'You realise I'm not going to leave this, don't you?' Jake said after another terrific sex session. 'Even if I have to handcuff you to the bed.' He was staring down at Darren, obviously tempted and curious. Darren was glowing; it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to think Jake was mystified by him. He got up and turned on the shower. For once, the cold water didn't bother him. Then he flicked on the coffee machine. The two of them sat at the breakfast bar, munching on toast.
Jake seemed in no hurry to leave. 'Shit, you know something, Darren, you're a real surprise. A damn handsome innocent with a talent.'' Darren blushed. 'What about you?' He brought some fruit to the table. He was heavily into veganism. 'Me?' He raised an eyebrow. 'You're not going to believe this.
I own an art gallery.' Darren sat down heavily. 'You're kidding me?' Jake shook his head. 'I bet you've walked past it. It's up round the back of King's Road.' Darren paused, mouth full of food. He'd reckoned Jake had looked vaguely familiar but hadn't been able to place him. Now it came to him.
This was Jake Fromberg, son of Jeremy Fromberg, the American millionaire industrialist, and the owner of one of the hippest new galleries in London. 'Holy shit, you're the Jake Fromberg?' 'For my sins,' Jake quipped. Standing up, he went to the machine and poured more coffee. 'Say, it's kinda like fate we met, huh?' That depended on how you viewed it, Darren thought, as Jake wandered over to one of the canvases and stroked it with his finger. 'Hey, come on. Tell me about this cool work. Who's the guy in the pictures?' 'Hey, don't do that.' Darren darted forward.
He was precious about his paintings and no one ever touched them. 'You might smudge it.' 'OK, OK. I understand the touchy artist thing. So, you just get these ideas, do you, or are they based on someone in particular?' Now he either had to admit it or not. Admit he was a dork, a loser. But what the hell; he'd never lied in his life. 'It's pure imagination.
' 'Pure imagination. So you don't use a muse or anything?' Darren shrugged; he could feel the blush rising to his cheeks. 'You sure are shy, aren't you?' 'So would you be if you'd grown up with your dad calling you a weirdo.' 'Tough love, huh?' Jake observed. 'Just let's say I didn't have the obvious head start in life you had.' 'Hey, that's a bit harsh. You know nothing about me,' Jake said defensively. 'Like, for instance, how my father chucked me out when he found out I was gay?' He was staring Darren in the eye.
'Everyone thinks I have these advantages and it's not true. My father was a tyrant. He threw me out without a penny and stopped my allowance. Jeremy doesn't do gay.' Jake shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. Darren's gaze strayed to the bulge. Anger seemed to arouse Jake and now he knew what the man was capable of, he felt the lust surge through him in powerful waves. I want you, he thought, I want you in the way Dart would want you.
Jake grabbed and kissed him, feathering his mouth with the tip of his tongue. 'Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to get heavy. I just want to concentrate on your genius.' He pulled out another one of the canvases. Darren's favourite. 'Imagination's a wonderful thing,' Jake murmured. 'I wish I had the ability to produce this. I've always admired artists and writers capable of dreaming up worlds; constructing something and furnishing it with so many colours it becomes real not only to them, but whoever looks at it.
As for me, although I live for art and I worship it, I'm a loser at creating it. I can't do anything creative. My only attempt was some daft poetry to a lover years ago.'.