Cervena (6 page)

Sasha shuddered under my touch and mumbled something I couldn’t understand. He was breathless and trembling, his cock throbbing. I looked down, wanting to see. His foreskin had rolled back to expose the swollen purple head. Precome leaked from him and a droplet trickled down his shaft to my fingers. I stroked us together, slowly and firmly, my legs shaking and my balls drawing up against my body. Sasha clutched at me, fingers digging into my chest and shoulder. His chest heaved as he panted for breath and his cock pulsed in my hand.

“Fuck,” he hissed in English. He spilled over my fingers and the head of my dick, some of his fluid shooting onto the front of my pants. Ignoring the mess on the expensive fabric, I released him and pressed my lips lightly to his. Then I tightened my grip on my shaft and jerked myself to completion in three more strokes. My hand and my pants caught most of it, with a few spots landing on Sasha’s thigh. Panting, I grabbed a dish towel to wipe my hands and scrub at my pants. My suit would have to go to the dry cleaners. God knows what they would think. I passed the towel to Sasha and took a step away from him to straighten my clothing. He wiped himself, chuckling.

I took the towel from Sasha and tossed it into the sink, reminding myself to deal with it before I left for the night. When Sasha had tucked himself away, I reached for him and pulled him back into my arms.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen; not yet.” I kissed his ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hell, yes.” He laughed into my neck and hugged me tighter. I stroked his hair, noting how it felt like silk on top but dampened with sweat at his neck. He felt so good in my arms and I wished I’d made this move when I’d first considered it. But better late than never. It was just the first step, and I hoped there would be much more to come.

Chapter Four

“I SHOULD
go.” I tucked my shirt into my pants and reached for my suit jacket. We hadn’t had our coffee after all, but I didn’t really want any. I glanced at the kettle. “Did you want coffee? We seem to have forgotten about it.”

Sasha gave me a quick smile and shook his head. He put his shirt back on and fastened a few of the buttons, leaving the garment hanging loose over his pants. I knew I should say something more. I’d sounded abrupt when I told him I should leave, and I hoped he didn’t think I couldn’t wait to get away. “I’d like to do this again soon. If you want to.” I smiled and he immediately beamed back at me.

“I’d love to.”

“Good. I’ll catch up with you between dances tomorrow.” I hated the thought of him performing for the crowds even more than I had before I’d touched him. The idea of him thrusting his groin in the general direction of a dozen grasping hands, his cock half-hard and straining against whichever microscopic costume he had on made my guts clench. I pushed the thought aside and picked up my coat.

I locked the inner doors and Sasha turned away to go upstairs, but I caught his hand and pulled him back. “Not going to say good night?”

He stepped closer and rested his free hand on my chest. “Good night,” he murmured in Czech. “Thank you, Joel.”

I touched his face and kissed him warmly. When he’d gone, I remembered the towel in the kitchen. I unlocked everything again, stuffed the towel into my pocket, and let myself out of the building. Outside I flagged down a cab. I’d walked enough for one day.

“Enjoy your night?” the driver asked. I recognized him from several previous journeys. It was inevitable that I’d run into the same drivers when I used a cab six days a week to get home from the club. I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror before I answered, and realized I had a grin on my face.

“Yeah, it was good. You busy?”

“Not really. Sundays are always quiet.”

We made small talk during the short trip to the condos and I left the driver a tip. A few minutes later, I reached my apartment and went straight into my bedroom. I shed my clothes, chuckling over my shirt buttons being in the wrong holes and my very obviously stained pants. I tossed the items into the corner of the room to deal with the next day, and limped into the bathroom. My leg throbbed, and I needed the heat of the shower.

I stood under the too-hot spray, my back against the tiled wall, eyes closed, and relived the evening in my mind, right down to the heated episode in the club’s kitchen. The memory of how Sasha’s cock had felt in my hand, how we’d come, made me harden again. He seemed to want me as much as I wanted him, and I couldn’t wait to see him again.

Sliding my hands down my body, I grasped my erection in one and cupped my balls in the other. I jerked off to thoughts of my hands on Sasha’s body and the memory of his warm breath on my neck as he moaned my name.

THE SOUND
of my cell phone ringing penetrated my sleep, and I jerked awake, heart pounding. I sat up and grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

Rosalyn calling.

“Shit!” There was only one reason my sister would call at—I glanced at the luminous hands on my clock—four thirty in the morning. I touched the green button and held the phone to my ear. “Ros, what happened?”

“Joe, you have to come home.” Her voice was thick with tears, and I jumped out of bed, groping for the light switch. “We’re at the hospital. Mum’s bad.” She broke off on a sob. Panic filled me and my stomach turned over.

“All right, Ros, I’m getting dressed now.”

“Give me the phone, love.” Steve spoke in the background, and after a muffled sound, he came on the line. “Joel, Marie had a heart attack about an hour ago. They brought her in by ambulance. They had to shock her, but we don’t know yet how she’s doing.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I dragged on a pair of boxer briefs and struggled one-handed with a sock. “I’ll get a taxi to the airport and book a seat from my iPad. Where’s Rachael?”

“We left her with Andy and Clare next door. Their little girl, Emma, is her best friend.”

“Yeah, I know. Go take care of Rosalyn. I’m on my way.”

“Safe trip.” Steve hung up, and I dropped my phone onto the bed. Within ten minutes I’d dressed in jeans, a warm sweater, boots, and coat, and had a large piece of hand luggage packed. I dug my passport out of a drawer, slipped my iPad into its case and my phone into my pocket, and rushed to the door.

Luckily I found a taxi in Wenceslas Square. The driver had just dropped off a customer, and I hurried toward the car, waving my arm. He waited and I dived into the back seat.

“Airport,” I panted. “Quick as you can.”

“The roads will be quiet. We should make it in twenty minutes.”

“Good.” I pulled out my iPad to search for flights. The first one left at seven, landing at London Heathrow at just after eight, local time. Relieved to find seats available, I reserved one. By the time the driver turned into Václav Havel Airport, I’d checked in online and had cash in my hand ready to pay the man. I gave him a generous tip and charged into the building as fast as my aching leg would allow. I had over ninety minutes before takeoff, but until I’d reached the appropriate gate I couldn’t relax. Not that I was likely to relax anyway.

I hurried through check-in, found a seat in Departures, and checked the time—five forty. Calculating quickly, I realized the earliest I could possibly get to my family was by nine thirty local time. Taking Monday rush hour into account, it could easily be longer. Of course if I used the trains rather than a taxi, it could be faster. I sank back into the seat with a groan and rubbed a hand over my face.
Please be okay, Mum.

I fiddled with my phone while I waited. Steve sent me a text to confirm which hospital they were at. Mum had always been taken to the same one, but he hadn’t wanted to assume I knew. I let him know I was waiting to board a plane.

I considered calling someone at the club, but it was much too early. It was rare for any of them, particularly Karel, to crawl out of bed before noon. I’d have to remember to contact someone later. If I couldn’t reach Karel, it would have to be Pavel. As the bar manager, he was the next senior person I trusted with everything. For the most part, I kept my private life removed from everyone else at the club—except for Sasha.

“Fuck,” I muttered. I’d have to call him at some point. If I didn’t, he might think I’d changed my mind about him. The dancers all had landline telephones in their rooms, and I had the numbers in my cell. I’d probably be able to reach him later in the day. I almost wished the landline phones had answering machines, but I wouldn’t have wanted to explain the situation via a recorded message.

It seemed an interminable length of time before my flight was called. I kept my phone on as I boarded, hoping for a text from Steve with an update, but there was nothing. I reluctantly turned off the device when instructed and closed my eyes, hoping to avoid conversation with the young woman sitting beside me. Two hours and I’d be in London.

My plane landed on time, and I disembarked as quickly as the crowd in the aisle would allow. With only hand luggage, I was able to race through Arrivals and head straight to the railway station. I’d switched on my phone as I’d shuffled off the plane, and I checked it for messages as I went to look for a train going my way.

Marie stable in ICU. Try not to worry.

“Easy for you to say.” My hands shook as I typed a reply to let him know I’d landed and hoped to be there in an hour. I’d spent the flight dreading hearing that I was too late, and that Mum had already gone. The sense of relief that she was holding on made me weak, and I fought to swallow the lump in my throat.

I barely noticed the train journey and subsequent short ride on the Tube. When I left the station, the cold drizzle mirrored the weather in Prague. Crowds hurried around me, workers and shoppers scurrying to their destinations: a diverse horde of people that reminded me of the city I’d left. The buildings here were newer and far less attractive, the streets wider and filled with more vehicles, but the basics of city life were the same. If I hadn’t been so worried about Mum, I’d have smiled over the similarities.

By the time I’d walked the short distance from the station to the hospital, my leg protested painfully and my head ached in sympathy. I was desperately in need of caffeine and painkillers, but I put that longing aside for the moment. I had to see Mum.

“Joe!” Rosalyn rose from a seat in the corridor outside ICU and hurled herself toward me. Tears stained her pale face, and her eyes were red and puffy. She threw her arms around my neck and clung to me. I hugged her tightly, my heart aching.

Steve rose from his seat and met my eyes over Rosalyn’s head. “She’s sedated,” he said. “She didn’t need surgery. They think she’s going to be okay, but it’s a waiting game.”

I nodded at him and released my sister as she pulled against my embrace.

“I’m sorry you had to rush over here in the middle of the night.” She brushed at my jacket, where one of her tears had dripped.

“Don’t be silly. I should have been here anyway. I should have stayed longer last time. Can I go in and see Mum?”

“In a few minutes. They’re doing some tests.”

I sat down on one of the plastic chairs nearby, relieved to rest my leg after the frantic dash from the Tube station. Rosalyn sat beside me and tucked her hand through my arm.

“Coffee?” Steve gave my shoulder a squeeze and I looked up at him.

“God, yes. Thank you.”

“You know, you sound more like a foreigner every day.” Rosalyn’s voice was thin, but she still managed to tease.

“Shut up, Englishwoman.”

“Talk to me, will you? Anything to stop me thinking for a minute.”

“I’ve done all my Christmas shopping.” It was the first thing that came into my head.

“You’re so bloody organized, Joe. I’ve made lists, but that’s all, so far. Rachael wants an iPad. I’ve told her a hundred times if she has that it’s the only present she’ll get.”

“I bought her an iPad. You told me the last time I was here that she wanted one.”

“Oh, Joe. You spoil her far too much.” Rosalyn leaned in to rest her head on my shoulder.

“Of course I’m gonna spoil her. She’s my only niece.”

“Here you go.” Steve appeared with three paper cups of coffee and I took mine gratefully. Hospital coffee was vile stuff, but better than nothing. I unzipped the pocket on the side of my bag and took out a pack of aspirin.

“Leg hurting?” Rosalyn asked sympathetically.

“Yeah. And my head.”

“Mine too. Gimme?” She rubbed a hand over her tearstained face and pushed her hair back, then reached for the pills. After I’d popped a couple free of the blister pack, I handed it to her. When she passed it back to me, she slumped in the seat, exhaustion and worry marring her features. I imagined my face appeared much the same. Steve took a seat the other side of Rosalyn and held her hand as we waited together in an unhappy silence.

Half an hour passed before a doctor stepped out of the room closest to us and advised that Marie Jones was stable, exactly what Steve had already told me. We could go in if we wanted, two at a time. I went with my sister and we sat on either side of Mum, each holding one of her hands. She looked frail and gray, breathing with the help of a ventilator.

“I’m not ready to lose her yet,” Rosalyn whispered. “She’s so young.”

“She’s as tough as old boots. She’ll come out of this and tell us off for fussing so much.” I replied with a confidence I didn’t feel. Mum looked worse than I’d ever seen her. She was a tall, robust lady, but lying in the hospital bed surrounded by machines with various tubes and wires attached to her, she seemed to have physically shrunk.

We stayed an hour until I had to excuse myself to go to the gents. When I returned, Steve had joined Rosalyn in ICU and I sat down on the seat I’d previously vacated. I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time. It would be past twelve in Prague and I could probably reach Karel by now. I scrolled through my contacts to his number and called, but his phone went straight to his answering service.

“Damn it.” Knowing Karel, he’d be having his first fuck of the day with whomever he’d picked up the night before. I searched for Pavel’s number instead and was relieved when he answered almost immediately.