Happy Hump Day! Let’s celebrate it with another wonderful Mid Week Tease, courtesy of the lovely and talented Sandra Bunino. Here’s a tease from my short story “Fine Dining,” which will be appearing in Evernight Publishing’s upcoming uniform fetish anthology. James Fairchild has something of a crush on the elegant, handsome waiter Gustav, but is too shy to do anything about it. After an unfortunate mishap with some spilled soup, James learns to his delight that Gustav is more than happy to make the first move.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
A sharp rap sounded at the door. On instinct he dropped into the chair like a marionette with its strings cut, covering his briefs with the wadded trousers. “C-come in,” he called.
Gustav peered around the door, holding up a large soup bowl with a white cloth draped over it. “Ah, good,” he said, bustling over. “Once again, monsieur, I apologize for this. Luckily Marco is an expert at treating stains before they set, and of course I will pay for your dry cleaning.”
“Absolutely not,” James said quickly. “It wasn’t your fault. That boor bumped you on purpose.”
Gustav gave a most Gallic shrug. “Nonetheless, I insist,” he said, putting the bowl down on the desk before gently prying the trousers from James’s hands. He held them up, studying at the stain. “Quel salaud,” he muttered.
A Paris veteran, James was fluent in French and recognized the phrase. “Calling him a bastard is probably an insult to bastards.”
Gustav smirked. “Yes, I suppose. But it will be the last time that connard and his friends eat here. Un moment, s’il vous plaît.”
He opened the door, handing the trousers off to someone outside with murmured instructions, then came back in. “Now for you, monsieur.”
“I–” James choked slightly as Gustav knelt in front of him, taking the bowl of ice water from the desk and putting it on the floor. The choke turned into a gasp as the waiter matter-of-factly slid two somewhat chilly hands between his knees and gently nudged them apart.
“This will cool the temperature of the burn and help it heal more quickly. It would be better if we could soak it in milk for a half hour, but I’m afraid that’s impractical considering the location,” Gustav said, wringing out the soft white cloth before wrapping it around an ice cube. “Brace yourself, monsieur.”
James shuddered as the wet cloth touched his burn, moving gently over it. Gustav clucked in apology, but James knew his reaction was equally due to Gustav’s free hand coming to rest on his uninjured thigh. The man was kneeling practically between his knees, so close that he could feel Gustav’s breath on his bare skin. He clasped his hands over his groin as camouflage for what promised to be a most inconvenient erection. “I’m all right, really,” he said thickly. “You don’t have to do this.”
Gustav eased back a bit, one hand still resting on his uninjured thigh. “It would be irresponsible of me to let you go while you are still in discomfort,” he said, dropping the cloth back into the bowl. “I should fetch some aloe vera lotion from the kitchen–”
“No, please,” James begged. “It’s all right.”
Grey-blue eyes narrowed at him, then glanced down at his clasped hands. A welter of emotions played across the man’s face, then; surprise, disbelief, acknowledgement, and finally an incandescent joy that shook James to his marrow.
“Ah,” Gustav said softly. His fingers left James’s thighs, gliding up so softly, touching his wrists, then the back of his hands. “I had hoped, but I wasn’t sure. Please, let me?”
Dizzy, James nodded, unsure of what he was agreeing to. He quickly found out what it was when Gustav pulled his hands away, revealing the long, hard shape of his desire under clean cotton. Already there was a spot of dampness at the tip, a faint grey shadow that spread as they watched.
Gustav bent his head and pressed a kiss to James’s pubic bone just at the base of his shaft. Warm breath gusted through the fabric, and James made a soft noise as Gustav’s lips closed around him, laying open-mouthed kisses up to the rounded head. A flickering tongue licked at the wetness there, savoring it.
“Délicieux,” Gustav murmured, glancing up at him with eyes that had gone dark. The waiter’s polite mask was gone, revealing the man underneath. “Please, James. Let me taste you.”
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