Well Met With Merlot
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vigorliTitle: Well Met With Merlot (3/3)
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Richard Armitage/Orlando Bloom (mention of other partners)
Beta:silvan_lady; Thank you so much for everything.
But I have tampered with it because I can’t leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Notes: Forgattodoro. Buon Compleanno (and still more)
Word Count: 3,020
Summary: Things are not always what they seem.
There has been some blatant begging and borrowing here and also some downright stealing.
So… sorry but… not sorry.
Part 3
When Richard woke the next morning he could certainly feel the effects of the previous night’s encounter, seemingly in every single muscle and especially in his most sensitive areas. He thought about the unforgiving upholstery of the conference chairs and anticipated an uncomfortable day. A shower and some painkillers improved the situation but he took every opportunity to keep moving around, only sitting down if he had to. Monday was largely taken up with welcoming the attendees and speakers anyway and then there was a, mercifully short, introductory address by Ian. Ian had arrived in good form that morning. They’d run this conference, and other similar events before and as long as the speakers arrived on time and there was coffee at regular intervals and dinner with abundant alcohol in the evenings, everyone would be satisfied. He had briefly asked about Richard’s Sunday evening and Richard had found it hard not to grin as he responded that it had been very pleasant and if Ian noticed him moving stiffly and occasionally wincing he didn’t comment.
Maybe it was the residual endorphins in his system or the stimulating memory of some bloody great sex but after the opening night dinner concluded and Richard had, he thought, fulfilled his obligation to fraternise with the delegates, he decided to check on Orlando; just to make sure he’d got home alright. When he arrived in the public lounge area there were a couple of guys behind the bar but neither of them was Orlando. Too impatient to wait for the lift he took the stairs two at a time to the first floor where the main bar was situated. There was no sign of Orlando there either. Richard cursed. He wondered if maybe his quarry had been on an earlier shift today. Maybe Richard should have asked. But when a guy is screwing you, asking about shift patterns for the bar staff isn’t exactly the first thing you think about. Afterwards though, he could have asked; if he hadn’t been quite so blissed out, and almost asleep when Orlando left. He retired to his room, grumpy, and frustrated, snagged a small bottle of red wine from the mini bar and jerked himself off in the shower; it wasn’t the same.
On Tuesday during the lunch recess Richard checked all the bars in the hotel, and also the restaurants, just in case. His search was fruitless. He supposed he could have asked one of the other bar staff but he didn’t want to get Orlando into trouble by revealing he’d been fraternising with the guests; it probably wasn’t allowed; but how the hell would Richard know what the staff were allowed to do in their off duty time. And why was he so keen to see Orlando again anyway? There were some very attractive men attending the conference and a couple of them had already made subtle advances; if he wanted a combination of clever conversation and sex he wouldn’t have to look very far. But during the brief post-sex interaction he’d had with Orlando he’d been struck by how amusing the guy was and he liked the theatre so that was interesting and maybe there was more to him than an aptitude for mixing cocktails and a penchant for casual sex.
The room that was being used for their private dining had a small lounge bar attached and when he wandered in there after dinner on Tuesday evening, intending to mingle with the rest of the attendees for an hour or so and then sneak off and check the public bars again, he was surprised by the sight of Orlando and another young man serving drinks. Richard’s stomach flipped with pleasure and he blushed at this unexpected response but he then wondered how he could subtly impart to Orlando that he was interested in another more personal service, without it being obvious to his companions. He was also nervous about how Orlando might react to his presence, but when he came to take the drinks order for Richard and the other people at his table there wasn’t even the smallest sign from him that they were more intimately acquainted, not even a sly wink. The guy was completely professional and Richard was more intrigued by him than ever.
As the evening wore on people left the bar, either to sample the more exciting diversions of London’s night-life, or to enjoy the secret pleasure of sleeping in a single bed away from partners and children; also, in a few cases, Richard guessed, to share one.
He had tried, reasonably hard, not to watch Orlando as he worked; but he was always somehow in Richard’s eyeline, and also, apparently, Ian’s. “That waiter is certainly easy on the eye isn’t he? I wonder if he provides room-service,” Ian remarked.
Richard was grateful that gin and tonic didn’t usually stain because he managed to redistribute most of the one in his hand to the front of his shirt and pants.
“You are a wicked, wicked man!” he admonished contemplating the wet patches on his chest and groin but a part of him panicked. Ian was far more sexualy adventurous in late middle age than Richard had been even in his teens and was certainly not above seducing the staff.
“I try,” Ian smiled. “Sadly, he looks far too athletic for me.”
Richard had been so unnerved by Ian’s remarks that he failed to appreciate that Orlando had observed the incident until he helpfully appeared with a cloth and offered it to Richard. Richard hesitated for a moment but then took it and mopped up the worst of the spillage.
“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.
“You’re welcome, sir,” Orlando replied, “can I bring you another gin and tonic?” and then with a completely straight face he added, “or would you like something else? Perhaps a glass of Merlot to finish off the evening?”
Richard coughed, hard, to cover what would otherwise have been a splutter; he was amused by Orlando’s audacity; and delighted to know that he would also like a repeat of Sunday night.
“I would very much like a Merlot,” he said, “but later maybe?”
“Certainly, sir. Later then.” Orlando nodded and, again without even the most minor facial acknowledgement of their future assignation, withdrew.
Ian looked perplexed. “ Was he flirting with you?”
“I don’t think so,” Richard replied, as evenly as he could. “He’s just very helpful. I tried the Merlot on Sunday night, it was very good. I’m impressed that he remembered though, but I suppose that is part of his job, isn’t it?”
“Yes, true,” Ian agreed. “The staff here are very efficient. That’s why I picked this hotel.”
Richard retired to his room at eleven sharp and stripped off his, still damp, suit and shirt. He removed the duvet, laid out the towel, put out supplies; then suffered a rush of uncertainty. Had Orlando really been suggesting what Richard thought he had? Had Richard just presumed because that’s what he wanted himself? He’d intended to at least pull on a t-shirt and his jeans, but the knock came before he had finished this inner debate.
Orlando, again dressed in his shabby, off-duty clothes, burst out laughing when Richard opened the door wearing only the blue silk shorts.
“Really, really eager tonight, huh?” he chuckled as he crossed the threshold.
“My clothes were wet,” Richard protested.
“I noticed,” Orlando replied, still laughing. “I would have offered to help you remove them at the time but I didn’t think your friend would appreciate it.”
“That was my boss,” Richard said as he locked the door, “and he would have loved it. But let’s not go there.”
“Hi, again, Richard,” Orlando said. He was standing in the middle of the room smiling wolfishly.
“Hi,” Richard replied, without moving far from the door.
Orlando raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Everything alright?”
The reason Richard had intended to dress again after removing his suit was that he’d thought about trying to spend some time talking first. Looking now at Orlando who was already stripping off the sweatshirt, he shelved that intention and stepped out of his shorts as he moved towards the other man. He felt ridiculously shy, as Orlando’s hungry eyes raked over his body; his gaze finally settled on Richards’s swelling penis and he licked his lips.
“Do you mind if I…?” Orlando said, and without waiting for an answer dropped to his knees.
Despite the best blow job Richard thought he’d ever had and another thorough fucking he was more alert, when Orlando announced that it was time he left.
“Can I see you again?”
“I’m on afternoons tomorrow, but evenings on Thursday. I think the conference is on till Friday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, Thursday would be great though.”
“I’m not sure which bar I’ll be working but I will finish at eleven-thirty and I can maybe stay a bit longer if you like, Friday is my day off.”
“I would like,” Richard said as Orlando kissed him goodnight.
Richard spent Wednesday and Thursday in good spirits despite the best efforts of some uninspiring speakers. He and Orlando had talked a little more on Tuesday night and although they hadn’t touched on anything personal it reinforced his impression that Orlando was actually very smart. During the long, boring afternoon session, while anticipating the evening to come, he began to think he’d like to see more of him; Leicester to London was only an hour by train, except on Sundays, of course. The conference was due to close on Thursday evening after the dinner and final speeches; everyone would leave on Friday morning. Richard knew he wouldn’t be needed in the office on Friday afternoon, Ian was unlikely to go in either, but Cate would be fine, she was basically the one who ran the firm anyway. He approached reception and rebooked his room on his own credit card until Sunday.
“I was wondering,” he said to Orlando on Thursday evening as they lay sated and sweaty in his bed, “if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”
Orlando hesitated but then agreed that he could. They parted in the early hours after another bout of extremely satisfying sex and although the final kiss was as usual tender, Orlando seemed pre-occupied.
On Friday morning, Richard indulged himself with a lie-in then, having seen Ian and other acquaintances on their way he spent the rest of the morning at the National Gallery. He hadn’t asked what Orlando was doing on Friday, he assumed also sleeping in and then catching up with chores maybe. He had booked a decent restaurant in Covent Garden for dinner but decided to have a light lunch at a smaller place not far from the Gallery. He was seated next to a large plate glass window that overlooked the narrow street and glancing up he noticed a strikingly attractive couple on the other side of it; they had apparently just met up and were hugging and laughing as they prepared to enter the restaurant opposite Richard’s. With a jolt he realised that the male half of the couple was actually Orlando. But a much smarter, sleeker version of Orlando. Even from this distance he could see that the leather jacket was expensive and the figure hugging jeans were considerably more flattering than the pair he wore when visiting Richard. The lady was a tall, statuesque blonde and Orlando’s arm was draped possessively across her shoulders.
Richard immediately revised all his recent plans for a possible continuation of their relationship. The man had said he didn’t sleep with women but he doubted the lady was his sister, there was certainly no familial resemblance. A good friend? Possibly; but that didn’t explain the expensive clothes. Well, at least he was forearmed he decided and even corporate lawyers possessed significant interrogation skills. He would just confront Orlando when they met that evening but he was disappointed; he’d really started to like Orlando very much and been actively imagining spending more time with him.
Orlando had given him his mobile number and Richard had texted him the dinner reservation. When he arrived at their table he was still wearing the smart jeans and the leather jacket but he looked nervous. “Hi,” he said hesitantly, and after draping the jacket on the back of the chair, sat down.
“Hello there,” Richard said slowly, deliberately. “Nice jacket. In fact, you scrub up really well.”
Orlando smiled. “Thank you.” There was a pause and then he continued, thoughtfully, ”You don’t seem as surprised about that as I’d expected.”
“I saw you this afternoon, having lunch with a lady.”
“Ahh.” Orlando nodded, then grinned playfully. “That was no lady, that was my agent.”
“Your agent!” Richard repeated. “So you are an actor, you said you weren’t.”
“What? No! Oh I see what you’re thinking, but no. She’s a literary agent, I’m a writer.”
“A writer?” This made some sense to Richard, he had already decided that Orlando had an artistic nature and could imagine him as a writer, presumably one still trying to get published though. “So you tend bars to fund your writing?” Richard said sympathetically.
“Er, no.” Orlando shook his head, laughing. “I’m doing research for my next book, so I took courses in cocktail mixing and fine wines and got myself a job at the hotel.”
“Really? That’s very enterprising of you. You’re very thorough in your research then.”
“Are you not thorough in your professional work?”
“Yes, ok, I am, touché,” Richard acknowledged.
“I didn’t intend to mislead you. I mean I do work in the hotel, so technically I am currently a real barperson and I thought that our… well, that it was just going to be a, you know, a transient thing.”
“Yes, I can see that, I thought the same.”
“It was only last night when you said you might stay another couple of days and you suggested dinner that I knew I would have to confess and I would have done it then but…,” he tilted his head and grinned, disarmingly, “we were in bed and if you took it badly it would have spoiled the evening. I thought it would be better if we addressed it with our clothes on.”
Richard sighed, this all sounded reasonable. “And is your name really Orlando then?”
“Yes it is, but it’s not the one I’m widely known by.”
“So who are you really?” Richard raised his eyebrows questioningly.
The man laughed self consciously. “This is all much harder than I’d expected. I am, Orlando, to my family and friends. But I write as, Jonathan Blanchard.”
“Blanchard?” Richard frowned. The name was familiar to him. “Do you write thrillers, murder mystery type stuff?”
“That sort of thing, yeah,” Orlando said, obviously pleased that Richard recognised his alias. “Have you read any of them?”
“No, but my brother is into those and I bought him the hardback of… of your latest I guess, for Christmas.”
“I hope he enjoyed it.”
“I think he did.” Richard smiled. “So your next book is set in a hotel.”
Orlando nodded. “A lot of interesting things can happen in hotels, and the staff see things, hear things. Customers, guests, often forget they’re there and say things they shouldn’t in front of them. At least I assumed that to be the case, but I wanted to prove the theory. And I can confirm that they very much do, it’s like being invisible in plain sight.”
“Yes, I would suppose they do.”
“And as a writer a hotel provides you with a diverse range of characters, there is a lot of stuff you can use.”
“You’re not going to put me in your next book, are you?” Richard asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Would you like me to?” Orlando smirked.
“No! Of course not.” Richard was horrified.
Orlando laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t, but some people do enjoy seeing themselves as characters in novels.”
“Really? How strange.”
“You’d be amazed how many letters I get asking me to do just that.”
Richard laughed, he was feeling more relaxed now and relieved that his impressions of Orlando had been close to the mark. But…, “So, where do we go from here?” he asked.
“Where did you hope it would go?”
“I’d like to see more of you,” Richard said without hesitation. “Get to know you, see what happens.”
“I’d like that too.”
“I’d enjoy spending my weekends in London, maybe going to the theatre with you. I could get used to staying in the hotel on a regular basis, it's not home but it's very comfortable.”
Orlando started to laugh.
“What?”
“Richard, I am quite successful, I have a very nice house in Chelsea, there’s no need for a hotel. Although if you prefer to sleep alone there are two spare bedrooms to chose from.”
“No,” Richard shook his head, “I’d rather sleep with you.”
“I’d rather you slept with me too.” Orlando grinned. He reached across the table and closed his hand over Richard’s. “In the spirit of full disclosure, there has been a long term relationship in my past, and a couple of minor ones but I haven’t made a casual pick up in a bar since, well, probably my early twenties. When I said I liked the look of you I meant that I really, really liked the look of you. I mean have you seen yourself? I’m not pretending anything as crass as love at first sight but there was a strong attraction. I thought even if it was only for one night it would be worth it.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” Richard asked, he was only half joking, his throat was tight.
“Can lawyers cry? I thought you were all heartless bastards.”
Richard tried to scowl but he couldn’t and before he could offer a suitable response the waiter appeared.
“Good evening gentlemen, would you like to order drinks?”
Orlando turned his full attention to the waiter and smiled charmingly. “Thank you, yes, I think we’ll have a bottle of Merlot please.”
The End
Author: Artemis Allen
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Richard Armitage/Orlando Bloom (mention of other partners)
Beta:
silvan_lady; Thank you so much for everything.But I have tampered with it because I can’t leave well alone, so all mistakes are mine.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
Notes: For
gattodoro. Buon Compleanno (and still more)Word Count: 3,020
Summary: Things are not always what they seem.
There has been some blatant begging and borrowing here and also some downright stealing.
So… sorry but… not sorry.
Part 3
When Richard woke the next morning he could certainly feel the effects of the previous night’s encounter, seemingly in every single muscle and especially in his most sensitive areas. He thought about the unforgiving upholstery of the conference chairs and anticipated an uncomfortable day. A shower and some painkillers improved the situation but he took every opportunity to keep moving around, only sitting down if he had to. Monday was largely taken up with welcoming the attendees and speakers anyway and then there was a, mercifully short, introductory address by Ian. Ian had arrived in good form that morning. They’d run this conference, and other similar events before and as long as the speakers arrived on time and there was coffee at regular intervals and dinner with abundant alcohol in the evenings, everyone would be satisfied. He had briefly asked about Richard’s Sunday evening and Richard had found it hard not to grin as he responded that it had been very pleasant and if Ian noticed him moving stiffly and occasionally wincing he didn’t comment.
Maybe it was the residual endorphins in his system or the stimulating memory of some bloody great sex but after the opening night dinner concluded and Richard had, he thought, fulfilled his obligation to fraternise with the delegates, he decided to check on Orlando; just to make sure he’d got home alright. When he arrived in the public lounge area there were a couple of guys behind the bar but neither of them was Orlando. Too impatient to wait for the lift he took the stairs two at a time to the first floor where the main bar was situated. There was no sign of Orlando there either. Richard cursed. He wondered if maybe his quarry had been on an earlier shift today. Maybe Richard should have asked. But when a guy is screwing you, asking about shift patterns for the bar staff isn’t exactly the first thing you think about. Afterwards though, he could have asked; if he hadn’t been quite so blissed out, and almost asleep when Orlando left. He retired to his room, grumpy, and frustrated, snagged a small bottle of red wine from the mini bar and jerked himself off in the shower; it wasn’t the same.
On Tuesday during the lunch recess Richard checked all the bars in the hotel, and also the restaurants, just in case. His search was fruitless. He supposed he could have asked one of the other bar staff but he didn’t want to get Orlando into trouble by revealing he’d been fraternising with the guests; it probably wasn’t allowed; but how the hell would Richard know what the staff were allowed to do in their off duty time. And why was he so keen to see Orlando again anyway? There were some very attractive men attending the conference and a couple of them had already made subtle advances; if he wanted a combination of clever conversation and sex he wouldn’t have to look very far. But during the brief post-sex interaction he’d had with Orlando he’d been struck by how amusing the guy was and he liked the theatre so that was interesting and maybe there was more to him than an aptitude for mixing cocktails and a penchant for casual sex.
The room that was being used for their private dining had a small lounge bar attached and when he wandered in there after dinner on Tuesday evening, intending to mingle with the rest of the attendees for an hour or so and then sneak off and check the public bars again, he was surprised by the sight of Orlando and another young man serving drinks. Richard’s stomach flipped with pleasure and he blushed at this unexpected response but he then wondered how he could subtly impart to Orlando that he was interested in another more personal service, without it being obvious to his companions. He was also nervous about how Orlando might react to his presence, but when he came to take the drinks order for Richard and the other people at his table there wasn’t even the smallest sign from him that they were more intimately acquainted, not even a sly wink. The guy was completely professional and Richard was more intrigued by him than ever.
As the evening wore on people left the bar, either to sample the more exciting diversions of London’s night-life, or to enjoy the secret pleasure of sleeping in a single bed away from partners and children; also, in a few cases, Richard guessed, to share one.
He had tried, reasonably hard, not to watch Orlando as he worked; but he was always somehow in Richard’s eyeline, and also, apparently, Ian’s. “That waiter is certainly easy on the eye isn’t he? I wonder if he provides room-service,” Ian remarked.
Richard was grateful that gin and tonic didn’t usually stain because he managed to redistribute most of the one in his hand to the front of his shirt and pants.
“You are a wicked, wicked man!” he admonished contemplating the wet patches on his chest and groin but a part of him panicked. Ian was far more sexualy adventurous in late middle age than Richard had been even in his teens and was certainly not above seducing the staff.
“I try,” Ian smiled. “Sadly, he looks far too athletic for me.”
Richard had been so unnerved by Ian’s remarks that he failed to appreciate that Orlando had observed the incident until he helpfully appeared with a cloth and offered it to Richard. Richard hesitated for a moment but then took it and mopped up the worst of the spillage.
“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.
“You’re welcome, sir,” Orlando replied, “can I bring you another gin and tonic?” and then with a completely straight face he added, “or would you like something else? Perhaps a glass of Merlot to finish off the evening?”
Richard coughed, hard, to cover what would otherwise have been a splutter; he was amused by Orlando’s audacity; and delighted to know that he would also like a repeat of Sunday night.
“I would very much like a Merlot,” he said, “but later maybe?”
“Certainly, sir. Later then.” Orlando nodded and, again without even the most minor facial acknowledgement of their future assignation, withdrew.
Ian looked perplexed. “ Was he flirting with you?”
“I don’t think so,” Richard replied, as evenly as he could. “He’s just very helpful. I tried the Merlot on Sunday night, it was very good. I’m impressed that he remembered though, but I suppose that is part of his job, isn’t it?”
“Yes, true,” Ian agreed. “The staff here are very efficient. That’s why I picked this hotel.”
Richard retired to his room at eleven sharp and stripped off his, still damp, suit and shirt. He removed the duvet, laid out the towel, put out supplies; then suffered a rush of uncertainty. Had Orlando really been suggesting what Richard thought he had? Had Richard just presumed because that’s what he wanted himself? He’d intended to at least pull on a t-shirt and his jeans, but the knock came before he had finished this inner debate.
Orlando, again dressed in his shabby, off-duty clothes, burst out laughing when Richard opened the door wearing only the blue silk shorts.
“Really, really eager tonight, huh?” he chuckled as he crossed the threshold.
“My clothes were wet,” Richard protested.
“I noticed,” Orlando replied, still laughing. “I would have offered to help you remove them at the time but I didn’t think your friend would appreciate it.”
“That was my boss,” Richard said as he locked the door, “and he would have loved it. But let’s not go there.”
“Hi, again, Richard,” Orlando said. He was standing in the middle of the room smiling wolfishly.
“Hi,” Richard replied, without moving far from the door.
Orlando raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Everything alright?”
The reason Richard had intended to dress again after removing his suit was that he’d thought about trying to spend some time talking first. Looking now at Orlando who was already stripping off the sweatshirt, he shelved that intention and stepped out of his shorts as he moved towards the other man. He felt ridiculously shy, as Orlando’s hungry eyes raked over his body; his gaze finally settled on Richards’s swelling penis and he licked his lips.
“Do you mind if I…?” Orlando said, and without waiting for an answer dropped to his knees.
Despite the best blow job Richard thought he’d ever had and another thorough fucking he was more alert, when Orlando announced that it was time he left.
“Can I see you again?”
“I’m on afternoons tomorrow, but evenings on Thursday. I think the conference is on till Friday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, Thursday would be great though.”
“I’m not sure which bar I’ll be working but I will finish at eleven-thirty and I can maybe stay a bit longer if you like, Friday is my day off.”
“I would like,” Richard said as Orlando kissed him goodnight.
Richard spent Wednesday and Thursday in good spirits despite the best efforts of some uninspiring speakers. He and Orlando had talked a little more on Tuesday night and although they hadn’t touched on anything personal it reinforced his impression that Orlando was actually very smart. During the long, boring afternoon session, while anticipating the evening to come, he began to think he’d like to see more of him; Leicester to London was only an hour by train, except on Sundays, of course. The conference was due to close on Thursday evening after the dinner and final speeches; everyone would leave on Friday morning. Richard knew he wouldn’t be needed in the office on Friday afternoon, Ian was unlikely to go in either, but Cate would be fine, she was basically the one who ran the firm anyway. He approached reception and rebooked his room on his own credit card until Sunday.
“I was wondering,” he said to Orlando on Thursday evening as they lay sated and sweaty in his bed, “if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”
Orlando hesitated but then agreed that he could. They parted in the early hours after another bout of extremely satisfying sex and although the final kiss was as usual tender, Orlando seemed pre-occupied.
On Friday morning, Richard indulged himself with a lie-in then, having seen Ian and other acquaintances on their way he spent the rest of the morning at the National Gallery. He hadn’t asked what Orlando was doing on Friday, he assumed also sleeping in and then catching up with chores maybe. He had booked a decent restaurant in Covent Garden for dinner but decided to have a light lunch at a smaller place not far from the Gallery. He was seated next to a large plate glass window that overlooked the narrow street and glancing up he noticed a strikingly attractive couple on the other side of it; they had apparently just met up and were hugging and laughing as they prepared to enter the restaurant opposite Richard’s. With a jolt he realised that the male half of the couple was actually Orlando. But a much smarter, sleeker version of Orlando. Even from this distance he could see that the leather jacket was expensive and the figure hugging jeans were considerably more flattering than the pair he wore when visiting Richard. The lady was a tall, statuesque blonde and Orlando’s arm was draped possessively across her shoulders.
Richard immediately revised all his recent plans for a possible continuation of their relationship. The man had said he didn’t sleep with women but he doubted the lady was his sister, there was certainly no familial resemblance. A good friend? Possibly; but that didn’t explain the expensive clothes. Well, at least he was forearmed he decided and even corporate lawyers possessed significant interrogation skills. He would just confront Orlando when they met that evening but he was disappointed; he’d really started to like Orlando very much and been actively imagining spending more time with him.
Orlando had given him his mobile number and Richard had texted him the dinner reservation. When he arrived at their table he was still wearing the smart jeans and the leather jacket but he looked nervous. “Hi,” he said hesitantly, and after draping the jacket on the back of the chair, sat down.
“Hello there,” Richard said slowly, deliberately. “Nice jacket. In fact, you scrub up really well.”
Orlando smiled. “Thank you.” There was a pause and then he continued, thoughtfully, ”You don’t seem as surprised about that as I’d expected.”
“I saw you this afternoon, having lunch with a lady.”
“Ahh.” Orlando nodded, then grinned playfully. “That was no lady, that was my agent.”
“Your agent!” Richard repeated. “So you are an actor, you said you weren’t.”
“What? No! Oh I see what you’re thinking, but no. She’s a literary agent, I’m a writer.”
“A writer?” This made some sense to Richard, he had already decided that Orlando had an artistic nature and could imagine him as a writer, presumably one still trying to get published though. “So you tend bars to fund your writing?” Richard said sympathetically.
“Er, no.” Orlando shook his head, laughing. “I’m doing research for my next book, so I took courses in cocktail mixing and fine wines and got myself a job at the hotel.”
“Really? That’s very enterprising of you. You’re very thorough in your research then.”
“Are you not thorough in your professional work?”
“Yes, ok, I am, touché,” Richard acknowledged.
“I didn’t intend to mislead you. I mean I do work in the hotel, so technically I am currently a real barperson and I thought that our… well, that it was just going to be a, you know, a transient thing.”
“Yes, I can see that, I thought the same.”
“It was only last night when you said you might stay another couple of days and you suggested dinner that I knew I would have to confess and I would have done it then but…,” he tilted his head and grinned, disarmingly, “we were in bed and if you took it badly it would have spoiled the evening. I thought it would be better if we addressed it with our clothes on.”
Richard sighed, this all sounded reasonable. “And is your name really Orlando then?”
“Yes it is, but it’s not the one I’m widely known by.”
“So who are you really?” Richard raised his eyebrows questioningly.
The man laughed self consciously. “This is all much harder than I’d expected. I am, Orlando, to my family and friends. But I write as, Jonathan Blanchard.”
“Blanchard?” Richard frowned. The name was familiar to him. “Do you write thrillers, murder mystery type stuff?”
“That sort of thing, yeah,” Orlando said, obviously pleased that Richard recognised his alias. “Have you read any of them?”
“No, but my brother is into those and I bought him the hardback of… of your latest I guess, for Christmas.”
“I hope he enjoyed it.”
“I think he did.” Richard smiled. “So your next book is set in a hotel.”
Orlando nodded. “A lot of interesting things can happen in hotels, and the staff see things, hear things. Customers, guests, often forget they’re there and say things they shouldn’t in front of them. At least I assumed that to be the case, but I wanted to prove the theory. And I can confirm that they very much do, it’s like being invisible in plain sight.”
“Yes, I would suppose they do.”
“And as a writer a hotel provides you with a diverse range of characters, there is a lot of stuff you can use.”
“You’re not going to put me in your next book, are you?” Richard asked, suddenly alarmed.
“Would you like me to?” Orlando smirked.
“No! Of course not.” Richard was horrified.
Orlando laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t, but some people do enjoy seeing themselves as characters in novels.”
“Really? How strange.”
“You’d be amazed how many letters I get asking me to do just that.”
Richard laughed, he was feeling more relaxed now and relieved that his impressions of Orlando had been close to the mark. But…, “So, where do we go from here?” he asked.
“Where did you hope it would go?”
“I’d like to see more of you,” Richard said without hesitation. “Get to know you, see what happens.”
“I’d like that too.”
“I’d enjoy spending my weekends in London, maybe going to the theatre with you. I could get used to staying in the hotel on a regular basis, it's not home but it's very comfortable.”
Orlando started to laugh.
“What?”
“Richard, I am quite successful, I have a very nice house in Chelsea, there’s no need for a hotel. Although if you prefer to sleep alone there are two spare bedrooms to chose from.”
“No,” Richard shook his head, “I’d rather sleep with you.”
“I’d rather you slept with me too.” Orlando grinned. He reached across the table and closed his hand over Richard’s. “In the spirit of full disclosure, there has been a long term relationship in my past, and a couple of minor ones but I haven’t made a casual pick up in a bar since, well, probably my early twenties. When I said I liked the look of you I meant that I really, really liked the look of you. I mean have you seen yourself? I’m not pretending anything as crass as love at first sight but there was a strong attraction. I thought even if it was only for one night it would be worth it.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?” Richard asked, he was only half joking, his throat was tight.
“Can lawyers cry? I thought you were all heartless bastards.”
Richard tried to scowl but he couldn’t and before he could offer a suitable response the waiter appeared.
“Good evening gentlemen, would you like to order drinks?”
Orlando turned his full attention to the waiter and smiled charmingly. “Thank you, yes, I think we’ll have a bottle of Merlot please.”
The End
