Men of London 03 - Suit Yourself (8 page)

“Oh, just a plain latte for me. I’m not one
of those ‘caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, sugar free,
no foam, extra hot’ crazy people.”

Oliver blinked. “That’s a drink?”

Leslie huffed. “Oh my God, yes. Before I got
this job at Debussy, I worked at Starbucks. You cannot believe the
fussiness of some people out there with their coffee orders. I
needed a dictionary sometimes to look up some of the words they
used.”

Drinks ordered, they settled into chat about
the recent week. Leslie’s hilarious account of his evening at the
fashion event, including the side-splitting nipple-rouging, made
Oliver laugh as he hadn’t in years. Leslie’s dry, sarcastic account
of his escapades was delivered in a voice that Oliver thought could
melt hearts, and his facial expressions and hand gestures were
classic. His sides were aching when Leslie finished his story and
threw him another dazzling smile.

“So that’s my week. What have you been doing
with yourself then?” His eyes slid appraisingly down Oliver’s body.
Oliver’s dick took notice.

“I have to say, that colour green really
suits you.” Leslie murmured. “That shirt brings out the colour of
your eyes and the cut is really flattering. But then what would you
expect from a Ralph Lauren?” He shrugged slim shoulders as he
removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his man bag.

Oliver had spent close to two hours debating
what to wear and the fact he’d chosen well made his body glow.
“It’s an old favourite. Team it with comfortable jeans and it’s a
no-brainer for a coffee date.”

Leslie’s eyes met his and Oliver’s hand moved
unconsciously to his hair as he made sure it covered his scar.

“You look perfect,” Leslie said softly.
“Honestly, stop worrying about it.”

“It’s a habit,” Oliver muttered. “Especially
when I’m out in public.” His hand strayed to his hair again and he
took a deep breath when Leslie reached across and stayed his
nervous movement. Leslie’s touch ignited something in his heart and
his groin.

“I’m not the public.” Leslie said softly.
“I’m just someone hoping to be your friend.”

Oliver nodded then moved his hands away from
his hair and picked up his coffee. Leslie unnerved him like no one
in a long, long time. “I think that can be arranged.” He grinned
and the awkward moment passed.

An hour later there was a lull in the
conversation as Enrico bought them another cup of coffee. Oliver
frowned. Enrico didn’t normally do table duty. In fact, he hated
being a waiter, considering it beneath him as the owner’s son.
Oliver scowled as Leslie flirted and their waiter’s normally
monosyllabic responses got chattier. Oliver’s ire grew even worse
when he pressed a business card into Leslie’s hand with the whisper
to ‘call me.’

“That guy is a prick,” Oliver growled when
Enrico was out of earshot. “I don’t want to interfere in your love
life, but you should know that.”

Leslie’s eyes widened innocently. “But he’s
so darned cute.” He laughed as Oliver growled again and drained his
coffee cup. “I tell you what, let’s forget about the hot Italian
stud over there and tell me more about yourself. I’m dying to know
what you’ve been doing the last couple of years, being out of the
industry. What do you do for a living? Do you have a job?”

Oliver nodded. “I do web design. Mostly, I
get referrals and build customised sites for people. It’s a good
living and I’m lucky—I have rather a captive clientele.” He cleared
his throat. “I build a lot of adult sites, sex aid sites, some BDSM
ones, that sort of thing.”

Leslie’s eyes got bigger. “Oh my God, really?
How cool. Give me some examples; let’s see if I know any of
them.”

Oliver leaned back in his chair. “Well, I
built Leo’s new site, Leo Loving, but that wasn’t porn. It was his
new film studio site. Then there was Donny Dickson, Jerry Jarvis
and that new guy, Luke Lecher.” He grimaced at Leslie’s snort. “I
know, terrible name. What’s with these guys and all the
alliteration? But the guy threw a lot of money at me to create his
website so I tried to give him what he wanted. ”

Oliver was enjoying himself. He didn’t really
get to talk about his current work much. He warmed to his subject.
“There’s something about sitting in front of a computer and
listening to what a client wants, then trying to put it all
together. It’s pretty creative, actually, to try and be different,
when everyone thinks a porn site is all about hot bods and fucking.
Of course that’s the main thing, but there’s also the merchandising
aspect, the advertising revenues, the ability to let your fans
interact with you too, and share their fantasies. It’s about
creating something special where people can lose themselves. I
created the Nicky Starr site myself and let me tell you, it’s
damned hard work.” He stopped at the look of merriment on Leslie’s
face. “What?”

“God, you are such a geek. It’s adorable.”
Leslie’s blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

Oliver flushed. He
had
been rambling a bit. “Sorry, I get carried away
sometimes.”

“I love it,” Leslie purred. “It’s a bit like
me when I talk fashion and fabrics. Then all anyone wants to do is
stuff something in my mouth to make me shut up.”

And didn’t
that
thought make Oliver harder than a stick of dynamite. His expression
must have communicated his thoughts because Leslie’s pale face
pinked up.

“Oh, wait, I didn’t mean it
that
way…”

Oliver couldn’t help himself. He burst out
laughing and soon Leslie had joined in and they were both chortling
like school kids. Enrico cast them a dirty glance—Oliver thought it
might have been directed at him.

When the dirty thoughts stopped circling his
brain at just how much he’d like to shut Leslie up, Oliver wiped
his eyes.

“Hell. That just tickled me.” For one brief
moment, he forgot his scar and tucked the hair that hung down his
face behind his right ear. No sooner had he realised what he’d
done, than he flicked it back again in panic, covering it up.

Leslie leant forward and ran a warm finger
down his jawline, taking care not to touch the jagged scar. Oliver
hadn’t had anyone touch that side of his face in years. His heart
and body thrummed with need and yearning.

“Maybe one day you’ll tell me exactly how you
got that.” Leslie moved his hand away as Oliver swallowed and then
looked down at the table. A long moment later, he looked up into
Leslie’s cerulean eyes. They were warm and there was no pity in
them.

I can do this.

He took a deep breath. “I was twenty-three
and I thought I was immortal. Untouchable. It was the height of my
career and I had everything a man could want. A career, more money
than I knew what to do with and a radical motorbike.” His lips
twisted in a smile. “His name was Hulk and he was huge and green
just like Bruce Banner when he turned. I’d been to a party and got
shit-faced on coke.” He stopped, his throat dry. “I was pretty
addicted to the stuff. It helped me cope with the demands of
performing and the pressure to be
someone
constantly.” He didn’t want to get into the reason for him being at
that party that night and getting out of control. That was a story
for another time.

Leslie’s calm face watched him without
judgement. The only trace of emotion in his face was the slight tic
in his jaw.

“That night all the guys wanted to check out
the porn star, see how good he was. I ended up screwing about three
or four of them. I needed some encouragement so I was as high as a
bloody kite. Coke and booze. Then I got on Hulk to race one of
them. It was a macho display that everyone knew wouldn’t end well.
But I didn’t listen.” He closed his eyes as the memories flooded
back. “I hit a bend, slid and then hit the side of the road. It was
pretty rocky and I went flying, straight over a barbed wire fence
and into a field. The thing was, there was a load of scrap metal in
a pile in the middle of the grass and it ripped my face and my
right arm wide open, as well as the side of my body.”

Leslie made a small sound of horror and
reached over to take Oliver’s hand in his. Oliver curled his large
fingers around Leslie’s fine-boned ones. The touch of the other man
grounded him and he carried on.

“I broke some ribs, my left arm and a couple
of my fingers. I had a ruptured spleen and as well as the side of
my face being damaged, it affected my eye. Tore the muscle which is
why it droops slightly. My right arm was virtually ripped open from
wrist to shoulder and I have bad scarring along it, along with a
bit of muscle loss. But physical therapy helped me get it back to
almost normal. It just aches sometimes and I can’t pick up anything
too heavy.”

“Oh my God.” Leslie’s face was white and
Oliver saw his eyes glistening. “I’m so glad you made it out alive.
I mean, it could have been much worse.”

Oliver sighed tiredly. “I was very lucky to
avoid blood poisoning afterward. The emergency services were quick
to get me to hospital, and I had the best medical care money could
buy. My film studio, Vanguard, went all out on that one.” He
tightened his fingers around Leslie’s.

“I spent a long time in hospital, having
plastic surgery and skin grafts for it all.” His memories of the
pain and frustration he’d suffered through too many surgical
procedures made his stomach lurch. “And this…” he motioned toward
his face, “was the end result.” He gave a twisted smile. “As well
as some other nice scars.”

Rounded off by having my
lover of a year walk out because he couldn’t stand the sight of me.
And getting over a cocaine addiction.

“Where was your family?” Leslie asked.
“Didn’t your parents help you though this?”

Oliver shook his head ruefully. “My folks
live in Australia. Dad works a low-paid job and Mum is a housewife.
They still don’t know about my time in the porn industry. I didn’t
want them ever knowing either, so I didn’t tell them about the
accident until after it was all over and I was much better. They
had no money to come out here. It would have bankrupted them and
they may have found out what their son was doing.” He gave a tired
laugh. “I just told them I’d had a fall off the bike but never told
them how bad it was. I haven’t seen them face-to-face in years. We
Skype now and then and I make sure they can’t see my face
properly.”

“God, that’s so sad, having to lie to your
folks like that. My folks live in Scotland with my older brother,
Nathan. I see them now and then.” Leslie managed a wistful smile.
“I think you look a lot like Jon Bon Jovi with that shaggy-hair
look. He’s damn hot; well, he was when he had that hair style. And
I rather like the metrosexual bearded look.”

“Thank you,” Oliver said softly. “I don’t get
too many compliments anymore on how I look.”

Leslie’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward,
pursing soft lips that Oliver really wanted to kiss. “That, my
friend, is because you don’t get out much. It’s your own damn fault
for hiding away in that house with only a wardrobe of suits to keep
you company.” He grinned and Oliver’s insides melted. “I know about
your love of them, of course. I’ve seen your website. Plus I looked
back at your purchases. You, my friend, have a problem. You must
have bought about twenty suits from Debussy’s over the past couple
of years.” He made a moue. “Not that it’s a problem. Keeps me in a
job buying that fabric you love so Laverne can make your suits. She
loves you, by the way. You’re her best customer.”

Oliver chuckled. “No doubt she does. Her
designs just have this appeal for me; they’re so classic and sexy.
I can’t help myself.”

Leslie cluck clucked. “Then we need to get
you out and about in them more. Show you off.”

Oliver shook his head, his heart heavy. “Not
going to happen, Leslie. I go out only when I have to. Otherwise
I’m fine by myself. I’ve managed so far.”

Leslie’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean get
you out in the middle of a film premiere with 101 cameras sighted
on you, doofus. I meant perhaps going to a great dinner in an
intimate restaurant where I know the owner will protect your
privacy and chase away anyone that bothers you. Gideon can be
pretty scary when he wants to be.”

Oliver had to say the idea tempted him, both
getting into a new suit to go out and spending more time with
Leslie. He nodded hesitantly. “Maybe we can do that.” His heart
beat a little faster. “Are you asking me out on a date,
Leslie?”

Leslie looked taken aback then shook his
head. “No, as one friend to another. Now that my two housemates
have both moved in with the men of their dreams, I’m no longer part
of a threesome. I miss having someone to hang out with.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t deny he
was a little disappointed at Leslie’s response this wasn’t a date.
“A threesome? Are you into ménage then?” It was something he’d been
involved in many times in his porn career and perhaps a few times
after he retired. He was taken aback by his coffee partner’s
vehement response.

“Hell, no. I’m not into that sort of thing.”
Leslie’s beautiful face contorted in a frown. “I know you are, but
to tell you the truth, they weren’t my favourite scenes of you. I
prefer my actions man-on-man, not men-on-men.”

“Oh.” Oliver was nonplussed. “There’s a lot
of that in the industry. Sometimes I had to do the scenes, and they
were fun, but not a personal preference.” He shrugged.

“I want a relationship, not a fuck-fest,”
Leslie muttered. “Some of the guys I went out with in the past, all
they wanted me for was to be the meat in the middle of a man
sandwich and sometimes I had to think quickly to get out of being
the hole in a full on gang bang.”

Oliver gaped as the rising fury in his chest
surfaced. “Did they try and force you? Did anyone hurt you? I swear
I’ll fuck them up—”