Chapter Four
MY STOMACH feels like a bag full of cats.
Quentin walked into Micah’s charming Laguna cottage and took a deep breath. He might drawl a good game, but he wasn’t that experienced sexually. He’d played the role of the flagrant seducer at the party with Micah, and that was fun but not his true nature. Although Charleston had its gay population, Mary Beth was a prominent citizen there, and her grandson well known by association. He’d adopted the drag at first just to be able to go out with men and not be recognized. Then he’d found he really liked it. But his lovers were few. Mostly quick back-alley hookups with guys who had as much to lose as he did. “Will my car be okay parked in the driveway?”
Micah grinned. “You mean will my neighbors talk?”
“Perhaps that’s what I meant.” He laughed.
“Sure. Not a problem.” He closed the front door. “Make yourself at home.” Micah put a hand on Quentin’s shoulder, and it flashed straight to his nether regions. Oh my, the boy is sexy. Micah took Quentin’s shawl and hung it on a clothes hook on the back of the closet door. “If you need the bathroom, it’s down the hall on the right.”
“Your home is so nice.” Quentin looked around the small entry that gave way to a delightful old-fashioned parlor on the right and a formal dining room on the left. The kitchen appeared to be beyond the dining room. No open concept here—a house from another century. “How long have you owned it?”
“A couple years. Come on in.” Micah pointed toward the parlor, and Quentin followed him in. The room had a thick rug covering the hardwood floors and a few pieces of older furniture. Everything was clean, if a little Spartan. The walls featured some art of whales and underwater creatures. Quite pretty, though unexpected in the old house.
Quentin smiled. “Do you mind if I take my shoes off?”
“I’ve got to admit I’m relieved you don’t find those shoes comfortable. They have to be torture.” Micah laughed.
“Yes. Sadly, women suffer horribly for their art.” Quentin slipped off the pumps. Oh yes. Much better. How nice that Micah now looked down on him by a few inches. It made him feel—delicate.
“Merwaor.”
“Well, hello there.” A rail-thin tabby cat rubbed against his legs. “Who have we here?”
“Miss Queen, may I present Furtwangler, fur person extraordinaire. But if you’re allergic or anything, I can put him away.”
“Oh my, no. I love fur persons.” That earned him a big smile from Micah. Quentin knelt and scratched the cat under his slim chin. “Will he let me pick him up?”
“Try it. He’ll scamper away if he’s not into it.”
He slipped a hand under a very narrow belly and lifted. The cat turned in his arms and presented his undersides ripe for attention. “Ah, I understand. You’re a belly-rub lover.”
“Belly-rub slut is more like it. He’ll love you forever.”
“I like him.” Quentin sat on the long blue velour couch and devoted attention to a prime belly rub. The cat purred like a motorboat. “What kind of name is Furtwangler?”
“It’s the most rapidly disappearing glacier in the world. My Furtwangler is seventeen, and he was old when I adopted him from my mother, so he was already kind of skinny. Hence the name.”
“What a great cat. I should get a cat like this.” He smiled up at Micah, and the guy’s expression was soft and sweet. Oh my.
Micah pointed toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Quentin gave a little wink. “What have you got that’s organic?”
“I might have some wine. I’ve got tea and some fresh juice I squeezed at noon today. Not first-class nutrition but still good.”
Oh, the boy is so earnest. And so good-looking. That lean body, the full lips, that shock of hair that flopped in front of one eye. “The juice sounds wonderful.”
Micah left, and Quentin concentrated on the fuzzy belly below him. The cat purred and licked his arm. “I wonder if Mary Beth would like a cat. Bet it would be hard to find one as great as you.”
“Are you seducing my cat?” Micah sat on the couch and handed Quentin a glass of light yellow juice with no ice.
Quentin accepted the glass. “He’s quite a grand cat, but I fear it’s not him I want to seduce.”
Micah’s dark eyes gleamed. He set down his juice on the plain wood coffee table. “Oh, that’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Quentin put down his glass too without a taste, squashing the cat a little as he leaned forward. When he sat back, Micah captured his chin with strong fingers and closed his mouth over Quentin’s, letting his tongue slip in hot and deep. Oh my, yes. All the little touches and innuendoes at dinner translated into an instant blaze. Quentin’s hand wrapped around Micah’s neck, holding him closer.
By rights the cat should have squalled and jumped away from this conflagration. Instead Quentin got a lick on his arm and a slow, slithering retreat. Apparently they were okay with Furtwangler.
Speaking of okay, Quentin’s cock pushed so hard against his bikini panties they could bust the seams. No ball room for sure. He shifted, and Micah pressed a hand against his straining erection. “I think we’d better get you out of these tight clothes.”
“That would be lovely.”
Micah stood, his cock distending the front of his dark jeans. He extended a hand to Quentin and smiled. Quentin’s skirt showed full evidence of his harder-than-nails erection.
Micah shook his head. “How do you wear women’s clothes without that big thing showing?”
“I tuck it, but tonight I didn’t wear a gaff to hold it, so it escaped.”
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
“It can be if I get an erection at the wrong time. But tonight I didn’t tuck too tight so my charming friend could break free as needed. Rather sexy, actually.”
“Nothing is sexy next to you. You’re the sexiest thing
