*** !!WARNING!! *** Gay fiction about to begin!
If you're not old enough please come back when you are. If you're not allowed to see this wherever you're accessing it from don't! You should go now at a run--if not, it's your neck and don't say I didn't warn you to leave. And last but not least--if you are offended by the thought of homosexuality then you're in the wrong place. Please go back the way you came in or you will be offended.
Now that you've been properly warned the story can begin, but first a word from the author.
The story thus far--oh wait! There is no story thus far! This is how it all started. I was asked how Ian and Jeremy in my story Pillow Talk met. Intrigued, this is the answer I imagined.
Before you read any further there is no sex in this chapter, so if that's your reason for reading you'll be disappointed. Like the story that it came from my intention is to give the sexual content a meaningful purpose and not just a lustful diversion. You can blame something positive on Hollywood for once or maybe not.
This came about because someone wanted to know how Ian and Jeremy first met. At the time I shrugged I hadn't given that a thought. As I continued to work on the first chapters the idea for this story came to me. So I hope you will enjoy this digression in to the past. Now on with the show!
Ian sat at the baby grand. His fingers danced over the ivory keys as he let his eyes roam around the restaurant. He smiled to himself as he realized it was his again. There was no trace of Marcus in the décor of the dining areas at all anymore. It had cost several thousand dollars, but Ian's--his restaurant with his name engraved in the window--reflected his tastes and not those of his manipulative ex-lover. A deep sense of satisfaction filled him knowing he had taken back control of his own life again. There were a few rooms left to repaint in the back and then all traces of Marcus would be gone.
His eyes returned to the keys as he reached a part of the music that was difficult for him. He concentrated on the notes and before he realized it he was through them. He was surprised that the music had just seemed to flow out of him. He smiled slightly with surprised pleasure at his own performance.
As he finished the piece he looked out at the audience to the applause of some of the customers. He smiled and nodded in humble gratitude. The ones who were applauding were regular patrons. They came in at least once a week usually on the same night. There were a few who came in as many as three nights a week. Ian realized they came in to listen to him play, so he always kept a look out for them. He tried to play his best whenever he saw them.
Just before he turned back to play he noted a table where two people sat. There were two men sitting there. One was applauding and the other was trying to stop him. It struck Ian as odd, because the man applauding was much younger than the other was. In fact, the younger man looked out of place.
The younger man was dressed well enough in a brown leather jacket and a light blue turtleneck, but the earrings he wore in each ear was unusual. His hair was bleached nearly white and his face could only be described as boyish. Ian felt a physical attraction to the young man.
The older man, whose face was turning bright red, was dressed in a dark business suit that looked tailor made to fit him. His hair was gray and thinning, and his eyes glanced nervously about the room as he grabbed for the young man's arms. It was obvious he had the money.
Ian turned his attention back to the piano's keyboard and began to play another piece. As the first notes of music filled the room he remembered seeing the young man in the restaurant before. He had been with another man that night if Ian remembered correctly.
Ian realized what that could mean. The young man could be a gigolo. Only countless hours of practice kept him from missing a note. Despite his colored hair and ear jewelry, Ian thought he was a handsome kid. He was a little disappointed that such a youth was resorting to prostitution to make a living.
Ian played through the number and didn't stop before going straight in to the next one. He heard some voices as he played this time. It was unusual for patrons at Ian's to make a spectacle, but it did happen on the rare occasion. He did not look up because he trusted his staff to handle those `rare' occasions.
When he finished Ian finally looked up. The regular crowd was applauding politely again.
He noted with mild disappointment that the table where the young man and his `patron' had been sitting was empty. He easily kept his disappointment from showing on his face. He silently chastised himself for letting the beauty of the young man get to him. It was that same beauty that led him into trouble with Marcus.
Ian dismissed Marcus from his mind. That rotten bastard was out of his life now and the damage he had caused had been mostly repaired. It would not be long until there would be nothing to remind him of that damned man.
Ian's attention was drawn away from cursing his ex-lover by a subtle signal from the manager. Ian was the owner, but since most of his evenings were spent on the piano he had hired someone to take care of the rest of the restaurant's operations.
Looking up, Ian could see that it was nearly time for his first break of the evening. He wondered what the man felt he needed Ian's input to take care of.
"Enjoy your meal, Ladies and Gentlemen. I'll be back in a few minutes." Ian smiled and headed back to meet his manager.
Ian asked quietly, "Is there a problem, Owen?"
"I have a young man in the office who can't pay the check. I was going to call the police, but well. Maybe you'd better talk to him about it." Owen sounded nervous.
"Okay." Ian frowned slightly.
Owen Hollings was a good man who knew his job. If he was this nervous it was because a situation came up he had never encountered and that the two of them had never discussed before.
They walked back to the office and Ian opened the door. He was surprised to see the young man he had been admiring earlier sitting there. Ian felt himself react to the young man.
Ian took the time walking from the door to his desk to gather his wits and get himself under control. It would not do for this young man to sense Ian's reaction to him. Ian sat down and looked at the ticket on the desk in front of him.
He had eaten well, Ian thought to himself. He finally looked up at the young man.
"Mr. Hollings tells me that you have a problem paying your bill." Ian said calmly. "Would you care to explain what the problem is?"
The young man shrugged, "My client got mad and left--sticking me with the check."
"Client?" Ian asked. "You don't buy your client's dinner?"
"My clients pay me to have dinner with them." The young man said. Then with a grin that Ian was sure was aimed to put him off guard the young man said, "Among other things."
"I see." Ian replied nonplused. "You're a male escort, then?"
The young man shifted. Ian smiled to himself. The man obviously expected to gain the upper hand by admitting he was an escort.
"Yes." The man finally said.
"You expect that I won't want it getting around that my restaurant is frequented by male escorts and their clients, so I'll just let you get away without paying." Ian said calmly.
The man was nervous now.
Ian decided to push it. "Well, I'm not concerned with that. I can't stay in business--seedy or otherwise--if I let people go without paying for their meals."
Ian could see Owen close his eyes behind the young man. Obviously, he thought this situation should be handled differently. The truth of the matter was that Ian was unsure how to handle any of it. He knew he could not just let the young man get away with it. At the same time, the young man's belief that Ian did not want the negative publicity that could be attracted by this situation was correct.
Just as Ian was about to relent he noticed the paint cans and plastic drop cloth sitting in the corner of the office. As he remembered why those materials were there, Ian knew exactly what he was going to do.
"You're half right, I don't want the publicity the police would draw." Ian said. "But at the same time, I don't want you spreading the word that I'm just going to roll over and give any one of you a free meal either."
Ian leaned forward, "You have identification, don't you?"
"Yeah," the young man said hesitantly.
"Let me see it." Ian held out his hand.
The man hesitated for a minute. Then sighing reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and showed Ian his driver's license.
Ian took a piece of paper and wrote down the young man's name and address.
Then he asked, "Do you know how to use a paint brush, Jeremy?"
"Yeah." Jeremy replied. He was clearly not pleased with anything that was happening here.
"Good," Ian said. "Monday morning, I want you to meet me here at nine o'clock. You're going to paint this office to pay off your bill."
"You can't make me do that." Jeremy argued.
"It's either that," Ian interrupted. "Or we call the police right now."
Jeremy glared at him. Finally he said, "Fine, I'll paint the office."
"Good." Ian smiled.
Visibly unhappy, Jeremy jumped up from the chair and grabbed up his wallet. "Can I leave now?"
"Yes." Ian said calmly.
Jeremy walked to the door and just as he took hold of the doorknob Ian called out, "If you don't show up Monday morning, I will have my staff refuse to let you back in. You can explain that to your clients."
"I'll be here." Jeremy declared and slammed the door on his way out.