Robin dropped Micky off at Swallows bar just before nine that night. He had introduced Micky to the bartender and very briefly explained that Micky was waiting for a man who might show up so they could discuss a business proposition.
"If they can use the back room, it would be appreciated," Robin said, as the bartender handed him the envelope from Eldon, with Micky's new ID.
The bartender grinned lasciviously before agreeing.
"I knew that would be the reaction," Micky muttered under his breath.
"Whatever works." Robin laughed in reply. "I'll call you as soon as I've talked to Irving." He handed Micky the envelope.
Micky slipped it into his pocket, saying, "Please let him be there. I don't think I can do this every night until he shows up."
"I'm with you on that," Robin said.
Ten minutes later, Robin was at Mackenzie's club. He found a seat at the bar, hung his jacket over the back of the stool, ordered tonic water with a twist then checked the room to see if Irving was there. He wasn't, so Robin sipped his drink and waited, glancing at the front door every time it opened.
At least Mackenzie's not here, too, thank God.
Robin finished his drink and had just ordered a second one when Irving finally came in with two other men. They found a table at the back of the room, settled in and ordered drinks.
Giving them time to get totally relaxed, Robin finally stood and made his way toward Irving's table. He waited until Irving saw him then smiled.
"Robin. My dear boy. Come meet my friends," Irving said. When Robin did, Irving made the introductions then asked if Robin would care to join them.
"I'd be delighted," Robin replied, taking the empty seat. For a few minutes the four men chatted. Then leaning closer to Irving, Robin asked softly, "May I speak to you alone?"
Irving's expression said he thought that would be an excellent idea, and Robin knew the man was expecting something more than just a talk. Robin led the way to a darkened corner of the club where he knew they wouldn't be overheard.
Before Irving could ask, or make some unwanted advance, Robin said, "I met a man a couple of nights ago."
Irving's expression darkened. "What does that have to do with us?"
Robin was tempted to say, "There is no us." Instead he smiled, clasping Irving's shoulder. "This man—he's probably in his mid-twenties—has, shall we say, the same tastes you do. Unfortunately he hasn't found a way to assuage them that he feels comfortable with. I mentioned Yours Truly but he told me they require an introduction from a—as he put it—a special client, before they would do anything."
"I see," Irving said slowly. "And of course you immediately thought of me."
"Yes, sir. I did some checking. This man seems to be exactly what he says. More to the point, he's well able to afford the costs involved."
Irving appeared interested, but… "He sounds young. Are you certain he is…wealthy?"
"Yes. He comes from money." Robin paused, then said knowingly, "I have the feeling he's got a great deal of time on his hands and is bored, but somewhat naïve. That, plus his taste for much younger sexual partners makes him ripe for the picking. You might even find he's willing to, shall we say, share his 'escort' with you."
Robin repressed a shudder at the look of pure lechery on Irving's face.
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