Legal Artistry (6 page)

"No thanks, I'm good,” Gerald replied, and Stan got up to go to the bar as the club suddenly became quiet, the pounding music that seemed to permeate the very walls of the building suddenly cutting out. “Gentlemen,” a disembodied voice said through the club's speaker system, “your DJ for the evening is Randy, in more ways than one, so give it up for him and Dance All Night!” The crowd gave a cheer as the music started again, and boys began to move toward the dance floor.

"You wanna dance?” Stan asked him as he returned carrying two beers, one of which was already nearly empty just from the trip across the bar. Stan emptied the glass before placing it and the full one on the table. Gerald shook his head and began looking around and through Stan, figuring he'd eventually take the hint. A song ended and another began, and Gerald's attention shifted to the dance floor. A single man stood in the center, his body flowing and gyrating to each and every beat. Slender arms, powerful legs, and narrow hips all moved in conjunction with every nuance in the music. Gerald could only see his back, but what a backside it was. Butt and hips rocking and swaying, Gerald's eyes mimicked his movements as the dancer simulated the hottest sex Gerald could have possibly imagined, and there was no one near him.

A few guys approached and started to dance with him, but they quickly moved away when he paid them no mind whatsoever—he just kept dancing like he was lost in his own world. Gerald shifted in his chair, trying to get a better look at this gorgeous gazelle of a man, and as he glanced around, it looked like every guy in the club was trying to do the same thing, even the posers.

"If you're interested in him, good luck!” Stan slurred from across the table, yet another empty beer glass in front of him.

"Why?” Gerald asked without taking his eyes off the dancer, waiting for him to turn around. Gerald was already picturing the man's face, and he needed to see what he looked like.

"He only dances. Never with anyone else, and he never goes home with anyone. He only dances, for hours on end,” Stan clarified, his eyes becoming glassy and unfocused. Lucky for Gerald, one of the bouncers saw him and made his way to the table and helped Stan away.

"He always does this,” the bouncer explained as he helped Stan to his feet. “The man never knows when to stop.” Gerald thanked him and asked if he needed help, but the huge bouncer shook his head and led Stan to what Gerald hoped was a safe place where he could sober up for a while.

Gerald looked back at the dance floor and saw that the dancer had turned around. Gerald saw big blue eyes and a head of blond hair, made red in the light, but he knew him. Finishing his beer, Gerald stood up and walked across the club as the music ended and the dancer stopped his movements, waiting for the next song. Gerald knew he only had a few seconds. “What would your Gram say if she saw you now?"

Dieter whipped around, the fire burning in his eyes quickly turning to pain and hurt. He'd only been teasing, but Gerald realized he'd accidentally hit on a source of pain. “Sorry, I was only kidding,” he added hastily and saw Dieter's expression soften. “I only wanted to get your attention.” It appeared he'd done that, and he'd also answered the question of whether Dieter was gay. He must have changed clothes, and Gerald took in the slim-legged jeans and tight shirt that hugged Dieter's frame. Dieter wasn't muscular, but what Gerald saw turned him on like nobody's business.

The music began again, and Gerald moved away, expecting Dieter to begin dancing, but he seemed to be following him. Of course the table he'd had was gone, so Gerald found a small area of unoccupied space. “What are you doing here?” Dieter asked, but he didn't seem upset any longer.

"I just needed to let off some steam, I guess,” Gerald confessed. “I could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

"Just dancing,” Dieter answered matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I saw,” Gerald said almost yelling now over the music. “I'm sorry about my crack about your Gram. I didn't mean anything by it.” He really hadn't.

"Thanks,” Dieter yelled back. Gerald figured any sort of conversation was nearly impossible, so he stood there looking at Dieter, who looked back at him, as confused as Gerald was about what to do next. “Wanna dance?” Dieter asked him before practically pulling him toward the floor. Gerald had two left feet and couldn't dance to save his soul, but he let himself be led to the floor, and when Dieter began to move, Gerald went along, following his lead, trying not to embarrass himself too much. “Just move your body to the music,” Dieter told him when they were standing close. “Don't be self-conscious and don't worry about what anyone thinks, because it doesn't matter. Just let yourself go.” Dieter began to move, and Gerald closed his eyes, letting the music inside. At first, Gerald simply swayed to the music, but then he began to move more and more. When Dieter put his hands on Gerald's hips, Gerald forgot about everything but where those warm hands touched his body. Then he was dancing. It might not have been pretty or even very good, but Dieter smiled at him, and they danced.

Time seemed to move independently of them, especially since he spent the rest of the evening looking into Dieter's eyes and with a perpetual hard-on in his pants. Every time he felt Dieter's touch, a jolt of desire zinged through him, but Dieter made no move to do anything other than dance. Not that Gerald should have been surprised—it's what Dieter seemed to do, although judging from the puzzled and jealous looks of the other people in the club, it was true that Dieter usually danced alone.

The song ended and a bell sounded, the lighting in the club increasing. Gerald blinked a few times, having gotten used to the dimness, and he realized it was last call. Dieter stopped moving, standing on the dance floor as people moved around them, most of them trying for a last hookup before the night ended.

Gerald looked deep into Dieter's eyes and saw him lick his lips, that pink tongue making an appearance once again. Gerald leaned closer, wondering how Dieter's lips would taste and how quickly Gerald could move to sampling the rest of Dieter's mouth and everything else he could get his tongue, lips, and hands on. Right now, the whole thing about Dieter being a client was far from his mind. All he saw right now was the most enthrallingly sexy man he'd ever met in his life, and Gerald had rarely wanted anything as much as he wanted to get Dieter into his bed. And if the look he was getting were any indication, Dieter seemed to want that too. Gerald moved closer, his lips parting, and he saw Dieter's eyes drift shut and his head tilt ever so slightly.

Someone bumped into Dieter as they passed, excusing himself as he went by, and Dieter looked away for just a second, but it was enough to break the spell. Gerald realized what he'd been about to do, and Dieter seemed to as well. In the light, Gerald saw Dieter color and look away. Gerald stepped back to give Dieter some space. “I think we should be leaving,” Dieter said, and Gerald nodded, not quite sure what he meant, but he felt a glimmer of hope well inside.

Dieter led the way to the door, and Gerald followed him outside. “Do you need a ride home? Or....” Gerald left it open-ended.

Dieter studied him for a few seconds before pointing and saying, “My car's over here, and I haven't been drinking, so I'm fine.” Dieter began walking toward his car. “Good night, Gerald,” Dieter called warmly.

Gerald watched him walk away, feeling unexpectedly disappointed. Once he saw Dieter turn the corner, Gerald walked to his own car. After driving home, he lumbered up the walk and into his small bungalow-style home. Placing his keys on the table, Gerald yawned wide, remembering to lock the door before padding to the bathroom. Gerald loved his house. It had been built in the twenties and had all the original unpainted woodwork, which had been a requirement when he was looking for a house. He'd bought it about a year earlier and was working to fix it up on the weekends.

After cleaning up, Gerald undressed, taking care of his dirty clothes before crawling into bed. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. It should have been easy after a long workday, combined with the fact that it was after two in the morning, but sleep wouldn't come. His mind kept conjuring up images of Dieter dancing in the center of that club. Giving up on trying to sleep for now, Gerald pushed back the covers. Reaching to the nightstand, Gerald found the lube and squeezed a little on his hand before closing his eyes, running his hand down his frustrated length.

Dieter danced for him, but now, instead of in tight jeans and shirt, Dieter was naked, his swinging arms high above his head, stomach tightening. In his mind, Dieter turned around, swinging his tight butt for Gerald to see. His breath coming faster, Gerald stroked harder, faster, as Dieter crooked his finger for Gerald to come closer, and he imagined the feel of smooth, hot skin.

Gerald's stomach clenched and he came, clamping his eyes closed so he could milk everything from his fantasy before it faded. Opening his eyes again, Gerald reached for the box of tissues to clean himself up. Throwing the tissues away, Gerald pulled up the covers and closed his eyes, quickly falling to sleep, figuring he'd see Dieter dance for quite a while whenever he closed his eyes.

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Dieter fished his cell phone out of his pants, pulling his attention from the program he was working on just when he was close to finding the error that was causing him all the problems. “Hello,” he answered quietly, so he wouldn't disturb the other people around him.

"Mr. Krumpf, I'm Carolyn with Prince, Graham, and Associates, and I'm calling for Gerald Young. He asked me to see if it would be possible for you to come into the office later this afternoon. He has an opening at five, and he'd like to speak to you about your case.” It sounded to Dieter as though she were talking to him and doing something else at the same time because she seemed to pause between thoughts. “He knows it's short notice,” she clarified.

"No. Five will be fine,” Dieter said with a bit of relief. It had been almost two weeks since the evening he'd first met Gerald and gone to dinner with him, and later danced with him at the club, and he was curious to see if Gerald had something for him.

"Excellent. I'll add you to his appointment calendar. Thank you.” She disconnected the line, and Dieter set the phone on his desk before returning to work, trying not to let his thoughts roam to the handsome man who'd danced with him that evening. Gerald hadn't been a graceful dancer, but he'd tried, and it looked to Dieter like he'd had a good time with him. He knew Gerald was interested in him, or at least he'd been interested in taking him home for the evening. But Dieter didn't do that, and if that was all Gerald wanted, then Dieter was relieved he hadn't given in. He'd thought about it but figured if Gerald was really interested, Gerald could call him like a regular person—he had his telephone number. But he hadn't called.

"Who was that on the phone?” a familiar voice asked from behind him, and Dieter turned to face his friend. “Was that the attorney you danced with at Dance All Night?” Reed asked with a wry smile.

"No. That was his secretary making an appointment for this evening.” Gerald could at least have called himself, but maybe that was too much to expect. They'd only danced together for a few hours. It wasn't as though anything else had happened.

"Oh,” Reed said before moving closer so no one else could hear. “You like him, don't you? You must, you actually danced with him.” Reed answered his own question the way he usually did. “Did he invite you home with him?"

"He may have, but I don't do that sort of thing, and you know it,” Dieter retorted with a touch of anxiety. “I didn't approach him, he approached me. Besides, just because I like to dance and I'm good at it doesn't mean I'm some tart who'll go home with any guy I see,” Dieter added accusingly, knowing that Reed wouldn't have hesitated the way Dieter had.

"Come on, you don't have to be mean.” Reed pouted for a split second. “I just wish I'd seen this guy. He must be special if he's still got you riled up after two weeks,” Reed teased, and Dieter sighed, knowing Reed was right. He usually was when it came to things like this.

"I wouldn't say he was that special. After all, he treated me just like all the other guys do,” Dieter groused, his voice getting a little loud, and Reed reminded him to quiet down with a glance toward the offices in the corner.

"Dieter, there are times I regret that I ever took you there. I know you like to dance, but you turn on every guy in the place with the way you move. I know you don't mean to and that you're just having a good time, but you can't blame them if they want you."

"I suppose. But I guess I thought he might be different,” Dieter confessed softly. “Anyway, I have an appointment with him after I leave the office,” Dieter explained, and Reed smiled knowingly, then left Dieter's work area, walking back to his own desk, and Dieter went back to the offending computer program, trying to remember where he'd been.

At lunchtime, Dieter found Reed, and they ate together like they usually did. He'd met Reed when he'd started working at Sunbird Funds two years earlier, and he knew right away that he'd found a kindred spirit, or at least the only other gay man in the office. “Do you want me to go with you to your appointment in case he tries anything?” Reed asked after he swallowed a bite of his sandwich.

Dieter smiled. “No, Mom. I'll be fine. I think he's really a nice guy.” Dieter would be happy if he could figure out why Gerald seemed to get under his skin, but he did, and Dieter would have to deal with it because he certainly wasn't going to do something as
L.A. Law
—as ridiculous as having an affair with his lawyer. He and Reed finished their lunch, talking about other things until it was time to go back to work, and thankfully the rest of Dieter's day was quiet, except for a few moments of excitement when he finally figured out what was wrong with the program he'd been working on.

Just before five, Dieter walked through the doors to Prince, Graham, and Associates, letting the receptionist know he was there and taking a seat to wait like he had before. “Dieter,” he heard Gerald's voice say, “Come on back, please."