Satan's Fury

# 3 #

Justin found himself moving slowly across the foyer to a door set into a slight recess to the side of the elevators. As the door opened, and the dark haired man, Michael, gestured him through into a long corridor lined with doors, Justin realised that he was feeling more than slightly sick. Michael kept wittering away but Justin was finding himself more and more detached from what was happening. Vaguely, he found himself considering the length of the corridor and thinking back to the size of the bar and reception lounge. He realised that, while at ground level the Quoin might only occupy one small coffee shop, above that it must stretch across a number of buildings to either side. He tried to keep his mind occupied with picturing exactly what the layout was, but his nerves and his fluttering stomach brought him back to reality. The reality of him walking down a corridor with a stranger for whom he felt no particular attraction at all towards a room and a bed and naked, intimate, awkward sex.

"It will be okay," he told himself. "I don't have to let him do everything. If I just let him suck me off, then at least I've done something."

His nerves, which had begun to calm, kicked in with a vengeance as he thought that maybe the guy would expect Justin to suck him. Justin fought the heaving in his stomach.

'I'm the customer,' he reassured himself. 'I get to say what we do.'

His mind flicked for a moment to the hazel eyed man and he allowed himself to believe that he was the one leading him along to a room where he would at last lose his despised virginity. He felt himself getting hard as he envisaged that wonderful mouth close to his own, got even harder as he fantasised about the warm wetness of it encircling his cock.

Then he bumped into Michael as he came to a halt outside a door and was brought back to reality once more with an unpleasant jolt. His hard on wilted almost instantly and he wondered what would happen if he couldn't get it up again. God! That would be the ultimate in embarrassment.

"Ah, Justin?"

He realised that while he had been considering his future as an impotent sexless virgin, Michael had been trying to get his attention.

"We need your key," Michael pointed out.

Justin pulled from his pocket the slender golden key he'd been given when he'd signed in, and slid it into the lock, hoping Michael wouldn't notice how much he was trembling.

The door opened into a truly beautiful room. It glowed softly with diffuse golden light. Opposite the door, curtains of a deep crimson brocade fell in graceful folds from a high pelmet to the floor. They matched the spread on the kingsized wooden bed, and toned with the upholstery on the graceful chaise longue. The furniture was all wooden and looked old with the deep patina of long and loving polishing. Dresser, bed and the chaise longue all shone softly in the lamplight. The standard lamp in the corner by the curtains was carved from what looked like marble in the shape of an arresting male nude. The walls had the rich colour and texture of stucco, except on the wall opposite the bed where a delicate yet vivid trompe l'oeil mural depicted a window looking out over a sunny vineyard.

Justin felt he could almost be in Italy, and found himself responding intuitively to the warm and inviting sensuality of the room, relaxing and beginning to once more feel slightly aroused. Until the man beside him spoke, and he was jerked back from a fantasy that he was sharing the room with the tall slender man with the hazel eyes and incredible mouth to confront a more mundane and far less inviting reality.

"The drinks are ready and iced. Would you like one now?" Michael said, reaching to help Justin off with his jacket.

Justin moved away slightly as he turned to stare at him. He wanted desperately to blurt out that this had all been a terrible mistake and that he simply couldn't go through with it. But Michael's brown puppy dog eyes were staring into his, and Justin didn't know how to get away without causing offence, and maybe even getting Michael into trouble, and it wasn't his fault that Justin was so … prissy. That's how he'd heard himself described, and it was probably true. He could never seem just to relax and let go the way his fellow art students found so natural and easy.

The lessons in manners that had been drummed into him since childhood kicked in however: 'Never make a fuss when you don't like a situation, just smile and get it over with'.

So he smiled, and nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

Michael walked over to the dresser and pulled out a cocktail shaker and glasses. The shaker was covered in a fine dew and Justin realised that the 'dresser' was in fact a cleverly disguised refrigerator.

Michael poured them each a drink, added olives and brought Justin's across to him.

Justin took it thankfully, holding it in front of him with both hands; a small glass shield.

Taking his own drink, Michael sipped it, and then moved towards Justin, who quickly brought his own glass, still clasped in both hands, up to his mouth. He realised on some level that he was using his arms and hands to form a barrier to the man's approach and vaguely wondered what he was going to do when he'd finished the drink. At the same time he found himself gulping the martini down as if it were a soda.

Then Michael's hand touched his back, stroking smoothly down from his shoulder. Justin had to stifle a squawk and force himself not to jump away. When he felt the hand near his buttocks however, he did step away, placing himself in front of the trompe l'oeil painting and pretending to study it. When he felt Michael once more getting close to him, he turned so that his back was to the wall, and found himself extending the glass in a gesture that perforce meant Michael had to keep his distance.

"I'd like another please."

The truth was, he didn't want another at all. He hadn't really wanted the first. He'd been far too nervous to eat much dinner and what he had managed to force down seemed to be laying very heavily in his stomach.

Michael gave him a slightly strange look, but moved to get him the drink. Justin forced himself to take a deep breath. His stomach was still twisting into knots and his skin had begun to feel cold and clammy. He could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage. Michael handed him the drink, but took the opportunity as Justin stretched out his hand to take it, to move up close to him before Justin could once more get the barrier of his arms in place.

Justin took in a deep breath.

"It's okay, Justin," the dark haired man soothed. "I know it's your first time. We won't do anything you don't feel comfortable with, I promise."

Justin wanted to scream at him that in that case he should back the fuck off but once more embarrassment and his deeply ingrained dread of making a scene held him silent.

He twisted his head instead to take a sip of his drink and even as he did he knew it was a mistake. This time as soon as he swallowed the alcohol, his stomach roiled. He felt Michael's hand caress his face and then move to the back of his neck, then Justin was pushing him away urgently.

"Bathroom!" he gasped.

Michael, stunned and more than a little affronted, pointed to a door in the corner of the room and Justin stumbled to it, pushing his way through and only just making it to the friendly porcelain before his stomach emptied itself. Thoroughly.

"Um … are you alright? Do you need a doctor or something?"

To his intense embarrassment, Justin heard from the doorway the voice he was coming to hate.

"No! No!" he choked. "I'll be fine."

Then his stomach spasmed again and he was forced once more to bend over the bowl. When he straightened up again, the man had gone.

Hoping that the worst was over and that his stomach would not again betray him, Justin stood and moved to the wash basin. He splashed water on his face and then opened the cabinet, hoping to find something to freshen his mouth. He was relieved to find not only mouth wash, but even toothpaste and a collection of new tooth brushes still sealed in their individual packs. Thankfully he opened one and spent some time cleaning his teeth thoroughly and gargling. After washing his face again, he felt more like himself.

"Like a total loser," he told himself bitterly. "Even in a damned brothel I can't get laid."

Deep inside, he knew that he'd wind up shedding hot shamed tears over tonight's fiasco. But for now, all he wanted to do was to get away from here with some shred of dignity still intact. He left the bathroom and was relieved to find the bedroom empty. He shrugged on his jacket and was crossing the room when he heard voices from outside the not quite closed door.

"It was bloody gross, Brian. He was spewing his guts up. I was just lucky it wasn't all over me."

That voice he knew.

"Yeah, alright, Mikey. I don't need the fucking details."

"Well, shit! How would you like it. I was just about to kiss him."

Justin stood mortified as the whiny voice went on.

"I know he's a bloody virgin, but he must be frigid or something. Shit!"

"So what did James say?"

"Oh, well … I haven't told him yet."

"Well, you'd better be doing that very little thing, Mikey."

"Oh, well. yes. What about you? I thought you were supposed to be with that computer guy."

"He just wanted a quickie tonight. He had some fuckin' work thing to go to."

Justin stood frozen in place, hoping that Michael would finally leave. Then maybe he could …

He sighed. He couldn't think of anything he could do that would rescue this from the disaster it clearly was. Resolutely, he walked to the door and pulled it open. Michael was disappearing up the corridor. But in front of him, hand raised as if he'd been about to open the door himself, He stood. Him. All hazel eyes and red mouth and Justin could only stand and stare at him.

The mouth sucked in on itself for a moment, and then, obviously when the man registered the blatant admiration, tinged with lust in his eyes, it twisted into something like a grin, unbalanced by the tongue the hazel eyed beauty had firmly placed in his cheek. Finally the man … Brian … had Michael called him Brian? … spoke.

"I was joost coomin' along t' check oop on you."

The strange Liverpool accent which Justin was only just coming to terms with was overlaid with a soft lilt that he thought might be Irish. Justin felt his insides melting and his cock hardening. He was suddenly short of breath. All of those symptoms intensified when Brian (surely it was Brian) reached out and gently brushed the hair from his forehead.

"Feelin' better?"

'Fabulous!' Justin wanted to say, because suddenly he was. 'I feel fabulous. Let's fuck!'

But all he could do was nod. The other man smiled down at him.

Brian could hardly believe his luck. He'd been hoping that Mikey's abortive trick would turn out to be the fair-haired little morsel he'd seen downstairs. He'd guessed there was a good chance. James and Douglas, his partner, seemed to believe that Mikey was good with virgins. And he might be … if they were closeted thirty-somethings who'd never been game to try anything before. Older men seemed to like his boyishness that let them feel mature and strong and in control. But a young hottie like this … he deserved something a lot better than Mikey's clumsy seduction act. And now he had a chance to get it.

Brian smiled into the flushed face before him. "Why don't we go out into the lounge and maybe get something to settle you down a bit.?"

The flush deepened. "I'm okay. I just … I hadn't eaten really and the drink …"

"Never a smart idea to drink on an empty stomach," Brian, who did it regularly, purred down at him. "Now, I'm guessing you have to wait for …?"

He ended on a question, curious as to the relationship between this beauty and the older man he'd come in with.

"My uncle," Justin blurted quickly, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding about that. "Well, great uncle really."

Brian's grin intensified as one eyebrow climbed towards his hair.

Justin flushed again realising how like a euphemism for something completely different that sounded. "No! really. He is. My grandfather's brother."

"Well, while you're waiting, why don't we go and get you something to eat? It might help to settle your stomach."

Brian made the offer knowing that what he wanted to eat was this delicious morsel in front of him. But he also knew that he needed to go slowly. Hell! This kid had been so freaked out by Mikey that he'd been throwing up. Brian knew that he might need to take some time with this one.

But he also knew that it would be time well spent.

If the guy was still a virgin, Brian wanted to be the one who popped his cherry. To start with, he was hot; aside from being good-looking, Brian sensed an underlying sensuality that was just waiting for the right man to release it - and Brian was sure that he exactly fitted that bill. But that aside, there was the professional aspect. Either this kid's uncle was very generous, or he had money of his own. Either way, if Brian could introduce him to the pleasures of sex, the chance was that he'd come back for more. And keep coming.

In his personal life, Brian never fucked anyone more than once. In his professional life, he'd learned early that having a base of regular customers gave him better status at the Quoin. It wasn't necessarily so much a case of more regulars as it was of who they were - quality rather than quantity. A quick phone call down to Marjorie and a few questions after he'd seen the two men downstairs had provided enough information for him to know that this guy's uncle was a favoured client at the Quoin.

If Brian pleased his nephew, and if his nephew became one of Brian's regular clients, then the fears that James and Douglas would terminate his contract after his six month's trial would be eased. Brian could not afford to lose this job. He needed it desperately. Not just for the money, although god knows he needed that. But his Quoin hours allowed him to keep up with his other responsibilities. Which included the bargain that he'd struck with Marjorie that meant she kept an eye on Claire on the nights that he worked.

Not for the first time, Brian wondered why his life was so much more complicated than that of any of the other guys who worked at the Quoin. Why his life had always been so much harder than anyone's that he knew. Then he cut himself off. No time now for self pity, he had to sooth and charm and seduce this delectable piece of arse. And all without James interfering.

Well, judging by the way the kid was looking at him, he wouldn't be too thrilled about any interference either. That was a good sign.

Brian smiled at him, and gestured down the hallway. Justin, almost shaking with a mix of joy and excitement and relief, stepped past him. Brian closed the door behind him, and allowed himself to place a hand lightly on his quarry's back as they walked together towards the door at the end.

Justin could feel the heat of Brian's hand on his back as they walked down the hall. His heart was doing some sort of complicated tap dance in his chest and he was still finding it hard to breathe. Suddenly, from being the most painfully embarrassing moment of his life, his nausea had assumed the guise of a miracle. But for the fact that he'd been sick, he'd still be stuck in that room with Mikey. Instead of which, he was with the guy of his dreams; except that he'd never have been able to dream someone who made him feel like this. Someone whom it felt so right to be with. Someone who …

At that point, Justin's heart stopped tap dancing. Felt like it stopped altogether. And suddenly his stomach was once more twisting itself into knots.

Someone who had sex for money.

And by the way his heart squeezed in agony at that realisation, Justin knew the horrible truth. With barely a word spoken between them, he was falling in love with a man who worked in a brothel. He was losing his heart to a whore.

He almost cried out a protest as that word flashed across his mind like a lash of fire. He stumbled, and might even have fallen if Brian had not quickly wound his arm round his waist to hold him upright.

"Are you sure that you're alright, Sunshine?"

The man's voice was warm and comforting in his ear.

Justin tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to have stuck to the roof of his mouth. His mind was whirring, desperately working out what he wanted to do.

Should he go ahead and have sex with this man anyway? It was, after all, what he'd come here to do. At least his first time would be with … well, with a whore. No way around that.

'But still,' he reasoned frantically, 'at least it would be with someone sexy and beautiful. And afterwards, well, afterwards I can just go home and …'

At that point another voice cut in and laid out the consequences remorselessly. 'You can go home and lay awake knowing that the man who took your virginity; the man you gave your virginity to; not just to have sex with someone, anyone, but because you wanted him, you maybe even love him - you can lay there knowing he feels nothing for you. To him, you're just one more customer. One more trick. And he's probably going to be with the next one before you're even in your car.'

He felt tears sting his eyes as he realised the dreadful mess he was in. If he didn't go ahead with this he knew he'd regret it for the rest of his life; that he would always wonder what it would have been like. Knowing himself, and his craving for romance, and his capacity to build lasting fantasies about even the most trivial interactions, he knew that if he didn't go through with it he would always be comparing every possible lover from now on with the impossibly perfect fantasy he would build up around what losing his virginity to Brian … to this man, this beautiful, perfect … whore would be like.

But, the problem was, if he did do it he was probably going to spend the rest of his life regretting that too. Always trying to make it something that it just wasn't going to be.

His mind seemed to shut down at that point. Then Brian gently touched his face.

"Are you alright", he asked again.

Justin looked up at him and their gazes held for a long moment. Then Brian, looking abruptly away, reached past him to push open the door leading to the lift foyer. Justin, feeling as if he'd just received a jolt from a cattle prod, walked through telling himself sternly that he was imagining things and that whatever he had felt when their eyes met, to Brian it meant nothing.

Then, just as Brian let the door swing closed behind them, without warning all his thoughts were sent scrambling by a deep urgent buzzing that started to hum through the whole building. It wasn't loud, but it seemed all the same to shiver the very walls. His startled eyes flew to Brian's.

Before Brian could say anything, however, the lift doors slid open and from them came the last sound that Justin could ever have expected to hear: the scared wailings of a small child. He was given no time to wonder where the sound was coming from, because as Brian took three rapid steps towards the lift, the doors slid fully open and, to Justin's complete astonishment, a small girl threw herself into the hazel eyed man's waiting arms.

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