Cal:I should have known it would be your local.
Hamish:It’s a good pub.
Spence:Have fun without me.
Gabe:It’ll be hard, but we’ll do our best.
Spence:Don’t give up the day job, Gabe.
I laugh, drawing attention from people around me. Not that I care. I put my phone away and finish my coffee. I decide to drive to meet Hamish and Cal. The last thing I need after two big hits of caffeine is to add alcohol into the mix. I need to sleep tonight, as I’ve got to be up bright and early for my day job. Then I have a beautiful young man to truss up into a work of art. Tomorrow is going to be a wonderful day.
* * *
Cal and I spend a lot of the evening listening to Hamish bemoan the fact he’s infatuated by his PA but doesn’t know what to do about it. I understand where he’s coming from. Falling for someone you have to work with can be complicated at best, even more so when that person is an employee. Even so, Hamish’s PA has worked for him for about thirty seconds. If I know Hamish—and I do—the young man will either walk out or be sacked within a couple of weeks. Hamishcannotkeep a PA. He claims they’re all useless, but it’s most likely he doesn’t give them enough guidance and then expects them to work miracles. I love Hamish, but when he gets lost in writing his stories, he forgets the real world exists. God help anyone who interrupts him when the words are flowing.
Hamish is a big man, almost as tall as Cal and bulkier than me. He was born and raised near Edinburgh, and although he’s lived on the outskirts of London for the past few years, he hasn’t lost even a smidgen of his accent.
“I’m guessing from the invitations he sent us that he doesn’t know what kind of parties you throw,” Calvin says, scratching his chin.
“No.”
“Why don’t you tell him and see what his reaction is?”
Now there’s an idea. I tilt my head, waiting for Hamish’s reaction.
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Cal asks.
I’d like to know the same thing. Hamish isn’t generally cagey about his enjoyment of BDSM.
“He’ll run a mile,” Hamish says.
“Or he’ll ask if he can come to one,” I point out. I’m still trying to figure out if there’s a connection between Blake and Archie or whether it really is just a coincidence that they have the same surname.
“Would it be a bad thing if he runs?” Cal asks thoughtfully. “At least then you wouldn’t have to be in the same room as a guy you want but have told yourself you can’t have.”
“Of course I can’t have him.” Hamish sips his beer. “Would you ever screw one of the models you photograph?”
Smiling, I turn my attention to Cal.
“That’s different,” Cal replies, straightening his back.
“How?” Hamish demands.
“I’m in a position of responsibility, and my models are often letting themselves be very vulnerable around me. I’d never abuse that.” He gulps his beer. “But if I were to meet a guy I’d photographed in a bar or a nightclub, that would be different.”
I feel pretty much the same way about the models I work with during shibari sessions. No matter how beautiful they are, they’re off limits. That means Blake is off limits too unless…
“What if he found out about the parties by accident?” I’m thinking out loud, wondering if I could apply that logic to Blake.
“By accident?” Hamish asks.
“Accidentally on purpose.”
He scratches his beard. “That sounds like entrapment. No, I’m not playing silly buggers like that. I need to be professional. I’m an adult. I can control my desire. I was a fool to even ask you both here tonight. I’m being a numpty.”
If he’s a daft idiot, then so am I. I doubt Blake would be interested in me, even if we were somewhere where neither of us had to be professionals.
