by Andrew Grey
“I have to go, but are you really looking for the painting…or the man?” A long moan came through the phone and then the call disconnected. Even in midst of blowjob, Ryan had hit the nail on the head.
Chapter Three
Frederick stood in his tiny back room, the painting Saundra had bought from him resting on an easel as he carefully worked to clean it. During the week, the store was usually quite quiet, and this Thursday was no exception. The actual cleaning wasn’t particularly demanding, it simply took time, and over the last few days he’d had enough to nearly finish the job. The old varnish had been removed, and thankfully the painting hadn’t needed any touch-ups, so now Frederick was checking it over before adding a single fresh coat of varnish to the surface. Where the painting had been dull, it was now as vibrant as Frederick, and ultimately Saundra, had hoped.
The bell on his door rang, and Frederick set aside his tools. Wiping his hands, he took the two steps into the store and saw Duncan standing just inside his door. Frederick had not been able to get him out of his mind, though he’d tried. “Good afternoon, Duncan, what can I help you with?” He made sure his question had a slight edge and he saw the other man tense, just like he had that evening in Frederick’s bed when he’d first touched him.
Frederick saw Duncan swallow. “I was looking for you.” At least he was honest. This was not the first time a man he’d taken to bed had tracked him to his store. But this was the first time he was pleased it had happened. Now he needed to decide what he wanted to do about it. Standing near the doorway to the back room, Frederick slowly stepped toward Duncan, locking eyes with the other man. Waiting.
“Why?” Frederick stopped just out of Duncan’s reach, setting the cloth on his desk blotter. “Were you really looking for me, or an angle on the painting from the auction? Because if it’s the latter, you can turn around and go now to save us both time.” Duncan shifted from foot to foot, running a hand along the back of his neck. “Duncan, you will always tell me the truth,” Frederick said with more of Sir’s edge.
“I can’t stop thinking about you and the way you made me feel,” Duncan blurted out, and Frederick knew the courage it had taken Duncan to say that. A lot of men denied what they needed because they thought it wrong or bad. Frederick pulled one of the chairs away from the wall and set it near the table he was using as a desk.
“Sit,” Frederick said before sitting in his own chair. He watched as Duncan sat down on the very edge of the chair like he was about to bolt at any second. “We’re going to talk, since you took the trouble to track me down.” Duncan settled back a little farther in the chair. “Let me guess, you don’t usually submit to guys the way you did to me and it has you a little freaked?”
Duncan’s eyes widened. “Kind of, I guess. I’ve been with strong guys before, but you made me fly and feel things I didn’t think were possible, and I felt like you could sort of read my mind.” Duncan squirmed in the chair.
“I wasn’t reading your mind, just your body. It was telling me exactly what you wanted, and I gave it to you.”
“Is it like that with everyone you’re with?” Duncan asked, and Frederick knew that was the real heart of the issue.
Frederick stood up and slowly walked around the desk, Duncan watching every move he made. Rarely had Frederick met a man so responsive to him. Yes, he was a damned good Dom, and he loved making his partners come apart in absolute bliss, but there was possibly something more with Duncan. “No, it certainly is not. If that was your way of asking if something special happened when we were together, then the answer is yes. What you felt went both ways; it has to with what happened between us.”
“Oh.” Duncan seemed relieved, but Frederick was still wary.
“You still haven’t told me the real reason you’re here. Because if all you wanted was another fuck, you probably would have been looking at the club where you found me the first time rather than here. So, does this have anything to do with the painting from the auction? Because I’ve already told you I cannot reveal who my client was.” Frederick made sure his voice had a sense of finality to it.
“I should never have asked you that. It wasn’t right. But I was a bit desperate. That portrait is a picture of my great-aunt. My family has a great deal of money, and almost every cent of it can be traced back to her in one way or another. It was Bernadette, who had the business sense, not her husband Charles or my grandfather Herbert. They took credit for it, but Bernadette is the reason this city has Prescott Park and the Prescott wing at the children’s hospital.”
“So what does that have to do with that painting?” Frederick asked, expecting some sob story.
“Great-Uncle Charlie wanted a portrait of his wife, but Bernadette refused to sit for one, so he commissioned an artist to sit in the park and wait for Bernadette to take her daily constitutional, as she called it. Over several weeks, the artist, Steven Jennings, completed a number of sketches, and Great-Uncle Charles commissioned a painting for her. The artist completed it, as you saw the other night. Great-Aunt Bernadette never saw her portrait. Great-Uncle Charlie died apparently just after it was completed, and Jennings sold it to someone else once he heard about Great-Uncle Charlie’s death.” Despite his best efforts, Frederick was becoming drawn to Duncan’s story, the same way the man himself was capturing his attention. “The family wasn’t even aware of the portrait until about 20 years ago when we saw it in a sale catalog, but unfortunately that was after the sale and the bidder wished to remain anonymous. Apparently the buyer was Arlene Hunt, which makes sense, because she knew who it was. Great-Aunt Bernadette had put her father out of business once, so she probably saw owning the portrait as some sort of revenge. We knew it existed and we’d seen pictures of it, but no one in my family had actually laid eyes on it until I saw it the other night at the auction…and I lost it because my family are fools. I’ve convinced them to free up additional funds, but it’s probably too late.” Frederick could hear Duncan’s failure in his voice.
“The next time I speak to my client, I’ll mention your interest, but I cannot guarantee anything. This client is a collector of the artist. I can’t do anything more for you than that.” That was the most that Frederick could promise, and he knew it wasn’t much.
“I know,” Duncan said standing up. “It’s my own fault I didn’t get the painting at the auction.”
Frederick scoffed and moved closer to Duncan. “No, you were up against someone with far superior skills. I’m afraid you didn’t stand a chance at all. I am not at liberty to discuss any details, but I was not anywhere near my limit.” Duncan swallowed and stared into Frederick’s eyes. “I only tell you that so you don’t beat yourself up too badly.” Frederick saw the intensity in Duncan’s eyes shift and he knew exactly what the other man was thinking. Duncan’s body language had shifted, and Frederick could almost feel him thrumming with energy.
“Thank you, Sir,” Duncan said, desire thickening his voice, and Frederick got a sudden vision of Duncan naked bent over his desk. Damn, that was quite a sight. He would have loved nothing more than to make it come true, but he still had work to do. “Can I see you again?”
Frederick thought it over for a few seconds. He was almost certain he was going to regret this. “All right,” Frederick answered. “There’s a small Italian restaurant near my house called Marino’s. I’ll meet you there at 7:00 this evening, but I make no promises beyond dinner.”
“Fair enough,” Duncan answered with a smile. “I’ll see you at 7:00, and I appreciate what you did.” Duncan exited the store, leaving Frederick wondering exactly what he’d done. However, he didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on it. He needed to finish the painting so he could send it over to Saundra. She hadn’t called about it yet, but he had no doubt she would do just that or she’d drop by unannounced and then talk his ear off while she wondered why Frederick hadn’t finished yet. Stepping into the back room, Frederick got back to work, spending the next hour finishing the last of the cleaning so that tomo
rrow he could varnish, and once it was dry, he’d be done.
Frederick had a few customers in the afternoon, and, as he expected, Saundra called just before closing. “I have it cleaned and I need to varnish it. Once the painting’s done, I’ll have it sent right over.”
“I know that, Dear Boy. I wanted to thank you for handling the auction for me. I consider it a special favor.”
Frederick smiled. “Well, you’re welcome.” Frederick figured if he were going to ask her about the painting, now was as good a time as any. “The gentleman bidding against you was Duncan Prescott and…”
“Yes. He would, and I saw the way you outmaneuvered him at the auction. That was brilliant.” She sounded so pleased.
“So you know why he wanted the portrait?” Frederick asked.
“I assume for the same reason I did, to get back at Arlene Hunt. That woman made herself a thorn in the Prescott family’s side for years, almost as much as mine.” Saundra even sounded vindictive.
“I don’t think that’s the reason, but he stopped by the store today and asked about the purchaser of the painting. He knows I was acting as an agent for someone, but I did not and would not tell him it was you. However, he asked me to pass on a message. He would like to purchase the painting if you’re willing to sell.” For some reason, he didn’t know why, Frederick did not tell Saundra what Duncan had told him. If she didn’t know who the portrait was, then that was Duncan’s story to tell not his.
“I don’t think I am, but I’ll think about it, Dear Boy.” Frederick heard the clink of ice in glasses and realized it must have been the cocktail hour. “This message wouldn’t have anything to do with the handsome man you went home with would it?”
“Saundra,” Frederick did his best to sound shocked, “I never took you for a gossip.”
“Please,” she began, obviously smiling. “At my age, hearing about other people’s exploits is the only fun I have left. I don’t think I have the bait to lure young, handsome men anymore.”
“I can’t believe you grilled your driver about where I went.” Frederick was beginning to feel a little violated, even though he should have expected it. Saundra was notorious for wanting to know anything juicy.
“I didn’t, Dear Boy, but when he got back earlier than I expected, he explained that he dropped you off at your home with a nice, handsome, young man, and now I’m wondering if that young man wouldn’t be Duncan Prescott.” More tinkling of ice followed, and he swore he heard her sip her drink and sigh softly.
“Saundra, this is not an appropriate conversation, but I was with Duncan Prescott. We met after the auction at a club downtown. He’s an interesting man, but I’m like a doctor—client confidentiality is assured. It always has been.” Frederick let a touch of Sir’s commanding tone sneak into his voice.
Saundra snickered on the other end of the line. “If that’s the way you speak to him, Dear Boy, no wonder he’s interested.” It sounded like she was giggling, and before Frederick could say anything, she’d hung up the phone and he was left gaping at a dead line. Frederick hung up the phone and stared at it, wondering about the surreal conversation he’d just had. Getting up from his chair, Frederick turned off the lights, closed the shop, and drove home. He needed to change and get ready to meet Duncan.
At home, Frederick was tempted to dress as Duncan had seen him at the club. That would probably be a little much, but he did wear a pair of black leather pants with a white shirt and, of course, the boots. Yes, he was having dinner with Duncan, but he wanted him to know who was in charge.
Frederick arrived early and had the server show him to the table, where he ordered a martini and waited for Duncan, who arrived almost exactly on time, and Frederick stood up as Duncan approached. Frederick knew the second Duncan saw him because he nearly skipped a step and almost tripped over the leg of a chair. Frederick smiled to himself as Duncan got his balance and continued walking toward the table. Frederick waited for Duncan and then sat back down, fixing Duncan in his gaze.
“Should I call you Sir tonight?”
Frederick almost pounced on Duncan, ready to give him a lesson in respect, but the young man was serious, and Frederick realized he liked being asked. “No. I’m Frederick.” Their server approached and handed them each a menu, taking Duncan’s drink order before leaving them alone. “I spoke with my client and I told them your offer, and they said they would think about it. That’s all I can tell you.” Frederick wanted to get any hint of business out of the way, because he very much wanting this evening to be about pleasure.
Duncan’s drink arrived and the server took their orders before leaving them alone once again. “Have you been with a lot of other men?” Duncan asked, and Frederick hit him with a steely gaze.
“I did not slide down the birth canal knowing how to make another man forget his name.” Frederick sipped his drink. “Relax, you’re trying too hard. What do you do for a living?” Frederick asked, and set his glass on the table, giving Duncan his full attention.
“I manage my family’s money. I went to college and majored in finance and spent some time working as a stockbroker and investment advisor after I graduated. I developed a good record and showed some real talent, and eventually I began handling the investments for the Prescott Foundation. My father runs the foundation, but I manage the day-to-day operations by making sure our money is properly put to work. The more we make, the more we’re able to use to support a number of charitable programs, like the children’s hospital.”
“Do you like it?” Frederick asked, because he hadn’t heard any passion in his voice.
Duncan shrugged. “I’m good at it and I help keep the foundation profitable so it can continue helping people.”
“But that isn’t what you’re passionate about,” Frederick supplied. “What really makes you happy?”
Duncan sighed and gulped his drink. “I wish I knew. My family has always had money, so I never wanted for anything materially. Between trust funds and old family money, no one in my family will ever have to work a day in their lives, and we’re all used to getting exactly what we want,” Duncan explained, and Frederick arched his eyebrows. Money itself didn’t particularly impress him. Frederick had worked hard all his life and he’d done very well for himself. He had people with more money than he’d ever see in his life walk into his shop on a regular basis, and truthfully, they never seemed happier than he was. In fact, some of them were downright miserable.
“So what is it you want?” Frederick asked as their server brought their salads, setting a small plate in front of each of them before stepping away. “You can have almost anything for the asking, but what do you want? What is it you dream of late at night when you’re alone with your thoughts?”
Duncan chewed his bite of salad and set down his fork. “For the last few days, it’s been you. Every time I close my eyes you come into my dreams, and that hasn’t happened before.
Frederick chuckled, “That’s just the lust talking.” Frederick hoped it really wasn’t, but that was the obvious answer after their last encounter. Duncan shook his head, and Frederick steeled his gaze in warning. He saw Duncan swallow hard. “Remember, you always tell me the truth,” he said commandingly, in Sir’s “broach no argument” tone.
“As I said, I never wanted for anything, but that didn’t mean I got what I wanted. A nanny raised my brother, sister, and me, and my parents flew around the world for the family foundation. When we were old enough, we were all sent to the finest schools and given all the appropriate toys and gifts. For my 16th birthday, I received a new car along with my driver’s license. It was delivered by the car dealership because my mother and father were in Switzerland at the time. Back then I didn’t have to words for it, but I do now. What I really wanted was some of my parents’ time and attention. Instead, I got things.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Frederick prompted before taking a small bite of his salad.
“I know.” Duncan ate a little more before put
ting down his fork. “If you’d have asked me a week ago, I would probably have answered you differently, but now I sort of think the picture has come into focus. If I could have anything, I’d like one person in my life who loves me for me.” Duncan sounded sincere.
“That’s quite a revelation,” Frederick said, trying to keep his natural skepticism out of his voice.
“Yes and no. I’ve spent years talking to a therapist, but it took meeting someone like you to bring things into focus,” Duncan said with a smile on his face. “I’m not some kid who believes in fairy tales and an easy happily ever after, but I know what I want and I go after it.”
“And I take it what you want is me?” Frederick wasn’t buying it totally—not that he wasn’t interested in Duncan, because he certainly was. He’d felt the connection between them, and he’d spent a lot of time thinking about the man sitting across the table from him with the excited smile on his face. He wouldn’t be human if he couldn’t admit that the man’s body was a temple he could worship at for the rest of his life, but what Duncan seemed to be offering was too good and too wrapped up in a nice, neat bow for his suspicious nature.
“I’m not asking for a wedding ring or a lifetime commitment, but a chance to see where this leads.” Frederick had little doubt that Duncan was sincere.
“You really think you want to do this?” Frederick asked sternly. “This is really what you want?” Duncan swallowed and nodded his head once. “Then let’s finish our meal and we’ll go somewhere much more private where we can talk.” Frederick was already feeling the energy and anticipation rising in his blood. Duncan’s body language told Frederick he was feeling it too.
They finished their salads, and the server brought their dinners. They didn’t talk a lot, but Frederick could see the effect he was having on Duncan simply by watching his face. Duncan’s eyes were dilated like a cat’s, wide and ready for anything. Duncan had ordered a pasta dish that appeared to be delicious, if the things he was doing with his tongue were any indication.
