Page 9 of Come As You Are
Mal came closer, looming behind me like an ominous cloud. Antonio had trusted the club manager implicitly, but he’d always made me uneasy. His expression when he looked at me was not exactly hostile, but closer to it than I cared to experience. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the way people looked at me as if I was some odd new creature they couldn’t quite name, or the way they scanned me as if trying to figure out what exactly I was. The way their gaze traveled from my face to my throat to my hands as if they were mentally ticking off boxes and assigning me to a traditional male or female appearance. It was the way people had looked at me since I was ten and finally got up the courage to insist on wearing a dress to school for the first time.
For me, that had been a defining moment, a moment in which I declared my ability to define myself based on what I wanted, what felt authentic to me, rather than the blind acceptance and conformity I’d been taught was important by those around me. At home, worn down by my tantrums, my parents had let me wear what I liked, begrudgingly ordering me clothes online rather than risk the embarrassment of shopping in the girls’ section at Old Navy or Target.
Surprisingly, or maybe not, the other children accepted me more or less without question. There had been a few issues, but mostly they’d ignored me. It had been the adults who had the most issues, who feared for the “stigma” I might endure, and ended up reinforcing the very thing they were worried about.I started puberty blockers at thirteen after my first wet dream sent me into hysterics, and I threatened to cut off the offending body part. Antonio had been my champion, standing by my side no matter what and arguing with our parents on my behalf until they let me get the medication I needed to keep my outside and inside in alignment.
My age when I started blockers helped keep me from developing fully, kept those secondary sex characteristics Mal and others looked for to assign me a place in their minds at bay. So, Mal wasn’t the first nor would he be the last to look at me as if he were trying to figure out exactly what I was because I didn’t fit into some neatly ordered category; a category that ceased to have any real meaning inside Illyria’s walls. Coming to work here had been liberating, and I would be damned if I didn’t keep this place as a safe haven for myself and those who also found refuge here.
“Mal?” I asked, my voice tinged with impatience.
He bobbed his head and blew out a breath. I couldn’t tell if his dramatics were from a genuine reluctance to tell me his news or if he was trying to increase my tension and worry. Sometimes I suspected he deliberately wound me up in order to appear more competent when he saved the day once again.
“Again, I hate to be—”
“Just tell me without the preamble,” I said, and this time I turned around to face him.
Mal took a breath. “I think we have a thief in our midst.”
“Who do you suspect?” I asked.
Mal came even with me and glanced down at the club. He pointed with his index finger, and I turned, this time focusing on the bar where Sebastian and Toby were hard at work. I laughed because it was absurd that either of them would be stealing from me. Toby had been with Antonio since the beginning. He was one of Antonio’s best friends, and the idea that he would startstealing now was ridiculous. Even more unbelievable was that Mal would suspect Sebastian.
Returning to my desk, I sat down and shook my head. “Based on what evidence?”
“Sebastian makes trips to the stockroom several times a day.”
“That’s his job.”
“I’ve begun to check the stock after his visits and have found…irregularities.”
I put my elbows on the desk, steepled my hands and pressed my thumbs against the bridge of my nose. What I wouldn’t give for a club manager who could tell me plainly what was on his mind instead of playing this game.
“Maybe I should sell to Orsino,” I muttered under my breath. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quiet enough to keep Mal from overhearing. His horrified look and dramatic gasp would have been comical if he hadn’t worn so heavily on my nerves.
“But you love this club,” Mal protested, meaning, I was sure, that he still had hopes of joining me as a partner, and if I sold to Orsino, those aspirations would go up in smoke.
Praying to the heavens for patience, I acknowledged to him that yes, I did love the club, and that I would do everything in my power to keep it out of Orsino’s hands. Then I asked him to leave me alone, which, thankfully, he did without further conversation.
I stayed at my desk for several minutes rubbing my temples to try and stave off the feeling of despair that threatened to overwhelm me. Two years ago, this had been Antonio’s desk, his chair, his computer. Everything in this room had been chosen by him.
“Tell me what to do, brother,” I whispered and hoped, as I had since the day Antonio died, to hear something that would lead me forward. As usual, there was no reply, but a sudden surge of excited sound drew me back to the window.
My office was mostly soundproofed—with the exception of the bass from the club’s music that vibrated through the walls and floorboards—but occasional bursts of sound could reach me. I usually ignored it, confident that if it was anything worrisome like a fight, Festus would deal with it.
In this case, though, the cause of the sound was the crowd cheering for two men who were dancing on one of the platforms. It took me a moment to realize that it was Sebastian—now shirtless—grinding against a barely clothed Vee. How this had come about, I had no idea, but the sight hit me right between my legs. I may have groaned because they were so beautiful together.
Sebastian was broad while Vee was slender, but I’d never noticed before that Vee was nearly as tall as Bast. And where Vee was well-muscled from what I now knew was farm work, Sebastian had honed his body in the gym. He wasn’t a gym rat by any definition of the term, but his arms and chest were sculpted by weights, his firm six-pack highlighted by the sheen of sweat on his skin and the oil that had transferred from Vee’s body to his.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of either of them, and found myself stroking absently at my nipples. They were hard and sensitive, responding to my touch even through the fabric of my dress. My thighs tightened, increasing friction against my click as I rocked my hips slightly and continued to play with my breasts, thankful all eyes were focused on Sebastian and Vee. The glass in the window may have been darkened, but it wasn’t one-way and anyone looking up from below would be able to see my shadowed figure. And somehow, that made what I was doing even hotter.
Rolling a nipple between my thumb and fingers, I pressed the heel of my hand against my groin, feeling the hardness of my click as I thrust against my palm. My eyes burned fire asI watched Sebastian lean against Vee, his chest pressed against the younger man’s back, his hips rocking against Vee’s ass just as mine thrust against my palm. The crowd noise surged again.
Then, Sebastian looked up, and it was like a snap of electricity arced between us, transporting me to the dance floor as if I too stood on that platform, my body touching both Bast and Vee. I stumbled backwards, breaking the connection as I fell onto one of the lounge chairs that graced my office. I was too turned on to think about what I was doing, the need to touch myself, to find some relief from the heat that coursed through me from head to toe.
Pulling the edge of my dress up my thighs, I slid one hand down my belly while the other continued to roll and knead my nipples. I wanted hardness between my fingers and wished I could strip naked to give myself better access. Enough conscious thought remained for me to know that was impossible. My office door was unlocked, and I wasn’t going to stop—couldn’t stop—long enough to walk across my office and secure the door.
My fingers found my click and stroked, my hips rising of their own accord to increase the friction. I longed for slickness, and brought my fingers to my mouth—spit the best I could do at that moment—then returned my hand to between my legs, bracing my feet against the coffee table as I thrust upward. My click was swollen, hot, and sensitive, and I wished I had enough room to play with my back hole. I loved the feel of something in my ass when I came, but there wasn’t time or space, especially since I was on the edge quicker than I’d ever been in my life.
I came as the crowd below burst into cheers, then sank back in the chair, my chest heaving with each breath, bewildered at where this sudden surge of lust and desire had come from. I was well aware of my attraction to Vee, had almost been struck dumb by it the first time I saw him, but I’d worked with Sebastian forthree years now. Yet it had been his molten gaze on me that had set me on fire.
