Desperate Lovers, page 12
part #2 of Wonderland Series
“Do you mind telling me what the hell you think you were doing?” Max was livid as he paced the length of his hotel room.
Sawyer sat back on the sofa, stifling a smile and pretending to be contrite. “Well, we were—”
“I know what you were doing!” Max stopped, apparently unsure where to move next. Or what to do. He slapped his hips with exasperated hands. “Why then? Why there?” He moved closer to Sawyer. “Look kid, I know you. You’re smarter than that. You’ve got to stay above all the bullshit. Do you hear me? We’ve got big things coming up and, well, something like this could ruin everything.”
Sawyer wondered what Max was really concerned about.
Sawyer’s well-being? Or his own? Still, he was sure it put to bed any rumors about his sexuality. At least for a little while.
“I thought I had a surprise for you tonight and instead you surprised me. And not in a good way. Seeing you… like that…”
Was it Sawyer’s imagination or were Max’s pants filling out before him? He changed the subject, “What was your surprise, Max?”
“My surprise? Oh yeah.” Max hesitantly held out his hand.
Sawyer stood and shook it, not understanding the context.
“Congratulations, kid. Tyler Wood called. He’s in town. Thank God, not here tonight. He wants to see you.” Max smiled like a bubbly teenager.
“You’re in!”
Tyler Wood was the new Tom Ford. The new “It” designer whose fashions were all the rage in Paris, Hong Kong, and New York. But that was only part of it. Hotter-looking than many of his own models, Wood was a virile young trendsetter who made headlines wherever he appeared.
Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. Even movie star Brad Pitt, in an interview with David Letterman, said he’d give it up for Tyler Wood.
“That’s great, Max! Thank you!”
“Thank you?”
“Sure, for everything you’ve done to set this up. I’d be nowhere without you.” Sawyer could hardly believe his luck. And as quickly as the elation came, it went. Two feet away, Max fumbled with his belt.
“I’m glad you understand that, Sawyer.”
“Max … what are you doing?” The agent looked back at his model with an expression that clearly conveyed ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Sawyer swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
Max let his trousers fall to the floor around his ankles. He turned away from Sawyer, bending over, hands firmly planted on the hotel room desk. Butt jutting out. “I’ll have some of what she was having.”
It was one of those make or break moments. Max Melbourne had set up a rendezvous with Tyler Wood; he could just as easily cancel it.
Sawyer stepped forward, shamefaced, and opened his jeans. His dick fell limp in his hand. Sawyer closed his eyes and thought of Dane, replaying in his mind the video of their lovemaking. His shaft began to grow. Then pulse. In moments, he skewered Melbourne, causing the middle-aged man to cry out and then bite his lip in blissful agony. Sawyer’s eyes remained tightly shut. As far as he was concerned, he was with Dane. And he proceeded to make love to his partner in that lonely hotel room, fucking the shit out of Max Melbourne in the process. Part of him, lost in fantasy, never wanted it to end. The other part, knowing the terrible reality, prayed for it to finish.
Dane was looking for any excuse to avoid working on his video.
No matter how he cut it together, it was crap. He rubbed his tired eyes and remembered that night not too long ago. After cautiously approaching a few guys as a “filmmaker,” and coming close to getting his lights punched out in the process, Dane had come across straight-boy Kyle Montana. Even his name sounded right. Too bad his cock wasn’t anywhere near as expansive as the state after which he was named.
He found the kid leaning against the bar, shitfaced. Honestly, there was nothing remarkable about him. Kyle Montana was the epitome of the word ordinary. But like any college student, he was short on cash. Dane bought another round of drinks, while casually feeding his ego. “You work out?” Then, Dane planted a conspiratorial idea that he knew how to make some quick money—off of gay guys who wanted to see straight guys like the two of them in the nude.
Kyle agreed, probably not knowing what he was getting into.
Back at Eldon Court, Dane fired up his equipment. Three cameras, shooting at various angles and at different degrees (a close-up, a medium shot, and a longer, establishing shot) would capture the action on the bed.
The video would have been better with him manning one camera to move with the actors, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He was needed in front of the camera.
Only, Kyle didn’t budge. He stood there, frozen.
“Come on,” Dane whispered. “It’s acting, dude. Just pretend you like it.”
Finally, Dane coaxed him into action. The two stood there, pants undone, jerking off. But to be honest, Dane wasn’t into it any more than Kyle was. So the director tried a different tack. He kneeled down in front of Kyle and started playing with the guy’s meat. Initially, Kyle took a step back in shock, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. Then, he began to relax, allowing Dane to manipulate him.
“Just go with it,” whispered Dane, hoping the cameras didn’t pick up the sound of his voice.
Finally, to perk things up and save the scene, Dane swallowed
Kyle’s semi-flaccid dick. The college junior stood there, impassively, either pretending not to notice or too drunk to care anymore. But his cock reacted in Dane’s mouth. And slowly, Kyle’s disinterested expression turned to one of confusion. Then quiet panic. The kid was close to shooting, Dane was certain. That was when Kyle pushed him off. “I can’t do this.”
“Shit.” Dane hit the pause button on his editing software. He’d have to cut that part out.
He looked around his third-floor office for a distraction. Finding none, Dane opened a new screen on his computer and clicked the link for Straight-To-Bed’s website. Hmm, Mario had posted a new video. He was considered watching it for inspiration but instead accessed the business files for the site. Subscriptions were up. Noticeably. Dane opened the database and let his mouse scroll through the list of names, like a miser rifling a wad of money. Then he stopped. A memory crept to mind: His neighbor Aaron saying that Converse was one sick bastard.
Out of curiosity Dane’s mouse scrolled back through the list of subscribers until he came to the Cs. Now he slowed down and clicked through the names one at a time. When he stopped, he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Converse. Could it possibly be?
He opened the file. There was Danvers Converse’s name, address, phone number, and billing information. The address listed was in Carmel, California. Strangely, the login ID was “Troys.” As in Troy’s? Or Troy S?
S for Saunders? Edgar had said this morning that the boy had disappeared years ago.
“Not missing anymore, I guess.”
Now Dane had a new thought. He opened Facebook and searched for the name Troy. He found a few in California. And one in Carmel-By-The-Sea. Like many young people, Troy didn’t block his information from outsiders. After all, he was trying to make connections, right? Dane noted that Troy liked club music, photography, and South Park.
There had to be a way to use this information. Maybe Sawyer would have some ideas. He opened Yahoo to send an email. As always, the splash page offered four news stories: “Three easy makeover ideas for the bathroom,” “See which Idol was voted out last night,” “Model makes headlines without clothes,” and “The best dogs for families with kids.”
Dane was about to click “Mail” when he was drawn to the third headline about the model. One click revealed Sawyer and some girl, their midsections blurred out though clearly not covered in clothing. Feeling his heart pounding in his ears, Dane read on.
Hot gossip: You heard it here first. After a fashion show in
Beverly Hills, celebrity models Sawyer Block and Monica Paris apparently decided to ditch the trendy threads and put on a racy show of their own, much to the delight of onlookers and paparazzi.
There was more but Dane didn’t care to read any further. He dragged his fingers through his hair and went back to trying to salvage his video of Kyle Montana.
After promising Kyle even more money, he was allowed to continue the blowjob. To will himself through the mess, Dane pretended he was going down on Sawyer. It helped to keep his eyes shut. Now, as Dane watched the scene, he could see that Kyle was doing his damnedest to not react. Pretending like it didn’t affect him one way or the other.
Except it clearly did. You could see it in his eyes. At the time, Dane had been oblivious, his head buried in Kyle’s crotch. The kid was probably horrified that this was turning out to be the best head he ever experienced.
And by a guy, no less.
Dane deleted the part where he stopped sucking to tell Kyle to warn him when he was about to come. They needed a come shot. That’s what the people paid for.
He reset the marker and pressed play. The scene continued. Kyle stood, hunching over more and more as his dick pistoned into Dane’s mouth. Suddenly, a look of pain shot across the college student’s face. His knees buckled. And he grabbed Dane’s head, grinding his hips into his sex partner. Dane couldn’t break free as Kyle came down Dane’s throat. The scene ended without so much as one drop of cum visible for the viewer.
Asshole!
Ever resourceful, Dane copied his own cum shot from the video with Sawyer and meticulously edited that in.
Then the phone rang. Dane scooped up the receiver, thinking it was Sawyer. “I was wondering when you’d call—”
“Dane? This is Kyle. Kyle Montana.”
“Um, hey, Kyle.” He looked up at Kyle’s miserable face onscreen.
“I was just working on the video. How’s it going?”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I think I changed my mind. You can’t post that on the net.”
“Um, okay. I understand.”
“Sorry. I just … you can’t.”
Dane could have been a hard ass and reminded the kid that he’d signed a release form. But why fight for a video that totally sucked anyway? “No prob, no prob. Tell you what. Stop over tomorrow. What did I pay you? $300? Just return the money and we can erase the file on my computer together. Sound like a deal?”
“Yes, but …”
But? Dane didn’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t have the money.”
That was just wrong. “Huh. Look, I’m happy to help you, but you can’t just take my money.” There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Give me a call when you can pay me back and we’ll sort this out. Okay?”
More silence. “I promise I won’t post anything in the meantime.”
After ending the call, Dane stripped to his underwear and got into bed. Then, realizing that sleep wasn’t going to come, he sat up and turned on the reading light. Only, he wasn’t in the mood to read a book. Instead, he got up, padded across the room to the box he found in the attic, and carried it back to the bed. He spent the next two hours looking at photos and reading the letters. The author was careful to address each note to “G,” usually signing them “G.” However, in one of the letters, Dane came across a name. And it wasn’t Gerald. Or Green.
I keep telling myself, ‘George, you’re lucky to have someone like him in your life…’
George?
“Hello, Mr. Green. My name is Dane Walters. I live at Number
One Eldon Court. And I think I found some things that might belong to you. And George.” Dane winced. Why did he mention the name George?
Immediately regretting even looking up Green’s phone number and leaving a message on voicemail, he quickly left his phone number and hung up.
“Hello?” Even though it was ten o’clock, Dane’s voice was heavy with sleep. He must have just woken up.
“It’s me. I was hoping to catch you.”
“Hey, Saws. You caught me. And I caught your act last night too.”
“My act?” Instantly, thoughts of his encounter with Max
Melbourne came to Sawyer’s mind. Guilt was a powerful thing.
“Monica Paris?” Dane snickered. “Eww.”
“Yeah. About that. I was in a situation and had to cover for—”
“Uh huh. I figured as much. No sweat.”
“So guess where I’m sitting?”
“Max Melbourne’s lap?”
Sawyer’s heart skipped a beat before he realized that Dane was only kidding. He couldn’t possibly know. And if Sawyer could help it, he never would. “No, smart-ass. I’m sitting in the L.A. office of Tyler Wood.
He asked to see me.”
Dane was genuinely excited for Sawyer. What a catch, the model thought. A boyfriend who’s as interested in my success as he is his own.
Maybe more so. The sentiment, though heartwarming, only made Sawyer feel worse about what had happened the night before. He wished he were in Dane’s arms right now. He smiled at that thought.
“I have some news from the land of Danvers Converse,” teased
Dane, changing the subject. “It seems that Troy Saunders is alive and well.
Or at least well enough to access my porn site. And get this, I think he’s staying at Converse’s home in Carmel.”
“I thought Parker said he was the only surviving member of the Saunders clan.”
“That’s what he said. Someone isn’t telling the truth.”
“There’s a shock.”
A receptionist approached the sofa where Sawyer sat. She motioned that he could go in to see Mr. Wood.
“Dane, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. One last thing, it seems this kid wants to be a photographer or something. That’s what his Facebook page says. Sounds like your area more than mine. I’ll email you the address and phone number.”
Sawyer rose and smoothed out his pants. “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
Before he powered down the cell, he added, “Miss you.”
The offices of Tyler Wood were spacious, well-lit and modern in décor. Sawyer followed the receptionist down a hall lined with expensive original art. She stopped at a door, knocked twice and opened it for Sawyer.
“Sawyer Block!” The greeting sounded like an accusation, but Wood’s smile was broad and warm. He offered his hand to the model.
“Close the door, will you, Sawyer? We don’t want to be interrupted.”
Sawyer obeyed, suddenly feeling a bit trapped. He couldn’t shake what happened last night with Max. Woods reclined in his Aeron chair, clearly the master of all he surveyed. He stared at Sawyer for a moment, looking him up and down with a scrutinizing eye.
Sawyer looked about with some discomfort. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wood.” They had recently met in Paris. During Fashion Week.
“Sawyer, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I want you.” The model nervously pulled at his shirt. “I want you as the new face of Tyler Wood Designs.” Dumbfounded, Sawyer’s jaw fell open. “I didn’t make
that decision lightly. But I’ve been watching you. Closely. And I think you’re just what we need. What I need. ”
“Um, wow. That’s quite an honor.”
“If this sounds good to you, Max and I can work out the particulars. We spent an hour talking about you last night.”
“You did?” What did Max say?
“Had nothing but praise for you. He’s a little over-protective. If you come to work for me, you’ll be mine. He’s your agent. But I’m the boss.” Sawyer nodded. Wood nodded back, his smile fading slightly.
“Now I know about last night.”
What did he know?
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s water under the bridge. Okay?”
Again, Sawyer couldn’t muster anything more than a weak nod. Tyler pushed back his chair and stood. Sawyer followed suit. “There is one think I want from you before we do business. You understand?”
“Yes …”
“Good.” Wood turned to the window for a moment, looking out at the Los Angeles cityscape. Sawyer knew what was expected of him. He reluctantly began to loosen his belt, ready to drop trou for the man who could make his career. When Wood turned back to the model, the smile on his face vanished. “What the—What are you doing, Sawyer?”
Sawyer froze. His belt buckle swung freely against his hip. “I
thought you meant—”
“Oh no, no no!” Tyler Wood looked at Sawyer through narrowed eyes. “Is that what Max does to his people? Is it?” Sawyer couldn’t respond. Wood motioned for him to fasten his pants. The designer turned away while he did so. “No, Sawyer. What I want from you, what I expect, is honesty.”
“Honesty?”
Wood turned back around. “Yes. I have to be able to trust you with my name and my reputation.” He leaned over the desk. “So I’m going to trust with you a little secret. Just between us.”
It turned out that while many in the industry believed Tyler Wood to be another of many gay designers, he was actually straight. He just played gay because it added cache to the label. “We’re two straight guys who’re playing the game here, Sawyer.” He motioned to Sawyer’s pants. “But I don’t play that way.”
Sawyer visibly relaxed. He stood a little taller. “Then in the spirit of honesty, Mr. Wood? I’m really gay.” Tyler’s eyebrows raised in surprise and some amusement. “I only play straight for the crowd.”
The designer laughed. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
Their business concluded, Wood asked Sawyer to have his measurements sent over and get some basic stills taken for his file.
“Sure thing.” Sawyer stopped at the door and then turned back.
“Could I ask I favor? I have a friend who’s looking to break into photography. Would you mind if he took the shots?”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s perfect,” Sawyer explained the plan to Dane over the phone as he drove up to Carmel. Tyler Wood’s receptionist had called Troy Saunders and asked if he’d be willing to take some photos of model Sawyer Block for the acclaimed designer. She mentioned that Wood got Troy’s name from a business associate of his, Danvers Converse, who had mentioned that his nephew wanted to break into photography. The kid took the bait.
