108

This is Tangent A from Tangent A Part Five, and goes from part 108 to part 137. After that it tangents into A and Z.

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108 = Owlet =

James was working in his study, trying to avoid going upstairs to view the remains of the earlier lovemaking when the call came.

"Ellison." It was Donald, with the information he had asked for. And more. Twenty minutes later he hung up the phone, feeling his entire world breaking up and reforming around him.

Blair wasn't some twenty-dollar hooker--not even the high-priced whore he had assumed him to be. Not even close. He was a grad student, who had given up his dreams of a Ph.D to become a prostitute to pay the bills for a mother with ovarian cancer. Without Blair's income there would be no money to pay for Naomi's care. And without a completed degree Blair had been unable to get any other job. His "Little Whore," James reflected grimly, was more of a surprise than he had ever dreamed. And he wanted, with a desperation that shocked him, to find out more about what kind of person would give up everything for the one he cared about.

James slowly got to his feet and went upstairs for the first time since he had left to take Blair to see his mother. The rumpled sheets, where Blair had shown him more than he had ever imagined, seemed to mock him.

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109 = Sorka =

There had been something about Blair that made him ache inside. It wasn't just sexual; no quick blow job in the office could have inspired the need he felt. A big part of him wanted to ignore the feelings, knowing that what he wanted was impossible. The other part screamed in need, too long ingnored. Ignored for the sake of propriety, family honor, and the wishes of his father.

He slowly walked over to the bed as though drawn there. He pulled the sheets off the bed, to take them down to the laundry room. He was grateful that all the servants were gone. He grabbed the pillow that Blair had slept on, meaning to strip off the case; he could smell the younger man on it. The next thing he knew, he was curled up on the bed, his face buried in the pillow, his hand on his cock. The image of Blair clear in his mind.

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110 = Pathos <kyag@accessin.com.au> =

The previous nights events played in vivid technicolour through his mind... the exquisite feel of Blair's lips on his, his hands on James' cock as he caressed the length before moving on to cup his balls. Just remembering the sensations had James' stomach muscles knotted with anticipation as his own hand pumped his cock, almost mimicking the same pressure and tempo that Blair had used.

Never before had he allowed anyone to exert as much control over his body as he had allowed the younger man last night. Somehow, Blair had managed to get through his defenses and shatter his rigid control.

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111 = Bablit@aol.com =

Blair finished packing all of his things. He lay down on his bed and thought about the man who he had spent the weekend with. He could feel James' fingers, hands, mouth running over his body... he moaned, just thinking about it. He wished it could go on and on, but he had no illusions. He knew what he had been to the man he had loved. Loved?

Where had *that* come from? It was true though, he realized. He had felt safe...wanted...needed...loved. Too bad it was a one sided illusion. He wiped away the wetness spilling out of his eyes.

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112 = Sorka =

With those sad thoughts he drifted off to sleep.

--------------

James came softly, spilling his seed over his hand and onto the bed, the younger man's man whispered on his lips. He shuddered as slowly sat up. There was no denying it, he was in serious trouble. A small smile played across his lips when he thought of Donald's reaction to his other request.

When Blair woke the next morning, he had everything he owned packed up in less than two hours -- there were some advantages to selling everything you owned. He surveyed the room one last time, satisfied that anything left behind was not his. He paused, wrote a check from his account for the three thousand dollars, and tacked it to the refrigerator. He grabbed his bags, the two of them, and headed out the door.

His first stop was the ATM machine. He was no fool, he had deposited the first check in the account that Terry knew about. But the other, he planned on using for the slowly piling up medical bills. As long as he continued to make payments, Naomi would have the care she needed. If he gave the hospital half the amount on the check, he would have made a substantial dent, and still be in the black. He could even get a nice apartment with what was left over.

He went to the hospital's accounting desk, where he always made his payments. "Hi, Jeana," he smiled the woman there. "I'm here to check my mother's bill."

"Hi, Mr. Sandburg," Jeana smiled brightly. "I'm so glad you showed up today. You won't believe what happened."

"What is there something wrong?"

"Not at all, I put your mom on a list of those needing charity care, and an anonymous donor has offered to take care of all her expenses. Whoever it was paid the full amount owed." She smiled excitedly.

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113 = "Brenna Mathiasen (ACQ)" <bmathias@dudley.lib.usf.edu> =

Blair's mouth opened. He knew he was gaping foolishly, but the news was so unexpected, so startling, he couldn't help himself. He felt as if an enormous weight had lifted off his chest, a bubble of relief and joy expanding inside him to replace the burden he had so willingly assumed.

But then a frown wrinkled his brow as a shocking suspicion occurred to him. But why would *he* bother to pay his mother's medical bills? Wasn't it more likely that it was someone else, some unknown philanthropist? James Ellison thought of him as a whore - hell, hadn't he whored for him? How could the older man know how much more their encounter had meant to him than a mere commercial transaction? How could he know how Blair's heart fluttered, just thinking about the strong, well-muscled body, the hands that had been so unexpectedly gentle, the overwhelming presence that had made him want to surrender his fate into another's keeping? And even if he *did* know, what difference would it make? Men like James Ellison didn't lose their heads over prostitutes.

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114 = Francesca =

Shaking his head slowly, Blair walked down the hospital corridor and paused at the door to Naomi's room. Peering through the door's small window, he watched his mother sleeping silently, restfully. Blair closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool glass. Maybe it was just money to Ellison. Maybe money was nothing when you had so much. A long shuddering sigh of relief forced its way out of his body. *This*, he thought, opening his eyes to peer again at his mother's welcome repose, this is what money meant to him.

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115 = Pathos =

Cleaned up once again and neatly groomed as was his wont, James stared at the now pristine bed in front of him. No trace of what had happened either last night or this morning showed now; he had personally remade the bed after he had come merely remembering the sensations that Blair and he had shared last night.

'You are getting soft James Ellison, letting a whore affect you like this.' James thought to himself. 'You bought and paid for the pleasure that you received last night... and that is how you like it - no ties, no commitments - less messy that way.'

His conscience twinged as he realized just how wrong his words were. As if to reinforce that, James headed out the room and down to his car, not even allowing himself to reflect on what he was about to do.

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116 = Sorka =

He found himself wandering about a small shop down at the cultural end of town. He really had no idea what he was doing there. He wasn't one to go to these places. Carolyn liked classical things, with ornate woods and gold leaf trims. He personally didn't care.

He spied several hideous looking masks, that he though looked remarkably like his wife when she was angry. That thought had him chuckling until he saw a small statue of what looked to him like a witch-doctor praying to the heavens. For some reason it reminded him of Blair, small yet full of beauty and power.

He paid the price without a thought. He drove to the hospital, and crept into Naomi's room. She was sleeping quietly, the lines of pain not too visible. Taking out the statue, he placed it on the stand next to the bed with a card. It read: It will watch over you when your son can't.

He crept back out of the room as quietly as he had come. Almost home free, he turned to head for the exit.

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117 = Bast =

In the hospital parking lot, he got in the car and started it up. He started to pull out of his parking space when he looked over and saw a very familar beautiful man standing there watching him. He froze. And stared. Blair was so beautiful. He wasn't dressed up, in fact *just* the opposite. The jeans he was wearing should have been outlawed.

Blair just stood there, watching James. He couldn't believe he was here. What for? Not to mention the fact that he was kind of embarrassed that James had noticed him. Oh no.....James was getting out of the car. He was walking towards him. What to say? What to do?

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118 = Sorka <rhiannon@raven.cybercomm.net> =

"James..." Blair faultered. He honestly didn't know whether to be angry or scared that this man was standing so close.

"Blair," James licked his lips nervously. "I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind having breakfast with me."

"James, I told you before, I don't like to blur the lines."

"I know," James swallowed, not sure how he was going to say this. "Then would you come with me if I said I never wanted to hire your services again?"

Blair blinked. "Um, I'm not sure how to take that."

"Well, let me take you to lunch," James offered.

"I thought you said breakfast." Blair reminded him.

"Can't we do both?" James asked, trying to hide a smile.

Blair opened his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by the sudden very loud grumbling of his stomach.

"That settles it." James gently ushered Blair to his car. "Where do you want to eat?"

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119 = Shinzia@aol.com =

Blair stopped by the car door James was holding open. "I'm not really sure if this is a good idea."

James could read the indecision and apprehension on Blair's face. He took a step back, removing himself from Blair's personal space "Blair, I'd really like to talk to you and since I know you're hungry..." James flashed a quick grin as Blair's stomach grumbled for the second time.

Blair rolled his eyes and laughed. "Oh man, I guess that decides it."

James was smiling to himself as he got into the car. "So, where do you want to eat?"

Blair's eyes flashed with enthusiasm. "I heard about this great new Thai place that opened a few weeks ago. I'd love to go there. They are suppose to specialize in traditional Thai cuisine. Did you know that Thailand once was the home to...."

As the sound of Blair's voice washed over him, James had to force himself to stop from reaching out to tousle the kid's hair.

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120 = Mispriss1@aol.com =

As much as James was interested in Blair's intellect, what he really wanted to do was throw him in the back seat of his luxury sedan and show him just why it was called that. But he forced himself to listen, for now. So he could think.

How was he going to make Blair understand what he wanted from him when he couldn't understand himself? Sure, he admired the kid. Even respected him after getting to know more about him. But he was still a whore. And now he was James' whore. He was bought and paid for - more than James had ever spent on a whore and more than some of the businesses he had acquired. He knew his reputation - and was proud of it.

He was ruthless, and he had earned that title. It was time to show the kid just who was the boss in this little arrangement. He could do lunch in his sleep. But afterwards, Blair would find out who James was born to be.

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121 = the lady of shalott =

Settling his walls back into place, ignoring the fact that they had already proved to be flimsy as hell when it came to Blair, James obliged Blair's whim and drove them to the new restaurant. Thanks to the early hour, the place was nearly deserted, and the host was happy to give them a large booth.

As they slid into the leather seats, James marshalled his forces. 'Everyone has his price,' he thought silently, eyes locked on Blair's face as the young man unconsciously nibbled his lower lip while flipping through the menu. 'And I already know yours.' "What looks good?" he asked mildly. 'Patience, James,' he reminded himself. 'Moving too fast will just

make him balk.'

Unaware of the plans brewing behind the other man's eyes, Blair looked up at James and grinned with simple happiness. "Everything."

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122 = Sorka =

The food was excellent, just as Blair had heard. The company, however was beinging to worry him. Durring the meal it seemed that James was going out of his way to touch him. Whether it be by stretching his legs out, or reaching for the same glass.

Oh it was subtle enough, but he was always alert for the hint of interest. It was how he made- *had* made his living. He wasn't ever going to do that again, he hoped.

"Ellison!" A voice called from across the room. "You ruthless bastard, I didn't know you went for Thai food."

Both James and Blair turned to see a portly man with a bad toupe` walking toward their table. James hid a grimace, it was one of his business contacts. Blair paled, it was one of his former clients.

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123 = Sorka =

Blair only had a moment to attempt to dissolve into the seat back before Anderson reached their table and caught a glimpse of him. The banker's eyes widened in brief surprise, slowly moving from Blair to James with avid curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Interesting company you're keeping, Ellison," Anderson said, his voice oily and sly. The small black eyes returned to Blair, raking over the pale features and slender torso in a

blatant leer.

James knew, rationally, that he should be worrying about his reputation right now, what this man could do to harm his business prospects. Somehow, though, that one look turned Anderson into all the other men who had ever touched Blair, and the only response he could conceive of was hot, furious jealousy.

"That's right, Anderson," he almost snarled, gratified to see the man's puffy-cheeked face turn towards him in startlement at his savage tone. "It's *my* company, and I'm *keeping* it. Find another table. Now."

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124 = MissPriss =

Blair flushed at Jim's attitude. "Where is all this territorial shit coming from? I thought we discussed this earlier?"

James just smiled, and that scared Blair more than he would admit. "I have been know to get territorial with my property in the past," James stated. "Don't take it personally."

James took great pleasure in watching the play of emotions across Blair's pretty face. 'Ah, yes, my pretty little whore. Show me what I want to see.'

Blair knew they were in a public place, and as a whore he would have never thought to defend himself. But he didn't want to be here as a whore, and that gave him more courage to fight against that predatory gleam in James' eyes. He was sad that it had come to this point, but it was time to walk away. He had his money and more - now it was time for self-respect. Surely, Jim - no, *James* - would never hurt him in public.....

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125 = Tealin =

Anderson's eyes narrowed as he met Ellison's fierce glare for a tense moment. Then he let out a forced bark of laughter and backed down. "Oh, that's how it is, is it? Well, far be it from me to begrudge a man his toys. Enjoy the new holdings, Ellison." With a final assessing glance at Blair and smirk, he turned and headed for the door.

The silence of the nearly empty room seemed to roar at them as James and Blair watched him leave, both caught up in their own thoughts. When he was finally out of sight, Blair looked up at James, his eyes burning. "You're 'keeping it'?" he repeated in a mix of incredulity and anger, throwing James' words back at the older man. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

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126 = MissPriss =

incredulity and anger, throwing James' words back at the older man. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

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127 = MissPriss =

Blair flushed at Jim's attitude. "Where is all this territorial shit coming from? I thought we discussed this earlier?"

James just smiled, and that scared Blair more than he would admit. "I have been know to get territorial with my property in the past," James stated. "Don't take it personally."

James took great pleasure in watching the play of emotions across Blair's pretty face. 'Ah, yes, my pretty little whore. Show me what I want to see.'

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128 = the lady of shalott =

When Blair started sliding out of the booth, James reached out immediately and grabbed his arm. 'Dammit, Ellison, watch your mouth,' he silently ordered himself. 'The kid's so touchy he's likely to take off without waiting to hear the offer.' "Blair, this would be a lot easier if you didn't try to take off anytime I say something that pushes your buttons," he said, keeping his voice utterly reasonable. It was the tone that his rivals had learned to fear at the negotiating table.

Blair turned and looked at him straight on, the pleasure that had animated his features just a moment ago completely gone. James privately mourned the loss as Blair snapped, "Look, man, I'm not interested in being your property or anyone else's. I don't know why you paid my mom's bills, but with that and the checks, I can get *out* of this. And believe me, 'grateful' is a totally inadequate word to describe how I feel about that. But if you thought that was going to buy me, I'm sorry, but it's not." The anger slowly faded from Blair's voice, replaced by a simpler plea for understanding. "It means that I'm *free*, do you get that? I can actually go back to a normal life now, maybe forget I ever had to do this kind of thing."

James' eyes glittered. "And forget me?"

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129 = saraid =

"I'm really sorry it has to be that way." He said at last, rising slowly from the table, only to be stopped when James' hand closed on his arm - gently, but with threat.

"Can you walk out on me, then? Walk out on everything I could give you - money, gifts, security?" The tone was calm, almost too casual.

With a shrug Blair answered, his eyes meeting Ellison's. But the businessman had too much experience,there was nothing to be learned from those pale blue lasers.

"I've lived the last two years of my life without those things. Now that I have that life back, did you think I was going to sell it to you?"

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130 = Sorka =

Blair ran his hands through his hair frustration. Grabbing James' arm he pulled him into the semi privacy of the bathroom. They had made enough of a scene as it was. "If you would stop trying to control everything that happened between us, then maybe, just maybe, I might look back at it with some fondness." He steeled his eyes. "You have everything anyone could ever want. Regardless of what you think of me, you can't 'have' me and you don't own me. And I'm not interested in being some kept boy that you hide away in some penthouse somewhere."

James opened his mouth and nothing came out. He had suddenly lost control of this situation again, and he didn't know how.

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131 = MisPriss =

But he knew he couldn't let this man slip out of his life without a fight. Carolyn had once told him that she could see the animal in him, predatory and deadly, when he was on the verge of getting what he wanted. She had likened that animal with a panther; dark, deadly, and infinitely dangerous. Maybe it was time to *really* show Blair just how ruthless and territorial he could be

When someone, anyone - threatened him or what he wanted.

James had closed his eyes against the man he desperately wanted in his possession to attemppt to get his emotions under control. He wasn't use to this. He was the one in charge, dammit. And this kid needed to understand that once and for all.

It was time to let the panther out of his cage, and he needed someplace private to do that....

When he opened his eyes and looked down at Blair, he new he had accomplished

that, if not more. He could feel the panther in his blood now, and knew damn

well that Blair could see it as well.

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132 = saraid =

"Let's go." Grabbing Blair's arm again, he was shocked when the younger

man resisted fiercely.

"I'm not going anywhere with you acting like this. Don't you get it,

man?!" Pulling free with a ruthless yank, he sacrificed a chunk of his shirt and moved away quickly. "I knew it would be this way. I knew you would be like that. No matter what you might think you feel - what I might have thought I felt - you'll never see me as anything but a whore. A man who sold his body for money."

His voice softened and hishead dropped as he closed his eyes and sadness

filled the tiled room.

"Because that's what I am. But -" Now his head came back up and his eyes shot angry sparks, " - if you even *think* about trying to force me into something, I'll make that scene with Anderson look like afternoon tea. I'll scream to every paper in the country and it doesn't matter if they believe me."

He stared defiantly at Ellison, but there were tears in those eyes.

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133 = Sorka =

Any word that James might have replied were cut off by a mobile tongue invading his mouth, cutting off the oxegen supply, and shutting down his brain. He was pushed into the cool tile of the bathroom wall, his legs went weak. His whole body came to attention. Then the tongue was gone, and he felt alone.

Blair pulled away, and out of James reach. "If you want something more than that, you ask. You don't take, you don't buy. You can't handle that too bad." Blair walked out of the bathroom, and out of the resteraunt.

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134 = Deb =

"Hey! I didn't mean anything by it, Ellison. I appreciated his skills. And no matter what he told you, that last time we were, ah, together...it was an accident. I didn't realize there were whores who didn't...I mean, I'd have stopped but I thought he was just into this role playing thing...."

With a scream of rage, James launched himself at the now terrorized man who raced away with a speed and agility belying his age and physical condition. Ellsion snarled after the retreating figure. First thing in the morning, he'd have his people put out the word, discreetly, of course, that Anderson's business was about to go belly-up. He'd make that slime sorry he'd ever laid a finger on Blair Sandburg.

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135 = the lady of shalott =

James stood alone in the bathroom, body aching and mind dazed with unfulfilled desire, and wondered why he even bothered pretending to himself that he was still in control. Hurrying out of the restaurant, he dropped a century on the table in passing, ignoring the sly look Anderson shot him.

Blair was trying to hail a cab, a difficult proposition in the lunch hour traffic. One had just pulled up when James reached him, catching the open door before Blair could climb in. "Fine, dammit," James panted.

"'Fine' what?" Blair asked challengingly.

"Fine, I'm asking," James snarled. "Will you let me take you to dinner tonight?" Seeing the stubborn set to Blair's jaw, he unwillingly added, "Please?"

Blair's eyes widened at the last word, then a slow, sultry smile curved his lips. "No," he said, putting a finger to James' lips to silence the immediate response, "but I'll take *you* to dinner."

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136 = saraid =

Blair shut the door and shouted out the window as the cab pulled away. "I'll call you!" Leaving James staring after him. He was torn between two feelings; completely overwhelemed by what he'd just done and furious at himself for doing it.

As he was standing there Anderson came out of the restaraunt and siddled up to him with a conspiratory grin.

"That's the best little fuck I ever had." He offered. "I swear the boy has ten hands, he was everywhere!"

"If you ever speak of him again -" James turned on the man and roared his fury, " - I'll grind you into the dust! Your *grandchildren* will wind up on welfare!" Piggy eyes widening, the man backed of quickly.

Ellison snarled after the retreating figure. First thing in the morning, he'd have his people put out the word, discreetly, of course, that Anderson's business was about to go belly-up. He'd make that slime sorry he'd ever laid a finger on Blair Sandburg.

137 = saraid =

Flushed by the rush of adrenalin, Blair drove quickly. He had an appointment at the University tomorrow morning and that left him with less than a day to choose an apartment and uy some appropriate clothes - translation; something neither meant to attract sex or so old it was falling apart.

He'd stored his meager belongings at a buddy's house. Julian was another of Terry's guys, worked a couple of nights a week to support a coke habit, but decent besides that. Blair could sympathize, he'd once done a paper on the social aspects of addiction, how hard it was to leave when the drug supplied you not only with highs but a family structure as well....

Pulling into a spot near Julian's place, an efficiency in a half-decent neighorhood, Blair was startled when Terry appeared. The other man came around a parked car with casual coolness that instantly put the younger man on alert.

"So, what, you thought you could just leave like that? Paid me what you owe me? Shit." He snarled and came closer. Frightened now, knowing this man's temper - it was clear that Terry was high on something - Blair backpedaled.

"The check's good, man. Every penny."

"You forgot the *interest*, Sand-burg." Terry had him between the car and safety. "What'd ya do with the rest of that money?"

Blair gulped. This did not look good.

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Continued in Part Seven A and Part Seven Z