Viggo looked up from the mirror at the sound of a pleasant chime. He checked his image one last time.
Sun-gilded hair, short but not too short, artlessly tousled as though he'd just stepped off a yacht. Check.
Vivid blue eyes, the whites bright white and clear of any hint of bloodshot. Check.
Chiseled, high-planed features with nearly symmetrical bone structure and a becoming shadow of stubble on prominent dimpled chin and square jaw. Check.
Compact, lean-muscled body shown off to best effect by a pair of snug, but not tastelessly tight, black trousers and a contour-hugging pullover of knitted silk that matched his eyes exactly. Check.
The chime sounded again and Viggo pushed the button on the intercom.
"Yes, Russell?"
The concierge replied respectfully. "Your car is here, Mr. Mortensen."
"Thank you, Russell. I'll be right down," Viggo said.
The handsome man rode down in the art deco glass elevator from the fourth floor penthouse to the lobby. He stopped at the desk to chat for a moment. The personal touch was Mortensen's hallmark and it never hurt to let the client assume you were busy.
"How is your evening going, Russell?" Viggo asked warmly.
"I don't want to bitch, I mean, grouse to you, Mr. Mortensen," the brawny concierge said. "But the damn phones, excuse my French, are giving me fits tonight."
"Call Colin," Viggo said sympathetically. "That's what he's here for. Hence his job title: Maintenance Chief."
"I just want to throw the bloody thing at the wall," Russell said.
Viggo smiled. "Call Colin. Even if he can't fix the phone, he can cheer you up."
Russell looked up to catch Mr. Mortensen's wink. The concierge smiled back and suddenly his night was better.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I hope you have a wonderful evening."
"I always do," Viggo said. "I guess I've kept them waiting long enough."
Admiringly, Russell watched the golden man walk out of the lobby and into the Mercedes limo at the curb. Russell would tell anyone that would listen. Mr. Mortensen was a real man.
It's hard to say if Russell's opinion would have changed if he had been a passenger in the limo, but probably not. Russell was gay as were most of the employees of the McKellen Arms; the owner of the apartment building liked it that way.
Moments after Viggo entered the limo, the gentleman in the back seat had unzipped Mortensen's pants and taken hold of what he found inside. Viggo didn't protest by word or deed; he merely sat back and opened his legs a bit wider.
"Am I being too eager?" the man asked.
Viggo shook his head. "I'm flattered. I'd think you'd be tired of me by now, Mr. Bean."
"Sean. How many times must I tell you to call me Sean when we're like this?"
"As many times as it takes, I expect. Seriously though, you've asked for me every night for ten nights in a row. Are you sure you aren't getting jaded?"
"Not bloody likely," Sean grinned as he squeezed Viggo's cock gently. "You don't often see tackle like this unless you're at the race track."
Viggo smiled easily. He was used to fielding compliments on his equipment. Size meant nothing to him, but it had certainly given him an edge over the competition.
"I'll be going back to Merrie Olde very soon," Sean said. "And I intend to spend every evening until then in your company. If that's all right with you."
"Hey. You're signing the checks," Viggo said.
"You are so perfect," Sean said, touching Viggo's cheek. "I wish I dared … however, no use dwelling on what we can't have. I can't come out and even if I did, I don't think you feel *that way* about me. So let's fuck and have fun until it's time for me to go."
"Sounds like a plan," Viggo drawled. "What are we doing tonight? You said casual dress, but you didn't say where."
"We're going to do something a little different," Sean said. "I'm not bored with you, but I would like to bring someone else along tonight."
Viggo raised his eyebrows. "Anyone I know?
"Neither of us know him yet," Sean said. "We're going to pick him up at a bar."
"What? That can be … dangerous, you know."
"We know we're clean and we'll wear condoms, if you like," Sean said. "I won't be dissuaded."
"It's your call," Viggo said. "Is he a pro?"
"I've no idea."
"You'd better tell me exactly what you want," Viggo said.
"I want you to pick up the most beautiful boy we can find and fuck him in this limo while I watch," Sean said eagerly.
Viggo blinked. "A stranger? I'm not sure …"
"I am," Sean interrupted. "Will you do it for me? I'll double your nightly rate."
"It's not the money, though I'll take it. I'm just wary of the dangers."
"Aside from diseases, there are two of us plus the chauffeur," Sean said reasonably. "I think it will be all right. Are you game?"
"This has the distinct odor of a wager," Viggo said guardedly.
It was Sean's turn to blink. "A bet?" he said. "Look, V., I might not have a problem paying you to have sex with me, but I don't gamble with my money. That's for fools, and even if I were a gambler, I wouldn't bet on something like this. I just want to watch you in action."
"All right then," Viggo said. "You're the captain of this boat."
"And you're the most able-bodied seaman I've ever met," Sean said, keying the intercom open. "Clive, take us to that club that was recommended. I can't remember the name."
"The Odds and Ends, sir," the chauffeur answered. "We're on our way."
Viggo grimaced. The Odds and Ends was a super-trendy disco frequented by A-list actors, brainy alt-rockers and glamour Goths. It was also a notorious Twinkie meat locker with a reputation for serving up the finest selection of prime ass in town. Viggo had never been there, of course, but he'd heard about it.
The escort quickly rearranged his striking features into a pleasant expression as Sean turned to look at him. "The Odds and Ends," Viggo said. "Interesting choice."
"I asked around," Sean said.
"What about your reputation?"
"Well, in point of fact, I had Clive ask around," Sean grinned.
Viggo's breath hissed in through his teeth as Sean squeezed his balls. "So let me get this straight … so to speak. You want me to go into the, mmm that feels good, into the Odds and Ends, pick up the most attractive guy and do him in the limo."
"While I watch," Sean reminded, as his hand slid lower.
"While you watch," Viggo repeated, spreading his legs farther apart. "Is that it?"
Sean eased a finger along Viggo's crack until he found the moist opening. Viggo groaned softly as the client prodded teasingly at his entrance. Unable to resist any longer, Sean bent his neck and took Viggo's mouth.
Viggo opened to Sean, holding his own in the slippery duel of tongues. The escort cupped the back of the other man's head, weaving his fingers into the shaggy blonde hair as he prolonged the kiss. It was one of the things Viggo most enjoyed about sex, and Sean had a world-class mouth.
Sean eased the tip of his finger into Viggo, rubbing the heel of his hand firmly against the escort's sack. Viggo pushed a hand into Sean's crotch and fondled the firm bulge of flesh.
"Oh yeah," Sean breathed, breaking contact with Viggo's lips. "You have the most amazing touch. I swear your hands are warmer than other people's or something."
"You're nuts," Viggo chuckled.
"My nuts?" Sean smiled. "Are right below the organ you are teasing so unmercifully."
Viggo gasped as Sean pressed firmly against his prostate and swirled his finger around. "I'm reminded of a saying about a pot and a kettle," he said.
"This isn't teasing," Sean said, nipping at Viggo's earlobe.
Viggo groaned and reached for his arousal. "The hell it isn't," he whispered.
The car stopped and Sean sat up, pulling his hand from Viggo's trousers. "We're here," he said. "Are you ready?"
Viggo zipped his pants and looked down at the ostentatious swell at his crotch. "Yep. I brought my best rod; let's see what we can catch."
"I really appreciate this," Sean said, as Clive opened the door. "I don't want you to think you aren't enough for me. I just have a craving to watch you without being involved in the action. I hope you can understand."
"Doesn't matter if I understand," Viggo smiled his easy smile. "And, as kinks go, it barely deserves the name."
"Shall we then?"
A couple of hundred dollar bills and their handsome faces bought Sean and Viggo's way into the hottest club in the city. They entered the maelstrom of light, sound and heat and paused at the threshold of the sunken dance floor. Sean put a hand on Viggo's shoulder as they inspected the clientele for likely candidates.
To their right, perched on a bar stool was a slight young man with the biggest blue eyes and the smoothest skin Viggo or Sean had ever seen. He had a thick mane of curling auburn hair and teeth like pearls, which he showed in a ready smile.
"He's pretty," Sean said.
Viggo nodded. "Very, but if you notice, he saves his special smile for the bartender. That boy's in love and won't fuck me in a limo, guaranteed."
"Just as well," Sean said. "He's pretty, but I'm looking for something even more exceptional. I want to find a boy that's your equal for beauty."
"Aw shucks, you're embarrassing me," Viggo said and nudged Sean with his elbow. "What about him?"
Sean looked across the room and caught the brooding, black gaze of a tall, muscular man with small regular features under a brutally short haircut. A cut-off black tank showed off bulging biceps and a rock-hard six-pack.
"Think we could take him?" Sean asked doubtfully.
Viggo chuckled. "I think we'd have to. I was kidding, Sean."
"Ooh," Sean breathed and Viggo followed the man's glance to the left.
"Wow!" was Viggo's assessment.
"That's him," Sean said.
Read chapter Two of Seven of Bailey's Two Men and a Babe
