Gasp!

by Z. A. Maxfield

  Jeff closed his eyes and huffed a wry laugh because he was disappointed.

  I’m disappointed?

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  The ride home was uneventful, mostly because Nigel slept. That marked the first time Jeff’s heart rate rattled along in its normal rhythm since he’d met Nigel Gasp. It was good to see Nigel could sleep like that, snoring softly. Guileless. Almost childlike.

  Jeff hated to wake him when they arrived back at the hotel, but he couldn’t very well just leave him in the car. They’d both had a big day, and if they had to move in the morning, they needed a good night’s sleep.

  “Nigel.” Jeff spoke softly to keep from startling him. “Wake up. We’re here.”

  Nigel shifted toward him and offered such a sweet, such a genuine smile that Jeff’s breath caught.

  “Ah, I slept?” Nigel blinked up at him. “Power nap. How about you? Are you tired?”

  “Yeah, I am. If I could make a request, I’d like a night without toffee peanut errands.”

  “Come to my room with me,” Nigel whispered. “Keep me out of trouble. Only way to be sure, isn’t it?”

  “Ah. No…I don’t think—”

  “Exactly.” Nigel slid his hand up the inside of Jeff’s thigh. “Don’t think.”

  “I can’t.” Jeff unbuckled his seat belt and opened his car door. “That’s not… I’m really not here for that. I’m just here to help out until my sister comes back and—”

  “I don’t know why you can’t mix business with a little pleasure.” Nigel drew his hauteur around him like a magician’s cape and then used his most seductive voice. “We should take advantage of the opportunity. It’s nobody’s business but ours what we do in our free time.”

  “I don’t have free time.” Wasn’t that exactly the problem? Gasp had no clue what ordinary mortals did with their time. “You may not have noticed, but my time’s only free when I’m not doing your bidding. That’s also the only time I have to sleep. I ought to take advantage, don’t you think?”

  Nigel got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Jeff closed the door on his side quietly. It was a brilliant display of self-control. So was seeing Nigel to his room and leaving him there to spend his night alone.

  Jeff got to his room and let himself in. He forced himself to brush his teeth and strip to his shorts. After that he fell into bed, asleep before he could even pull the blankets up.

  Chapter Four

  Jeff ran, following his commander as they fled the firefight to regroup. He ran faster than all of them, infused with a new and shocking determination to stay alive. Blood thundered in his ears. The hands that gripped his weapon slid slickly with cold sweat. People he passed blew apart like Lego toys, deconstructed by bullets and grenades as he raced toward a goal he knew was unattainable. Blood spattered his face, and heat scorched the skin of his bare arms.

  Cold confusion formed a ball where his heart should have been. Nothing touched him. Nothing crossed his mind but run, run, run.

  Horrific things, heart-stopping human tragedy littered the ground around his feet, and he kept on running…untouched by anything but the desire to live just one minute longer.

  Jeff jerked awake when the phone rattled on the bedside table and a sickly electronic version of Nigel’s “Light a Candle” punctured the darkness.

  He shook off his godawful dream and answered, his voice sharper than he intended. “Yeah?”

  A pause. “Don’t bite my head off.” Nigel.

  “Sorry. I was startled.”

  “You all right?”

  Jeff sighed. “Sure. Nightmare. What do you want?”

  “Can’t sleep.”

  “Raid the minibar.” Jeff wanted to hang up, but he also wanted to hear what Nigel had to say—or rather, he wanted to hear it if it would keep him from dreaming that dream again.

  “Tried that. Got pissed all by myself. Didn’t work.”

  Jeff heard rustling, the sound of bed linens whispering against Nigel’s skin.

  Finally Nigel said, “I had a good time tonight.”

  Jeff hesitated. Why not? “Me too.”

  Jeff slipped his hand over his chest. Nigel wouldn’t know, right? No one would know if he pushed his hand into his shorts, if it roamed over his cock and balls while he listened to what could arguably be the sexiest voice in the world.

  “I don’t think anyone there tonight knew it was you but me. You sang like a woman.”

  “I always figured if my career went to hell, I could make a living as a female impersonator, but there’s far more money in being Nigel Gasp.”

  “Nigel Gasp. What’s your real name?”

  Jeff heard Nigel laugh. “Are we playing Truth or Dare?”

  Jeff wrapped his hand around his cock. “Sure, if you want.”

  “Then you have to ask first.”

  “Ah.” Jeff gathered a drop of moisture from the tip of his dick and swept it over the shaft. “Truth or dare.”

  “Truth,” Nigel answered. “Since you already asked a question.”

  “Okay.” Jeff caught his lip between his teeth when the muscles in his back clenched. He arched into his hand. “What is your real name?”

  “My real name is Nigel, but my family name was Hazard.”

  “No.”

  “Yes, as God is my witness. I was born Nigel Nelson Hazard. But I hated it because when I was a kid everyone took the piss about the American television show.”

  “How did you come up with Gasp?”

  “S’my turn. Truth or dare.”

  Jeff hesitated. Heaven only knew what a dare from Nigel Gasp would cost him. “Truth.”

  “All right. Why didn’t you come to my room with me?”

  Why hadn’t he? He’d given Nigel some nonsense about professionalism and focus. Getting up early. It certainly wasn’t because he’d decided that if he had to be one of Nigel’s endless one-night stands, he didn’t want to play.

  “Deidre would kill me.”

  “Gzzzzt.” Nigel buzzed loudly. “You owe me a forfeit for lying.”

  “You can’t know if I was lying.”

  Nigel was silent for a few seconds. “You get a pass on that one, but the next time you lie, you’ll owe me two dares.”

  “All right. If you catch me in a lie, two dares. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “What do you get out of passing for a woman?”

  “Good question.” Nigel’s amusement could be heard in his voice. Jeff could just picture his smile. He held his breath while he waited for an answer. “I…I think I like the game of make-believe. I like the secret. I like getting away with it.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s not sexual or anything.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No. Nigel Hazard is a gay man who plays a lot of different roles. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I created Nigel Gasp. I would like it if people viewed him as neither a man nor a woman but as art. Like a picture or a sculpture.”

  Nigel sighed audibly, and Jeff seemed to feel it against his ear. He lowered his hand to his balls and gave them a tug and a light squeeze. He held his breath so he wouldn't grunt audibly but it felt so goddamn good. “You are beautiful, Nigel. Everyone sees that.”

  Silence.

  “Nigel?”

  “Truth or dare.” Soft.

  Jeff had to catch his breath before he answered. “Truth.”

  “One of my personas worked for you. I felt it all night. Was it Ivy the Librarian? Keiko the Kitten?”

  “I’m not attracted to women.”

  “Nigel Gasp?”

  “No, not Nigel—”

  “Gzzzzzzzt. Two dares, Lying McLiar.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. Not Nigel Gasp, Nigel Hazard. It’s Nigel Hazard who works for me.”

  Silence.

  “Nigel?”

  Nigel cleared his throat. “I’m here.”

  “Truth or dare.”

  “D
are,” Nigel whispered.

  Jeff’s heart slammed against his rib cage. His legs fell open wider, and he thought seriously about pleasuring himself. “Yeah?”

  “Dare me to do something.” Nigel’s voice dripped with challenge. “Dare me to do anything.”

  “Make yourself come for me.” Jeff kneaded and pulled his cock, yet he worked to keep his breathing even. “Let me hear it.”

  “I could come down there and let you see it. Alternatively you could come up here and feel me inside you.”

  “I get to name my dare,” Jeff pointed out.

  “All right.” Scrabbling noises. “This calls for hands-free. Just a second.”

  Jeff lifted his own earpiece off the nightstand and put it in. He heard Nigel’s sheets murmur again, and then the sound of footsteps, paper rustling, and the clatter, loud in his ear, as Nigel put his phone down.

  “Okay?”

  “How do you want me to start?”

  “How do you like it?”

  “I like my meat well done,” Nigel said playfully. “Getting some lube now. Hear it?”

  Jeff imagined he heard the click of the flip top on a lube bottle and the squelch as Nigel compressed it into the palm of his hand. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. “Yeah.”

  “I like it nice and slick.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. Sensitive skin.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Now, I’m a two-hand man myself. I like one going on my cock and one for fiddling with the other bits. What about you?”

  “One.” That one hand was doing its job, moving from root to tip, twisting lightly while he swept his fingers over and around the head of his cock. Each time it dragged over his piss slit, a little jolt of electricity sizzled up Jeff’s spine. He used his glutes to punch up into his hand, purely loving the way the sheets scraped over the skin of his ass. “The other has to pinch my nipple.”

  “You like that? What about the scrape of teeth? Like that?”

  “God, yes. And I like a lot of body English.”

  “My body’s English,” Nigel teased. His breathing sped up, as did the barely audible squeak of the mattress. “You think of anything specific while you’re doing it?”

  You. “Not really.” I’m thinking of you.

  “I imagine…a Turkish bath.” Nigel panted. “Sweet, sultry air, maybe the visibility is obscured by clouds of steam.”

  “Nice.”

  “The place is littered with beautiful, naked men, all speaking in low tones until the tile walls echo with the music of deep voices and rippling water.”

  Jeff didn’t have a hard time picturing it. He’d been to Istanbul and had enjoyed some time in a true hammam. In reality it was more matter-of-fact than romantic, but he couldn’t deny the sensual enjoyment of communal bathing.

  “I pretend I’m in charge of bringing the rich, handsome customers water. I get to oil them down. Maybe a young prince wants a massage…and I’ll get to feel his strong, young body beneath my fingertips. I’ll get to hear his grunts of pleasure as I caress and serve him.”

  Jeff nearly choked on his own saliva. He rasped, “You’ve played this game before.”

  “I have.” Cocky bastard. “Tonight my rich young prince is you, Jeff Paxton. It’s your skin, your fine body beneath my hands.

  Jeff sucked in a shocked breath. His balls drew up, and his fingers flew over his skin because he no longer controlled their movement.

  “Will I please you, do you think?” Nigel asked.

  Jeff squeezed his ass cheeks extra tight and clenched his hole, and then he was spooging all over his chest, dripping spunk onto his belly. He trembled through his release and finally sighed with relief, helpless to hide the sound of his extremity from Nigel, who chuckled softly again.

  “And that, my only one—or as they say in Istanbul, bir tanem—is how I got the last name Gasp.”

  Jeff buried his face in his pillow. “Shit.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, lover.”

  “I’m not. That was…good. Really good. Don’t you have a dare to finish?”

  “I’m close, baby. Talk to me.”

  “Tongue-tied.” Jeff’s heartbeat still hammered in his ears. “My body’s still ringing.”

  “That’ll do.” Nigel gave a light laugh. Ah, jeez. What a great sound. Jeff imagined mornings spent in bed with Nigel, watching warm fingers of sunshine lengthen and creep across the floor. Making love all day and eating too-soft ice cream out of the container. Percussive bursts of laughter against his skin while he—

  “Oh, fuck yeah.” Nigel’s groan was thick and rich with satisfaction. It flowed through Jeff’s Bluetooth earpiece and spread through his blood like the warm disorientation of absinthe.

  “Yeah,” Jeff echoed, feeling his own dick twitch against his palm. One last throb of pleasure. “Yeah.”

  Seconds passed where neither man said anything. Finally Nigel murmured, “Truth or dare.”

  “Good night, Nigel.” Jeff smiled when he disconnected.

  After a slightly awkward breakfast, Jeff sent Nigel to his room to pack while he made arrangements to transfer their things to a vacation house Deidre had managed to rent for them locally. She had a lot to say to him about the way he’d handled things, but in the end he convinced her to at least lay some of the blame where it belonged. Surely she didn’t imagine Nigel suddenly grew wings and became an angel in her absence.

  Jeff’s phone chimed. He pulled it from its clip and squinted at the screen. All packed. Ready to go. Catch me if you can, Nigel.

  Jeff hefted his laptop case, guitar, and duffel and headed out the door. He took the stairs to Nigel’s suite, but when he got there, no one answered his knock.

  Frowning, he glanced around. One of the maids pushed a housekeeping cart toward the end of the hallway, so he followed her. When he asked about Nigel, she shrugged.

  “Gone.”

  “He’s gone?”

  She nodded. “They took his things down already.”

  Surely Nigel wouldn’t actually leave without him? Jeff hit the stairs running and kept going until he found someone from the bell staff who could answer his questions.

  The man shook his head. “He hasn’t left the hotel. His bags are still here. He said his driver, Amil, would pick them up later, around one.”

  “Can I leave my things here with his? I need to find him.” Jeff indicated his own bags.

  The man nodded and wrote a claim check for all three pieces. Jeff thanked him even as he was striding away.

  Jeff took out his phone and texted Nigel. Where are you?

  He wasn’t worried. Not much. Not yet, even though the situation had all the flavor of one of Nigel’s patented little games.

  The answer came back shortly. I’m hiding in plain sight. ;-)

  Oh, fuck me. The little winky thing. When Dee sends that, it means you’re my bitch.

  Nigel’s little game of celebrity Where’s Waldo was actually fun for the first thirty minutes. Jeff checked the beach, the boat dock, the pool deck, and the sauna rooms. He went back inside to the lobby and checked the restaurant.

  It was only when he realized how good Nigel was at the game of hide-and-seek and how well he could blend into a crowd if he wanted to that Jeff began to worry they’d be there all day. He was already running out of steam, and he was no closer to finding Nigel than he’d been when he started out.

  Plain sight. What did that mean? Nigel didn’t plan to hide all day, did he?

  Still, there was something enticing and fun—something vaguely predator and prey-ish—about the hunt and chase that appealed to Jeff’s nature like nothing ever. It was play for the sheer love of it—something normal people did very little of after childhood.

  But even given the rare fun that play for its own sake presented, the patina wore off after the next forty-five minutes, especially since during Jeff’s last trip through the lobby, Tully had pointedly looked at his watch.

  Amil had arriv
ed, and Jeff helped him fill the SUV with Nigel’s belongings. All they had to do was find Nigel. Amil was supposed to drive Nigel to their rental, and Jeff would follow in his own car. Nigel had to be content with their new digs—or Jeff would be forced to make him stay there against his will—for the rest of Deidre’s maternity leave, and then Nigel would go back to being Deidre’s problem and Jeff could move on.

  Jeff headed back out to the pool, vaguely disquieted.

  Nigel wouldn’t be in the water, even in the shallow end, given that he didn’t swim. No one sunbathing was quite white enough. While Jeff figured Nigel could cover his tats with a towel, there was no faking that translucent, blue-white English skin of his.

  A maid pushing a housekeeping cart caught his eye. She was the right build. Right height. A long brown braid swung gently down her back as she walked. From behind she looked utterly feminine…

  “Nigel,” Jeff shouted, jogging after her.

  A whistle blew behind him, and a stentorian voice called, “No running on the pool deck.” Chastened, Jeff lifted a hand to the lifeguard and slowed down to a fast walk.

  Jeff caught up with Nigel as he rounded a corner after him, wrapping a hand around his upper arm and pulling him around to keep him from getting away.

  Brown eyes widened in a woman’s frightened face. She was so shocked by his behavior she didn’t speak.

  “I’m very sorry, ma’am.” Jeff let her go immediately, contrite. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “No.” She’d frozen in place, her hand clutching the cross she wore at her throat.

  “I’m really sorry.” Jeff stepped forward to say more, but he’d frightened her so much she stepped backward and bumped hard against her cart, rattling its contents and probably bruising her hip.

  Jeff lifted both hands in mute apology and turned back to the pool deck, where he scanned the crowd again. Careful to walk this time, he passed the outdoor showers, the vending machines, and the wall where management kept all the pool rule signs, a skimmer, and a little foam lifesaver that had S. S. Bluebird Mountain printed on it. That struck Jeff as funny and retro, and reminded him of old-time motor court hotels where his family had stayed when they’d road-tripped.