If It Flies

If It Flies

A Market Garden Tale

by L.A. Witt &

Aleksandr Voinov

Riptide Publishing

PO Box 6652

Hillsborough, NJ 08844

http://www.riptidepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

If It Flies (A Market Garden Tale)

Copyright © 2013 by L.A. Witt and Aleksandr Voinov

Cover Art by Jordan Taylor

Editor: Rachel Haimowitz

Layout: L.C. Cha
se, http://lcchase.com/design.htm

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, a
t Riptidepublishing.com, o
r at

[email protected].

ISBN: 978-1-62649-004-8

First edition

March, 2013

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About If It Flies

If it flies, drives, or fornicates, it’s cheaper to rent it.

Spencer is in a rut. Long hours at the law firm are sucking

the life out of him, and he doesn’t have time or energy for a

relationship. He’s lonely, horny, and itching for something

new, so he tries the Market Garden, an exclusive—and

expensive—brothel. Spencer isn’t in the door five minutes

before a cocky rentboy makes his move.

Nick isn’t just any rentboy, though. He’s a Dom, he’s a

sadist, and he’s everything Spencer didn’t know he was

missing. One night turns into more, and before long,

Spencer is one of Nick’s regular clients.

Both men think they’re just scratching each other’s backs:

Spencer’s exploring a submissive, masochistic side he never

knew he had, and Nick is getting off and getting paid.

But as time goes on, it’s clear their strictly professional

arrangement . . . isn’t, and if Nick has one hard limit, it’s

that he doesn’t get romantically entangled with his johns.

The problem is, while Nick doesn’t want to be owned,

Spencer’s no longer content with just renting.

To L.A. and London, and the mysterious things that will

happen when we bring them together. —Aleks

To Aleks, the slightly saner half of this unholy alliance. —L.A.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

Chapter 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

7

Chapter 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20

Chapter 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

Chapter 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Chapter 6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

Chapter 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

Chapter 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92

Chapter 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98

Chapter 10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105

Chapter 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115

Chapter

onE

rust me, Spence,” Percy said during a mostly liquid

“T
lunch. “If it flies, drives, or fornicates, it’s always cheaper to rent it.” A few other restaurant patrons gave him

disgusted looks.

Spencer laughed humourlessly over the rim of a Moscow

Mule. “Yeah. A lot of good that philosophy did
you
.”

“Now, now.” Percy wagged a finger at him. “It wasn’t the

rentboy who cost me half of everything I own. It was the wife.”

“Mm-hmm. Because you rented something that fornicates,

yes?” Married or not, Percy never could resist his penchant

for rentboys, especially that gorgeous Jamaican guy he hadn’t

managed to keep a secret.

“Wasn’t his fault. But her?” Percy shook his head. “Christ.

With what that woman cost me, I could’ve thrown orgies with

a pile of supermodels for years, snorting Class A drugs off

the most expensive tits in London.” He shrugged, probably

unaware he’d once again turned the heads of a few people at

nearby tables. “Though you’ve got to admit, she does know

how to skin a guy.”

The perverse, masochistic respect on his face gave Spencer

pause, and he stabbed a bite of chicken. “There’s a dubious

skill set.”

“And one of the biggest risks of the whole marriage trap.”

Percy raised his glass as if in a toast. “That’s why you don’t
buy
, Spence. When you rent, you get all the good stuff and don’t

set yourself up for a government-sanctioned bank account

massacre.”

1

“Quite honestly,” Spencer muttered, keeping his voice

down unlike his lunch companion, “I think I’d rather just find someone I didn’t feel the need to run around on.”

Percy waved a hand. “Just a fantasy, lad. Save yourself the

trouble. You don’t need a relationship, you just need to get

your arse into bed with someone who fucks off before dawn.”

“Charming.” Spencer eyed his own drink. It was way

too early to be drinking, he knew that, but when Percy was

buying, you didn’t say no, or a rumour might go round the

firm that you couldn’t hold your liquor. Only problem was,

his mouth was a little dry right now—these conversations

never took long to get more personal than he liked—but his

head was already light. Drink to wet the mouth? Or abstain

to keep the head clear? Or maybe pick someone else to ask

for advice to get out of this overstressed, undersexed rut he

was stuck in? Percy was the only man at the firm who knew

Spencer was gay, though, and Spencer wasn’t keen to let that

information get around.

Unbidden, he wondered what crazy stuff Percy got

up to—or off on—with his various rentboys, and quickly

decided he couldn’t have lunch with the guy again if he knew.

Bad enough he knew about Percy’s fetish for dark skin, which

made their “friendship” a little bit awkward. He’d long go

convinced himself that the man was not flirting, just loved

riding his superiority complex with him, and left it at that.

“You need to loosen up.” Percy declared, and smacked the

table with an open palm, rattling some cutlery and startling

half the restaurant, Spencer included.

And on that note, drinking it was. Spencer picked up

his glass and quickly sucked down two deep swallows of the

Moscow Mule, a hellish concoction of ginger beer and vodka.

2

Spencer’s eyes watered a little, and he coughed as he put the

glass down again.

“Loosen up.” He held Percy’s gaze. “Which in this case

means following your lead and finding a prostitute.”

“Why the hell not?” Percy asked like the idea made

perfect sense. “You need to relax, mate. Every time I’ve seen

you recently, you’re wound tighter than the time before, and

you weren’t any better when you were still with that fuckwit

boyfriend of yours.” He made a sharp, dismissive gesture, as if shooing away an apparition of Spencer’s ex. “Which further

proves my point: Rent. Don’t buy. It’ll do you some good.” He

winked, lowering his voice again to a conspiratorial whisper.

“It’s worth the money, I promise.”

“It’s just not my thing. We’ve been over this.”

“Mm-hmm.” That damned eyebrow was like a fucking

lie detector, and its current arch said
bollocks
. “It’s not your thing? And being on the fast track to ulcers and a heart attack is your thing? Come on.” He shrugged. “One night. One trip.

It’ll do you some good. I promise.”

Spencer gnawed the inside of his lower lip. He was on that

fast track, wasn’t he, what with the last few months of stress—

mergers and job cuts and bollocks, oh my!

Even though he knew it was a bad idea—but then, there

was more Moscow Mule in his gut than in his glass—he

finished the last of his drink and flagged down the waitress

for another. He’d be taking the afternoon off now, that was

for sure. Or at least barricading himself in his office under the pretence of studying contracts.

Before the second drink came, he tapped his fingers on

the rim of the empty one. “So, this place you go to . . .”

Immediately, the judgmental eyebrow returned to its

launch position, and Percy’s eyes lit up. “That’s my boy!” He

3

folded his arms and leaned in closer like they were planning a murder or some bloody thing. “What about it?”

Spencer swallowed.
Where’s that drink?
“I’ve heard things about those places. Human trafficking and—”

“Don’t worry about that shit.” Percy waved the concern

away. “Trust me, I checked their background, foreground,

underground, whatever. Probably the cleanest whorehouse in

the city.”

Drink? Please? Now?

“That’s not saying much, you know.”

Percy laughed. “Look, it’s not a bunch of underage kids

working against their will. Most of them are jaded university

students.”

Spencer blinked. “What?” Last thing he wanted was to