At the top of the stairs, we continued down the hall, past the Smoking Room, and one of the Library rooms. The scent of cigars permeated the air and the sound of raucous laughter echoed. I looked to my side and noticed Sebastian was no longer with me. I turned to see that he was observing the large canvases of gentlemen of merit that lined the hall. He gestured with a shake of the head for me to go on into the room. I understood what he was doing and the fact he wanted to be discrete, even here where what happened behind the closed doors of the club remained secret, charmed me. I fumbled in my dinner jacket pocket and wrapped my fingers around the sturdy cold metal of the key for room four. I came to the door, pushed the key into the keyhole, and twisted. I opened the door and then looked back at Sebastian. Three men exited the Smoking Room deeply involved in a discussion and relocated to the Library. Sebastian met my gaze and nodded.
I entered the bedroom and flicked the switch to turn on the electric light. My nerves buzzed and flamed like they were made of light bulb filaments. Although we had agreed to a private conversation I knew there was only one reason we were meeting in a bedroom like this. I was once again about to commit a mortal sin, and this time I did it with forethought and without the fleeting burn of shame. I would not be surprised by Sebastian’s ardor like I was in Glasgow, oh no. This time I was prepared and I had even pocketed a small bottle containing Oil of Olive in case he wanted to try something more than we had done at the Central Hotel.
The bed was a stoic king-size four-poster. I sat and tested the firmness of the mattress. I waited, expecting Sebastian to be along mere moments after me, but he did not arrive. I removed the small bottle of oil from my pocket and placed it on the nightstand. The electric chandelier blazed and I did not care for the buzzing sound, for it made me feel more anxious, so I turned the overhead chandelier off, and switched the bedside lamps on to give the room intimate lighting. I would not be sinning in the dark, not this time!
The bedroom was a lavishly attired, and well-appointed. I strode to the mantle, took a taper from the box atop it, and lit the gas fire to take the chill from the room. Then I moved to the window and looked out onto the eventide street. I saw that the frigid winter air and the pollution had mingled to form a low hanging gloomy fug, making the city treacherous. Crossing the road on a night like this was near suicide, especially with the new-fangled motor vehicles that some of the aristocracy was becoming partial to! The risk of getting run down was growing exponentially, whether by a horse-drawn omnibus, a carriage, or a motor vehicle. Street lamps lining The Mall appeared haloed, and the figures going about their evening business—ghosts passing in the night. I shivered. The gloomy vista reminded me of why I rarely ventured out into the godforsaken night. Who knew when a cutthroat or doxy was waiting to lure a man to his undoing? Luckily, I would not be venturing out into the city for my undoing, I would be undone in this warm bedroom, and for tonight at least, blessedly, I was not alone.
I pulled the navy drapes closed, loosened my collar, and undid the buttons on my dinner jacket and waistcoat. I needed to pull myself together. Where the devil is Sebastian? I thought fretfully. I hoped he was not taking the opportunity to familiarize himself with the layout of the clubhouse in preparation for some future criminal activity. This would not gain him the trust he so dearly wanted from me. I scolded myself. I truly did not want to think ill of him but knowing Sebastian’s low profession and that he was by nature, a sinner, I could not stop the preaching of my priest echoing in my ears, with talk of damnation for thieves, adulterers, and sodomites.
Just when my frayed nerves were about to get the better of me the bedroom door opened and I turned to see Sebastian entering holding a tray with a bottle of French Brandy and two glasses. Seeing his foxy smile seemed to lift me out the darkness. I grinned with relief and slumped into a hearthside chair.
“Oh, thank goodness. I thought you’d changed your mind. Lock the door will you, my boy!” I requested when he had put the tray down on the sideboard. I heard the key twist in the lock and looked up as Sebastian turned to me.
“Come, dear heart, I may be duplicitous in certain situations, but when I say I will meet and talk privately I mean it!” The fervent look in his eyes was predatory. He grinned at me in a way I recalled from that first time he took me to bed. Then he had trapped me against the bathroom door and, being completely aroused by his hand massaging my prick through my trousers, I submitted to my desires.
“What subject shall we discuss that we cannot speak of in public?” He challenged as he sauntered toward me undoing the buttons on his dinner jacket, cuffs, and then the turquoise waistcoat.
“Did you take the Tiger Head as well as the Staff?”
“Of course I did.” I was surprised that he admitted it so freely. “But you said it was counterfeit?”
“The gems are counterfeit, but the object itself means more to the ancestors than the price of the jewels. There is power in an object that is greater than the worth of the materials
