Waiting for Rain (2 page)

“But they’re queer, Mr. Prentiss!” Esther hissed, scandalized, her gaze darting around the busy reception area, no doubt for fear someone might hear her utter a taboo word. I wanted to break into song and chant the old Northern maxim “there’s nowt so queer as folk,” but I didn’t think that would help.

“They are two gay men who have paid to stay here like everyone else, Mrs. Mountjoy.” My smile was starting to crack, my hostility level rising.

Christ, I was so bloody sick of this attitude. I’d faced it all my life.

“Mr. Wren and Mr. Carmichael have every right to be here.” I clenched my hands by my sides, my fingernails cutting into my palms. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tammy twitch and half stand from behind her position at the reception desk.

“Then I shan’t be coming back here, if people like
that
are allowed to soil these beautiful premises with their presence.” Her satisfied, smug words sent an immediate jolt of fury to my chest. “It’s scandalous, that’s what it is. That God-fearing folk like me and Mrs. Wainwright have to put up with that disgusting filth in the same place we lay our heads at night. Isn’t that right, dear Selma?” She turned to the tall, spare woman standing quietly at her side, who looked uncomfortable at her proclamation. Her eyes were raised to mine almost in apology. Selma Wainwright had always been open-minded as far as I knew. My head pounded at the description of two gay men as “disgusting filth.” My temper rose, and I groaned inwardly.

Keep it loose, Toby. For God’s sake, don’t go bloody ape shit. Not here.

“Well, Esther darling, the man does have a point. They have paid—”

“Selma!” Esther was totally floored. “You don’t mean you agree that they should stay here?” Selma’s face colored, and she lowered her eyes. A man chuckled in the corner, and I glanced over. He was on a mobile phone, and I didn’t think he was laughing at the event taking place. In my present mood I would have whacked him with said vase as well.

“Mrs. Mountjoy—” My strangled voice cut off as I felt a firm clasp on my shoulder. My boss, the hotel owner Simon Winslake, stood beside me. His grip was both a warning and a comfort. His smooth baritone echoed through the hallowed entrance of the venerated Duck and Drake Hotel.

“Mrs. Mountjoy. Mrs. Wainwright. May I ask you to come with me to the Orchid Room, where you can enjoy a lovely afternoon cream tea and we can talk about what it is that concerns you? I can assure you that young Toby here is only carrying out my wishes. Perhaps you might like to address your worries to me personally so I can let him get back to his job.” Simon’s voice had always sounded like sherry to me, rich, warm, and dark, with a hint of smokiness. He was the complete stereotype of the English gentry. About forty, tall, handsome, and wiry, with silver-streaked dark-brown hair, tanned cheeks, and dressed to kill in a tweed suit which looked casual but which I knew was from DAKS.

I felt peeved that I hadn’t been able to let loose on the woman standing before me with the gleam of victory spread across her features, but also relieved that Simon had stepped in when he had. I gave him a slight nod, and he smiled at me warmly. I felt a surge of affection for the man. He was always there for me when I needed him. He was my mentor and a good friend. He touched Esther Mountjoy’s shoulder, and she preened. I scowled.

What would the stupid woman do if she knew she’d been touched by a bisexual man? Go home and take a bloody shower and use her pumice stone to scrub her wrinkly skin?
Simon was bisexual but kept his dalliances with men private. Only a select few knew of his sexual proclivities. I was one of them. I wished I could tell her so she’d scrub so hard she bled bile.

Simon continued. “Now do come with me, ladies, and let’s see what we can do about all this. I’m sure we can come to some amicable agreement.” Simon shepherded the two women off toward the richly decorated and extremely plush Orchid Room in the other wing. I watched them go, breathing a sigh of relief. I unclenched my hands and frowned when I saw crescent marks etched into my flesh. One of them was bleeding. I licked it absently, then felt a hard punch on my back. I scowled and looked around to see who was abusing me.

“God, Toby, don’t be so disgusting. You’re licking blood off your hand in public, in front of guests.” Tammy stood behind me, smiling, her eyes watchful. “Come on over here and let’s chat.” I was pulled unceremoniously over to a small room behind the reception desk which served as our office.

“I need to get back to work, Tam,” I started to say, but she frowned and held my undamaged hand tighter. I sighed, knowing it would do no good to argue. The woman was a pit bull. I followed meekly. She turned to look at me.

“Are you all right, sweetie? God, that woman was such a bitch. I honestly thought you’d rip her throat out.” Her brown eyes regarded me through the lenses of her designer glasses, her rounded face full of concern. Tammy Whittaker was my best friend and confidante. We’d known each other for nearly four years, ever since I’d been at the Duck and Drake in the town of Stamford in Lincolnshire. Tammy had been here five years, having arrived here as a green twenty-year-old and making herself indispensable. I’d started out as a hotel porter when I was just twenty-three. I’d worked my way up to the position I’d held now for three years as general manager. I was proud of that accomplishment at the tender age of twenty-seven. Seeing where I’d come from, I think I had that right.

I nodded at her. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was getting riled, so it’s lucky that Simon intervened when he did. But I should have been able to handle it, Tam. It’s what he pays me to do.”

“I don’t think he wanted blood all over his hotel, Toby,” Tammy said wryly. “And if he’d left you with her, he might well have had buckets of it.” She touched my cheek, looking up from her five-foot-four height to my six-foot frame, and reached up to plant a warm kiss on my cheek. “It was getting personal for you, darling. Those things she said—I know how you feel about it. And so does Simon.” Tammy was the only other person at the hotel who knew about Simon’s sexual orientation.

I sighed. “That’s no excuse. Just because I’m gay myself, I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.” I shrugged. “She obviously didn’t know that, or I doubt she’d have spoken to me for fear of getting contaminated.”

“Never mind that stupid woman. You’re the best manager this hotel has ever seen, and we all adore you. Now, get out there and go and find someone else to piss off. You’re good at that.” She smiled cheekily. Warmth flooded my body at her ever-present way of making me feel better. I reached out and drew her to me, hugging her tightly.

“Thanks, Tam. If I get a chance tonight to have a break, maybe we can go down to the pub and have a drink?”

She looked at me. “Toby, since when do you give yourself a break? You have no idea how to bloody relax. If I know you, you’ll still be up wandering around this place long after everyone else had gone to sleep.” She hesitated. “Besides, Neil’s taking me to dinner at The Swan tonight.”

She glanced at me, and I pursed my lips. Neil Haydock was her live-in boyfriend, a man I didn’t like. They’d been together about four months. He was a total prick and didn’t like me at all. He was good friends with someone he thought I’d wronged years ago and it rankled with him. He wasn’t so keen on the fact that I was gay, but that wasn’t really the reason, although he needled me about it constantly. I thought he had an underlying streak of violence that Tammy didn’t seem to see. He’d never hit her to my knowledge, or I’d break the man’s legs, but he treated her like dirt. I let her comment pass and noticed the look of relief on her face.

“I do so take a break,” I exclaimed in an injured tone.

Why did people always tell me that? Yes, I worked long hours and was up at the crack of dawn, but—oh, who the hell was I kidding. She was right as usual. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out on the town with friends or had time to myself. Unless you counted when I was in bed, and even then my mind didn’t shut down. Lately, neither did my hand. It was too busy trying to alleviate the pressure in my cock from nearly a month of celibacy.

“Yeah, right, maybe when you sleep.” She grinned. “Actually, I think that young man from the RAF base may be coming in tonight, the one who fancies you? Cute little Mikey? I think you should definitely take him in hand later and bend him over or let him bend you over—” Her double entendres were not wasted on me.

“Right, that’s enough,” I said coolly even as my face flushed. Tammy giggled, her hands waving around in glee, her dark-brown bob shaking as she laughed.

“He just loves you, Toby. His eyes follow you everywhere you go. We all think it’s really sweet.”

“He’s only about twenty years old, for God’s sake,” I said in exasperation. “It’d be like fucking a kid.”

Tammy’s eyes widened, and I bit my tongue. One of the things I did
not
share with her were my sexual exploits, minimal though they were at the moment. Her insatiable questions about who was on top and who was on the bottom and what exactly did we do as gay men when we were in bed together were a constant source of discussion. “So you—err—you actually penetrate—” Her words were cut off by my hand across her mouth.

“Never you mind, missy,” I said silkily. “I need to get back to work.” I removed my hand and walked toward the door.

“God, that is so hot,” she breathed. “The thought of you and some guy actually going at it like that.”

I shook my head, looking at her in disbelief. “What is it with you straight women and your fascination with gay-man sex? I’ve seen those bloody books you read. What’s that all about?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it, buster,” she giggled. “The reading, I mean. Suffice it to say that they are scorching, and we ladies can’t get enough of them. Straight men like woman-on-woman action—what’s wrong with it being the other way around?”

“When
I’m
in your fantasies” was my parting shot. “It makes me feel a
little
uncomfortable, Tam.” I walked out into the reception area, nodding at the relief receptionist, Stacy, sitting behind the desk. She smiled. Tammy continued with her diatribe in earshot of anyone close by.

“Toby, darling, you know you look
so
hot in my fantasies. You have the tightest arse I’ve ever seen on a man. You’re a real dreamboat, you are, my little Max.”

I chuckled at that even as Stacy’s eyes grew rounder. I swore she eyed my arse as I walked away into the foyer. So did the guy standing behind the reception desk waiting to be served. Oh, the joys of having a decent rear. Her reference to Max was one I’d been told before. Some people thought I looked a lot like the actor Max Irons, which was a great compliment, I thought.

I looked at my watch. It was almost 7:00 p.m. Simon would be at me to take the time off and leave the nighttime running of the place to the evening duty manager, the man I thought of as my “understudy.” Chris Mortimer was a decent enough fill-in, but I still didn’t let go of anything that was going on. I saw Chris chatting to someone over in the lounge. He nodded at me, and I nodded back.

Tammy waved as she left to go home. “See you tomorrow, Toby,” she said cheerily. I waved back, making my way up the winding staircase of the lobby to the second floor. My self-contained living quarters were on the opposite side of the hotel, in a small wing that overlooked the street. I let myself into my comfortable but spartanly furnished two-room “suite,” heaving a sigh of relief as I loosened my tie. I had a comfortable, open-plan lounge/bedroom, with space for my double bed and a couple of large beanbags on the floor. I sat there when I wanted to watch my big-screen telly mounted on the wall. If I didn’t get to record
The Walking Dead
I was inconsolable. There was something about mindless zombie movies I enjoyed, and I had a real man crush on Andrew Lincoln. There was a small dining-room table in the corner with a chair covered with clutter. I had a bathroom off the living area, with a shower, a bath, which was a real luxury, and the usual amenities. I moved to the window, gazing down into the street below. It was still light outside, and sunset wouldn’t be for another couple of hours.

I changed into a pair of sweats. I sighed, noticing they hung off my hips rather loosely. I thought guiltily I really wasn’t eating properly and had probably lost some weight. All I wanted to do now was order room service, watch the evening news and unwind. As I changed, I wondered how things had gone with Simon and Mrs. Mountjoy. I still felt angry. Most of the staff in the hotel knew I was gay. I’d never hidden it, but I didn’t broadcast it. Since I’d broken up with Trevor, the pickings in town for gay-men hookups were slim. I’d intended going into Leicester to one of the gay clubs to find like-minded males, but I’d never really had time. If truth be told, I wasn’t into the whole nightclub and bar thing anyway. Of course, there was always Mikey. But I’d feel like a chicken hawk taking that one down. It depended, I supposed, on how desperate I was getting. I wasn’t far off level five, which was the highest in my book.

The TV was on the Gold Channel, and I watched, intrigued, as a bunch of half-naked men cavorted on the beach in some volleyball tournament. It looked like
Baywatch
. The men’s well-oiled muscles glistened as their arse cheeks tightened, and I could definitely see myself taking a fancy to one or two of them.

“Down, boy,” I murmured as I caressed my rapidly rising erection. “Time to play later in the shower. I need to eat now. How does a Brie and crispy bacon sandwich take your fancy?”

Being Mr. Cocky, he didn’t reply, but I decided his silence was acquiescence. I ordered food from the kitchen and sat down to read a book. About fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. I looked up in surprise. Normally it took at least half an hour for Jerome to fix me up, seeing as how I was staff and took second place behind customers’ orders. I opened the door in just my sweats, expecting to see the cheeky face of the young busboy, Alan, standing there. It threw me when I found my boss on my doorstep. It was a rare occurrence, probably only about the third time he’d been up here. He glanced briefly at my naked chest, and I felt a little exposed. He regarded my low-slung pants fleetingly, and I thought he swallowed. I felt a shimmer of apprehension in my belly at the greedy look in his eyes. That and a frisson of something else that wasn’t entirely unwelcome and started in my groin. My world tilted.