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A flash light staccato moved over a skimpy dressed, thin girl. "Head up, more! Give it to me, baby!"
The girl gyrated sexily on top of the black leather couch. "Now the pink fluff!" Maurice gave the camera to his assistant who quickly changed the film roll."We'll need another color for the left light," Maurice mused assessing the scenery.
"How about a warmer light for the background?" Arkadi asked.
Maurice studied the face of his lightning expert. "Do what you think, honey, but if it's crap, I'll push you from your high heels."
Arkadi laughed, delighted, and turned to wiggle back to his light spots. The girl came back and presented the new piece of clothing.
"Turn, turn!" Maurice ordered. The girl swirled and showed all angles. "You *are* sweet, honey. Okay this is the last shot! Attention, please! If we'll get this wrapped up today I'll invite you all for dinner."
All his people grinned, but weren't too hopeful, Maurice Holden was difficult to please. Later his secretary brought him his new schedule.
"Bobby Steele wants to meet you," Fredo told him "That's the guy with the funky underwear."
"I know who Bobby Steele is, hon. What does he want?"
"Vogue plans to do a world wide feature about him and his new collection of rubber suits. They asked especially for Maurice Holden and Bobby wants to talk about it with you."
Maurice sighed. "Don't tell me he wants to be at the shots?"
"You got it!" Fredo sang. "You ever tried rubber?"
"Not in this life! Okay, when?"
"Dinner or later?"
"Later, I promised the girls a dinner."
Maurice left his giggling, sated employees after eleven and squeezed himself in his silver Mercedes coupe to meet Bobby Steele. The designer had invited him on his boat in the bay. When Maurice arrived, a loud party was going on on board. He asked for Steele and was lead to the back deck where the young man sat with some friends. He jumped up at the sight of the tall, handsome Maurice Holden who introduced himself.
"Hi! I'm glad you had time to come over, I'm Bobby! That are some friends of mine." He waved at the group of people gawking at the guest.Some stood up and left to give Maurice room to sit down.
"What do you want to drink?"
"Water."
"Okay, Water."
Bobby tried to get the attention of a waiter. Maurice studied the younger man. His long, brown, curly hair stood in weird angles. Dressed in black, nothing you would able to buy in this country. And regarding the black haired beauty who clung at him, he had a taste for very young Latin blood.
"You know about the offer? Will you do it?"
"Depends."
"On what?" Bobby gulped his beer.
"How much you are going to interfere?"
"I won't, I won't. I swear! The only problem is I have my own models. The rubber suits are made for them. Can't change that."
"Okay, I can live with that, but if they are bloody amateurs you'll get new ones."
Bobby nodded, friendly. This really wasn't his style - to beg - normally he would have bitten Maurice's head off, who looked so arrogantly at him, dismissing him. But he adored Maurice Holden's work, and now seeing him in live he wanted to bed him too. No use in pissing him off.
"So, it's a deal! What are you doing the rest of the night?"
Maurice frowned at him. "Sleeping, I suppose, hon."
Bobby grinned a bit, disappointed. Too bad he wasn't interested. They talked shop and in a week they would start with the series.
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Fredo was arranging coffee and some snacks when Maurice arrived at the studio. "How did it go with Steele?"
"He made a pass at me."
"Oh, oh. That wicked boy! What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Ah, too bad. You need to get laid once in a while to keep yourself in the center of the universe."
"I'm the center of the universe, Fredo."
"What ever you say, darling."
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Bobby turned up with a bunch of very young things that never seemed to have seen a studio from inside. Maurice rolled his eyes. Fredo giggled at the expression of desperation in his boss' face.
"See it as a challenge, something fresh and new," Fredo whispered to him, waggling his eyebrows.
The young men and women did their best and Bobby was proud of them. Maurice watched curiously how he encouraged anyone and took care of them as if he were their older brother, while his rubber underwear and clothes needed to come with a NC-17 warning. Maurice wasn't really into rubber but it made him hot watching the slim bodies bending in the weird out fits, revealing more than hiding. The Latin boy was one of the models too and didn't leave Bobby alone for a moment. It was almost midnight when they wrapped up. The first prints turned out much better than Maurice had hoped with Bobby's inexperienced models.
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Maurice had just got up from a short sleep to get a glass of water when the phone rang. It was Arkadi. A body was found in the parking lot behind their studio, the police wanted to speak with him. Maurice sighed wearily and went to dress.
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At the parking lot cops were standing around in the gray pre dawn, yellow striped tape securing the area. He parked his car on the other side of the street and walked over.
"Who are you, sir?" A uniformed cop stopped him.
"I'm the owner of that photo studio."
"Please, the detectives want to speak with you."
Two men in suits came over.
"Hi, I'm Maurice Holden, the owner of the studio." He waved at the white cube which held his offices and storerooms also. "Can you tell me what happened?"
"We were called. A security guard found the body of a young man. Does this parking lot belong to you?"
"Yes, do you know who the man is?"
"No, would you look at him? Maybe you know him."
Maurice shrugged, when he stepped closer and got a good look at the young face he grimaced disgusted and turned away.
"I'm sorry, I know it's hard. Can you tell me anything?" "I know him. I don't know his name for sure, I think it was Antonio. My secretary might know his name or his employer, Bobby Steele."
"From where do you know him?" There was something in the detective's voice, disgust maybe.
"He was here yesterday for a photo shooting. He was a model of Mr. Steele. I saw him yesterday for the first time."
"Did you later meet him, for a drink maybe?"
Maurice seized him. "No, I didn't. I didn't even speak to him except during the shooting."
"Where were you tonight?"
"At home, sleeping, alone."
"Okay, sir, can you give me the number of this Bobby .......?"
"Steele! Sure, my secretary can."
Maurice went into his office and called Fredo and the rest of the ladies while Arkadi made tea for them both. Strong Russian tea in a samovar to wake the dead, as he always said. Well, it wouldn't wake Antonio anymore.
"Do you know anything about Antonio, when he left?" Maurice sipped at his tea. Arkadi pursued his lips and shook his head. "He left with all the others. Fredo locked the studio. Maybe someone, a lover or whatever, was waiting for him, someone who wasn't happy that he hung out with Steele."
"Maybe."
Fredo had called them and now all were sitting around doing a bit of work. The police had interviewed everybody until finally Bobby Steele turned up. He looked devastated. The detectives gave him a rough time.
"I've found out your real name is Earnest Flederman."
"And is this making me a suspect?"
"Don't become cheeky with me. The young man was your employee, but I've heard he had a special place in your heart. Maybe he found someone more attractive, or someone who could help him better with his career as a model?" He threw a look at Holden. "And you got mad and killed him."
"I didn't. I brought the girls home and went to a party, I have lots of witnesses."
The detective snapped his notebook together. When the cops left them finally Maurice sent all home. They would finish their session tomorrow. Bobby remained behind.
"Oh, dammit, why would anybody want to kill a kid?"
"It's a mad world."
"Antonio was really sweet, he couldn't hurt a fly."
"He was beaten to death."
"What?"
"I saw the corpse, he was beaten, in rage."
"Oh my god! Do you, do you think it was gay bashing?"
"What was he still doing here?"
"How should I know?" Bobby exclaimed, feeling on edge.
"He was your lover, wasn't he?"
"Not really, he wanted it, but he was too young for me." He said miserably. Maurice could see now that Bobby felt guilty for Antonio's death, that he should have made sure he came safely at home.
"Go home, darling. There is nothing you can do now."
Bobby nodded and got up to leave. He was secretly convinced that the murder had nothing to do with him but with the studio. He let the door shut and turned back inside, creeping along the walls. Hiding behind the decorations he listened in when Maurice made some phone calls. He gave several orders for tomorrow, but then Bobby's head jerked up.
"Hi, Tom, we have a problem. The police were here. One of the models was killed last night at the parking lot. I need that cleared. I don't want the cops traipsing around. I'll meet you tonight. Bye."
Bobby's eyes widened in surprise. When Maurice left, he slipped out of the building too. He tried to follow him with his car, but lost Maurice's silver car in the traffic.
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Next morning he almost choked on his French milk coffee when he watched the local news. An older man was arrested for murder at the young Antonio Lopez. The man had confessed. He sported a black eye and several bruises in his face. The reporter told that the man had appeared in a police station, confessing. He had been beaten before he had spoken with the police. The motive wasn't clear yet, but it was indicated that the murderer had a relationship with the victim.
Bobby stared at the remnants of his croissant, the telephone call of the evening before came into his mind. Maurice! He had arranged this!
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Bobby stormed into Maurice office.
"You did this. You and some friends found the killer and made him confess.!"
"Do you always wear black?" Maurice said calmly.
Bobby slammed his fist into the table. "I want answers!"
"You really think you'll get one?" Maurice voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Bobby Steele was the last thing he needed in his life. That nosy bastard, what he need was a really good hard fuck to show him who was in charge.
"I want an answer!"
"And then you'll go to the police?"
"No, dammit! I want to help!"
"Help? Help how?"
"What ever you do. I'm sure this wasn't the first time. Let me help you." Bobby begged shamelessly.
"Or what?"
"Nothing, I'll keep asking you. I would never tell a word. I swear, by the grave of my mother!"
"Is your name really Earnest Flederman?"
Bobby sighed. "Yeah. Deal?"
"I can't work with someone with such a ridiculous name."
"You can have me." Bobby offered himself.
"You think I want you?"
"You don't want me?" Bobby asked, surprised. Nobody turned him down a second time. "I'm fantastic in bed. I could show you a good time."
Maurice wanted him but Bobby was trouble with curls. He wasn't crazy enough. He should kill the little bastard before it was too late, but it would be a bit too obvious. Especially now when the police were watching him.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"We need a cover for tonight, we could use your boat."
"Sure! When? Were?"
"I'll tell you, hon," Maurice whispered conspiratorially.
So Bobby arranged a party on his boat, not that it was difficult - almost every weekend was a party. Some guys who looked as if they had seen too many Rambo movies mingled between the guests and one steered the boat across the harbor and threw an anchor. Bobby caught his breath when he saw Maurice for the first time that night. He was casually dressed in dark colors and was kind of different. The arrogant, almost effeminate expression was gone replaced with a hard, cold stare. His precise and sparse movements showed that he was in great shape.
Bobby felt the hair at the back of his neck rise and his cock throbbed when the dangerous man invaded his space to greet him. Bobby was convinced Maurice was some kind of ninja, a dark avenger that lived by the night and the fear of his enemies. It excited him more than anything before in his life to be part of this double existence. Finally Maurice smiled enigmatically at him and he and his pals disappeared into the black water.
"What should I do now?" Bobby whispered after the departing Maurice.
"Nothing, remain here for at least two hours and then do what you want."
"You won't return?"
"Not tonight."
"And I can't do anything more?"
"No."
When the man slipped down Bobby bent over the railing and whispered,
"Maurice." The older man looked up. " You didn't say that you don't want me."
Maurice grunted and vanished under water. Bobby sighed and returned to his party. He wanted to fuck that arrogant bastard Maurice so badly and he wanted to be held down and fucked mercilessly into next week by the mysterious stranger that lived in Maurice body.
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Next morning nursing his hangover from drinking too much whiskey because he was mourning over the unrequited love, he saw on TV that a foreign business man was arrested for cocaine possession on his boat. Bobby licked at his spoon with honey and chuckled, giving himself over for the rest of the afternoon to heavy wet dreams, starring Maurice.
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Tune in next week for more adventures of Bobby and Maurice,