Cody and Grant

Chapter 4

Cody graded his last exam and stuffed all of the papers into the folder, wrapping a rubber band around it to keep it all together. He gathered his leather bag and jacket and hurried to the department office to deposit the folder into Professor Beecham’s box before rushing out to catch the bus home. It was Friday and as much as he loved his job he was ready for a break. Besides, Derek had told him it was karaoke night at the club and that, if nothing else, it would be entertaining as hell to watch all the drunks take a turn at the mic.

He’d become somewhat friendly with the bartender in the past few weeks, learning the ropes of Connecticut’s gay scene. It wasn’t as meager as he’d once perceived it to be either. Derek had given him the names of several gay clubs in the area to try that he said would be more likely to have men looking for a relationship. Urban’s, where Derek worked, saw crowds mostly made up of cruisers and party-boys. Derek had rightly pegged Cody as someone looking for more than a casual fling or two. Still, Cody liked to go to Urban’s to talk to Derek once in a while.

Cody sighed when he finally got home after a longer-than-usual bus trip. Since he lived several towns away from the university he worked in, he sometimes had to put up with a traffic jam or two … or more. He changed into another modest club outfit … modest compared to the other patrons and turned to head out the door, bumping into Michael on his way in from work.

“Hey, stranger!” his roommate greeted him. “I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age!”

“Sorry,” Cody grimaced. “I guess I’ve been busy.”

“I guess.” Michael kept the amused smile on his face. “Do you have to go clubbing tonight? I was kind of hoping we could get to that reconnecting we keep talking about but never actually do.”

Cody was about to beg off again when he realized it would be the third time he’d put his friend off. And it wasn’t like he was going to meet any prospects at Urban’s tonight anyway, he reasoned. He was just going for the karaoke. Besides, Michael had been very good to him at a point when he really needed it. It would be beyond rude to keep putting him off.

“Nah,” he finally grinned, pushing his red hair back from his eyes. “It was only karaoke.”

“You like singing?” Michael’s eyes widened.

“Not me! The rest of the bar.”

“A bunch of drunks, huh? Well, how about we change that to a night of pizza and beer.”

“And bowling?” Cody asked hopefully.

“You’ve always whipped my ass in that!” Michael complained. “But if you really want to.”

“Cool!”

---------------------------------

Edison Mallers shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He’d just arrived at his friend’s place … late. It was that punk Henshaw’s fault, too. The advice he’d given Rollings was good. Too good. The corporate team worked the whole day and most of the early evening on the follow up to make sure Rollings would have the papers ready for Monday’s discovery proceedings. It should have been Edison’s case, but that dick of a department head, Finklestaub hated him … especially after he’d royally fucked up the Dillonworth case. That was probably why old man Johanson had gone after that West Coast bastard to begin with.

Grant Henshaw was a piece of work. Edison wanted to find some way to bury his ass in cases and keep him from screwing up his plans any more than he already had. His plan to put Charlene in as Grant’s assistant would have been perfect. She could have spied for him, while he could have had a new toy to break in. That Kenny was just his type, too. Timid and easy to manipulate, he wouldn’t have gone crying to HR with any sexual harassment complaints. Just the type of “assistant” Edison craved.

But Henshaw put a stop to that, too. He’d apparently even warned Kenny not to talk to him too much. Damn it! What the kid did on his own time outside of work shouldn’t have concerned that West Coast prick, but it must have. Because when Edison tried to invite Kenny out for a drink the kid politely refused him, citing his boss’ advice not to “fraternize” with co-workers, at least until they were both well-situated in the office.

He knew Grant wasn’t an idiot the minute they met. He must have given off a vibe or something when he’d suggested the assistant change. That must have been it. Why else would the guy have beaten a path to Johanson’s door? Lucky for him Henshaw covered for him with the old man, though why was a good question. Not that Edison would lose sleep over it. Henshaw should have taken the opportunity when he had the chance.

Anyway, he would find another “Kenny” for now. That kid could be his after he got rid of the prick. He was itching for a new toy and he could tell his friend was, too. Ricky sat on the couch and regarded him with hooded, beady little eyes. His hair, perpetually greasy and unkempt, fell at uneven lengths around his shoulders. The other two weren’t there yet, but they probably would be soon.

“What are we up to tonight, Eddie?”

“Edison,” he replied in a clipped tone, taking the chair next to the couch.

He hated being called Eddie. It reminded him of the life he came from. That little town was a part of his past and he meant for it to stay there. He wasn’t a poor kid anymore. He’d made something of himself. And he deserved the respect he demanded.

“Whatever,” Ricky shrugged.

“Where are Gunther and King?”

“They decided to stay home tonight. Gunth said something about King needing his ‘lessons’ for a change.”

Edison smirked. He, Gunther and Ricky were all cut from the same cloth. King was Gunth’s sub, and he knew his place well.

“Probably afraid to keep sharing him with us,” he snorted. “Scared King’ll start wanting one of us more.”

“Probably,” Ricky laughed. “That doesn’t mean we have to stay home, though. I got a craving tonight.”

“Me, too.”

They both stared down at the coffee table for a while thinking of a plan.

“Urban’s always has good crowd of fags,” Ricky said quietly. “The players go there, especially on the weekends.”

“Mmm. I want a permanent toy, though,” Edison murmured, “something sweet and malleable.”

“You always want that. What’s to say you won’t find it there?”

“The boys there are already broken in,” Edison complained. “I want virgin territory.”

Ricky raised an eyebrow at that. “You willing to share it?”

“Only after I’ve broken it in to my liking,” Edison grinned. “But you know I’m always willing to let you punish it when you want to.”

A sinister smile broke the greasy man’s face and he flipped his long black hair back as he chuckled. “Good to have friends like you and Gunth.”

“Don’t you ever want to find a toy of your own Ricky?” Edison teased.

He already knew the answer, though. Ricky liked to play with other men’s toys, but he didn’t have the time or the responsibility to take care of one on his own. Edison had to admit, it was a lot of work, particularly in the beginning, when the toy was learning its place. His last toy had taken a long time to break. So long, he had kept it locked up for its entire stay at his house. He finally sold it to one of his friends who had a stay-at-home job and could devote all of his time to its training. The toy couldn’t be set free, after all. It hadn’t learned its place yet and would have gone to the police.

Ricky wasn’t a patient man either … and he had a short attention span. The one time he’d taken in a toy, it was already trained but Ricky didn’t care for its behavior and didn’t want to devote his time to retraining. That toy had happily gone to Gunther … King’s predecessor, in fact. It had opted to ask for its freedom when Gunther met King.

Edison preferred raw material to work with. And he would find some.

“Let’s stay in tonight,” he whispered as he gazed into Ricky’s eyes. Ricky was a top for the most part, but Edison had convinced him to play bottom from time to time. He was in the mood again. Ricky had a high threshold for pain, and Edison wanted to vent some of his frustration with Henshaw. Virgin material couldn’t last as long as he needed tonight, and Ricky was a pain slut the last few times he’d let Edison fuck him.

Ricky looked very interested all of a sudden. He slipped off the couch and crawled over to sit at Edison’s feet.

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, what?”

“Master.”