Authors: K.A. Merikan
Ira opened his eyes with a quiet sigh and spread his arms to the sides, slowly waking up. The room was warm and colored by dim, golden light. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them a moment later, already feeling less sleepy. He looked at James, who lay against his side curled into a ball, his long, wavy hair teasing Ira’s skin. The older man smiled, playing with it for a moment, but then, he slowly slid out from under the covers to relieve himself at the chamber pot. On his way back, something bright caught his attention. It was a piece of paper sticking out of a pocket in James’ trousers, which hung from the back of a chair. Heat rose from the depth of Ira’s belly as he walked over there, unable to stop himself. He knew it was an invasion of his lover’s privacy, but after seeing him in so much distress the day before, he simply had to know what was going on! After yet another glance at his James’s immobile form, he silently slipped the paper out of the pocket.
From the first words he read, his eyes went wide.
“To my favorite sodomite,
I know you must have been very busy lately my dear. All that fucking and trying to hide it must be straining. I sincerely hope you will find the time to honor your obligations. You were supposed to meet me on Friday. Alas, you did not. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday before noon, or I will begin to think you are neglecting our agreement. And we all know you wouldn’t want me to pay your charming wife a visit, now would you?
XXX
J.S.”
Ira’s blood went cold, his eyes immediately snapping back to James who slept soundly, as if oblivious to being blackmailed by this... J.S., whoever he might be. How could they? How could they do it to James of all people!
Ira put the letter back into his partner’s trouser pocket and clasped his hands on the back of his neck, gritting his teeth in frustration. They had been discreet, so how could anyone know about them?!
He started strolling around the room, nervous and furious not only at ‘J.S.’ for hurting James, but also at James himself. He shouldn’t have tried to deal with this alone! They were in it together and it frustrated him that James didn’t trust him enough to share something like that. Was he afraid that Ira would leave him?
James muttered something and turned over on his stomach, unconsciously showing off his well-formed back muscles. Ira swallowed, shaking his head as he came closer, stopping at the foot of the bed, studying him. He couldn’t understand how anyone could try to threaten such a... genuine person.
Slowly, he crawled back onto the bed and kissed the small of James’ back with a soft sigh. His lover murmured something with a smile and pushed back into him for a close hug. This gesture made Ira ache in sympathy, now that he knew the weight of the secret on James' shoulders.
“Slept well?” he asked, pulling him close with a groan.
“I always sleep well with you,” whispered James, grabbing Ira’s hand and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles.
Ira swallowed the bile in his throat. He buried his face in James’ soft locks, gently rubbing his shoulders. All he wanted was for James to be at peace. “As if ya ‘ad no worries at all,” he stated as neutrally as he could.
“No. Just you and me here,” whispered James with one more kiss to Ira's knuckles. “Too bad we have to get up soon.”
“Oh yeah, ya meetin’...” Ira kissed his partner’s arm, gently turning him around so that they would face each other. He couldn’t understand why James wouldn’t tell him what was going on! And his gentle smile made Ira even angrier at whoever would blackmail a person like James.
“Yep. Have to get that over with.” James closed his eyes for a moment.
“Will it take long?” Ira shivered into the hug, despite the heat in the room.
“I don’t think so. It’s just... a burden,” James sighed and pulled away, sitting on the side of the bed. His well-formed, slim body was such a treat to Ira’s eyes. And there were still welts on his skin from yesterday.
“Ya ‘ave to go to the parliament?” Ira slid out from beneath the covers and wrapped his arms around him, his neck fitting on James' shoulder like matching pieces of a puzzle.
“No, it’s just someone I need to see in town.”
“Shall I go with ya?,” sighed Ira, kissing the salty skin of James' arm.
“No, it’s a business thing.”
Ira gritted his teeth, let go of James and got out of bed. “All right, ‘ope ya’ll be back soon.”
“I will. And then we can all go out with Henry.” James didn't even look at him when he walked over to the chair he left his clothes on. It was clear that even now, he wouldn't tell Ira about the letter.
“Ya not takin’ a bath?” Ira glanced at the clock. James only had half an hour left until his meeting with J.S.
“I overslept,” said James and walked back to his own bedroom through the hidden door.
“Yeah.” Ira grabbed a fresh pair of drawers from his chest and pulled them on in a hurry. He tried to catch his lover’s gaze, but James wouldn’t look at him. It was clear how deflated James was, despite the cheerful mask he was trying to hide behind.
Ira snuck out of his room, and followed him. At first, he assumed James would head to the kitchen, but the sound of the heavy entrance door closing told him otherwise. Ira bit into his lower lip, inching forward, wary of the wooden floors beneath the carpet. He could hear Katherine’s voice from the drawing room and her attention was the last thing he wanted right now. He managed to reach the exit without being spotted by anyone, right on time to hear the bell that clang every time the elevator opened and closed. Seemed like his old treasure-hunting skills still came in handy. He opened the lock as gently as he could and slid out of the apartment, his eyes darting straight at the floor indicator. For a moment, he just stood there dumbstruck, watching the copper arrow move in what seemed to be the wrong direction. James had no reason to take the elevator up. And then it hit him. There was a neighbor with the initials ‘J.S.’ Juanita Shelley, who worked in the parliament with James and lived two floors above them.
Ira’s stomach clenched when he watched the arrow pointing at her floor. He couldn’t believe James would allow her to use him like that! From all Ira could recall, she was but a silly fashion-fly with her ridiculous hats and dresses that looked more like wedding cakes than clothes.
Confused, he entered the nearby staircase and strode up, attempting to find a balance between being quick and silent. The melodic tone of Lady Shelley’s voice stopped him between the floors:
“Finally James. I thought you’d never come!” She laughed as if James was a friend whom she invited for afternoon tea.
“Let’s just get this over with,” was all James said. He sounded collected, but fairly unpleasant. Ira doubted Lady Shelley cared about her victim's displeasure though.
Ira slouched his shoulders, like a cat preparing to attack a mouse. His chest was burning with fury and as soon as he heard the door closing, he bolted up to reach Lady Shelley's floor. At first, he headed straight to her door, but then it occurred to him that this wouldn't be the best way to get more information. Hitting his forehead with his fist, he looked around, frustrated but determined to help his lover. It was him who seduced James, and he was ready to face all the consequences of that deed, both sweet and sour.
The knock on his forehead must have helped his brain put two and two together. He smiled at the terrace door. There were balconies on all floors and for someone with Ira’s experience and agility, it shouldn’t be difficult to use this to his advantage.
He went outside, squinting to protect his eyes from the bright sunlight. It was a lovely day, provided one didn’t count the blackmail. Cursing beneath his breath, Ira moved along the balcony, ignoring the view on purpose, too focused on the job he set for himself. Lady Shelley’s balcony was about three, maybe four feet from the one Ira was on. He grabbed the black metal rail and swung one leg to the other side, carefully checking it for stability.
In times like these he was happy he got used to heights during his time working high on masts. After a quick evaluation of his target, he swung his second leg over the balustrade and used the other as leverage to jump through the gap. It was only a split second before he grabbed Lady Shelley’s balcony railing, but it felt longer with all the physical sensations that came with a life-endangering situation. Ira’s stomach clenched into a ball and he closed his eyes, letting the lightheadedness pass as soon as he realized the metal bar he clung to wouldn’t break or tear away from the balcony, following Ira down to the pavement. Only then, did he allow himself to breathe and listen.
He was grateful for the warm weather. The balcony was open and a beautiful, mustard-colored curtain sporadically floated about, teased by the warm breeze. Ira didn’t want to look down from twelve floors above the street, so he crossed the balustrade sweating like a pig. He did hear voices though.
“Do you have something for me then?” Lady Shelley sounded as sweet as honey. Ira imagined cutting her voice. He could easily silence her with one hand.
“Yes,” James uttered, his voice low and barely audible. “Is this enough?” He must have been giving her money.
Ira hissed in fury, squeezing his fists hard enough for them to make an unpleasant cracking sound. He pressed his back into the wall next to the open balcony door and listened.
“Fabulous my dear! Now that this is sorted, I thought you could help me with one more little thing.” Her voice was sickeningly cheery.
“What...?” asked James and Ira winced, hearing his resigned tone. He couldn’t believe this was happening. And how in the world did this woman find out about them?
“You see, James, there are quite a few people looking for change in London. Since nothing was actually proved in relation to Isaac Bell, maybe you could help lobby for his release?” she asked, but Ira knew it was not a question. That was it. Without another thought, he pushed the curtain aside and entered Lady Shelley’s drawing room. It was time for his way of handling the matter.
Lady Shelley was sitting in an armchair with a glass of wine and blinked at him, baffled. Used to intrigue as she was, it only took a second for her mocking grin to resurface. “Well, well, James, you didn’t say your bull was coming.”
James flushed, darting his eyes to Ira in confusion, but Ira was focused on Lady Shelley.
“You ‘ave no honor whatsoever, ma’am,” he hissed out, his whole body tense. Even looking at that bloody witch made him nauseous, not to mention her taste in decor. Not one element of the room was tastefully plain and with everything covered in gold paint or floral motif, Ira felt as though he'd stormed into an overgrown dollhouse.
“And what exactly are you doing here?” Lady Shelley raised her eyebrows, trying to maintain the self-assured facade, but Ira noticed she tensed up and recoiled deeper into her chair.
“God! Ira! What are you doing!?” James walked up to him, stopping Ira on the way to where the woman sat. He didn’t try to break away, wary of his lover’s desperation. Instead, he pinned his gaze on Lady Shelley, pouring all of his disgust into that stare. What he wanted most was to twist that canary neck of hers.
“Give it back to my lord, ya blackmailer!” he said in a low, grumbling voice, hoping it would intimidate her enough so he wouldn’t have to actually hit her. He knew very well what effect he could have on people.
“James?” Stiff as a mannequin, she rose from the armchair. Her was bosom heaving with each nervous breath. Ira found himself amused by how the quality of her corset now disclosed her weakness. “Are you going to let your pet run rampant?”
“Shut up!” James snapped at her, tightening his grip on Ira’s arm. “Just let her get on with it.” He lowered his voice so that only Ira could hear. “It’s for our sake.”
“See, James knows what’s good for you,” snarled Lady Shelley and from the way her body relaxed, Ira knew she considered the matter settled. But contrary to her belief, he was not James’ lapdog and he was determined to prove it.
“Shut up, ya bloody cow, ‘cause ya certainly no lady!” he snarled at her, dropping all attempts at a more refined accent and lunged, grabbing her slim wrist in a bruising grip.
“Let go of me, you animal!” she screamed, wide-eyed, and James tried to pull him away.
“Come on Ira! It’s not worth it!”
“Now she takes money, ya heard what she wants next!” Ira yanked the woman closer and clasped a large hand over her mouth in an attempt to shut her up. He could finally see that now she was scared. It almost brought a smile to his lips.
James squeezed his lips into a tight line and his nostrils flared. “What are you suggesting?”
Ira’s eyes darted to his face and he swallowed, feeling the woman tremble. “I’m sayin’ it’s never gonna end.”
“Just let her go. We’ll figure something out.” James tried to reason with Ira, though it was obvious he had no idea what to do. Lady Shelley mumbled something from beneath Ira’s massive palm, reminding him of her presence. It was strange how focused he sometimes got around James.
“Ya wife would never believe ‘er anyway,” he lied, slowly uncovering Lady Shelley’s face while smiling at James to lift his spirits, which didn't seem to work.
The woman was surprisingly quiet, too scared to complain about the smudged lipstick that made her look like a clown. Ira wiped his hand on the upholstery of her armchair.