Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” O’Brian said without a touch of irony. “In fact, Valenti and I were thinkin’ about getting’ something like that for ourselves.”
“What, both of you?” Twonnie raised one delicate eyebrow disapprovingly.
“Well, yeah. Look, Turk did tell you what we’re doing, right?” O’Brian frowned and put one hand on Valenti’s shoulder. “We’re gonna go undercover at the RamJack, so we need any information you can give us. Plus a few wardrobe hints, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. But, honey, if you both go into the RamJack dressed like I am tonight, you’ll be eaten alive. Might as well throw a piece of raw meat into a cage full of hungry tigers.” He shivered theatrically and shook his head. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Well, then, how are we supposed to dress?” Valenti spoke up for the first time, trying to keep his eyes off the male couples all around them and ignore the warmth of his partner’s hand on his arm. What would it be like to dance with O’Brian that way, he wondered. To hold him close ...
“Well, let me see ... stand up.”
Shrugging at each other, the two men complied with the request, turning slowly in place before sitting back down. Twonnie nodded his head as though satisfied with himself.
“You,” he pointed at Valenti, “get to be the daddy.”
“The what?” Valenti wondered what the hell Twonnie was talking about.
“The sugar-daddy, honey. Everybody in the scene knows the RamJack is where all the wealthy sugar-daddies take their boy toys for fun in the sun. None of the twinkies can get in without a well-to-do sponsor, if you know what I mean.”
“So I guess that makes me the boy toy.” O’Brian’s voice was mild, but his face was dark, and his eyes flashed emerald with irritation.
“’Fraid so, sweetie.” Twonnie seemed not the least bit fazed by O’Brian’s anger.
“Why?” O’Brian asked the same thing Valenti was wondering. “Why does Valenti get to be the ‘daddy’ and I have to play the twinkie? We’re almost exactly the same age.”
“Age doesn’t have anything to do with this relationship, honey. We’re talking money and dominance. Specifically, the daddy has both and the boy has neither. And as for why your partner gets to be the daddy, several reasons.” Twonnie ticked them off on slim brown fingers that had, Valenti noticed, an impeccable manicure.
“First of all, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome is just that -- tall. He has broad shoulders, and he gives off those brooding, dangerous vibes like crazy. Very butch. Sorry, honey, but he just looks more like the dominant type. Also, he’s got that kind of ‘fuck the cost, bring me the best’ look about him. An air of privilege, if you will. I bet he comes from money; am I right, gorgeous?” Twonnie batted his lashes and leaned across the spindly table to address Valenti, making him distinctly uncomfortable.
“I ... ah, my folks had some cash,” he mumbled at last, wondering if he really did look brooding and dangerous when what he mostly felt was uncomfortable. The money was one of the reasons he’d been anxious to get away from home -- the weight of it pressing down on him, demanding he do things his father’s way. Putting some distance between himself and the family money had freed up his life a lot, and he wasn’t anxious to go back to it.
“See?” Twonnie turned to O’Brian triumphantly, proving his point. “Your man Valenti here has had some experience with the upper crust, and he knows how to act it. Whereas you, honey ... well, don’t take this wrong, but you’ve got the streets written all over you. You grew up in a rough neighborhood, didn’t you? I’m thinking from your accent maybe even the mean streets of Boston. Pahk the cah in the Havahd yahd, right?”
O’Brian looked surprised. “Geez, what are you, kid -- a psychology major, or just a student of the human condition?”
“Sociology,” Twonnie said primly. “There’s more to this little twinkie than meets the eye, gentlemen. I’ll have my master’s degree in June, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy playing the scene. Or that I mind helping you play, too, if you can put Vincent Conrad away. The boy that OD’d last week was my good friend.”
His eyes glimmered gently in the gloom of the club, and for a moment Valenti was afraid their guide to the gay world was going to burst into tears. Apparently O’Brian feared the same thing because he reached out and put a comforting hand on one of Twonnie’s slender shoulders.
Valenti was surprised at the bitter zing of jealousy that shot through him to see his partner’s square, well-shaped hand resting on someone else’s shoulder. Get a grip on yourself; he’s just being a nice guy. Just doing what he always does for you. The thought wasn’t the least bit comforting.