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expected to don a collar and crawl around on my hands and knees like a dog?"
    Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Do you like that?"
    "No sir, I do not."
    "I'm taking you to my home, Benedict. It's just you and me. No spectators and no collars."
    Benedict seemed satisfied. Dorian admired the flash of spirit very much. "Don't you get Christmas off Benedict?"
    "Not if I want to keep my leaking roof above my head."
    "Pickings must be slim."
    "They are. I was about to go home when you happened along." Benedict fixed his gaze on Dorian. "Why do you need the company of a man such as myself on Christmas Eve, sir?"
    Dorian bit his lip a moment. "Have you ever thought I might want to pay you for your body and not your conversation, Benedict?"
    Benedict glowered. "I'm only trying to be polite."
    "Well don't." Dorian lowered his voice. "Take your trousers down, bend over and let me fill your tight little passage brimful with my mettle. That's all I want you to do."
    Benedict glanced to the driver. He pouted a little. "I understand."
    "Good." Dorian turned his face to the window and lapsed into silence. He felt repentant though. His companion seemed sweet as sugar and pleasant with it. It wasn't his fault Dorian was unused to conversation and damaged for life.
     
    They reached his townhouse in Chelsea. Benedict climbed out while Dorian paid the driver. He led the way up the steps to the door, unlocked it and bade the prostitute enter.
    Benedict stood in the hall and stared around him—at the black and white tiled floor, the spiral staircase, the chandelier hanging above it. A moment later, a door down the corridor opened and Dorian gave Benedict a shove into the dimly-lit drawing room. "In there. Hurry."
    Benedict fled swiftly into the dark and melted behind the door. Dorian faced his butler, who immediately began to help him off with his coat.
    "A pleasant evening, sir?"
    "Yes, thank you Willis."
    "Would you like anything else before I retire, sir?"
    "Yes, take a bottle of brandy and some of those sweet little treats cook made to my chamber.
    "Very well, sir."
    "Then that will be all for tonight and don't call me until late tomorrow."
    "Very good, sir." Willis withdrew with Dorian's coat, hat and gloves. "And a very happy Christmas to you."
    Dorian glanced back at him. "Thank you, Willis. You, too." He entered the drawing room and turned up the gas lamp by the door. "You can come out now."
    Benedict's dark shape coalesced from the shadows. "Seeing as you've sent your butler away, you'll have to take my coat yourself."
    Dorian stepped forward. "I'll take more than your coat."
    Benedict smiled as Dorian pushed the overcoat from his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His fingers started work on the buttons of Benedict's velvet jacket, clumsy in his haste. Excitement consumed him at the warmth and nearness of his whore, at Benedict's beautiful green eyes and exquisite skin. Dorian thought of all the things he longed to do to him and wondered if Benedict would be amenable to staying until dawn.
    He dropped the jacket and unfastened the scarlet waistcoat, fingering the rich material as he did. "Where did you get this?"
    "A present. From an admirer."
    For a moment a sharp, shocking pang of jealousy stabbed at Dorian. He wasn't sure why. He tossed the offending item away unceremoniously and wrenched open the buttons on Benedict's ruffled shirt, revealing a smooth, sculpted torso.
    "Very nice."
    "Thank you." Benedict bent down to unfasten his boots. He kicked them aside and peeled off his socks. Then, with a teasing look in his eyes, he undid the buttons on his trousers. Dorian's heart started to beat faster as he saw the impressive cock-stand straining Benedict's linen drawers. When his companion had removed his trousers, Dorian cupped Benedict's burden, having a nice long feel.
    Benedict stood still. "Do you find anything you like?"
    "Yes. Take them off."
    Benedict slid gracefully out of his underwear. He stood like a soldier awaiting inspection,