Playing at Grown ups

A Pink Dormouse Production

Chapter Eight

Dariel

He swept into the entrance hall and threw his leather trench coat to the boy, whose name he would learn eventually. Being a major player in organised crime involved more than burly henchmen and a flashy wardrobe but he was particularly proud of his new boots with silver toes, heels and spurs (all of which would need regular polishing, preferably while being worn). He paused outside his office, slightly perturbed at having to knock but, after been snarled at by Avon earlier, it seemed a wise move.

"The door was unlocked last time I checked." Avon sounded in a much better mood now. He wiped whatever he had been studying from the screen before Dariel had a chance to read it.

"I take it you’ve had some success since I last looked in on you."

"Undoubtedly."

"Good, then you have time to advise me on a business proposition I was presented with over lunch." Dariel knelt down behind Avon’s chair, handing over the relevant documents but not taking his hands away completely. "For a long time Astbury’s main trading activities have been agricultural in nature. The planet has developed rather than subsisted due to those of us with outside interests; now at last we have a group who want to develop industry. I believe you are already acquainted with some of its members." Avon was definitely interested... "This type of development is one I have wanted for a long time: since I began planning my rise to power back when Marianne was a mere child." Avon squirmed back into Dariel’s arms. "I have tried to encourage some of the best minds to stay on Astbury, rather than merely see it as a temporary refuge. Now some of them have homes, families, farmsteads but do they have a sound basis for marketable commodities? Read this and let me know what you think."

"How soon do you need to make the decision? There are a lot of factors to consider."

"Take as much time as you want- I am currently the most influential potential investor."

"In that case I shall study it later. I still have a lot of work to do here."

"If I am distracting you-"

"A little. But then a short break could improve my concentration."

Dariel was heartened to find that he was finally getting to Avon; the main drawback of benign dictatorship was the difficulty involved in finding suitably challenging playthings. If Vila’s exploits with Marianne were anything to go by, the Terrans were far from exclusive and Avon had indicated on a number of occasions that he was far kinkier than his Primary.

Eminently suitable then and far too attached to the other one to start getting ideas above his station. My boys would approve.

"So, when you finish working for me here, what are the chances of your Primary letting me borrow you for more enjoyable purposes?"

"Vila does not own me."

"Really? It was my impression that he did. Of course if you are a completely free agent then I can ask you directly. What are the chances of you participating in a scene with me once you have finished upgrading the network?"

"Reasonably high. I can give you a more precise decision tomorrow. You understand of course that I need to rediscover my limits; I spent the past five years mostly blocking pain rather than channelling it and my Scenes with Vila hardly compare to what I suspect you have in mind."

"Could be an interesting experiment."

Vila

The day was going less well than he would have liked: the new barmaid was not up to speed in time for the lunchtime rush and now Avon was sitting at the end of the bar toying with a cappuccino and giving him that look. At least the coffee machine was getting used, after Avon had insisted they install one.

"Are you sure you don’t want food? We have a wide range of toasties: cheese and ham, cheese and pickle, cheese and tomato, cheese and onion, cheese and cheese-"

"Not now, Vila. There is something I would like however." He inclined his head towards the door in the corner.

"Now? When we’re both supposed to be workin’? Three days running and people are bound to start getting huffy. If enclosed spaces are your current thing then wait for me in our shower after work but no more public places for this week at least." Avon gave him a brief glare then smiled.

"There is one other thing you could do for me." The tone of voice made Vila very glad that nothing in the vicinity had glycolene ballast tanks in need of cleaning. "Dariel would like someone to visit his casino complex on the north-eastern continent as an independent observer. It can be cold up there, especially at this time of year but he’ll pay all expenses and you don’t have to inspect the outside of the buildings. You have a few days to think about it while I finish the network upgrade."

"That all? Doesn’t sound much like hard work. Hold on, what are you goin’ to be doin’ while I’m gone?" Avon looked away. He’s not blushing is he? Nah, obviously the crap lighting in this place. "Well? Are you plannin’ something with Dariel?" And will it make you more or less inclined to turn up wanting shagged in work hours?

"I might be. You have Marianne after all."

"Well you know Marianne- she’s your typical freighter pilot: girl or bloke in every port she visits. Surprised she can keep track of everyone. Dariel’s a bit different. He’s..." Vila trailed off not sure he wanted to ask the question.

"I agree that Dariel likes to own people but surely you can see plenty of reasons why I would not want any permanent involvement with him?"

Let’s see egotistical, single minded, determined, unlikely to take advice well, tendency to send his nearest and dearest into tricky situations. Plenty of reasons why I may end up having to slap some sense into Avon later...

"Thanks, but that’s not what I meant: I’ve heard a few other things about Dariel too. He doesn’t always play nicely."

"I know, why do you think I am so fascinated by him? But I suspect he will value his new computer network too highly to risk causing any permanent damage to the one person who can maintain it."

"Promise you won’t let things get out of hand."

"If that is what it takes: I give you my word that I shall stop Dariel if he seems to be pushing too hard. Now will you do this job for him?"

"Afterwards, that way you can come wi’ me. I promise I won’t get in the way of you and Dariel but someone told me to look after you. I didn’t give her me word as such but I don’t want her findin’ out I’ve bin neglectin’ me duty. Bit too handy with a gun."

"Blonde by any chance?"

"Oh you know her then? Always meant to send her a postcard lettin’ her know we were alive and well and that you’re as irritating as ever but you know these rebel types: always moving on without leaving a forwarding address."

"And of course everyone knows where we are."

"No they don’t- we’re officially dead aren’t we... Bastard. You had me going there." Score 1 to Avon.

Avon

He woke up in a real feather bed with silk sheets so fine that they flowed over his body like water, lazily wondering whose bank account he could clear out to buy something similar.

No, we are respectable, law-abiding citizens these days. Vila will have to find a second job.

He was still on an endorphin high from the previous evening’s activities and, if he flexed his back just so, the rush from the shallow flesh wounds was incredible. Pity that he almost certainly had things to do today, otherwise he could just stay exactly where he was and just go over the memories a few more times. Then again there was nothing that couldn’t wait a little longer. He flexed his back again...

"Have I told you how cute you look smirkin’ to yourself like that?"

Vila? "Wha'? Promised... keep... away?" Remember... engage... brain... before opening mouth...

"Dariel sent me- he called round on his way to some investment meeting. That man has far too much energy for a bloke his age. You, on the other hand, seem totally blissed out. Had fun?"

Avon nodded. Dariel had lived up to all his expectations and then some. He could get used to that sort of treatment very easily so it was probably best not to indulge too often or who knew what he would find himself agreeing to do in return?

"Good." Vila brushed his lips against Avon’s forehead. "I don’t get to see you this happy nearly often enough."

"You don’t... mind?" And, of course, offending the person whose name was on the rental contract for the flat was not a good idea either.

"Why should I?" Vila pinned Avon’s wrists to the pillow.

Oh, ye-es... more games...

"Right now I want to shag you senseless. Unfortunately I’ve got an inter-pub quiz night to prepare for. You wouldn’t believe how much those agric types can drink. Then there’s the aircon filters that need checked before the stoners turn up. So you’ll just have to owe me.

"Of course," he continued, releasing Avon’s hands, "I need you around as a stand-in for the home team: a couple of the guys are threatenin’ to go down with that new flu strain and we don’t want to be short on numbers. I’ll see you later... You know, me Mum always warned me about bringin’ strange boys home."

"She didn’t say anything about strange girls?"

"Possibly. I’d given up listenin’ by that point in the conversation."

On to Chapter Nine

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