he didn't care.
"Oh Marco,” Molly said. “This is getting ugly now. Yves has done nothing wrong for you to insult him in public this way."
Harris blinked. “You're absolutely divine when you're like this, Marco. It's just a shame all your fans can't witness the real you."
"I'm sorry, Molly, if my manners aren't up to par,” Marco said, ignoring Harris. “I wasn't fortunate enough to be born into old money, and I didn't go to Smith or Harvard or Princeton. While you were riding around in a little foreign convertible, I was modeling jock straps and thongs to earn a living with my bare ass.” Modeling underwear had made him famous.
Jasper reached for Molly's hand. “It's getting late. I think it's time to go now."
"But the fun is just beginning,” Marco said. “Why would you want to leave now?” Jasper had always been such a milquetoast. Whenever there was the slightest hint of confrontation, Jasper was out the door and down the street. Marco felt like taking Jasper's silky hand and slapping it right across Yves's face.
He would have done just that if Molly hadn't said, “I agree, Jasper. It's past my bedtime. Let's go."
"That's right,” Marco said. “I wouldn't want to disrupt your happy home life.” He wanted to be cruel. He knew Molly and Jasper didn't have sex often. They were the perfect married couple in all other areas, but Jasper had never been an overly sexual man. They had sex about once or twice a month, but Molly would have had it twice a day if she'd had her way.
"Enough, Marco,” Molly said. “I'm tired and you're drunk. You're not bowing to your fans, now you're insulting your friends."
"It's my house and I'll do whatever the fuck I want,” Marco said. He'd been good so far. He hadn't cursed much at all that night. But he was ready to roll up his sleeves and sink right into the gutter now that they were all ganging up on him.
Molly looked into his eyes and pursed her lips, then crossed to where Yves was standing and purposely hugged him right in front of Marco. Yves was frowning and avoiding all eye contact. Molly told him he had done nothing wrong and he shouldn't be upset at all. “I love Marco,” she said, “but sometimes I'd like to kick him right in the ass.” When she was finished hugging Yves, she turned her back on Marco and reached for Jasper's hand.
"I'm going to bed,” Marco said as he started staggering toward the other end of the penthouse. Drunk as he was, he knew if he remained there it would only get worse. And he was the one who would come off looking like the bad guy, not Yves.
"It's about time,” Frazier said, looking the other way.
Marco stopped walking. “Aren't you going to follow me, Frazier?” he asked. “This is when you're supposed to pull down my zipper, take off my pants, and tuck me into bed like a good husband.” He looked at Yves with a nasty grin. “I'll bet Yves would do it. He'd pull down my pants and tuck me into bed. Wouldn't you, Yves?"
"Honestly, Marco,” Molly said.
Yves gave Marco a devoted look and he smiled. “I'll help you to bed, Marco. You know I'd do anything to make you comfortable."
Marco gave him a dead stare. He felt like gagging. His eyes narrowed and his brows pointed down. “Don't. Bother. You've already done enough for me.” He turned to face Frazier. “Happy anniversary, my love."
Frazier looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Then he nodded to the others and followed Marco to bed.
On the way to his bedroom, Marco overheard Molly say good night to Yves. Then he heard Yves say, “You won't forget about what we talked about when we were alone.” There was a desperate sound in Yves's voice Marco hadn't heard before. Usually, Yves just sounded subservient and weak.
"I won't forget,” Molly said with the soft, tender voice she used whenever she felt sorry for someone.
When they were in the bedroom, Frazier slammed the door and stomped to the sitting area in front of the mirrored wall. He leaned into the sofa and
"Oh Marco,” Molly said. “This is getting ugly now. Yves has done nothing wrong for you to insult him in public this way."
Harris blinked. “You're absolutely divine when you're like this, Marco. It's just a shame all your fans can't witness the real you."
"I'm sorry, Molly, if my manners aren't up to par,” Marco said, ignoring Harris. “I wasn't fortunate enough to be born into old money, and I didn't go to Smith or Harvard or Princeton. While you were riding around in a little foreign convertible, I was modeling jock straps and thongs to earn a living with my bare ass.” Modeling underwear had made him famous.
Jasper reached for Molly's hand. “It's getting late. I think it's time to go now."
"But the fun is just beginning,” Marco said. “Why would you want to leave now?” Jasper had always been such a milquetoast. Whenever there was the slightest hint of confrontation, Jasper was out the door and down the street. Marco felt like taking Jasper's silky hand and slapping it right across Yves's face.
He would have done just that if Molly hadn't said, “I agree, Jasper. It's past my bedtime. Let's go."
"That's right,” Marco said. “I wouldn't want to disrupt your happy home life.” He wanted to be cruel. He knew Molly and Jasper didn't have sex often. They were the perfect married couple in all other areas, but Jasper had never been an overly sexual man. They had sex about once or twice a month, but Molly would have had it twice a day if she'd had her way.
"Enough, Marco,” Molly said. “I'm tired and you're drunk. You're not bowing to your fans, now you're insulting your friends."
"It's my house and I'll do whatever the fuck I want,” Marco said. He'd been good so far. He hadn't cursed much at all that night. But he was ready to roll up his sleeves and sink right into the gutter now that they were all ganging up on him.
Molly looked into his eyes and pursed her lips, then crossed to where Yves was standing and purposely hugged him right in front of Marco. Yves was frowning and avoiding all eye contact. Molly told him he had done nothing wrong and he shouldn't be upset at all. “I love Marco,” she said, “but sometimes I'd like to kick him right in the ass.” When she was finished hugging Yves, she turned her back on Marco and reached for Jasper's hand.
"I'm going to bed,” Marco said as he started staggering toward the other end of the penthouse. Drunk as he was, he knew if he remained there it would only get worse. And he was the one who would come off looking like the bad guy, not Yves.
"It's about time,” Frazier said, looking the other way.
Marco stopped walking. “Aren't you going to follow me, Frazier?” he asked. “This is when you're supposed to pull down my zipper, take off my pants, and tuck me into bed like a good husband.” He looked at Yves with a nasty grin. “I'll bet Yves would do it. He'd pull down my pants and tuck me into bed. Wouldn't you, Yves?"
"Honestly, Marco,” Molly said.
Yves gave Marco a devoted look and he smiled. “I'll help you to bed, Marco. You know I'd do anything to make you comfortable."
Marco gave him a dead stare. He felt like gagging. His eyes narrowed and his brows pointed down. “Don't. Bother. You've already done enough for me.” He turned to face Frazier. “Happy anniversary, my love."
Frazier looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Then he nodded to the others and followed Marco to bed.
On the way to his bedroom, Marco overheard Molly say good night to Yves. Then he heard Yves say, “You won't forget about what we talked about when we were alone.” There was a desperate sound in Yves's voice Marco hadn't heard before. Usually, Yves just sounded subservient and weak.
"I won't forget,” Molly said with the soft, tender voice she used whenever she felt sorry for someone.
When they were in the bedroom, Frazier slammed the door and stomped to the sitting area in front of the mirrored wall. He leaned into the sofa and
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