10
10
Ripley's week had gone well. Success in court was always something to be pleased about, but in the evenings, the flurry of messages between him and Fen had somehow made his world lighter.
Ripley had texted Hi. I can't sleep.
Fen had replied I can. Goodnight.
That had made Ripley laugh more than it should have. As had Fen's text How do you keep an idiot in suspense?
Ripley had replied I don't know. How?
He tapped in How? again when Fen didn't reply. Then Hello? And finally Oh, damn it. Fen sent back a GIF of a smiling dog.
Ripley was surprised how much he looked forward to silly texts—how old was he? —and to hearing about Fen's day, and even how much he enjoyed telling Fen what he could about his.
Now it was Friday, Ripley would see him in person and he was feeling…nervous, which was a strange sensation. Even in court, anxiety was rarely an issue for him, mostly because he never went into court without being thoroughly prepared.
Yes, sometimes the unexpected happened, a witness changed their testimony, or disappeared, or evidence was ruled inadmissible, but he saw those events as challenges. Mostly. He was used to public speaking, accustomed to talking to people from all walks of life: whether that was a homeless man, a newsreader who was on TV almost every night or a murderer. It didn't matter whether someone was a top tier businessman or if they had a title. People were still people. Some were arseholes and others were not. But they all had to obey the law and suffer the consequences if they chose not to and were caught.
Sometimes, waiting for the conclusion of a jury's deliberations did make him edgy because he could never be a hundred percent certain the verdict would go the way he wanted or expected. Justice wasn't always done, particularly when a client walked out of court a free man when Ripley was convinced they were guilty.
Tonight, he wasnervous for a different reason. Mostly because he feared he'd over-thought this and would end up disappointed. That could be avoided by not setting out his proposal and merely letting things roll. Since the whole notion had come to him, he'd swung between ask and don't ask. Indecision bred anxiety and more indecision. What he wanted to propose was the right thing for both him and Fen, but… There was a but.
He decided he'd see how things went this evening. Thinking on his feet was one of his strengths. He might as well use it.
When he arrived at the place where they were eating, Fen was waiting by the lifts in the lobby. He looked so pleased to see him that Ripley felt as if his heart lurched in his chest. Fen didn't have his crutch.
"Hi." Fen gave him a bright smile.
"Hi. No trusty weapon tonight?"
"Sometimes I can manage without. Plus, I don't want to take the risk of attacking someone who looks at you wrong."
Ripley chuckled. "How did you know I wasn't already in the restaurant?"
"I went up and checked, then came back down again."
"What if I'd been going up as you'd been coming down?"
Fen made a mock gasp of shock. "That would have been a disaster. We could have been doing it all night."
Ripley pressed the button and the lift door opened straightaway. He gestured for Fen to go in first. The moment the doors closed, Ripley pulled Fen in and kissed him. Impulse, a touch of desperation fed by lust… It couldn't be a long kiss. The lift was too fast for that. But the kiss was long enough to make Ripley's pulse race and his cock swell. I still want him. Had he needed to convince himself?
They broke apart before the doors opened and Fen looked into his face through heavy-lidded eyes. "Should we go down again? Then back up, then down… We could."
Ripley swallowed hard.
"Are you thinking about it?" Fen asked.
For a moment, he did. But common sense prevailed. He nodded towards the entrance of the restaurant. Ripley gave his name, their coats were taken and they were shown to a table by the window.
"Oh wow," Fen whispered. "What an amazing view of the city."
The only view Ripley had any interest in was Fen with his unusually tidy hair, dazzling smile and those sparkling blue eyes enhanced by eyeliner. Ripley had never been interested in any man who wore make-up, yet on Fen, it was perfect.
Wine and food were ordered and Ripley leaned back in his chair. "How was your day?"
"I did a Tai Chi class which went well, but at work I nearly got into trouble with Charles. Though that's not unusual. I was dealing with a customer who'd brought a picture frame in for repair and Charles was showing Victorian rings to a lady in very high heels. I heard her ask if they were used rings and I ended up pretending to have a coughing fit so no one realised I was laughing."
"What did Charles tell her?"
"They'd had very important owners. But she still looked dubious. Then she got a ring stuck and put her finger in her mouth. Charles was flapping around saying, ‘Don't suck it. I'll put cream on it. If you keep yanking, it will get more swollen and you're not going to be able to pull it off.'" Fen grinned. "How could he not realise how that sounded?"
"Do rings often get stuck?"
"More often than you'd think. I don't get why people keep pushing them on when they see how tight they are. Probably because their fingers are not as slender as they imagine. Anyway, how was your day?"
"There was a last-minute change of plea and we finished early. I'm not working on Monday so I'll be at my mother's when your firm goes to do the valuation. Think you can come too?"
"Alistair is bringing me and Scott."
"Great. I have a couple of estate agents calling as well."
"Not much of a day off."
"No."
"What do you usually do if you get time off?"
"Catch up on stuff I should have done. Exercise. Sleep. What about you?"
"I told you I was teaching myself Japanese, so I tend to do that. I want to be able to read it as well and that's tricky. There are three different scripts to learn. Hiragana, kanji and katakana."
"Sounds unnecessarily complicated."
"Yes and no. There is a reason. I can give you an example. If I said—I'm Fen— that's watashi wa fen desu. The word for I is watashiand written in kanji. The core meanings of sentences are written in kanji such as nouns, but verbs and adjectives are written in a combination of kanji and hiragana. The waand desuare written in hiragana but Fen and other words that come from abroad, like coffee and computer, are written in katakana." Fen winced. "Too much information?"
"Not at all. Say something to me in Japanese."
"Watashi o oidashite kurete arigatō."
"Meaning?"
"Thank you for asking me out. And you can say dou itashimashitei,which means you're welcome."
"Dou itashimashitei."
Fen beamed. "It sounds so different to European languages. Reminds me of a time Mum and I went out and we spoke in a pretend language all morning. It was fun."
Ripley's mother didn't have fun in her vocabulary.
"So Japan is on your wish list?" Ripleypressed his knee against Fen's under the table and kept it there as he watched him.
"I'd love to go, but the cost…" Fen shrugged. "It's not only the airfare, though I'd need to travel business class so I could lie down for some of the journey, but paying for hotels and going to visit different cities. It would be expensive. Still…one day, maybe."
The wine arrived, Ripley tasted and approved it, and it was poured.
When the waiter had moved away, Fen said, "Why do they present the bottle to you as if it's a rare thing? And when you taste it, have you ever said This is horrible. Take it away?"
"The waiter is showing me it's the bottle I ordered so there's no issue with the bill. And no, I've never refused a bottle, but it could be corked, so best to check."
"How can you tell if it's corked?"
"It tastes musty, sort of peaty."
"How do you know what peat tastes like?"
"Smells peaty."
"So you're a peat sniffer?" Fen grinned.
"In my spare time."
"Do you drink with your meals at home?"
"Not every day, but I do like a glass of red wine occasionally."
"It would be a bit wasted with beans on toast."
"Yep. White wine with that."
Fen let out a loud laugh and clapped his hand to his mouth. "Sorry. You're funny. I didn't know whether you would be. Your texts made me laugh. I thought you might think it was childish."
"I didn't."
The meal arrived. Fen had ordered fish. Ripley had steak.
"I hope you didn't have more trouble from those youths."
Fen glanced up and Ripley gave a heavy sigh.
"Did I give myself away?" Fen asked.
"Forgotten what I do for a living?"
"Damn it. Will I ever be able to hide what I'm thinking?"
"Probably not. Did you have more trouble?"
"Not after that night."
Oh shit. "I'm also an expert at seeing what is unsaid. What happened?"
"I'm not lying."
"But you're hiding something."
Fen groaned. "You didn't even need the rack and thumbscrews. Fine. After you'd left, they emptied the contents of a rubbish bin through my letterbox, a less tasty version of Uber Eats, then pissed through it as well. I cleaned it all up and taped the letterbox shut for a couple of days."
The fork paused on the way to Ripley's mouth. "Jesus!"
"It wasn't him."
"Fen!"
"It's the first trouble I've had since I've been living there. Just some drunken idiots. They probably saw your iPhone and watch when we were in the bar. Figured that with me by your side, you'd be an easy target. They misjudged me. I have amazing ninja skills."
"I saw that."
"Maybe I should ask my Tai Chi instructor if she can teach me some different moves. Though I'm always going to be limited by my balance. I really like Tai Chi. It helps with…all sorts of things."
"I've never done it. It looks…"
"Like the sort of thing old people do?"
Ripley winced.
"Hmm. Well, I can see what's unsaid too. Tai Chi wasn't conceived as an exercise for older people. It was a vicious martial art but it evolved. It can be good for almost anyone, but yes, you're right. Most people who do it are old. In the class I go to, I'm the youngest by far."
"You can manage without your crutch?"
"I can do most exercises without using it. Whether I need it in the day generally depends on how I feel and how far I might have to walk and whether I want to show someone I'm not dependent on it." He paused. "I will be totally dependent on it one day. So it's good not to use it unless I have to. I have to admit, I'd assumed I wouldn't need to defend you tonight."
"Now I'm going to worry."
Fen put down his knife and fork. "I'm sorry to leave so much food. Should I have asked for a small portion? Or ask to take it away? Would they do that?"
"Yes, they will. Next time."
Fen shot him a smile. "McDonald's. My treat. But you can ask for a small Big Mac for me."
"I'll eat what you leave."
"You eat at McDonalds?" Fen's eyes widened.
"Sometimes. If I'm lucky and I'm in court near one."
"McDonald's is a treat for me. Mum used to take me on a special occasion and buy me a Happy Meal. They always made me happy." He grinned.
"I don't know how you manage to stay cheerful. You're…extraordinarily beautiful. I'm not surprised you were approached by the modelling scout."
"I'm not beautiful."
"Take the compliment, Fen. You are." Ripley set down his own knife and fork. His appetite had gone. His heart beat a little faster. "Do you want to keep seeing me?"
"Yes. If you want to keep seeing me."
"I do. But this is where it gets difficult."
Fen looked confused. Ripley was still debating whether to say anything or not.
"Tell me why it's difficult," Fen whispered.
What the hell was Ripley going to say? Fen had been thinking everything had been going so well. Now there was a but. Ripley's knee was still pressed against Fen's and Fen slid his away. This is something bad. But what? Had Ripley lied? He was in a relationship? Married? Not out?
"There's something I need to ask you," Ripley said.
Fen was pretty sure whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it. In fact, he wasn't certain he even wanted to hear what Ripley had to say. But he'd been brought up to be well mannered, polite under pressure. It disarms people his mother told him. Though he wasn't sure anything would disarm a guy like Ripley, a man used to getting exactly what he wanted.
"I like you," Ripley said. "You've made me smile when I thought I'd forgotten how. I like spending time with you. I liked the texts. You're quirky…different. Intriguing. You caught my attention the moment I saw you, though I wish we'd met when I hadn't splattered you with dirty water. Obviously, I'm attracted to you. That goes without saying."
"No, it doesn't. I want to hear that bit." Because it might make up for what came after.
Ripley smiled briefly. "Every time I look at you, I want to kiss you. More than kiss you. If I'd not stopped kissing you when we were in the car, I'd have had to ask my driver to get out and go for a walk. As it was, I barely got in the house before I had to…"
"To what? You can't stop there," Fen whispered. "Hold on. Hold on. I'm going to take your picture when you tell me." He held up his phone.
"Wrap my hand around my cock," Ripley whispered.
"Ooh." Fen gulped. "That's going to come out blurred." He liked hearing all that except he was waiting for the but. What was Ripley going to say?
"I'd like to spend more time with you."
Maybe there wasn't a but.
"But…" Ripley said.
Fen made a conscious effort to keep his shoulders up. Right, so there was a but.
"I have a…proposition I believe will benefit us both."
Fen stared at him without blinking. What did that mean? A proposition? It didn't sound—
"I want you to be my lover."
Fen's heart skipped a few beats and he tried not to look confused. Well, duh! Hadn't the asking him out been leading to that? The talking, the texting, the pressing of knees, the kissing in the car, in the lift? He'd sort of assumed Ripley might take him back to his place tonight. He had his toothbrush in his pocket. Condoms too. And lube because… Though a little bit of him had hoped they didn't get that far the first time.
No one ever asked someone to go out with them in the way Ripley had, did they? People met through one means or another, realised they liked each other and eventually ended up in bed or…some other place, or they didn't. The sex happened organically, not by arrangement. Excepting maybe with Grindr.
Did anyone ever say—we'll fuck on Friday and Tuesdays at nine? Maybe they did. Ripley was still staring at him. Is he waiting for an answer? But he hadn't actually asked a question.
"You mean…you want me to be your boyfriend?" Fen sort of thought he already was, or at least was edging that way. They just hadn't got around to the sex bit yet and Fen had thought it was rather sweet Ripley had wanted to wait. The boyfriend bit was what he was asking, wasn't it? It had to be. And that sounded more than okay, exciting even, because it gave Fen the hope of a relationship that would last a little while, not be a quick fuck with a tossed out ‘see-you-around' when that wasn't going to happen, except Ripley was shaking his head.
No? What then?
"Not boyfriend."
Fen's heart shrank a little. Right, so lover not boyfriend. Fen wasn't stupid. He got it and went head-to-toe cold as if he'd stepped into a freezer. Ripley wanted to have him in his bed, or against a wall or…wherever but never take him anywhere. He wanted to hide Fen away, not let him meet his friends or even be seen with him. The male equivalent of a mistress, except this was the second restaurant they'd been to, and a bar, and the Tate, so the not-being-seen-together bit didn't make sense. Fen wasn't sure he got it and he felt Ripley was waiting for him to get it.
Was Ripley ashamed of him? Because he was poor? Because he didn't have a professional job? Because he was stupid? Stop it! Fen's chest ached. He wanted to get up and walk away but his feet appeared to be stuck. Probably because he still hoped he was wrong. He shouldn't jump to conclusions. Ask him if that's what he means! Then Fen would tell him exactly what he thought of him.
"You don't want to take me out anywhere? You…" He was going to say you just want to fuck me but some little devil made him change to "You just want me to fuck you?"
He took some pleasure in watching Ripley flounder. He guessed the floundering didn't happen very often. Nor the someone fucking him part. Not that Fen had ever fucked anyone. He'd like to, but he seemed to have bottom written all over him.
"I do want to take you out. I want us to go to places like this. I'd like you to come with me sometimes when I'm out of town on a case. To go to the theatre with me, dinner parties, my chambers' Christmas party, weekends away, weddings, maybe funerals. Host dinner parties. Go abroad even."
Fen's head was spinning. That sounded great! But…Damn that bloody but. "And that isn't being a boyfriend?"
"Not quite, because the arrangement would have a set end date."
"Oh." Why?
"And I'd be paying you."
Fen couldn't believe he was sitting in a smart restaurant looking out over the London skyline having the weirdest conversation of his life. He'd been so excited about tonight and now he was feeling sick.
"I realise I'd be taking up a lot of your time, asking you to have days off work. Maybe you could work part time. I thought you could use the money to go to Japan."
So that made it all right, did it? Ripley had decided he was doing him a favour? Funding something on a bucket list? "You'd pay me for sleeping with you." Fen said it to be sure he hadn't misunderstood. He wasn't that sort of guy. It hurt that Ripley thought he might be.
"No, I don't see it in that way. I'd be paying you for being with me. Like a job. You'd be a…personal assistant taking care of my leisure time, particularly at weekends but in the week too."
Shall I pencil you in for a hand job on Tuesday at seven, babes? We could fit in a blow job before we go to Lucinda's wedding, darling. Do you want me to swallow or not? Fen had drifted off into a horrible sort of fantasy and registered Ripley was still speaking.
"Three thousand pounds a week. Twelve thousand a month. For six months. Seventy-two thousand pounds."
Oh shit. I can do the fucking maths!
"I'll make it eighty if you last the six months."
Fucking hell! Fen wondered for a moment if he was that sort of guy. But… I'm not. Disappointment seeped into every cell of his body, a fast-acting poison, sucking out all hope. Ripley had reached into his chest, dragged sharp nails down his heart and made it bleed.
"How would you feel if I'd asked the same of you?" Fen said quietly. "Would you be okay with it?"
"If our situations were reversed, yes."
Really? Ripley had no idea what his life was like.
"Why didn't you just ask me to go out with you? You didn't need to pay me. All those things you said, they sounded fun—not the funerals, obviously—but that's what boyfriends do. This is like you're asking me to be your exclusive…rent boy."
"Keep your voice down."
Fen hadn't realised he'd raised it. He clenched his fists on his lap.
"It's formalising an arrangement between us," Ripley said. "This way we know where we stand. I'm not the commitment type. I didn't want to go into this with you thinking I was, that there was a long-term future. That wouldn't be fair on you. This way, we'd both have fun for six months, you'd get to see a different world, and walk away with eighty thousand pounds. You could do something lifechanging with that."
"Money won't change my condition."
Ripley paled. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I thought the money would give you a chance to do things you're unlikely to ever be able to afford. Like going to Japan."
Fen felt as if he were filling up with concrete, his body weighing him down. It was hard to breathe. Ripley had wrecked everything Fen had hoped for. What a fool he'd been to think a man like Ripley would want him as a normal boyfriend.
"Don't you see how wrong it is to pay me to sleep with you?" Fen whispered.
"No, I don't. I'm not paying you for sex. I'm paying you to be my…partner for six months."
That was fudging the issue. "So you don't care whether or not I have sex with you? You'd still pay me if I didn't?"
Ripley exhaled. "No. I want you in my bed. I thought you wanted that too."
"I…" Despite all his efforts, Fen's shoulders slumped. "For six months with no love?"
Fen saw the flicker of alarm in Ripley's eyes. Love? Love something to do with this bloody awful proposal?
"Do you have to be in love to fuck someone?" Ripley asked. "No one would ever get together if that was true, especially gay men. Lust is instant. Attraction is instant too. Love isn't. Not for most people."
"No," Fen admitted. Though didn't you need to feel something before you climbed into bed with someone? A little emotional connection? Fen had not chosen wisely with the few guys he'd had sex with, but he'd always started off thinking this could be it. Even that very first time when he'd lost his virginity, an occasion seared into his memory, he'd hoped he'd see the man again. "We haven't even had sex. You've not seen me naked. You might not like what you see. What if we're not compatible?"
"We will be."
Ripley's confidence irritated him. "What if my dick's too big for you?"
Ripley laughed, which had not been Fen's intention. "I'll cope."
"Have you done this before? Paid someone?"
"No."
Fen clenched his teeth. Do not cry. "Then why me?"
A muscle twitched in Ripley's cheek. "I've told you why. I like you. I want you. I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to do, nothing kinky, if that's worrying you. If we try it for a week and it doesn't work, then you can walk away. Will you at least think about it? Give me an answer by Friday?"
Fen seized the opportunity for space and pushed to his feet. "All right."
"Harry will give you a lift back."
"No thank you."
"Let him take you home, Fen."
"No. I can make my own way back."
Ripley stood up. "I didn't mean to upset you."
Fen sucked in his cheeks. "Maybe not, but you did."