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penned on one side. Figured this guy would be high maintenance, even when it came to his coffee.
    “So, Martin, how’d you like the club?” Watkins oozed into one of the leather chairs opposite Brice’s desk, wearing an improper sneer.
    Brice had steeled himself for this conversation. He smiled and nodded, hoping he looked knowing and suitably debauched from the activities. It wasn’t how he felt, but he had to keep up appearances.
    “Loved it. Thanks for taking me.”
    “Loved it? That’s all you’re gonna say?” Watkins leaned forward, one hand on the edge of Brice’s desk.
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you’ll need to loosen up a little next time. Maybe we can….” Watkins’ voice trailed off as he must have realized Brice wasn’t into anything involving the pronoun “we” and naked serving boys. Watkins nodded and grinned again. “Kit’s a pistol. Took me most of Saturday and part of Sunday to catch up on my sleep.”
    “I think he’d be a little too much for me.” Brice made sure to sound like he envied Watkins’ sexual prowess and might save the knowledge for future use.
    “That Remy, he’s nice and fresh. Kind of like the boy-next-door quarterback of the high school team. Nice change from the pretty boys. Should I give him a run next time?” Watkins paused but not long enough for Brice to answer. “I usually like ’em squirming a little more in my lap, you know? Like to get a real feel for a boy during dinner. Remy’s new and maybe he’s a little shy—or maybe he’s just uptight—otherwise you two could have had some real fun at dinner and treated the rest of us to a little show. Well, he won’t last long if he’s a prude. Thomas likes the boys to be a little more active during the meal service. But maybe he saves his energy for the nightcaps.” Watkins gave Brice another lecherous grin.
    Brice felt a heaviness in his chest. He hated the thought of Watkins with Remy. At least based on what Brice thought Remy was really like. Maybe the guy had only acted shy for Brice’s benefit, and the following night he’d gone down on every other boy in the room? The idea of Remy sucking off the other boys both repulsed and slightly aroused Brice, and he felt a little sick over his reaction. Whatever Remy was really like, Brice wouldn’t wish a night with Watkins on him.
    A low buzz sounded, and Watkins grabbed his chest pocket, then pulled out a cell phone. He glanced at the screen and replaced it without answering. “Gotta run. Need to get some signatures on a contract. I’ll be back later to have you check that everything’s A-OK on the paperwork. What time you here till?”
    “Till at least five. Buzz me when you’re on the way back if you’ll be later.”
    “Gotcha!” Watkins rose and gave Brice a salute and a conspiratorial leer before heading out of the office.
    He’d left his ginormous coffee on Brice’s desk, and Brice waited a few minutes to see if Watkins would return. When he didn’t, Brice dumped the contents out in the kitchen sink and tossed the cup in the compost bin.
    The rest of Monday and most of the week passed without incident. Unless one counted that Brice wanted to see Remy again so badly he was ready to get the number of the club from Watkins. He managed to make it through Friday night by heading to a favorite bar just off Castro with some friends and getting drunker than he usually did. He stuck to beer to minimize the aftereffects the following day, then went for a long run in Golden Gate Park on Saturday morning.
    By Sunday night he fell into bed exhausted, and he thought he was over the pull of the Dinner Club. As much as he would like to see Remy, he hated he had to do so through the repressive system of paying for favors. He didn’t want Remy to feel exploited, and as long as they interacted at the club, Brice would never know for sure whether Remy was with him for money or because he actually liked spending time with Brice.
    Brice’s well-laid plans and