seats. “This is comfortable in an entirely ungodly way.”
“It’s not when you try to go for a blowjob,” Henri said and patted the console. “Despite my best attempts, I’ve never managed in this car.”
Nikolai regarded the molded legroom and the high console, and since the car had no backseats, there was really only one place to have sex anywhere around the car. “Leaves the hood.”
Henri made a funny little sound close to a breathless stutter minus words.
Nikolai glanced at him, eyebrow arched. “Hadn’t occurred to you?”
Henri laughed, but it was a little strangled. “For a straight guy, you’re playing this very well.” He started the car and weaved into traffic.
With my family, it takes a great deal more than my First—okay, Second—Gay Experience to catch me out. Nikolai smiled. “Though I’ve found they are uncomfortable as hell.”
Henri shot him a warning glance. “Try not to get me to crash the car.”
“Just making conversation.” Nikolai grinned. He liked flustering Henri, liked his spontaneous, unguarded responses. Wasn’t that one of the things sex was about? Breaking down barriers? Though Henri was good at being vulnerable, despite the extremely expensive suits and the power he wielded in the boardroom.
Henri was silent for a while, then asked, “How did you spend the day?”
“Dealing with my family, and looking at the city.”
“And do you like it?”
“Well, I’d heard Toronto was nice, so I wasn’t all that surprised.” Henri was too polite to ask about the family, at least, and Nikolai wasn’t sure how he’d have responded. “What about you?”
“Caught up with work email. Once the IT guys hand you a BlackBerry, you’re giving away your weekends, regardless of where you are.”
“Electronic slave collar, yeah, sounds like it.”
Henri shot him another glance. “Interesting way to describe it. Are you into it?”
“No. I mean, not really. Nothing really wild.”
Henri nodded. “I guess I was more adventurous. I had a bit of a crazy youth.”
“You did bondage?”
“One of my partners was into it, so I gave it a try. I guess that’s part of the attraction of much stronger men for me. The illusion that . . .” He waved his hand.
“You can’t control them.”
“Yeah.” Henri turned his head this way and that, checking the traffic, then parked on the side of a street, not far away from a restaurant called Hellas . “Sometimes, it’s nice not to think.”
“That’s the part I get. Just relax into it, go with the flow. But I’m not into hurting people.”
“No, you’re the gentle giant type.”
“I’m hardly that big.”
“From down here, you are.” Henri smiled at him and opened the car door. “Much as I’d like to take you back to the condo right now, I did promise you food first.”
“I still have questions.”
“Sure. I’ll ask for a table that’s a bit more private.” Henri opened the door and greeted the waiter, explaining which table he wanted, and within moments, they were comfortably tucked away in a corner, several tables away from any hapless witnesses.
“So, what did you want to know?”
“Those wild times?”
“Ah. Well, my father is the rogue in the family. Sensitive artist, beatnik, got involved in various causes. Like the Native rights movement, where he met my mother. He battled addiction for most of his life, so my uncle was forced to be the sensible one and take over the company. And he’s done really well, but he wasn’t on board with what my father did with his life. There was real poison between them—allowances cut, an attempt to have him committed, you know. I tried to escape from it all, traveled, got into a lot of different beds, some real shit, too. And one day I’m sitting on the beach in Goa, or it might have been Koh Samui, stoned out of my head, and realize I’m turning into my old man, only I can’t paint worth a damn and never organized a petition. Somehow, I’d pissed away
“It’s not when you try to go for a blowjob,” Henri said and patted the console. “Despite my best attempts, I’ve never managed in this car.”
Nikolai regarded the molded legroom and the high console, and since the car had no backseats, there was really only one place to have sex anywhere around the car. “Leaves the hood.”
Henri made a funny little sound close to a breathless stutter minus words.
Nikolai glanced at him, eyebrow arched. “Hadn’t occurred to you?”
Henri laughed, but it was a little strangled. “For a straight guy, you’re playing this very well.” He started the car and weaved into traffic.
With my family, it takes a great deal more than my First—okay, Second—Gay Experience to catch me out. Nikolai smiled. “Though I’ve found they are uncomfortable as hell.”
Henri shot him a warning glance. “Try not to get me to crash the car.”
“Just making conversation.” Nikolai grinned. He liked flustering Henri, liked his spontaneous, unguarded responses. Wasn’t that one of the things sex was about? Breaking down barriers? Though Henri was good at being vulnerable, despite the extremely expensive suits and the power he wielded in the boardroom.
Henri was silent for a while, then asked, “How did you spend the day?”
“Dealing with my family, and looking at the city.”
“And do you like it?”
“Well, I’d heard Toronto was nice, so I wasn’t all that surprised.” Henri was too polite to ask about the family, at least, and Nikolai wasn’t sure how he’d have responded. “What about you?”
“Caught up with work email. Once the IT guys hand you a BlackBerry, you’re giving away your weekends, regardless of where you are.”
“Electronic slave collar, yeah, sounds like it.”
Henri shot him another glance. “Interesting way to describe it. Are you into it?”
“No. I mean, not really. Nothing really wild.”
Henri nodded. “I guess I was more adventurous. I had a bit of a crazy youth.”
“You did bondage?”
“One of my partners was into it, so I gave it a try. I guess that’s part of the attraction of much stronger men for me. The illusion that . . .” He waved his hand.
“You can’t control them.”
“Yeah.” Henri turned his head this way and that, checking the traffic, then parked on the side of a street, not far away from a restaurant called Hellas . “Sometimes, it’s nice not to think.”
“That’s the part I get. Just relax into it, go with the flow. But I’m not into hurting people.”
“No, you’re the gentle giant type.”
“I’m hardly that big.”
“From down here, you are.” Henri smiled at him and opened the car door. “Much as I’d like to take you back to the condo right now, I did promise you food first.”
“I still have questions.”
“Sure. I’ll ask for a table that’s a bit more private.” Henri opened the door and greeted the waiter, explaining which table he wanted, and within moments, they were comfortably tucked away in a corner, several tables away from any hapless witnesses.
“So, what did you want to know?”
“Those wild times?”
“Ah. Well, my father is the rogue in the family. Sensitive artist, beatnik, got involved in various causes. Like the Native rights movement, where he met my mother. He battled addiction for most of his life, so my uncle was forced to be the sensible one and take over the company. And he’s done really well, but he wasn’t on board with what my father did with his life. There was real poison between them—allowances cut, an attempt to have him committed, you know. I tried to escape from it all, traveled, got into a lot of different beds, some real shit, too. And one day I’m sitting on the beach in Goa, or it might have been Koh Samui, stoned out of my head, and realize I’m turning into my old man, only I can’t paint worth a damn and never organized a petition. Somehow, I’d pissed away
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