Viggo had to admit he'd never seen a more beautiful man.
The brunette danced alone near the DJ's booth, his long lithe frame moving to the beat like a reed in the current of a powerful river. The jeans he wore were cut well below his hipbones, showing a sun tattoo just to the left of his navel. Though it was against the club's policy, the twenty-first century faun was shirtless.
Sweat sheened the hard, flat planes of a smooth chest and abdomen. The only hair was the alluring treasure trail disappearing into the waistband of the jeans like an arrow pointing the way to paradise. A silver nipple ring winked in the flashing lights, the boy's only adornment and more than he needed.
"Go get him, stud," Sean said.
Viggo hesitated. He was picking up a weird vibe and it wasn't from Sean. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. In fact, it was a silly idea.
"Sean," Viggo said. "Why don't we get back in the limo and call up one of the younger escorts like Jared? Even if he's engaged, he'll wrap it up fast and meet us wherever you like. He'd love it."
"Jared," Sean mused. "Yes, I saw his photo in the catalogue, or album, whatever you call your stud book. Pretty, but not … well, not him."
Sean directed his gaze to the dance floor again. "I want him," the Brit said.
"Okay," Viggo said, though the shivery feeling persisted. "Target sighted. Locked on."
Sean leaned against Viggo's back, watching the young man over the escort's shoulder. "Seduce him for me," Sean said, his breath warm against Viggo's ear.
"It's what I do," Viggo said. "If you want a show, that's what you'll get."
Sean raised an eyebrow as Viggo spun to face him.
"But if the kid isn't interested, I'm not going to press it," Viggo said.
"I'm a little hurt you feel the need to say that," Sean said, "but fair enough."
Viggo walked onto the dance floor like a timber wolf looking to cut a lamb from the flock. The writhing sweating bodies parted for him and hot-eyed stares followed his progress across the packed space. Just as the driving disco tune ended, Viggo stopped in front of the supple brunette and smiled.
"Hi," he said. "I'm Viggo and I'm not here to ask you to dance. Not because I can't dance, but because there's something else I'd rather do with you. I'm not going to get crude, but if there's anything I can do for you, or to you, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be right over there."
Viggo pointed to a clear space a few feet away and had the distinct pleasure of catching a smile on the young man's face. "I'm not kidding," Viggo said in mock-indignation. "I offer you my service, anytime, anywhere, and you laugh at me? Am I a clown for you amusement?"
"I loved *Goodfellas *" the dancer exclaimed in a soft British accent.
The boy laughed and the sound was swallowed up by the fierce beat of the new song starting up, but his eyes were sparkling and his sculpted lips drew back over white teeth. Viggo leaned close, in a perfectly acceptable night club/concert hall move and brought his mouth close to the young man's perfect ear.
"I'd love to talk to you," Viggo shouted.
Dark eyes darted toward the handsome man, assessing him for signs of possible homo-cidal tendencies. Finding no obvious faults, the boy gestured to Viggo to follow and walked off the dance floor. Viggo flicked a glance at Sean and saw the client already at the door of the club.
"Can we go outside?" Viggo asked, when the young man stopped near the bar.
"Slow down, stud," the young man said. "My name's Orlando; what's yours?"
"I'm Viggo. I introduced myself on the …"
"I know," Orlando said. "I just wanted to hear you say it again. That's a cool name. Viggo."
"I didn't think so when I was thirteen," Viggo said. "So, can we step outside?"
"Why?"
"I can't handle the noise," Viggo said. "Do you mind? I'd love a chance to know you better."
Orlando's sweet lips curved in a smile. "If you want to fuck me, you can just say so."
"Doesn't everybody want to fuck you?" Viggo inquired as he held the door open for Orlando.
The young man laughed merrily as he turned to look at Viggo over his shoulder. The autumn wind blew his thick chestnut locks across his face, half-veiling the delicate features. Again, Viggo felt that stirring of amorphous anxiety.
"This way," Orlando said, leading Viggo to the parking lot.
At the back of the lot with three other limos, Viggo could see Sean's diamond black Mercedes with Clive at the wheel. Taking Orlando's elbow gently, Viggo guided him toward the car. They were halfway across the lot when Orlando stopped.
"How far are we going?" Orlando asked.
"My car is in the back row," Viggo said.
"A limo?"
Viggo shrugged. "It has a lot of room," he said.
"You do want to fuck me," Orlando said. "I knew it."
"Do you really blame me?"
"Of course not. Everybody needs love. I know I do."
"You're very candid," Viggo said.
"It saves time. What did you want to talk about?"
"I don't really want to talk," Viggo said. "Or rather, I do want to talk, but I also want to fuck you."
"Now we're getting somewhere. I haven't been in America long, and until I find someone steady, I'm resigned to sharing myself with strangers once in a while. It's that or buy stock in batteries."
"That sounds hopeful for me," Viggo said. "Before this goes farther, not only do I want to take you in the limo, I want my date to watch."
Orlando's eyes went blank for a second and then his smile came back. "Silly me. For just a moment there, I thought I was going to be your date."
"You are," Viggo said. "This is a double date. Sort of."
"You don't want me to do both of you, do you? Because I won't. I'm horny, but not that horny."
"He just wants to watch," Viggo said.
"I did that once," Orlando confessed, a dimple appearing and disappearing in his cheek as his smile came and went uncertainly. "A friend of mine was like, I don't know, four or five months behind on his rent, and he knew this guy that knew someone that would pay like a thousand dollars to watch two young blokes, you know, have it off."
Viggo looked intently into the boy's face for a long moment. "You're a hustler," he said.
"A what?" Orlando asked with a shade too much innocence.
"And not a very good one," Viggo said. "You pitched me too soon. How long have you been doing this?"
Orlando sighed. "Since I ran out of money a few months ago."
"How much have you made?"
"None of your business. I'm not starving."
Viggo patted the boy's taut belly. "You're not over-eating either. What kind of experience do you have?"
"I'm over eighteen, if that's what you're asking."
"Just tell me how you've been earning your keep," Viggo said.
"Blow jobs, all right? I blow guys in cars and bathrooms. Some of them want to put their fingers in me and sometimes I let them."
"That's it?"
"You can't very well have a shag out in public," Orlando said in shock.
"You're wrong about that," Viggo said. "Have you ever been penetrated? By something besides a finger?"
"Why are we talking about this?"
"I'm curious," Viggo shrugged. "If we're going to do this, I'd like to know your experience."
"My first real boyfriend," Orlando said. "He really wanted to do it and I finally gave in and said yes. It was awful. He got too excited and it hurt like hell."
Viggo winced. "I knew this was a bad idea," he said. "Why don't you go back inside?"
"Why?"
"Sean wants to watch me fuck you," Viggo said. "And I would love to. I think I could show you what you're missing, what your boyfriend was too selfish to give you. But, it doesn't sound like you're ready for that."
"How much will he pay?"
"That's not the issue," Viggo said. "If you're not comfortable with …"
"Hey, when I was kid I didn't like vegetables and now I'm a vegetarian."
Viggo smiled. "It's your decision," he said. "Let's go talk to Sean."
Read chapter Three of Seven of Bailey's Two Men and a Babe
