Cling to Me

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Harris had to give it to his friend: Charon really knew how to throw a fine party. The man had a talent for putting the right people together in the same room. If it hadn’t been for Charon, Harris wouldn’t have had the right connections in order to break into the competitive world of perfumers. Charon had put him in touch with a well-respected chemist with a nose finer than his, and this man had even donated some of his equipment to Harris—a vintage gas chromatograph Harris kept in his home lab.

“Brother, I got me a serious case of jet lag,” Charon said. They were seated on the high stools at Charon’s corner home bar. Around them, the guests—some close friends and some perfect strangers Harris was meeting for the first time—were getting louder and drunker as the evening progressed.

Harris suddenly longed to be home, in the shelter of his lab. Definitely wasn’t a people person. “So, how was Rio?” He took a gulp of his drink—a deliciously decadent French Chartreuse. Charon made a great living out of collecting art, furniture, and fine draperies around the globe and always served the best imported liqueurs.

“It was f*****g hot.” Charon laughed and his green eyes gleamed with pleasure. He was a beautiful biracial man with charm and s*x-appeal to spare. “And I mean that in every sense of the word.”

“Meet anybody interesting?”

“More interesting than you?” Charon squeezed Harris’s knee. “That would be impossible.”

Harris and Charon had met years ago on a cruise ship. They’d had a weekend of wild s*x and had both believed it would end there. But after crossing paths again later that year at an art exhibit, they’d decided to try something new. Something neither of them had ever shared with another gay man before: friendship. They’d been the best of friends since then.

“Yeah, I stayed with a few people while I was down there,” Charon said. “One of them was an eighty-six-year-old woman. She fed me so well I thought she wanted to cook me.”

“Yeah?” Harris smirked over the rim of his glass. “And how was her grandson?”

“Twenty-six years old. Tall. s*x-craved. With a body meant to be wept over.” Charon winked and finished his drink. “The old lady thought I was staying for her culinary skills.”

“Charon, you’re a devil, you know that.”

“Hey, at least I ain’t straight and leaving fatherless babies behind.”

“Good point.”

They were quiet for a moment, looking around the crowded living room. “Who are these people?” Charon asked after a few minutes.

“I don’t know, but you keep bringing them in.”

Charon stood, nodding his head to the large deck outside. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

As they walked across the living room, they stopped a few times to chat with some friends of Charon. People were curious and supportive of Harris’s new project. Their enthusiasm fuelled him, and when he stepped out onto the elegantly-decorated deck, Harris stared at the string of white lights hanging from corner to corner, lost in the whirlwind of his thoughts. Great things were going to happen to him, he could feel it. Could he handle success? Or would he sabotage everything again as he’d done time and time before?

“Your big night is coming soon, Hades,” Charon said.

“You’re gonna start calling me that, too?”

“You have to admit it does suit you.” Charon touched Harris’s black silk shirt. “I kind of like it.”

“Yeah, I kind of like it, too.”

“So, who are you bringing to this thing? Your grand debut. Throw me some names.”

“You mean launch night? I don’t think I’m gonna bring anyone, no.” Harris couldn’t imagine asking any of the men he’d slept with in the last year. They’d probably tell him to go to hell for not calling any of them back the next day.

Charon frowned. “What? And why not?”

“You think I should?” Harris leaned back on the wooden railing and caught the scent of basil nearby. Charon had planted some fresh herbs all along the deck, and Harris was picking up the different green fragrances around him. “Why should I bother bringing a date?”

“Because—and you should know this by now—your best accessory is always the gorgeous young thing hanging off your arm.”

“I don’t wanna bring anybody. The guys I know…they’re all so—” He stopped, looking for the right word.

“Air-headed?”

“I was gonna say culturally challenged but thank you.”

“Okay, I see what you mean, and I’ve already thought about that.”

“You’ve thought about who I should bring to my launch party?”

“Yeah, man. That’s my job, right?”

“Who did you have in mind?”

“Look, you’ve obviously reached that critical point in a gay man’s life when a chiselled body and big blue eyes just won’t cut it anymore.”

“Have I now?” Harris asked, humoring him.

“I think you have. And it’s obvious by the rampage you’ve been on lately. You’ve taken more guys to your cave in the last weeks than if Batman were gay—which we know he is.”

“I don’t live in a cave,” was all Harris found to say.

“Harrison, you live below street level on a street no one ever sees, under a bridge. The only window you have is the one in your bedroom, and it’s not even a window. It’s like a crack in the wall with dirty glass in it.”

He did live in a basement apartment, but that was the only place he could run his lab. Every other place he’d stayed, he’d gotten complaints from the neighbors about the overpowering smells drifting out of his home. So now, Harris lived in the nether lands of the city, as Charon called his new address.

Man, he was Hades!

“Anyway, back to your date. Look, you need someone special, right? Some fabulous guy with an impeccable face, who knows how to attract every eye in the room, but who also knows how to be discreet, maybe even a little mysterious. Some fetching man with the smile of a courtesan and the body of a Greek god.” Charon squinted. “The man has to have the brains, too. He has to be able to mingle and converse. Has to have knowledge of what you do. He has to be simply…fascinating.’’

“Okay…” Harris laughed. “Sure. Gimme this mythical creature’s phone number. I’ll call him right now and see if he can take a night off from lying half naked on a cloud on Mount Olympus.”

“How did you know?” Charon’s eyes widened. “You’ve called them before?”

“What? Called who?”

“Olympus. You’ve used their services before?”

“Services?”

“Yes, services.” Charon took Harris’s arm and led him a little further away from the patio doors. “They’re an escort service.”

“Wait a minute. You want me to bring a hooker to my launch night?”

“These guys are no hookers. They’re pure beefcake angels sent down to Earth directly from—”

“Come on, you’re f*****g with me.” Harris frowned, searching Charon’s serious face.

“Listen, Harris, you have no idea what you’re missing out on. These guys are the stuff fantasies are made of. This agency is super refined, catering only to a very specific clientele.”

“Have you called these people?”

Charon had a dreamy look on his face. “They sent me Eros.”

“Are you kidding me? It seems so cliché. A bunch of good-looking guys going around acting like they’re Adonis or—”

“Oh, I haven’t tried him yet.”

“So, how much did your little Eros cost you that night?”

“Greek myths don’t come cheap. But the point is, Harris, you wouldn’t use their services strictly for s*x. No, this agency offers much more than your run-of-the-mill, mouth-to-c**k service. You can hire a guy to spend an evening with you as a date. But here’s the thing: The way it works is, you fill out a pretty extensive questionnaire, and they create your profile, match you with one of their fabulous deities, and voila—you’re set for your big night. This guy will have learned everything he needs to know to fit right into whatever social stratosphere you might be moving in.”

Harris had to admit that his curiosity was piqued. Maybe Charon was right. Ordinary men just didn’t do it for him anymore. Maybe what he needed was a god to sweep him off his feet. A god who accepted cash or Visa. “All right, show me this website,” he said, his curiosity winning against his better sense.