Clean Cut

Part Seven
Party Preparation

Bryant was antsy the rest of the week, waiting for Friday to arrive, but the anticipation made Priory's usual shittiness more bearable. Whenever Priory railed at him for some minor fault or belittled him for not shaving another fraction off one of his sprints, he just reminded himself of Friday. Priory began to get suspicious. His house pet was smiling more than usual, and for no good reason that he could see.

Thursday he sat across from Bryant at the supper table, staring at the tempting lasagna that Bryant had just placed on the table before him. Priory got first choice of the food, of course. He glanced from the bubbling, delicious smelling dish to Bryant, who was stripping off his oven mitts. "Lasagna on a weeknight? Don't you usually do those on the weekend, since they're so much work?"

Bryant shrugged. He couldn't very well tell Priory that he was feeding him up in the hopes that he'd be so stuffed and content that he wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary. It looked like he'd achieved exactly the opposite of his goal. "I just know how much you like it, so I thought why not have a treat."

Priory grunted, taking up the serving spoon. "It ain't like you to go out of your way to please me, boy."

He was concentrating on scooping up the rich mixture of noodles, cheese and sauce, so he missed the quickly repressed scowl on Bryant's face. *You self-centered idiot! When do I do ANYTHING but try to keep you happy so you'll stay off my ass?*

Bryant helped his plate and started eating, not missing the suspicious glowers Priory kept shooting him. *Damn it! If I'm not careful, that paranoid will cancel his basketball game to keep an eye on me tomorrow. What can I do to make sure he goes? Well, he's simple minded, I guess simple subterfuge will work.*

Bryant heaved a deep sigh. Priory looked up immediately. "What the hell is that all about?"

*Jesus, can't I just need oxygen?* Bryant sighed again. "I guess I can't fool you, Pri."

Satisfied that he'd caught Bryant out at SOMETHING, Priory said, "Of course, you can't, so you might as well just tell me what it is you're up to."

"Well, it's just that you've been spending so much time away from home in the evenings. There are your poker games, and basketball, and almost every other night your friends want you to go out. And here I am, stuck at home with nothing but the television..." *If I can convince him that I'm LONELY for his sorry ass, I deserve a Tony award. But it HAS to work.*

Priory sat back, a smug look on his face. "Aw, is he feeling neglected? Poor little boy."

"I just don't see what it would hurt for you to stay home a little more, or maybe take me with you occasionally."

Priory pointed his fork at Bryant, saying sternly, "I'm a man, understand? I go where I please, when I please, and no little slutboy is going to tie me to his apron strings."

Bryant quickly put his hands in his lap so Priory wouldn't see that he'd clenched his hands into fists. He forced a pleading tone into his voice, but kept his eyes on his plate because he knew that he could not manage the expected submissive look. "Well, at least come right home after the game, tomorrow."

Priory's voice was ominous. "Are you trying to give me a curfew, Bri?"

Bryant let a slight shakiness creep into his tone. "No, it's just that sometimes you're out so late. It's hard for me to sleep until I know that you're home safe. You could at least consider how worried I get, never knowing if you're all right or in a ditch somewhere. You don't know how relieved I am when you check in. At least then I know..."

"Stop your whining. I never heard such a load of crap in my life! I do NOT 'check in'. Shit, you make it sound like I'm some sort of kid you let out on sufferance. Listen, you, I'm going to the basketball game tomorrow night--ALONE. After the game I'm gonna go to Scores for a few drinks, and I probably won't be back till it closes. And I am NOT 'checking in' with you, understand?"

"Yes, Pri." Bryant's voice was as close to meek as he could manage, but inside he was crowing. He didn't like having to manipulate Priory, but it wasn't for any reason having to do with consideration for the older man. No, it was just that Bryant was an honest man. He would have preferred just TELLING Priory that he was going out Friday, but he had the feeling that one of them might end up in the hospital if he was that abrupt.

Friday afternoon, at the swim team's training session, Bryant waited until Priory was involved in timing the relay teams. He and Trent had finished their sprint practice by then and gone into the locker room. Keeping his gaze on the door to the pool, watching in case the coach came in unexpectedly, he said, "It's set." He smiled. "He won't even bother to call and check to be sure I'm home after the snow job I gave him. He'll be gone to all hours to prove that I don't have any hold on him."

Trent looked up from under the towel he'd been using to tousle his hair after his shower. He said quietly, "You decided not to tell him?"

Bryant frowned, looking away. "I'm not ready, Trent."

Trenton put his hand on Bryant's bare shoulder, "It's okay, Bri. This is something you have to do yourself, and you'll find the right time. I understand. I don't like confrontations, either, but it's different for me because of what I am. I think it's hard on you to keep backing down." He patted him. "You're gonna give yourself ulcers."

They heard approaching voices, and Trenton quickly stepped back, turning away slightly a moment before Priory and the rest of the team entered the room. The boys went into the showers, and Lowell stopped at the section where Trent and Bryant were dressing. "Vitelli."

Trenton looked up from buttoning his shirt. He was glad that he'd gotten his clothes on before the coach came in--Lowell's eyes had a nasty habit of crawling over him that made him distinctly uncomfortable. "Yes, sir?"

"You're friends with a hairdresser, aren't you?" Priory gave the word 'hairdresser' a faint, condescendingly amused twist.

"Yes, sir--Clive."

"Clive who?"

Trenton smiled faintly. "Just Clive."

Lowell scowled. "That's all?"

"That's all that's needed."

Priory gave his head a dismissive shake. "Bryant's been letting his hair go too long, and the roots are growing back. His last beautician quit working--silly bitch got pregnant, and he needs another one. Is your friend taking new clients?"

Bryant's heart started to thud in his chest, thinking about Clive, his clients, and what they might get up to in his private station. *I couldn't be that lucky, could I?*

"Clive doesn't cut hair on a regular basis these days. He only works on people he finds interesting."

Priory snorted. "Huh, nice work, if you can get it."

"I think he'd be willing to take Bryant on, though," Trenton's tone was innocent, but the look he slipped Bryant was wicked, and the older man had to fight down a smile. A smile would have piqued Priory's suspicions. "I'll talk to him, and see if he'll set up an appointment."

"You do that. I don't want to shell out too much, but I'm willing to pay to help the boy keep up his appearance." Priory gave Bryant's long, ice white hair a possessive look before leaving, without further words.

When he was in his office Trenton whispered, "It's true, you know. I bet Clive would LOVE to get you in his private station."

"To get his hands on my hair?" Bryant asked, answering Trent's teasing tone.

"Among other things."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bryant tried to reinforce Priory's perverse need to thwart him without going overboard and alerting him that something was up. Instead of protesting about his excursion, Bryant drooped slightly, making his eyes large as the stared at him in reproachful silence. It worked wonderfully. By the time he left, Priory was determined not to return till the bars closed down, and then to go straight to bed without letting Bryant know that he'd come home.

Bryant watched him leave with satisfaction, but he waited for ten minutes before he dialed Clive's number. "Clive? You can come get me now. How should I dress?"

"Any way you like, darling, though I have a sneaking suspicion of your color scheme."

Bryant scowled. "Unless I wear some of Priory's things, and I'd rather go naked."

He heard Trenton's voice call, "We'd rather you went naked, too!"

"Trent!" Clive scolded. "Are you going to make me spank you BEFORE we get to the party?" Bryant heard laughter, and it made him smile. "Honestly, that boy! He knows I can tell when he's really being naughty and when he's just trying to provoke me into warming his ass. Now, what's your address?" Bryant told him. "That's not too far. We'll be there in ten minutes." There was a soft, coaxing, murmur. "Trent, behave. We'll be at the party in just a little while, and then..." Another murmur. "Hmmm, make that about a half hour, Bryant. See you soon." Just before he hung up, Bryant heard Clive say, "Come here, brat."

Bryant smiled wryly, but a little wistfully. He couldn't imagine himself ever being playful with Priory.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bryant was waiting expectantly when the neat little sports car pulled up outside. He was out the door and down the walk before Clive or Trenton could get out. "Really, pet, we would have come to the door."

"I'm not trying to be rude, Clive, but there's always a chance that Priory might decide to talk to the neighbors, and he'd want an explanation of anyone who got anywhere near the house." He looked inside the car. "There's no back seat."

"No. However the front seat IS a bench. Slide over and give out guest some room, Trent." Trenton scooted over next to Clive, and Bryant settled into the space he'd vacated. The seat was still warm and his shoulder and leg brushed the other boy as he sat. "See? Nice and cozy without being squashy."

As they drove, Clive said, "Trent, dear, explain the rules to Bryant."

"Sure. Bryant, the rules are really important in a Dom/sub gathering. They're necessary so that everyone knows the limits. First thing--you do NOT mess with someone else's submissive unless you are given permission. Permission can be given verbally, or with signs." Trenton hooked a finger under a slender chain he wore around his neck and pulled out an X shaped pendant. "If they're wearing one of these, that means hands off unless you are specifically invited by the Dom. At the door we'll be given the party 'safe' word. That means that whatever you're doing, if a sub uses the safe word, you stop. No exceptions. Not even if it gives you a near fatal case of blue balls. The safe word MUST be sacrosanct."

Clive was nodding. "Tell him yours, precious."

"Swan dive."

"That's two words," Bryant observed.

Trenton laughed, and Clive tossed him an arch look. "No one's ever called him on that," Trent said. "But when I have to use it, it usually runs into one word, anyway. Now, let's see... You don't give any food or drink to a submissive without permission, and if they beg for it, they ought to be reported to their Dom for misbehaving. Safe sex is a must, since we're dealing with people who are into multiple partners, and not everyone bothers to get a full medical workup."

Clive broke in, "And by safe sex, dear, we mean whether your partner is anatomically capable of getting pregnant or not, whether it's hips or lips. At present everything that can be caught can be cured, but I have a friend from..." He smiled. "Well, VERY far away who told me absolute HORROR stories about certain health nasties that appeared more or less out of the blue and were rampant before anyone realized it. Don't worry, though. There's always more than enough protection to go around."

Trenton snickered. "You're telling me? There are bowls of condoms on practically every flat surface, and you have to look where you sit down so that you don't squash a tube of lubricant. I have this theory that all Doms and Dominatrixes have been in the scouts at some point in thier life."

They drove to the edge of town. Trenton pointed to a long white wall running beside the road. "Our hosts live in a gated community, and that's the start of the property. The entrance is just up there."

They turned into a side road and Clive drove up to a massive set of gates, stopping near a small guard booth. A uniformed man came out, carrying a clipboard, and took note of their license plate number, then came up to the driver's side and peered in. Bryant noticed that he wore a gun on his hip, and another similarly armed man was watching them from the other side of the gates.

Clive presented his driver's license. "Clive, Trenton Vitelli, and guest."

The guard studied them all carefully, then handed the license back and said courteously. "Nice to see you again, sir. You know the way?"

"Yes, indeed."

The first guard waved to the second, who flipped a switch in a box mounted on his side of the fence. The gates swung outward, just enough to allow the car entrance, and Clive drove in. Bryant twisted his head to look back, and watched as the gates swung shut again behind them.

Trenton said, "They have walkie-talkies, and an alarm system that alerts the police and brings a dozen more guards on the run if anyone tries to force their way in."

"You're sure we'll be able to get back out?" Bryant's tone was joking, but Clive noticed an edge to it, and wondered if the boy often felt trapped.

"There's never any problem with leaving. It's just that these people cherish their privacy, and can afford to have it, and their families, well protected."

There weren't many houses, as far as Bryant could see. No more than thirty, he would have guessed. Each one had expansive lawns and gardens around it, and was set off from the others. They made their way almost to the back of the area--Bryant could see the wall gleaming beyond the house they pulled up to.

There were cars lining the circular drive, and spilling out along the street. Bryant was a little surprised when Clive drove up to the front door. A young man standing beside the door hurried over and opened the door for Bryant. Clive and Trenton exited the car, and Clive dropped his keys into the young man's hand. "I know that you'll take good care of my baby."

"Yes, sir!" said the young man, and he startled Bryant by giving Clive a low bow.

As he drove off Bryant said, "That's the first time I've ever seen a parking valet act like that without a tip."

"That's because he's a submissive. The ones with good driving records take turns parking cars at our events. He'll join us as soon as all the invited guests arrive."

"My turn comes up in a couple of months," said Trenton. He rubbed his hands together gleefully, "and I'll FINALLY get to drive Clive's car."

"And you know what will happen if I hear any racing motors or squealing tires." Clive pushed the door bell, and chimes rang inside.

Bryant could hear voices and music inside. Trenton, standing beside him, was already beginning to move, shifting his shoulders and his feet. He grinned at Bryant. "My type of music tonight. Sometimes they have blues or jazz, which isn't too bad, but when they have classical..." He rolled his eyes.

"It wouldn't hurt you to get a bit more cultural, darling," Clive admonished him mildly.

The door opened. A tall, well-built man in an elegant silk dressing gown, his hair graying at the temples shook hands with Clive, smiling. "Clive, you dog! Glad you could make it. Since when are you fashionably late?"

"Logistics this time. It doesn't sound as if the party has suffered by my absence."

"We're struggling along. Trent!" He embraced the young man, unselfconsciously giving his ass a friendly squeeze. "Scrumptious as always." Bryant noted that Clive expressed no jealousy or irritation, so apparently this was allowed, though whether it was because they weren't yet inside or because Clive extended special privileges to the host, he couldn't say. The man turned lively, bright blue eyes on Bryant. "And who's this beautiful thing you've brought with you?"

"Prescot, this is Bryant McAllister. Bryant, this is Prescot."

Bryant shook hands, "Another single name?"

Trenton chuckled, and Prescot smiled wryly. "No, son, just a father with a twisted sense of humor. Our last name was Prescott, two tees. He named me Prescot, one tee. It's caused me no end of trouble with paperwork and business done over the phone."

"Why don't you go by your middle name?"

"Because it's Adonis." He sighed. "Mother was into mythology. Come on in."

They were in a long hallway. The entrance was floored with patterned ceramic tile that gave way to gleaming hardwood farther down. Most of the noise was coming from a archway halfway down.

Prescot closed and locked the door, then gave Bryant a searching gaze. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace, offering it to Bryant. "Will you be needing this, son?" Bryant noted the small X dangling from the chain. He considered it for a long moment. "These are for submissives who don't want to participate in strong play."

"Trenton explained it to me." He thought. "No, I don't need it." He didn't miss Trenton's grin and Clive's pleased, knowing smile.

"I'm glad to hear it." Prescot slipped it back into his pocket. "Now," he gave Bryant a thorough head head-to-toe examination. "I have a question. Are you refusing it because you're a submissive ready to play, or because you're a Dom? I can usually tell right off the bat, but I admit you've got me stumped."

As they started down the hall, Bryant answered the question by evading it. "I'm not surprised. I've even got myself puzzled."