Boots in a Flowerbed

14. Old Friends

Tim opens the door and is about to say something, but Kim just flashes him a grin and slips inside. Not that he'd be in any hurry. He's just so at home here by now that Tim's rushed "Master Kim, please wait!" takes him by surprise. He stops and frowns questioningly at the young servant, then freezes as he hears them.

At first Kim wonders if Chaim is in the room at all. He can only hear voices he doesn't know - a man and a woman. Kim creeps closer to the door and peers cautiously in. In fact there are two women, not one, and he can see Chaim, too. The man is standing in the middle of the room, one hand in the pocket of his slacks, and eyeing his visitors with an inscrutable expression on his face.

The expensively-dressed women are sprawled on a sofa, side by side, giggling hysterically, glasses of something water-clear in hand. Jewels glitter on their necks, ears, fingers, hairdos as they lean against each other and make faces at something tremendously funny. But they aren't what makes Kim's stomach lurch; it's the man with them.

He's very slim, very lean, as he sits there on the armrest of a heavy chair, arms folded on its back and chin resting on them. His hair is sleek and blackish brown, eyes dark as well under heavy lids, mouth sensitive and sensuous. There is something catlike about him, his pose, his smooth easy grace. He's looking at Chaim and smiling. Kim can't tear his eyes away from him.

"Chaim, don't be such a bore," one of the women wails. "Why the hell do you have to be like that?"

"You're absolutely no fun nowadays," the other one agrees emphatically and tosses back her drink, then reaches towards a table. Kim sees her fingers close around a half-full bottle. She refills her glass, pours so carelessly that some of the liquid sloshes over the edge. She swears and giggles again, and suddenly Kim realizes that she's solidly drunk. They all are.

"I still don't think I'll be coming," Chaim says over the rim of his own glass.

"But why not?" The blonde woman pouts, her words slurring a little. "It's gonna be a super cool party, that!"

"Oh, he's no doubt got more interesting company." The dark man smirks. "Something to keep him fully occupied. Don't you, Chaim?"

"Toni, please," Chaim sighs and rolls his eyes, but the man glides onto his feet and stalks closer. That, too, instantly makes Kim think of a preying cat, and he stares at that graceful flow across the floor. There's no other word to describe how the man moves - he's flowing.

"Don't you?" the man repeats and steps to stand in front of Chaim. He's not tall, and he has to crane his neck as he looks into Chaim's face and smiles, a slow seductive smile. "It's quite fascinating how come you've become such a complete hermit, around the same time when we started hearing rumors about this curly-haired toyboy... 'Demieni, is he?"

"Toni." Chaim's fingers close around the wrist of the hand that is sliding up and down along the lapels of his dinner jacket, and he deliberately pushes the hand away. "I don't fancy talking about him."

"But why not? Come on, Chaim!" Unperturbed, Toni folds his arms. "I tell you what - let's get rid of the girls first, and then we can talk." He glances at the women who are too busy with the rest of the bottle's contents to listen, then turns again to Chaim. "What's he like? Is he good in bed? Was he a virgin?"

Kim's hands ball into fists so hard that nails sink into his palms. He can't hear what Chaim says through clenched teeth, but he sure can see the triumphant flash in Toni's eyes.

"Hey, what's the problem, honey?" The dark man chuckles. "Is he a bit shy, perhaps, or - ohh no, no way!" He gives Chaim a conspiratorial shove. "Don't tell me you haven't even fucked him yet!"

"Fuck you, Toni!" Chaim growls, and the dark visitor leans closer. Their bodies are not touching, but still he seems to drape himself around the taller man.

"Why don't you?" His voice drops into a husky drawl. "Is that really it, Chaim? Why do you waste time with such a tease, anyway?"

Kim doesn't want to hear more. He's struggling for air as he backs away, as quietly as he can, and fumbles his way through the entrance hall. When the big door closes behind him with a slow click, he stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, then runs down the stairs.

His skin is creeping, and he only wants to get away from here.