The Current Between Us

“Is that you, Mr. Synclair?” the bellhop asked discreetly.

“Yes, Johnson, and we’re coming, right, Trent?” Trent looked around, startled. Gage could see the moment he realized where they were and what ended the kiss.

“Come, let’s have dinner,” Gage said, taking a step back, but he still kept his back to the bellhop. His rigid cock raged. He took the moment to adjust himself and button his suit jacket together before he turned. Gage ran a hand down his front, making sure nothing stuck out too badly and looked back to see Trent do the same.

“I like your reaction to our kisses, handsome,” Gage said with a wink. The beeping on the elevator began in earnest, which meant Johnson forced the elevator doors to stay open.

“Sure you do, until I completely embarrass you by stepping out of the elevator with my dick sticking straight out,” Trent whispered. He looked up at Gage as he pulled his clothing together. The stain of the blush was back on his cheeks and Gage chuckled at his words.

“I assure you, it wouldn’t embarrass me in the least. Actually, quite the contrary, I believe I would love it because everyone here would know I brought on this reaction in you and you were mine. No one else’s for the picking,” Gage said. The words were uncensored and completely caught Gage off guard after he spoke them. Johnson looked surprised, his eyebrows lifted, and his gaze shot straight to Gage, then to Trent, before he diverted it downward.

It seemed every time he put his lips on Trent, a new round of possessive, caveman thoughts came barreling to the forefront. He’d never cared whether anyone he brought chose to leave with or without him. Actually, if he were being truthful, he never brought anyone anywhere, so to care if they left with another would mean he needed to care enough to bring someone with him. Mentally forcing himself to slow it down, Gage extended a hand, letting Trent walk in front of him. The bellhop kept his eyes averted, but a smile wreathed his face until they were off the elevator.

“Would you like me to escort you to the restaurant, Mr. Synclair?” Johnson asked.

“No, Johnson, I know the way. Thank you,” Gage said.

They took a long hall to the end and then turned to the right. There were a couple of steps down to two large glass doors. Gage insisted he get the doors, and Trent allowed him, which he loved. Gage liked this role and in an evening of many firsts, he knew he wanted more nights where he opened the door for Trent. They were staggering thoughts to a confirmed-for-life bachelor, but since birth, once he got something in his head it was going to be just like that and apparently both his head and his heart wanted Trent beside him.

He gave his brain a good talking to as he walked up to the maître d. They were only on the first of many steps involved in dating and relationships. Although in his mind, they were already an old married couple. Many more steps needed to occur before he let Trent in on his plans to be his one and only.

“Good evening, Mr. Synclair. Let’s see, you aren’t sitting in your usual table, tonight…” The maître d asked, looking over the table chart on the stand.

“Jean-Paul, I think we would like something along the back wall tonight, looking out over the lake,” Gage said, looking back at Trent who stood gazing around the room. Gage couldn’t judge his reaction, but he hoped Trent was impressed.

Jean-Paul only nodded. “Follow me this way, gentlemen.”

The restaurant looked busier than he expected it to be for a Monday night, but the table he chose earlier in the day while making the reservation stayed vacant and waiting for them. Located in the far right hand corner of the restaurant, it gave the best view of both the lake and downtown Chicago. As instructed, Trent was seated where he could easily see both. Gage did the maître d’s job and pulled the chair out for Trent. He saw the move startled Trent, but he sat, allowing Gage to push the seat forward from behind. The table was small and intimate, keeping them close together no matter where Gage chose to sit, but he took the seat directly to the left of Trent. Jean-Paul handed each one their menu and began reciting the specials of the evening.

“Tonight’s specials are the Veal Chop Alla Armani and the Bistecca Alla Zorich. Mr. Synclair, your usual bottle of wine?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you, Jean-Paul,” Gage said, looking up at the maître d as he gave a slight bow and left. His eyes lowered to Trent, who opened the menu, a confused expression came over his features as he scanned the page, causing Gage to chuckle.

****

The menu was written in Italian or so Trent assumed. Of course, no prices lurked anywhere to be found. He lifted his gaze and looked out along Lake Michigan. The sheer opulence overwhelmed him. As long as he’d lived in Chicago, he’d never witnessed anything quite like this. He knew it existed; big money makers were scattered all over Chicago, but he’d never been invited to anything near as nice.

The tables were spread out with four or five feet between them. Not anything like the restaurants he frequented, where as many tables as possible were shoved in a room, turning over every thirty minutes. Every table here seemed to be placed for privacy as well as viewing advantage. To his left, the city sparkled in the night for as far as the eye could see, and from the right, the lake waved and rippled under the constant glow of the moon.

On a whim, he turned in his seat, looking back over the restaurant and a dreadful thought occurred to him. He’d only brought a hundred dollars with him tonight and who knew if there was any room on his work credit card. Every bit of the supplies bought for Gage’s gallery had been purchased on his company card. The American Express edged dangerously close to maxed out, at least until any of his receivables came in. He’d been so absorbed in Gage, it never occurred to him to grab his debit card or checkbook from the truck before coming out tonight. Gage mentioned something about paying, but he couldn’t and shouldn’t let him do that.