Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (14 page)

Leslie smiled up at him. The man had been
trying to get him go for a
friendly
drink
for weeks. Frankie was a big, affable man, a few years older than
Leslie, with muscles and a wide smile, a cute, boy-next-door face
and a swathe of dark brown hair that fell over his forehead. It had
become a bit of a tradition for them to meet up when Frankie had
his smoke on the pavement below as Leslie left work. Leslie
smirked. He rather thought Frankie waited for him and then dashed
down to see him right on time. Leslie might have Oliver, but the
attention of another guy was always welcome. Even if he was a
smoker. Leslie didn’t like smoking.

“I heard you and some of the guys were
invited to the fashion show on the fifteenth March? Laverne said
she’d given you some tickets. Maybe we can catch up then?”

Leslie was working hard on getting both the
show and the event organised with his boss and he didn’t think
Oliver would come, as much as he’d like that.

Frankie went on. “Yeah, me and my mate
Stewart are coming. Not really our thing but we get to dress up in
pretty clothes and have a few free drinks and eat some good food,
so we’re in. Plus you’re there.” He flashed a wicked smile down at
Leslie. “That makes it even better.”

Leslie flushed. “Okay, then, I’ll see you
there. It should be a really good event.” He waved as he continued
walking by him. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you, gorgeous. It’s the one highlight of
my day. I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Frankie teased.

Leslie grinned at that and sashayed down the
pavement with an extra sway in his hips. It was always nice being
appreciated.

Chapter 11

Oliver stared moodily into his soup as he drew the
spoon around in circles, sloshing the liquid over the side of the
bowl. He’d been having major problems with a website that he was
building and he’d needed a break. The tin of tomato soup for a
later dinner had seemed like a good idea, coupled with crusty
day-old bread, but now he just thought he should curl up in a dark
corner and sleep. He knew it was all down to his bad mood and the
sheer capriciousness of the current internet connection he had, as
he vaguely remembered that he’d seen a notice somewhere that his
service provider was working on upgrading the lines in the area. He
hadn’t paid much attention to it at the time.

He was also suffering from withdrawal
symptoms at not having seen Leslie for the past few days. His lover
had been busy at work, organising some future fashion show or
other, and had been working nights and weekends to get it
sorted.

So when the doorbell rang, he didn’t scramble
to answer it. Perversely, he ignored it. He wasn’t expecting anyone
and it was probably some door-to-door salesman. He did peer out
into the garden, but it was dark and he could see nothing. The
doorbell rang again, more insistently as if someone had their
finger pressed on it. Oliver growled loudly.

“Fuck off, will you? Can’t you tell I’m not
here?”

His mobile rang. He scrambled to pick it up
and his heart leapt when he saw it was Leslie.
This
summons, he answered.

“Leslie, hi. I thought you were working
tonight.”

Leslie sounded rather exasperated when he
replied. “I managed to get the rest of the night off. Instead, I
thought, you know what, I’ll go and pay a surprise visit to my
boyfriend. So I doll myself up and rush post haste to his house
only to find he’s not answering his bloody doorbell!”

Oliver shot up from his chair and dashed to
his front door, phone melded to his ear. He was surprised in a
number of ways. First, that Leslie was here. Secondly that he’d
called him his ‘boyfriend.’ They hadn’t got to that discussion in
their six-week relationship yet, and he was both a little scared
and exhilarated at the term being used.

“I’m on my way,” he blabbered. “Sorry, I
thought it was a salesman or something. Hold on.”

He reached the door, turned the lock then
yanked the door open. His jaw dropped, the phone left his shoulder
and clattered to the floor.

“Holy shit,” was all he could manage. His
cock managed much more than that, going from droopy to sledgehammer
in about two seconds flat.

Leslie smirked from beneath eyes rimmed with
guy-liner, his full lips pink and pouty with clear lip gloss. He
wore a black coat, open in the front, under which he slayed, killed
and worked a dark grey corset, which clung to his slender figure as
if painted on. Teamed with sheer black stockings and red stiletto
heels, Oliver had never seen a more erotic sight in all his life.
And, given his former line of work, he’d seen quite a few.

“Can I come in then?” Leslie’s husky voice
made Oliver’s dick jump and he nodded speechlessly.

“You came across town looking like that?”
Oliver gaped. “Leslie, that’s a bit dangerous, isn’t it?”

Not to mention he didn’t want anyone seeing
his lover dressed like
that.
This was for
his eyes only.

“Oh keep your pants on,” Leslie drawled as he
sashayed into the house. Then a wicked grin flashed across his
beautiful face. “Or not…and don’t worry. I didn’t wear these shoes
across town.” He waved his man bag at Oliver. “I had jeans on and a
pair of flats. I changed just before getting here.”

“Changed where?” Oliver said dazedly.

“There’s a coffee shop about four houses
down. I popped in there and did the deed. So, are you happy to see
me?” He licked his lips lasciviously as he cast a glance at
Oliver’s crotch. “I’d say that’s a big, fat yes.”

Oliver closed the door and tried to control
the urge to rip Leslie’s clothes off and drag him caveman-like into
the bedroom. “Of course I’m happy to see you. I missed you these
last few days.”

Leslie’s face softened and he drew Oliver
into a fragranced hug. “I missed you, too, sweetie.” His lips found
Oliver’s in a tender kiss, gentle and loving and Oliver succumbed
to the sublime creature in his arms and sighed happily into his
mouth. When they drew apart, Leslie grinned at him.

“That’s more like it.” An expression of
uncertainty flitted across his face. “Oh and hey, I just realised I
called you my boyfriend back there. It just sort of slipped out. I
quite understand if you don’t want me to call you that…”

Oliver reached out a finger and held Leslie’s
lips closed. “It’s fine. That’s what we are, isn’t it?”

Leslie’s—his
boyfriend’s
—eyes shone and the smile on his face would
have lit the whole of London on a dark and dreary night. “I’d hoped
so.”

They looked at each other and Oliver realised
that at that moment, something had changed. He was terrified by the
realisation that someone had come to mean more to him than he’d
ever wanted—which meant he could be broken again. He quashed the
squirming fear inside and waved toward the lounge.

“Shall we have a drink, you can tell me about
your day and then perhaps I can peel those stockings off your legs.
And that corset… fuck, you look incredible.”

Leslie waved airily, a pink flush suffusing
his cheeks. “A drink sounds like a good idea. For now.” He smirked
and walked past Oliver with a waft of fresh-smelling
eau-de-cologne.

When they were settled with drinks and light
chill-out music playing in the background, Leslie settled back into
Oliver’s arms with a happy sigh, his legs stretched out sexily in
front of him.

“This is the life,” he declared. “I had such
a rough day at work, but you make it all okay.”

Oliver loved hearing about Leslie’s days at
the fashion house. There was always something going on, some quirky
tale to tell. He was having a tough time not pouncing on his
boyfriend, though.

“Tell me all about it. Did any more material
try to attack you?” he murmured, as he drank in the scent of
Leslie’s shampoo and watched his elegant legs fidget around getting
comfortable. He’d enjoyed his lover’s last dramatic account of the
fabric that had ‘tried to eat him.’

Leslie huffed. “No, that was a one-off, thank
God. But Laverne has been on this mission with this latest fashion
show to really make her mark. As part of the show, she had me
practicing draping fabric over all these naked statues on the
catwalk. That way she can see what look she wants on ‘the night.””
He warmed to his subject. “I mean, I seem to have become her
go-to
toy boy. I thought I was the fabric
buyer, not the set designer and general factotum.” He scowled
adorably and Oliver hid a grin. He knew Leslie
loved
being included in anything to do with the
fashion house, but sometimes he felt he simply had to make a
fuss.

“What kind of statues?” he asked idly as he
ran his fingers through Leslie’s hair.

His boyfriend’s eyes lit up. “Naked ones,
like David, you know? All these mock guys in all their glory. I
have to drape the material strategically over them. Later, part of
the show will be when the models release the fabric and reveal
what’s underneath. Some sort of Grecian fantasy Laverne is putting
together. It looks really cool. I wish you could see it.”

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat. His earlier
bad mood had disappeared seeing Leslie at the door in that sexy
getup. Perhaps he could take their excursions a step further. Give
himself a little bit of shock therapy and see how he fared.

“Do you mean that?” he said quietly. “If I
decided to come down and watch the show, would that be something
you’d want?”

Leslie swung around and stared at him. “I’d
want? Oliver, you know I’d love to see you get out to a function
like this, show everyone you’re around.” He gave a slow smile.
“That you’re mine.”

Oliver’s dick liked the idea of being
Leslie’s. His heart did, too. “No promises,” he warned. “But I do
think I owe it to you to try and be a little bit more public. Get
over this whole recluse thing.” His insides quailed at what he was
proposing. “Just get out and about a bit, let people see I’m
around. I mean, it’s not like they think I’m dead or anything, and
people still see me when they go the shops and shit, but at a
fashion show a lot of people I knew once will recognise me.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Leslie said
quietly. “I understand you’re scared at what you think people will
say. But honestly, you really don’t look that much different. It’s
only in your head that you see the change, think it’s worse than it
is. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” His hand reached out
and caressed Oliver’s cheek. “If you want to come with me, it would
be awesome. I’d love it.”

Leslie grew more animated. “I could get
Laverne to put a little table at the back for you, and you could
sit there like the mysterious stranger and let people wonder who
you are. Maybe even wear a masquerade mask over your eyes, like the
ones in V for Vendetta. Ooh, I could even get Draven to be your
official bodyguard. He can stand there beside you with that glower
he has making sure people can’t bother you. Taylor would love that,
seeing his man all dangerous and tough. I bet it would mean Draven
would get a lot of nookie when he got home.”

Oliver was laughing at the flow of words from
Leslie’s beautiful mouth so he shut him up the best way he knew
how. He kissed him. Kissed him with all the feeling he had for this
whimsical and quirky man-child, this man who made his heart beat
faster and his soul soar. He knew it hadn’t been that long, but he
knew he was falling fast for the irrepressible Leslie Scott.

Leslie sighed and kissed Oliver back with
fervour, soft lips nibbling at his, hands reaching in and touching
skin. The soft whisper of Leslie’s stockinged legs against Oliver’s
own made Oliver crazy with want.

“Please,” he whispered. “Undress for me so I
can see all of you. Naked is your best outfit, Leslie.”

Leslie smiled wickedly and stood up. He
wandered over to the DVD player and fiddled about with it. The
soft, sensual music of Beyoncé’s ‘Dance for You’ began to play.
Then he bent down, arse to Oliver and removed one of his
high-heeled shoes, slowly, tantalisingly, in time to the music. The
corset tugged up and his tight, round cheeks made Oliver’s mouth
water. He watched the sexy, lithe and limber form of his lover
perform a strip show of note as Beyoncé wafted through the
speakers. Leslie’s eyes closed as he removed his shoes, waving them
teasingly at Oliver as he lay feet up on the couch. So turned on,
Oliver was afraid to move in case the simple friction of his cock
against his underwear and pants made him come. He wanted to savour
the gorgeous man gyrating languidly in front of him, appreciate
every moment and then make love to him, taking his time, breathing
in Leslie’s moans, which would become music to his ears.

Leslie mouthed the words to the song as he
danced, then reached behind him and began undoing the clips to his
corset. Oliver was so hard he was like the proverbial diamond in an
ice storm. Slowly, teasingly, the vision in front of him taunted
and teased, eyes half closed, as Leslie removed the garment. The
corset was carelessly whipped to one side and Oliver lost his
breath. His lover wore a tiny black thong underneath, the fabric
already stretched and wet with arousal by Leslie’s own hard-on.

“Liking what you see?” Leslie asked huskily,
his eyes never leaving Oliver’s. “See how I dress for you? Only for
you, I promise.” His face promised Oliver delights and Oliver so
wanted to take advantage of them. He reached down and pushed his
jeans and underwear off, throwing them to one end of the couch.
Hastily, he pulled his shirt above his head until he was naked. He
held the base of his cock tightly as Leslie undulated in front of
him, rolling his stockings sexily down his legs. Oliver didn’t want
this to be over too soon. But, the lustful look in his lover’s eyes
as his hips and shaved crotch moved closer toward the couch was
clear. Oliver’s mouth wanted to take Leslie’s beautifully upright
cock in and show him just what he thought of his strip tease.