Jazz was deep in his ‘working space’, sketching a design on his pad. Xavier had retreated back behind his desk and was doing some paperwork, leaving Jazz alone. He said nothing, and the only sound in the office was the rustling of papers. Jazz drew in a basic body form wearing some of the athletic gear from the catalogue, then he began to modify it. He gave it more elegant lines, and a swooshing, curling stripe down the left side of the front, leading to a jagged X at the hip that represented a sort of art deco version of Xavier’s logo. The color definitely had to change - basic black was good for little black dresses, but not for athletic gear. He thought mauve might be a good color, or maybe a shade of green with cream accents.
He blinked and looked up, drawn out of his fugue state when Xavier commented: “Wow, it’s already lunchtime. You’ve been working for awhile, Jazz. Did you come up with some good ideas?”
“I think so,” he replied.
“Can I see?” Xavier asked with interest, looking at his drawing pad.
“Well…” he hesitated, because didn’t like to show his designs until he had a finished product.
Xavier waved a hand at him. “It’s okay. I can wait until you’re done. Anyway, I’m going to lunch. Did you want to join me?”
Xavier was asking him to lunch? Jazz worked hard to ignore an odd little wriggle in his mid-section. “I’d like that,” he said as he closed his sketch pad. “As long as you’re paying, that is.”
Xavier grinned. “I think I can afford that. I know this great place that you’ll love. Come on, Jazz. Let’s grab a cab.”
They left the office together, Xavier telling his assistant that he was going to lunch and that she was free to go as well. She smiled at the pair of them as they left, heading for the elevator. Jazz was all too acutely aware of how close that Xavier’s big body was to his in the rather crowded elevator. He could reach out and touch the man, and feel the rolling muscles under the suit. Images of what that body must look like naked were dancing in his head. He spread his legs slightly and cursed the fact that he’d worn such tight pants today. Damn the man for having such scruples! And curse him for not taking anybody home last night, because he was super horny today!
Xavier didn’t seem aware of how uncomfortable he was. He talked casually about such innocuous things as the weather until they entered the lobby of the building together. Jazz tried hard not to walk funny as they made for the doors leading outside. He hissed softly to himself at the pinch at his groin, vowing to NEVER wear skin-tight pants again! Well, at least not around Xavier, that is. Definitely not around Xavier.
They caught a cab, and Jazz eased himself into the left side very carefully. Xavier gave the cabbie an address, while Jazz got as comfortable as he could. Xavier leaned back in his seat and glanced at his companion sideways. “You okay, Jazz?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, I am,” he snapped, rather annoyed to be asked that question by the guy who was making him all hot and horny in the first place.
Xavier lifted a brow, but said nothing else. Jazz sulked a little, full of frustrated lust and very irritated because of that fact. And it didn’t help at all that Xavier’s bulky body was taking up most of the cab’s backseat; his knee was practically brushing Xavier’s, and he had nowhere to move it to get away. If this had been a normal situation, he’d have been rubbing all over Xavier and purring like a cat. Sure, he was a tart - but what was so wrong with that?! Sluts weren’t bad people! They just had very high sex drives, that’s all. Xavier didn’t know what he was missing by rejecting Jazz.
“We’re here,” Xavier remarked, making him jump a little. Jazz was very glad to scramble out of the cab and get away from Xavier.
The cab pulled away from the curb, and Xavier led the way into the little bistro that he’d brought Jazz to. A hostess led them to a table, and they sat down. She handed them menus, though Xavier laid his down on the table. “I come here so often I know exactly what I’m going to get,” he explained to Jazz.
“Oh,” he opened his own menu and began to scan it, refusing to look at Xavier. His ‘problem’ was finally beginning to subside; he didn’t want it resurging again.
Jazz decided on the baked salmon with lemon-pepper sauce and asparagus tips. It sounded yummy, and low-calorie as well. He hated to exercise, so he had to keep his figure by eating right rather than sweating and wearing himself out. Besides, he did that enough already in bed every night.
He giggled a little to himself at this thought, lowering his menu at last. “Decide what you wanted?” Xavier asked him.
“Yes. The salmon.”
“Great.” Xavier motioned for a waiter, and when the man arrived he ordered the salmon and beef tips in mushroom sauce with scalloped potatoes. He also ordered salads for appetizers. When the waiter filled their water glasses and departed, Xavier considered him across the table. “Baked salmon, huh? Are you on a diet?”
“Not exactly,” Jazz replied, sipping at his water. “I just hate to work out, so I try to eat right instead.”
Xavier’s lips quirked at the corners. “I see. So the man who is designing my new line of work-out clothes for the rich ladies of New York hates to work out himself? That’s rather ironic.”
Jazz laughed. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. “But there’s only one place that I like to work out,” he added, with a sultry-eyed smile at Xavier.
The big man shook his head. “You’re incorrigible,” he said in faint amusement.
“Yes, I am. Whatever that means,” Jazz replied promptly.
A chuckle. “Well, it seems that you and I are almost complete opposites,” he mused. “Because I really enjoy working out.”
“Of course you would,” Jazz remarked scornfully. “You have to be in great shape to beat the crap out of people, right?”
Xavier tilted his head a bit. “I only beat the crap out of guys who were trying to do the same thing to me,” he pointed out. “To prove that I was better at beating the crap out of them than they were at beating the crap out of ME. Want to see my trophies and belts?”
Jazz snorted. “To think that they actually give out awards to guys for beating each other up,” he replied scornfully, tossing his head a little.
“There are worse things to get trophies for,” Xavier said calmly.
“If you say so. I’d bet you were a bully in high school, too. I got picked on all the time by guys like you.”
“You can’t lump me into a certain category just berceuse I was an MMA fighter,” Xavier remarked, still calm. “I wasn’t a bully; actually, I was a stringbean geek.”
Jazz’s mouth fell open a little. He couldn’t wrap his head around this statement. Seeing his expression, Xavier grinned faintly. “It’s true,” he told Jazz. “I swear. I didn’t hit a growth spurt until I was seventeen, and then I grew steadily for two years. I was all of 5’3’ at seventeen, by the time I was in college I’d hit 6’3’. It took me forever to get used to my new body, because I grew into it so fast. I started taking martial arts to help me learn balance and how to deal with how big I was, and I just got into MMA because there was an amateur tournament at my dojo. I signed up for it because I needed the prize money to make rent. And I loved it. It’s all I wanted to do, so after I graduated with a degree in business I went pro instead of joining the regular work force.”
Jazz blinked. “You have a degree in business?” he repeated.
Xavier nodded. “That’s right. It’s helped me a great deal since I started my business. It was something to fall back on when I got hurt.”
“Yeah. Somebody told me that you’d torn your rotator cuff,” Jazz said.
“I did. And there was nothing that they could do to get me back into fighting shape after that. My rotator cuff will never be strong enough for me to fight professionally again. I still work out, of course; but it just isn’t very thrilling anymore. I miss the rush.”
Jazz leaned forward a little. “Well, there are other things that can give you a rush, you know,” he said with a faint, wicked smile.
Xavier met his eyes. “I know that. Why do you think that I was at that club the night we met? I was looking to meet somebody. I’ve been feeling lonely lately. But honestly, that was a bad sort of place for a guy like me to go to. It was full of…well, guys like YOU. No offense intended, Jazz.”
“None taken,” Jazz replied coolly. “I told you, I’m not bothered to admit what I am. And you’re right, places like that are designed for guys like me to hook up with other guys looking for a good time with no strings attached. You might try a library or something,” he jibed.
Xavier’s lips twitched. “You may be right,” he conceded. “But I refuse to believe that there are nothing but promiscuous gay men in New York. A city this big, there have to be other men looking for what I am. I just have to find one, that’s all.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Jazz drawled.
Xavier eyed him, but before he could say anything else the waiter brought their salads. Jazz drizzled raspberry vinaigrette on top of his, then took a big bite. He loved salad, especially with walnuts and smoky cheese. Delicious! He made a sound of pleasure, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Xavier halted in eating his own salad for a moment. He glanced up under his lashes, seeing that the big man was frowning slightly. Hmm? Was he having an affect on Xavier, too? Was it not just him feeling horny and frustrated? Jazz like that thought. In fact, he liked it a lot. He smiled wickedly to himself as he too another bite of his salad. Maybe he’d never get Xavier Paretiss to fuck him, but maybe he could torment that big bastard to make him see what he was missing out on. Oh, and to make him suffer, too, of course. This could be a lot of fun…
Go to Next Chapter