The Gift (2 page)

The spirit faltered in his obviously well-rehearsed speech.

"Pardon?"

Charles stood up and walked across to the door leading off into the hallway. Surely Nicky should have made an appearance by now?

The man stepped into his way. "Where are you going?"

Charles looked him up and down. So Nicky hadn't brought a second submissive to the party. Neutral, Charles decided, neither truly dominant nor submissive. To be fair to his pet, it probably was the wisest choice for them both if they did ever 12

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go down the threesome route—even if it meant the guy thought he could demand answers to questions he had no right to ask.

Charles forced himself to be polite. The guy wasn't going to get laid, no point making the rejection any more unpleasant than it had to be. "I'm going to explain to Nicky we're not having a threesome with you."

"Nicky?"

"You can drop the act,
spirit
." Charles was well aware gentle politeness was not one of his strengths with anyone but his pet.

The man playing the role of the spirit stared at him as if he was the one acting like an idiot. "You can't go," he objected.

Charles looked him up and down. "I wouldn't guess Nicky would be so sloppy in a briefing. Even if you aren't a submissive, I assume he mentioned I won't be ordered around."

The guy looked him up and down. He sighed. "You're going to be one of those, aren't you?"

"One of what?"

The man grabbed Charles's arm.

Charles tried to shake him off. The room flickered around
them. Charles put his hand out to steady himself on the back
of the chair. His fingers grasped at empty air. The floor
shifted under him. He stumbled, only staying upright with the
aid of the spirit's firm grip on his arm.

The moment the floor steadied underneath him, Charles
snatched his arm away. "What the hell is going on?"

"We have travelled back in time to—"

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"Where's Nicky?"

The man ... the man who actually seemed to be more of a
spirit than Charles would have believed possible while he
remained snugly settled in his home, seemed to lose his
thread.

"He was upstairs," Charles said. He looked at the ceiling—

the plain white expanse contained none of Nicky's Christmas
colour. He looked across to where the hallway door should be.

The space was taken up by the service side of a large old
fashioned bar. Brass and mahogany gleamed in the light of
dozens of candles. Past the bar he could see men drinking.

The spirit hesitated. "We have travelled back in time to
another Christmas—"

"I've never been here before—at Christmas or any other
time of year. I don't know what you are playing at, but you
can take me right back to—"

"This is not your Christmas past," the spirit cut in.

"What?"

"You are in the Christmas past of Nicholas Lewis. This is
the year 2003—the Christmas you first met him."

"Nicky's here?" Charles looked around the room. He could
remember that particular Christmas very well. He might not
have visited the service area behind the bar before, but one
more glance into the seating area opposite them and Charles
realised they were exactly where the spirit said they were—in
the club where he first met Nicky. As most of his mind fought
to make sense of what was happening, instinct took over. If
he couldn't find the Nicky from his timeline then he would
seek out the one that was here. "Where is he?"

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The door at the far end of the bar swung open. Nicky
walked through it backwards, balancing two trays of empty
glasses.

"Nicky!"

Nicky didn't answer his master's summons. Charles strode
across the room. He put his hand on Nicky's shoulder. It went
straight through. His hand tingled. Charles jerked his hand
back, staring horrified at the phantom version of his lover.

"Where's the real Nicky?" he demanded as the spirit
reached his side, the one he'd found obviously wasn't an
effective substitute.

"Everyone is back in your real time, just as you left them.

They are fine."

Charles stared at this new insubstantial Nicky. "What am I
doing here?"

"Learning the real meaning of Christmas." The spirit's
voice dropped until the next words were barely muttered
under his breath. "At least that's what you would learn if you
shut up and let me get a word in edgeways."

Charles raised an eyebrow at the spirit. "Is there
something you wish to say?"

The spirit's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He
returned to his script, but there was no force behind the
order. "Watch. Listen. See another man's Christmas."

"Are you just going to stare at him all night?"

Nicky tore his gaze away from the sight of Charles Wilson sitting on the far side of the room. He looked over his shoulder. Gavin Thomas walked around him to lean on the bar.

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"Probably," Nicky said, placing a few more glasses on the tray. "I'm getting really good at staring at him."

"You could go and introduce yourself," Gavin suggested.

"Submissives don't do that,' Nicky replied. "If he wants to talk to me, he'll talk to me." He straightened the glasses so they formed nice neat rows on the tray.

"There's nothing wrong with bringing yourself to his attention," Gavin pointed out.

Nicky stared across the room again. Charles stood up and went to speak to someone on the left side of the room. Nicky tracked his progress. He'd gone to speak to another dominant. Nicky breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have any right to feel jealous of whatever submissive caught Charles's interest, but knowing that didn't help him push the jealousy aside at all.

"Look!" Gavin said, squeezing Nicky's arm.

Nicky caught hold of the toppling tray before the drinks spilled to the floor. "What?"

"He's standing right there by the mistletoe. He's just begging to be kissed!"

"Charles Wilson does not beg," Nicky said firmly, "and I can't just go and kiss him."

"You could do it on your knees."

The tray wobbled again. "What?"

"You go up to him, drop to your knees and kiss his fly.

Can't get more submissive than that," Gavin coaxed.

"Are you going to help or just stand there making stupid suggestions?" Nicky asked his friend.

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Gavin pushed himself up onto the counter to sit next to the drinks. "I'm not a service sub, darling. I'm just here to meet a kinky guy and get laid. You're the one who gets off on fetching and carrying for the dominants."

Nicky sighed. Gavin was right in his way. Nicky knew only one of them was searching for a real master.

"If he wasn't so much of a scrooge, I'd say give yourself to him as a Christmas present."

"Scrooge?"

"Charles Wilson doesn't do Christmas, darling." Gavin took a glass off the tray and knocked back the punch in one gulp.

Nicky took another clean glass from the shelf below the bar, filled it, and placed it in the empty spot on the tray.

"Maybe no one has ever given him a good Christmas—shown him the way the holiday should be celebrated."

"Oh, so that's what you want to do with him. They're calling it celebrating now, are they?"

Nicky cast a long suffering look at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just saying everyone loves Christmas if they are given the chance."

"No, Nicky—you love Christmas. Everyone else loves Christmas presents and a few extra days off work."

Nicky frowned. He was aware he got a bit more carried away by the holiday spirit than most, but maybe that was what Charles needed—someone to give him a good Christmas. Nicky could do that.

Reluctantly, Nicky pushed the matter aside. Straightening his shoulders, he squared the tray and walked out into the bar. The allowance his previous master left him was already 17

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long gone and he wasn't going to find a new master in the kitchens.

Stepping out into the main seating area of the bar, Nicky scanned the room. Spotting someone who needed a refill, he made his way across the room and knelt at their side. He knew the dominant by reputation, his name was Miles Harvey and he certainly wasn't the type of master Nicky wanted, but his glass was empty and Nicky was there to serve.

Miles knew he was there, Nicky noted the change in his posture the moment he realised someone was offering him a submissive's service, but he left him waiting there on his knees for several minutes before he leisurely took a glass from the tray. He said nothing.

Nicky waited there for exactly one minute in case Miles wished to ask for anything else. No command came. Nicky silently rose to his feet and stepped away from Miles's side.

He turned his attention back to the room. Spotting another dominant with an empty glass, he went to their side and repeated the process.

Half way to the third unsupplied drinker he hesitated.

Charles had finished his drink. Nicky was there to serve the drinks. There was nothing wrong with giving the man a drink.

That wasn't demanding—it was submissive. It was his job. His feet stuck firmly to the dark oak floorboards.

Nicky took a deep breath. "Come on, Nicky. You can do this. Don't screw this up. Don't screw this up." One time, just this one time he would bring himself to Charles's attention in an entirely appropriate way. At least he would know then.

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If Charles wasn't interested, he would just have to find a way to put him out of his mind. Nicky's hands trembled. The tray shook. "Don't screw this up," he whispered to himself again.

Nicky reached Charles's chair. He knelt in silence, making no effort to let Charles know he was there.

Finally it happened. Charles turned to Nicky. He took a glass off the tray. "Thank you," he said absentmindedly.

"You're welcome, sir." The words were barely louder than a whisper, but they seemed to catch Charles's attention as if he'd yelled them at the top of his lungs.

Charles studied him for several long moments. Nicky felt his gaze traverse his face, but he kept his own eyes lowered.

Charles reached out and touched the length of black cord hanging loosely around his neck, marking him out as an uncollared submissive.

"You don't have a master?"

"No, sir." A double dose of relief shot through Nicky.

Charles seemed to have at least a momentary interest in him, and he'd managed not to betray how much he hated being without a master in his tone of voice—two hurdles cleared.

Nicky took a slow breath, steadying his nerves for those obstacles left to come.

"Have you ever had a master?"

"Yes, sir." Nicky kept himself very still, feeling like any movement would break the spell.

"You were emancipated from him?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened?" Charles asked.

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"I was with Mr Hastings, my previous master, for eight months. I lived in his house as a twenty-four/seven submissive. Two weeks ago he was transferred to the Sydney branch of the advertising company he works for. He was unable to take me with him."

"You parted on good terms?"

"Yes, sir. Mr Hastings instructed me to find another master and left me an allowance so I may provide for myself until then. He also left a letter of reference for me to pass on to my next master." It seemed best not to mention that the money Mr Hastings left for him had run out well over a week ago.

Charles twirled the black cord between his finger tips.

Nicky held his breath.

Charles dropped the cord.

Nicky closed his eyes for a brief moment. So that was it. At least he knew for sure now.

Charles reached into his pocket. Extracting a business card and a pen he scribbled something on the back. "On January first, at eight pm, you will present yourself at this address.

You will go to the back entrance of the property, remove all clothing and kneel by the door until you are called upon to enter. You will bring three pieces of paper."

"One—the reference from your previous master. Two—a doctor's letter certifying you are free of sexually transmitted diseases. On the third piece of paper you will make a list of all your limits. On the top of the page you will write your safe word in block capitals in red pen. On the back of the paper you will list all other information any man dominating you 20

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needs—allergies, phobias, etc. You will present all three pieces of paper the instant the door is opened to admit you."

"Yes, sir," Nicky whispered.

Charles held out the card. Nicky took it from his fingers.

His hand was shaking. He put the card into his pocket.

Charles reached out and tucked a knuckle under Nicky's chin.

"Until then you will submit to no one. You have sex with no one. Do you have any questions?"

Nicky bit his lip, daring to hope. "May I know if you intend this to be a short scene or something longer?"

Charles made Nicky wait for his response. He stroked his finger tip along his cheek. "And if I only want you for a few hours, what then?"

"I won't give notice to my landlord," Nicky said with very forced calm.

Charles lips twitched into a smile. "If I decide to keep you I'll see your affairs are sorted out satisfactorily."

Nicky met his eyes for a moment. "Yes, sir."