Bethany Zaiatz (ed) Like Slipping Under Cover Erot

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."Stunning," a voice said behind him.Allen turned, pleasant smile plastered across his face."Isn't it? Another moment fiddling with the soundset and I might have missed my chance.""It makes me wonder what we all miss, going through our narrow lives." The stranger smiled.His lips were full and lightly coated with pearlescent color, matching the silver of his bleached hair.His skin was dark against it, smooth as velvet stroked in the right direction.At first Allen wondered if it was colored, too, but the tone shifted naturally as the man shook his head, changing the angles of the light striking his long cheekbones and jaw."But enough of that." He stepped closer to Allen, who was torn between irritation and a measure of relief at having the philosophy his work prompted passed over so quickly.In a lower voice, the stranger said, "I'd like to make you an offer, Mr.Keir."Allen's hands slipped into his pockets, his habitual bargaining position."I'm glad to hear it.Of course the show will last for a few weeks yet, and the centerpiece has to remain in place for at least--""Oh, not for the art." He stood so close that his breath brushed Allen's face.His lip color was faintly scented, like salt and spice."I'm not seeking patronage.""My Master isn't seeking an artist, talented though you are.Instead he sees another use for your skills."Allen wanted to turn away, cut off this conversation before it started.But this fancy boy's Master might be one of the clients drifting through the gallery, or at least a friend to some of them.An influential friend.A trendsetter.He nodded stiffly."Go on.What sort of use?""Perhaps I should introduce myself first." The stranger drew an identity card from his breast pocket and held it up for Allen's inspection.The dangling bondsman's ribbon was blood red--Allen forgot which Master that indicated.The card claimed to belong to Devan Lamott, but there was a pristineness to the ivory plastic and silk ribbon that suggested a prop, a fake.And so Allen got the gist of the offer even before the man said anything more.Devan stepped up to the centerpiece picture, peering closely.Creases appeared amid the folds at the corners of his eyes, enough to show he was getting mature for the fancy-boy style.Whether it was also an act, Allen wasn't sure.He tried to stay circumspect about his preferences, but if whoever this man's Master was knew his tastes well enough to cater to them…clearly he wasn't circumspect enough."Here," Devan said.A manicured nail tapped the window of the navy-blue station wagon.Allen squinted at the picture, but couldn't see anything of interest.Then Devan was taking a camera-communicator from his pocket, snapping a photo, magnifying it with a touch of his fingers.The silhouette of the passenger became distinguishable.A few more manipulations, and she sprang to life with color and details."You use one of these for your work, right?" Devan held the device up before Allen's face.He was going to remark that he used a more powerful version, but he realized from the resolution of the image that Devan's was more powerful than the standard."Yeah," he said ruefully."The best of them are far more powerful than most people realize.""We realize.""And who are you?"Devan smiled.It took years off him, years that hadn't rested very heavily in the first place."Now look at the passenger.She's holding a card.""An identity card--with a blue ribbon.""And what is she doing?"He swallowed."Tearing off a Charity Stripe." The deep forest green of the Unitarian Mission.Well, someone would be glad enough to take her place--one of the hundreds who needed help but couldn't meet the approval of other Charities, the persisting minority who weren't of use to any prospective Masters.Or who were too proud to sign themselves over to one.Devan nodded."She belongs to Miriam Noelle now, if I judge the blue right.She must be on her way home from signing the Contract.Mistress Noelle likes to keep her new bondspeople secret at first--but with just a moment of carelessness and a click of the camera, one of her secrets slips out.Think of what we all miss, going through our narrow lives, that a photographer might capture." He looked under his eyelashes at Allen."Think what you could capture.""Your Master wants to recruit me as a spy, then?" Allen asked."He offers generous support, and it would make little difference to your lifestyle.We may suggest certain intersections or streets for you to shoot at, we might ask for a first look at your portfolio, and for access to pictures you might otherwise discard--"Allen whipped out his ident card and held it up.In all its bare plastic glory, it was free from bondsman's ribbon as much as Master's border, and there wasn't even a shadow of a torn-away Charity stripe."I've been self-supporting since I reached my majority.I like it that way.""It's a hard life," Devan said."Terribly uncertain.""At least I don't have to jump whenever a Master snaps his fingers, wondering what favors I owe this time.""Some of those favors can be quite pleasant." Devan's voice took on a silken quality."You don't need to fear losing yourself to my Master's demands.He wants you because of what you are.""I'm an artist, not a spy.""Anyone can be a spy," Devan said, almost gently."The offer is, of course, generous," Allen said."And of course I'm honored, but I must confess I have no interest in Contracting at this time.If you'll excuse me--"Devan's slender hand closed on his arm as Allen turned away.The bondsman leaned close, speaking into his ear."That business aside, I have a personal offer to make.My address.I'll be home next Sixthday afternoon, alone and undisturbed for some hours."He smiled shyly at Allen's stare, a flush deepening his rich color."We bondsmen have desires, too.""Desires your Master doesn't satisfy?"If anything, Devan's smile broadened at that.Allen's stomach flipped.There was danger in this invitation, too, but… He'd been cautious in the weeks leading up to this show, when eyes were on him.Nothing to disturb the moral qualms of even the most conservative buyer.He hadn't had a liaison since New Year's, and extended celibacy didn't agree with him."Don't wait for me," he said sharply.Devan shrugged and held out an infotab.It would have directions to his apartment.Allen accepted it, as there was no way for him to refuse without causing a scene.The bondsman nodded to him."I'll be there, nonetheless."* * * *Devan Lamott's apartment was in a high rise near the heart of the city, though on one of the cheaper levels--far up enough to be inconvenient, not enough to be prestigious.The elevator trip was so long as to be nerve-wracking.Allen's nerves were wracked as it was.His brain kept screaming that this was a stupid idea, while his skin felt so sensitive that the brush of his linen suit was leaving him raw.All his buttons and zippers were too tight.His harsh breathing filled the small car, and he tried to steady it before any other passengers joined him.As it was, nobody did, and the hallway the elevator landed on was empty.His footsteps all but echoed.He imagined he was the only person here, he and the man waiting for him, and his breath went short again.There were fancy boys everywhere, plenty for rent.He should have found one of them, rather than get tangled with the business of a Master who was already interested in him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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