the kitchen and into the large main dining room, which was being set for guests with dinner reservations.
“My own room?” It was really hard to tell if this was shady or sincere. Bradford hadn’t given him shady vibes yet, though. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll see. I know which room, I’ll show you.” Brian started walking, leaving him little choice but to follow.
“Brian, have you ever seen Bradford like that?”
“Oh.” Brian shook his head as they walked. “I didn’t see what happened in the kitchen—I was waiting for him in his office. But when he got there, he was talking to himself and he seemed very agitated. I’ve only seen Sir that way once before, and it was in private.”
Okay, wait. So, he’d upset the boss, and instead of getting fired, it looked like he was getting a raise and a bed to sleep in for his troubles.
That was a new one.
He followed Brian to the far side of the dining room and down a long, bare hallway that ended at an ornately carved mahogany door. Brian produced a key and put it in the lock, punched some numbers into an alarm pad, and the heavy door swung open easily.
“Come on.” Brian led the way along a much fancier hall with artwork on the walls, up a wide staircase and around the heavy banister. The upstairs landing led to another, wider hallway. “This is it. Master Bradford’s suite is the big mahogany door over there.”
“Why do you call him Master?”
Brian looked at him like he had three heads, and blinked. “Because he told me to. It’s what everybody calls him.”
Everybody? He raised an eyebrow as Brian opened the door and led him into a bedroom.
The room was huge and had an enormous four-poster bed in the center. At one end of the room was a large dresser with a green marble top, and there was a tall window at the other end, framed with heavy molding and dark curtains.
“Your bathroom is in here,” Brian said, stepping through the door and turning on the light.
He had his own bathroom?
“This chest over here has more blankets and pillows and things if you need them. I think Will is on tonight, so if you need anything you can ring him. The button is there by the door.”
“Ring…?”
“Sure. Will is on call for Master Bradford. He’ll be hanging out in the kitchen most of the night. In the wee hours, he’ll be in the staff bedroom, probably watching movies.”
“Bradford has overnight help?”
“Of course. To see to his needs in the middle of the night, wake him in case of club emergencies, bring his coffee and breakfast in the morning. Will has two nights a week, Juno has two, and Cade, Jamison, and I each have one.”
“You, too?”
“Sure. I’m on Wednesdays.”
Nikki shook his head. Bradford must be loaded if he could afford someone just to be awake all night in case he needed anything while he was sleeping.
“I think that’s it. I’m to see to your needs until Will arrives. Are you hungry?”
“No.” Nikki shook his head. He didn’t have needs for Brian to see to. All of this was just weird.
“Can I start a shower for you? I can bring you some tea for when you get out.”
“No, Brian, I can do it myself.”
“Let me find you a robe.”
“No!” he shouted. “No. Thank you. I don’t need your help.” He really hadn’t meant to yell, but this was all so strange, and he was out of patience.
“Oh.” Brian suddenly looked a lot smaller than he had a moment ago, and his eyes locked studiously on the floor. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just be outside, then. If you need me you can ring the bell. I’m very sorry.” He backed out of the room and closed the door behind him, never raising his eyes above Nikki’s knees.
He blinked at the door and sighed. Well, that wasn’t good. He’d have to apologize to Brian later. But for right now, the door was closed, and Nikki was pretty set on it staying that way. He found the robe on his own, and a bath towel, then stripped and left his clothing on the bed before climbing into the enormous shower.
4
That night, after tripping over himself in a very un-Dom-like manner with another apology, Bradford insisted that Nikki keep the spare guest room in his brownstone indefinitely. The conversation had evidently been far more awkward for Bradford than for Nikki, who, after Bradford’s embarrassingly long-winded and heartfelt confession of his lack of empathetic perspective, very simply accepted his apology and thanked him for the place to stay.
Two weeks later, the boy was indeed still in residence, although Bradford had started the ball rolling on the purchase of a small brownstone a few blocks away, which he intended to convert into housing for staff. Nikki had been an ideal houseguest thus far: he proved to be trustworthy, was out of the house working a great deal, and mostly kept to himself in his room when at home, staying out of Bradford’s way as much as possible.
Bradford was rather disappointed by that; he would have been perfectly content to trip over the young man once in a while.
He would have been even happier to have the boy kneeling nearby, but even this many weeks into his employment, Nikki was either oblivious as to what went on outside of the kitchen or had absolutely no interest. As far as he knew, the boy hadn’t asked a single question, expressed any curiosity, or given anyone in leather a second look.
It was maddening.
But Bradford had been known to meddle, especially where it suited his interests, and so one afternoon he sent for Nikki. He perched, leaning on the corner of his desk, arms crossed, looking as casual as he could muster, and waited.
And waited…
He glanced at his watch.
Any sub in the club, when summoned by Bradford himself, would have dropped everything instantly and appeared in Bradford’s doorway, eyes down and back straight, in moments. Bradford was about to reach for the house phone when there was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Bradford called, trying to find the casual stance he’d been working on earlier.
Brian, one of Bradford’s favorite young submissives, appeared in the doorway. Alone. The boy sank to his knees right there, eyes on the floor. “I…” Brian cleared his throat, voice shaky and thin as words began to spill out of him. “He wouldn’t come with me, sir. I tried to tell him you meant for him to come right now, but he insisted that his break wasn’t for another fifteen minutes and he asked me to tell you…he…he wanted me to tell you he’d be here soon, sir. He said you’d understand, and I tried to explain but he…I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”
Bradford stared at the boy, momentarily at a loss for words in the face of poor Brian’s distraught ramblings. After a breath or two he recovered, blinking away his dismay at having been put off. Nikki was not a sub, he reminded himself, and the boy was likely following the rules that Chef set for the civilians on the kitchen staff. He would simply have to wait for Nikki’s break.
This time.
If all went to plan, next time the blue-eyed boy would come running.
For the mome
nt, however, there remained a sub in distress in his doorway. “Brian.” He spoke the boy’s name smoothly. He regretted having to dole out punishment when the situation appeared to be beyond Brian’s control, but the boy expected it, and Brian’s current emotional state demanded it. “That is one stroke, as punishment for not bringing Nikki to me.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Brian’s disappointment was clear in his tone, as was his acceptance.
“And a barehanded spanking at the end of your shift for doing your best to please me.” Bradford allowed himself a slight grin. That should take the mental sting out of the punishment and put it somewhere Brian would enjoy much more.
“Oh! Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” All was apparently right in Brian’s world once more. “Shall I present for punishment now, sir?”
“No, no.” Bradford waved his hand broadly as he headed back around his desk to sit. “Come see me after your shift.”
“I will, sir. Thank you, sir!” Brian jumped up and started to go but froze suddenly. “Oh…”
Bradford was so amused by the pup that he let the transgression go without comment. “You are dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir!” Brian scurried away, closing the door behind him.
Nikki kept his word and presented himself in Bradford’s office on his break. He knocked briefly and opened the door.
“It’s customary to wait to be invited in,” Bradford told the boy evenly, not looking up from his paperwork.
“Oh. Right, sorry.” Nikki came in anyway, closing the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”
“I did. In the future, if I ask to see you, you should consider yourself excused from whatever you are doing and come right away. Chef will understand.” Bradford glanced up from his papers and looked Nikki in the eyes. “Clear?”
God, the blue.
“Yes. Sorry. Okay.”
