Page 23 of Farkas: Gothika
“Will you join me for an evening stroll, Ludwig?”
That old name, long since rejected, sent a thrill down Lee’s spine. It sounded very different coming from Vincent’s mouth than it had from Lee’s parents or siblings. “A stroll?” he asked stupidly.
“A constitutional, if you will.”
“All right.” Sure. Why not? His life had tilted on its axis the first time he’d sat down in that limo, so he might as well go with it. And frankly, he didn’t want to resist.
Lee put on his shirt but didn’t tuck it in, and he didn’t add a tie or jacket. He slipped into his shoes and overcoat but skipped a hat. And although he half expected to go flying out the window, he and Vincent took the entirely conventional elevator, standing as silently as if they were unacquainted neighbors.
But on the street Vincent walked very close to him, guiding them down empty sidewalks. Streetlamps cast puddles of illumination, yet Vincent seemed somehow brighter in the shadows. He walked briskly, as if he had a destination in mind, and with a cheerful demeanor.
After a couple of blocks, Lee finally managed to ask. “Why are you here?”
“I thought that was obvious. To see you, of course.”
“If you need more legal help—”
“I do not.” Vincent stopped abruptly, stepped in front of Lee, and spun around to face him, nearly causing them to collide. “My affairs are quite in order for the moment. You did an excellent job. In a few months, poor old Laszlo Farkas will pass away, but his grandson will be prepared to take over.”
“Then why?”
Vincent gave Lee’s cheek a quick brush of his thumb, making Lee shudder. Just that simple bit of contact set his nerves on fire. He didn’t even care whether anyone was watching. He would have stripped bare and bent over right there on the dirty pavement if Vincent had commanded it.
Which he didn’t, although his grin suggested he knew the contents of Lee’s thoughts. “To see you,” Vincent said. “I wanted to give both of us a bit of time and space to clear our heads first.”
“My head hasn’t been clear,” Lee said with a growl.
“Nor has mine, my love. Quite honestly, I have not felt this giddy in… in a very long time.” His expression grew more serious. “But as I told you already, there are certain decisions that I make with utmost care—and you must do the same. In order to do so, you must understand the consequences of those decisions.”
Lee’s stomach lurched. “So tell me.”
“No. Words do not suffice. You must see.” He wrapped his arm around Lee’s and urged him forward. Anyone who saw them would have assumed they were two buddies out on the town, maybe a little drunk even though it was a weekday. That type of closeness between men was marginally acceptable in public. To Lee, however, it felt much more significant. He wanted both of Vincent’s arms around him, holding him, confining him.
Vincent finally stopped just in front of the Bradbury Building and pulled Lee into the entrance alcove.
“Are we going in there? Nice building, but all the offices will be closed.”
“No. Stay quiet and watch over there.” Vincent pointed to the bar across the street.
From the outside, the place looked sedate, but Lee was aware of its reputation and had briefly been inside once, mostly out of curiosity. It was a queer bar, but the patrons weren’t the subtle, sedate types who frequented the lounges he went to. In this place there were men in dresses; pretty hustlers who’d blow you for a few bucks and maybe steal your wallet while they were at it; effete literary types who dropped French words and lines of poetry; sailors looking for a wild time; college boys looking for the same; men who wore bright colors and spoke loudly, calling everyone darling; rough working men who might beat you or fuck you or both; men jittery with amphetamines, loopy with reefer, or drooping with heroin. Sometimes the vice squad busted the place up. It wasn’t a safe spot for someone like Lee who aspired to a partnership in a prestigious law firm.
Jesus, though—hadn’t he given up safe a couple of weeks ago?
“Are we going in?” Lee asked.
“No. Be patient, my love.” As if to distract Lee from his anxiety, Vincent moved close and, in a feat of admirable dexterity, managed to get his hand under Lee’s waistband and inside the back of his trousers and underwear. Vincent squeezed Lee’s ass, not especially gently, and—while Lee moaned quietly out of shame and need—slid one long, slim finger between Lee’s cheeks.
Oh God. The feel of that firm, cool digit was exquisite, nearly sending Lee out of his mind. But they were out in public, where anyone might pass by and glance into the doorway. Or someone might approach from inside the building. There would be no way for anyone to mistake what Vincent was doing to him—Christ, doing inside him—but Lee could not bring himself to pull away or to tell Vincent to stop.
Panting heavily, he leaned sideways against the brick archway while Vincent moved his finger rhythmically and licked Lee’s neck.
The door across the street swung open. Vincent went still as two men stumbled out, along with a waft of cigarette smoke and burst of music, but after a moment he sighed. “Not yet.” Then he continued torturing and delighting Lee.
This went on for a while, until Lee’s legs could barely hold him, but Vincent made disappointed little noises every time someone exited the bar. Lee was teetering on the precipice, only a hair’s breadth from tumbling over, when someone else came out—this one on his own—and Vincent purred, “Yes.” He withdrew his hand from Lee’s clothing and cut off a protest with a kiss. “Follow me,” he whispered.
Helplessly, Lee obeyed.
Vincent strode across the street with Lee at his heels, catching up with the bar patron just beyond the next building, in a dark spot in front of an alley. The man spun around, nearly losing his balance in the process. Lee couldn’t see him well but could tell that the man was young, possibly barely out of his teens, and dressed casually in jeans and a light jacket.