Fic: Pole Position (3 of ?)

[obselizabeth.livejournal.com]

Title: Pole Position (Part 3 of ?)
Author: obselizabeth
E-mail: obselizabeth@gmail.com
Live journal: www.livejournal.com/users/obselizabeth
Rating: Definitely NC-17 now!
Type: RPS
Pairing: ViggOrli (with a little Ian and Sean and Eric thrown in -- this chapter adds a couple more boys *smile*)
Warnings: it's slash, ladies :)
Disclaimer: wouldn't it be nice if we COULD see Orlando pole dancing?
Feedback: is the cream in my coffee
Summary: Viggo's a bored multi-gazillionaire...Orlando's a pole dancer
A/N: Thanks so much to my dear friend, namarie120, for begging me offering to beta this
Beta: The glamorous namarie120


Tick tick…tick tick…

There was nothing they could say, either of them. Within one minute's time, they'd seen both overwhelming passion and rejection. There were no words to explain either.

Finally, Ian lifted his glass, draining the remaining wine from it. "I don't know either man well, but I'd like to help," he offered, helpless to say anything else.

"Fookin' arse…if he's hurt the lad…" Sean was unable to express his devotion until he'd examined the facts. "First, we check on Orlando," he said, the unspoken invitation for Ian to follow was heeded immediately as the elder set off wordlessly behind the big blond.

Sean opened the door, Ian immediately behind him, finding the young man on the floor in front of the couch, almost totally naked. Apparently, upon Viggo's departure, he'd not made it any further than that…merely crumpling down onto the carpet. Ian maintained his distance while Sean quickly moved close, surrounding Orlando's body with his own.

"I need…" the young man mumbled, every muscle in his body trembling."I so need…"

Sean rocked Orlando in his arms. At this point, he neither knew what had happened nor what Orlando needed. He could only give him comfort until Orlando communicated coherently. So he continued cradling him, like an infant…fragile in his arms.

Ian's gaze met Sean's; their unspoken connection speaking more than words could say. Ian came around behind Sean, his arms enveloping both of them…the only way he knew to give support.

Silent minutes ticked by…Orlando continued to shake, violently at times, within the dual cocoon. Ever once in a while, he spoke, eerily, as if chanting a mantra.

"Please…Sean…I need…"

After long minutes passed, Sean decided to try and reach Orlando. With Ian's help supporting the young man from behind, Sean took Orlando's face in his hands and spoke directly to him. "Come on, lad. Orlando, talk to meh. Please." Sean continued to plead. A good five minutes of this went by before, suddenly, Orlando went silent, his eyes finally focusing on Sean.

"My God, Orlando."

"Sean," Orlando pleaded, still begging but coherent.

"I canna help ye lad, unless ye tell meh whot ye need."

Orlando looked, then, past Sean…over to Ian. "Why?"

Ian was at a loss. "I'd only met him personally tonight, my dear boy. All I know is what I saw…and what I saw was…" Ian stopped, seeing the tears well up in Orlando's eyes.

"Fookin' bastard," Sean growled again.

This time, Orlando responded. "No, it was my fault. Not his."

Again, silence prevailed. Orlando looked around, suddenly aware of his state of undress. As there were no clothes nearby, he stood and buried himself into a corner of the couch, pulling the pillows over his nude frame.

"I knew the rule," Orlando said, quietly. His gaze wandered off, not speaking to anyone in particular. "I broke the rule. I forced him. I challenged him."

"I'd have to agree," Ian said, reluctantly. "However, Viggo's a powerful man. No one makes him do anything against his will…except himself."

Sean looked at Ian…not speaking…but his look demanded more.

"For a while, their mutual game was amusing. However, when they both challenged and acquiesced to each other…they were both so lost in each other…that's when I took my leave…thinking they'd do fine on their own from there. I was, apparently, horribly mistaken."

"He's hurting inside so much," Orlando said. "I could feel it in him. Yet, I was still selfish and pushed…because I wanted him, more than I have wanted anyone in my life." Orlando's head turned to bury itself in the plush couch.

"Ye canna blame yerself, lad," Sean said, absentmindedly stroking his hand along the boy's thigh.

"I thought he wanted me," Orlando said, his words muffled by the fabric.

Ian stood then, his hand cradling Orlando's head, fingers twining into the ample curls. "He did, lad. Indeed, he still does." Withdrawing his hand, Ian stooped before Sean. "On my word," he promised. "Upon my return, I intend to have matters well in hand."

Sean moved his free hand to take hold of Ian's hand. He smiled, a knowing look of wonder and interest and promise…all spoken without words. Ian responded, his hand lifting to brush Sean's cheek. "Upon my return…"

The click of the door closing behind Ian was almost imperceptible. Sean moved up on the couch next to Orlando. Immediately, the boy cowered deep within the safety of Sean's embrace.

"Gods, lad. I so want to help ye."

Orlando lifted his tear filled eyes upwards…again that pleading look filled his entire face. "Sean, please help me. I'm so…so…" His voice broke into sobs.

"Tell me. I'll help ye any way I can."

In desperation, Orlando reached up, taking one of Sean's large hands in his, guiding it down between his legs. Sean's hand encountered a mass hard as stone beneath the lace of the g-string. Reluctantly investigating, he found the material painfully embedded in Orlando's swollen flesh, and tried his best to pull the material free from the inflamed folds…finally removing the garment altogether. Once this was done, Sean moved to stand…but Orlando reached out, stopping him.

"Please, Sean. Help me. Take me. Quick and hard, like I deserve."

"Ye deserve better, lad."

"But I… please, Sean, need to come, so bad… please, help me…” Orlando was desperate and broken. His body crumpled down around itself…a stark contrast to the distended penis – over-aroused, purple with need, the slit oozing precum.

Sean tried to weigh his options. No matter what he did, their relationship would change. Mindlessly, Sean's hand moved to grasp Orlando at the base, squeezing gently, working his hand along the length of the shaft…sliding his fingers across the head when he reached it. Orlando's breath hitched, his head falling back against the arm of the couch.

Sean's now-sticky fingers moved downward, until he felt a familiar ring of muscle…then, slowly, let one cum-covered finger wriggle its way in. While allowing the entrance to get used to the invasion, Sean managed to kick off his shoes, jeans, and underwear. He didn't dwell on the fact that he was already highly aroused. Before abandoning his pants to the floor, he grabbed a couple of packets of lube from the pocket – after all, he was the manager of a gay bar, and had to be prepared for his patrons' needs.

Returning his full attention to his friend, Sean quickly applied some lube to his hand, then added a second finger…beginning the scissoring motion that would serve to stretch the passage. Orlando moaned and mewed and bucked his hips. A third finger joined the other two, and Sean curled those fingers a bit…searching for the spongy gland inside. Orlando's cock twitched at the contact.

"Viggo…please love…need you….now…" Orlando pleaded, his voice now ragged and frantic.

Sean's pace was only interrupted a fraction of a second by Orlando's calling him Viggo. They'd deal with that later.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They say loneliness is one of the most profound and disturbing of human experiences, often resonating with the more contemplative or spiritual aspects of our being. Was it the absence of a relationship or emotional attachment? Or was this loneliness the isolation Viggo had thrust himself into, years ago?

Viggo headed back to his office, not able to face the familiarity of his home. What he needed was cold, hard, punishment. His conscience berated him for such cruelty…abandonment…promise without intention. Orlando, the beautiful embodiment of perfection, had given himself – mind and body – to Viggo. His for the taking. Why was it that he'd run? Left the boy at the pinnacle of passion?

His own erection had not subsided, but continued as an overwhelming ache…a reminder of what he'd not only lost, but chosen to leave.

Viggo stripped off his clothing, trying to ignore the scent of Orlando which clung to them. Then he collapsed into a corner of his office on the cold, hardwood floor…and fell into a dreamless, restless sleep.

Later that evening, Miss Giraudeau returned to the office, realizing she'd left her day planner on her desk. The first thing she noticed upon entering the darkened room was that her employer's door was open just a hair. Unusual, she knew, because she was strict about making sure everything was locked up tight before she left. Even the cleaning crew had been staunchly advised to make sure to return everything as they found it. Putting her purse down, she guardedly walked that way. Just before she put her hand to the door with the intent of opening it, she heard it. Sobbing.

"Mr. Mortensen," she said, running in oblivious to his state of undress. She squatted down on the floor beside him, her hand coming in contact with his bare back.

Viggo lifted his weary head, eyes red and swollen. "Alexandra…"

She was taken back only momentarily, for he'd never addressed her by her first name. Looking around, she noted his clothing strewn across the office and leaned over a bit to reach his shirt. She helped him into it, and then turned to retrieve his pants.

"I cannot imagine what's happ…" she halted, mid sentence. "Your mother?"

Viggo could only shake his head no. Not that death would be any easier to deal with. In fact, this was a death of sorts…death of a relationship that never had the chance to even start.

"Then what?" she asked, obviously concerned. While he, still sitting on the floor, pulled on his pants, Alexandra went to the bar area to get a glass of water and some aspirin.

He took the pills and water from her, going through the motions without a thought. "Tonight I…."

She sat down next to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. He leaned into her, glad for some morsel of affection which he knew he did not deserve. "What happened, Mr. Mor…Viggo?" His head fell to her shoulder, and she felt him shaking again. "Are you hurt?"

He laughed, sarcastically. "Physically, no."

"Then what?" She couldn't imagine such a powerful man being reduced to tears like this.

"Alexan…Alex," he said, looking at her for approval of the truncation. She smiled, as much as she could muster, and urged him to continue. "I lost the love of my life."

Alexandra's eyes went wide with the disclosure. "I had no idea. Who is she?"

"You're going to hate me if I tell you."

"Mr. M…" She caught herself again. "Viggo. I've worked with you for over 13 years. I think we've developed some level of trust between us, wouldn't you agree?"

"I only met him tonight," he began, the words coming out slowly in broken phrases. "At the club you where you made our reservations."

'That answers that question,' she mused. "A fellow businessman? Someone at the next table?" she offered.

Again, he mutely shook his head. "No, a dancer." He looked up at her, grateful that she wasn't laughing at him. "You see, I'm…"

Alexandra didn't want to venture into that sort of conversation, and the quickest way for her to stop him was to place her fingertips against his lips. "You know, Viggo, it doesn't matter to me who you love. You've always been good to me, and respectful. And I appreciate that. But if you need to talk, you go right ahead. I'm here for you."

He smiled, a sickly, weak smile, and told her about the entire evening. She squicked a bit during some of the parts, but finally they made it through. She held him, though, during the entire tale. All in all, while reminding her somewhat of a bad Harlequin Romance novel, Alexandra knew there had to be more to the story…something that had made Viggo run out on Orlando.

Viggo lifted his head and looked at her. "Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"I think you should be asking yourself that question."

"I have. And I cannot come up with one good fucking answer."

He was so overwhelmingly miserable. She wanted to help, to reach in and remove the pain she knew was there…from experience. "You know, Viggo, why I am alone, don't you?"

They faced each other now, but remained sitting on the floor…their knees touching. "I don't, no."

Her face grew expressionless, lost almost all color. It was amazing to her that the feeling was still so strong, so deep inside. "I married young. Before I started working for you. David was the true embodiment of what a 'soul mate' should be. We were married almost three full, blissful years…until one New Year's Eve. We'd both been drinking, but I stopped early to be able to drive home."

Alexandra stopped, just to take a deep breath and refocus. The memories of that evening came rushing back in a flood that threatened to drown her…all over again. "It was snowing, of course. The roads were icy, but I'd grown up here. I knew how to handle a vehicle in those conditions. I just wasn't expecting to see an oncoming car in my lane. All I can remember, afterwards, was thinking, 'If only I'd turned the car towards the left instead of the right'."

It was as if she'd taken Viggo's grief from his chest and held it herself, just for an instant. He knew the pain. He knew the loss. Not from death, but…it felt the same.

"Oddly enough, I came out of the crash without a scratch. The driver of the other car, highly intoxicated and charged with involuntary manslaughter, sustained only slight injuries. David, however, was killed the instant his body went through the windshield. To this day, I'll never forgive myself."

Viggo leaned forward, putting his arms around his secretary. It seemed strange, how quickly ordinary relationships could change. He was sure he'd have an extremely heated discussion with Ian, when the time came for that.

"So you see," Alexandra spoke into Viggo's shoulder. "I know true love. And I know what it means to lose it. What I don't understand is why you chose to run away from it."

Viggo sat up again, holding onto her hands. Very curious, how comfortable he felt with her. "Back when I was in college, studying business, I ran across the most unusual man. We became friends almost instantly. He was…flamboyant, but in an overwhelmingly masculine way. Dark hair, dark eyes, brooding type. But gorgeous. He appealed to my artistic side…I could sketch or photograph him for hours."

"I had no idea," she said quietly, not meaning for her thought to be spoken aloud.

"Something else I've repressed," he offered in way of explanation. "Anyhow, things quickly led to the bedroom, where we were equally as 'complimentary'. I knew he had a wandering eye. Hell, everyone was attracted to him – men, women. After several years, I graduated with honors, and was approached with several offers as the newest 'up and coming'. I consulted with him, asking where he'd like to move to. He seemed surprised at my offer, wondering why 'he' would be moving."

Viggo realized he'd turned his gaze, out the window, and returned to face her. "I was hurt. We'd said 'I love you' to each other more times than I can remember, so I thought it was the same for him as it was for me. I guess my assumption was wrong. He said he did love me, just not exclusively. That he couldn't give me the guarantee that I'd be the only one. But he told me he still loved me, and wanted us to see each other from time to time."

"And that's when you pulled away."

"Yes. Completely. We thought we were so close…when in reality we couldn't have been further apart. And since then, I haven't been able to even try to get close to anyone…before last night."

"Viggo, you made a choice to be alone…choosing solitude over a relationship that wasn't right. Somewhere along the way, your drive for achievement pushed you over that edge. But it doesn't mean you can't find TRUE happiness."

"I've fucked it up completely. I couldn't go back there. What if I can't go through it again, and hurt him all over again? What if he wouldn't even consider taking me back in the first place?"

"There's a lot of 'what ifs' in the world, Viggo. Unfortunately, love comes only when you take a risk, when you make that leap of faith." She thought for a moment, during his silence, and suddenly came up with an idea. "My girlfriend lives overseas, in Australia. She and her husband teach pole dancing, mostly to women who want to make their husbands happy. Let me call her. See if she has any ideas for you. Would that be ok?"

He nodded, again absorbed in his pain…only this time, it was both the pain of past and present.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After convincing Viggo to head home, Alexandra checked the time difference and decided it wasn't too late to call her friend. She was pleased for the reminder, in fact, since the two hadn't spoken in a month or two. Dialing carefully, she listened to the various clicks and beeps indicating the call had gone through. After only two rings, a cheerful voice answered, "Hello?"

"Rebecca , it's Alex!"

The two chatted a while, caught up on old times, and Alexandra told her employer's tale. After an hour, Alexandra realized it was getting late for her friend. "Becca, sweetie, I'm gonna ring off now. It's been great talking to you. Thanks for all your advice."

"Yes, Alex, darling, I've missed you so much! It's so great that you called tonight. I'm actually finishing up packing for Eric and the…wait a minute! We're leaving for the States tomorrow morning. We're going to actually take vacation. Why don't you and I hook up. I'll bring Eric along. Maybe he can help out with this too! He's a pretty sensitive guy, even if you can't get him to admit it."

They both laughed, and agreed to get together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Rebecca hung up the phone, she sat gently down onto the bed next to her sleeping husband. "Who was that?" a sleepy voice inquired, as his arm wrapped around her…pulling her down next to him.

"Remember Alexandra? My old friend from high school?"

"Ah, yes. I do. Poor thing who lost her husband so young. But what…er, who were you talking about. Did I hear you say the name ' Orlando'?"

"My dear, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I should have taken the call in…" she went on, as usual, rambling.

"Becca, love, it's just that Orlando was my student, long ago, before I met you. I'm sure it's the same one. I need to get a hold of him. See if he's all right." Eric reached over on his nightstand, grabbed his cell phone, and flipped it open…searching through for a particular name. Once he found it, he pushed the 'connect' button, and heard the rings almost instantaneously. The phone rang several times before it was finally answered.

"Sean, it's Eric."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Holy fookin' shite," Sean swore into the phone. "Whot the fook have ye been up to, Eric?"

Eric chuckled to himself quietly at Sean's unique dialect. "You know, keeping up with Rebecca and the kids…and the studio. You?"

Sean sighed, rolling his eyes. "Ah, ye know. Same old shite. Although tonight, I've been puttin' out a fire…so to speak."

Eric had only one word to say. "Orlando."

"I guess news travels quickly, eh?" Sean couldn't imagine how Eric had found out.

"It works that way sometimes. Is he ok?"

"He's hurt, I canna lie. If I get my hands on this Viggo person…"

"Wait, Sean," Eric interrupted. "There's more to this story."

"'’Ow in the hell do ye know more than I do?"

Eric recounted what he could remember from his wife's conversation. "We're leaving for the States in the morning. We'll actually be staying in your area for almost 2 weeks. I tell you what. You get a hold of this Viggo character. But don't HURT him. We'll figure out something when I get there."

Sean grit his teeth. "I dunna like my lad bein' hurt. But I'll be as nice as I can."

"Oh, one more thing before I let you go. We're bringing a friend and his, um, companion. Maybe you can take care of them one night at your lovely establishment?"

"It would be me pleasure, me friend. Talk to ye when ye get here."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sean flipped the cell closed, and headed back down the hallway to Orlando's dressing room. He'd taken the young man there a while back, before Eric's call, to find some clothes and clean up. Knocking on the door softly, he called out, "Orlando, lad, are ye there?"

Orlando, clad only in a pair of jeans, padded to the door and opened it. Sean waited for Orlando to make the first move.

"Are we all right?" he asked, awkwardly. "Can we still…"

He was cut off when Sean, big and burly as ever, bounded across the threshold to throw his arms around him. "Fook, lad. Ye know I'll always love ye."

"I'm sorry I made you, um…well…" Usually Orlando wasn't at a loss for words. In fact, he usually could babble on and on.

"It's between you 'n me, lad. Now let's get ye home into bed."

"Sean, I don't want to be alone."

"Then yer comin' home with me," Sean replied, decisively. He knew there wouldn't be any problem of repeats of earlier this evening. Orlando just needed to be held, to be loved. And Sean could give that to him. "It's a good thing, anyhow. I've got a surprise for ye tomorrow."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orlando basked in Sean's oversized tub, having found some bubble bath under the sink. Sean was changing his clothes, when he found a business card in his pants pocket. "Ian," he said, out loud, confirming the owner of the card. Pulling out his cell phone, he made one last call for the evening.

"I wondered how long it might be before I heard your appealing voice," Ian said, answering the phone on the first ring. "I trust we have 'developments' that you're calling to inform me of."

'How did everyone know things before he did?' Sean wondered. "Yes. And I've only got a moment, because Orlando's here, in my tub." Sean quickly relayed what had happened thus far (leaving out the part about him and Orlando), and asked that Ian contact Viggo to set aside his afternoon tomorrow.

"It won't be easy, my dear man," Ian muttered, wondering how he could even approach Viggo this evening. "But you know I'll do my best. Plus, I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Sean laughed, heartily, in response, and signed off quickly when he heard the drain indicating Orlando was done in the bath. Sean was just crawling under the covers when Orlando came out, wrapped in a towel. "I put my smallest pair of knickers there for ye, lad. Go change, and then come to bed. I'm fookin' beat!"

Orlando dressed, then slid under the covers…his back to Sean…and they spooned that night, Sean's arms wrapped securely around the young man. Thankfully, they both enjoyed a dreamless sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After hanging up with Sean, Ian immediately dialed Viggo's cell. "No sense putting it off," he commented aloud to himself.

"Ian…"

"Yes, it's me. Surprised?"

"Well, not that you called. Just surprised at how soon you called."

"Where are you, Viggo? I need to talk to you, now." Ian tried to remain calm, and not seem too insistent…scaring Viggo off.

"Karl's driving me home. Want to meet me there?" Viggo knew there was no delaying this.

"I'm hailing a cab this moment. Will be there within 10 minutes."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ian's cab followed Viggo's limo through the heavy, wrought-iron security gates. He couldn't believe the sight of Viggo, like he'd been wrung out and hung up to dry. Maybe there was more to this than any of them truly knew.

Viggo led Ian inside, and went right to the library…pouring himself a brandy. After taking a hefty gulp, he realized his manners and offered Ian one.

"Isn't it a bit late for that?" Ian protested.

"It might be a bit late for a lot of things," Viggo said, the sadness evident in his voice.

"Maybe not, my boy. That's what I've come here to talk to you about. Tell me, what are your plans this afternoon?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sean woke well before Orlando, taking the extra time to make a pot of coffee and a bit of breakfast. He returned about 45 minutes later, tray in hand. Orlando was just rousing.

"What's this?" he asked, his voice still laced with sleep.

"Thought ye might like a spot of coffee and blueberry muffins," Sean said, sitting on the bed next to him. Surprisingly, Orlando scarfed down three muffins, all lathered with honey butter. "Ye know, lad," Sean said softly, as not to interrupt Orlando's feast. "Ye don be needin' to go in for a while. I'll make sure yer show is covered."

"Not necessary, Sean. I'm a professional. People deal with their disappointments in life all the time, and are expected to go on. In fact, I have a new routine I've been working on. I need to go in and make sure to have everything set up. It's something I saw in an old movie, 'Flashdance'."

Sean remembered that movie. "Don' ye be getting' water all over me club, ya wanker."

It was good to see Orlando laugh. It was good, also, to know he'd be busy, and 'out of the way'.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was set. They'd all agreed to meet in Viggo's office at 2:00 in the afternoon. Eric would be coming straight from the airport, so his family and two additional travelers would be there with him.

When she arrived at the office that morning, Viggo told Alexandra about the meeting. He wasn't sure who all would be in attendance, but she knew…Rebecca had called her before they boarded the plane. The 'two additional travelers' were seemingly unimportant at this point.

As the time neared 2, Rebecca's phone rang. She spoke only a moment or two, then went into Viggo's office. He was dressed more casually today, in a pair of black jeans and a button down black shirt…opened at the neck. She had to admit that while still exuding an air of power, he was exceedingly handsome.

"They're almost here, Mr. Mortensen."

"Mister?"

"I can't go around calling you Viggo in front of your guests. So I thought I'd get back in the habit of addressing you more…formally."

He waved his hand in the air. "No need for that. I'm tired with formalities. Done with it all. I think, if we can all put our heads together and figure this out, that I'd like to start living for a change."

Alexandra quickly hugged him, and then went back out to the lobby to greet the entourage entering through the just-opening elevator doors.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Viggo didn't immediately come out of his office. He needed an extra moment or two to calm himself. He needed to do this not for himself, but for Orlando. He desperately wanted to mend things, to try again. But that meant he had to face his past as well, and deal with the ramifications of that too. Hearing the group in the other room begin to greet each other, he allowed himself one more deep breath.

"Alex!"

"Becca!"

The two women were the first to squeal and run towards each other. Eric walked over to Sean, greeting him with a warm clasp of hands. "Sean! It's good to see you, old friend. These are our traveling companions, Heath and Johnny."

Viggo was just coming through the doorway when he heard the name spoken. And then, he heard it come from his own lips. "Johnny."

The dark-haired man looked up. He still had the same brooding look. The same drop-dead sexiness. Alexandra noticed the tension in the air, and could tell, from Viggo's description, that this must be his old lover. She moved quickly, grabbing Ian by the arm, and hastily pulled him into the conference room – divulging her revelation.

"Oh, what a tangled web, my dear. I'll take care of things. Thank you for telling me. Why don't you round Heath, Johnny, Becca, and the children, and bring them in here. We'll meet in Viggo's office."

Alexandra nodded in understanding, and hurried off to get people moving. When she re-entered the lobby, neither Viggo nor Johnny had moved.

"Whot in the fook is goin' on here?" Sean demanded.

"Gentlemen…Sean, Eric, Viggo…come with me." Ian directed the men swiftly into Viggo's office, reaching for the door to shut it behind them. He didn't miss the fact that Viggo looked back, catching one more glimpse, his eyes filled with tears.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the conference room, a puzzled Rebecca looked at her friend. Alexandra replied to her unspoken question, "I'll let Johnny tell you. 'Becca, I'm going to take the kiddos here to choose a snack."

Grateful for the diversion, and the privacy, Rebecca sat down, waiting on an explanation. Johnny smirked, almost haughtily. Heath looked at him, equally as baffled.

"Um," Johnny muttered, unsure where to start. "I was nothing more than an almost innocent bystander," he said, obviously a horrible attempt at humor.

Rebecca reached over and slapped him on the arm.

"I might have deserved that," Johnny said. "All right, all right. Viggo and I used to be…um…friends…in every sense of the word. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically."

"So it was YOU!" Rebecca screamed.

"You knew?" Johnny asked.

"I found out last night. You really messed him up Johnny, bad."

"He quit talking to me. Cut me off totally."

"You told him you loved him," Rebecca countered.

"You loved him?" Heath asked.

"I tell everyone I love them," Johnny replied, before he could stop the comment.

"Well that's lovely to hear," Heath said, obviously fuming now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


The men in Viggo's office sat comfortably among a grouping of couches and chairs at the south end. Viggo had just finished going through everything…his relationship with Johnny…his meeting Orlando…and his running out at the last minute. All in all, everyone stayed fairly civil…only a few barbs were thrown in the midst of Viggo's story, most of them by Sean.

Eric stayed silent the entire time. He pondered everything Viggo said, finding him an extremely intelligent man. He would truly have had to be deeply hurt inside to have run out on love when he'd finally found it. He also would have a talk with his friend, Johnny, about the shock of finding that he was the cause of Viggo's grief. "It is ironic how much of our freedom we expend on conquering death, disease, and decay, all the while concealing from each other our carefully buried loneliness, which if shared, would deepen our understanding of each other," Eric said, his voice soft.

"Indeed," Ian agreed. "Confronting your emotions gives rise to suffering, but this suffering in turn deepens your sensitivity to yourself and to others, paving the way to healing, to true compassion, and to a sense of renewed vitality and hope."

Sean rolled his eyes and shook his head. "How does any of this help Orlando?"

"Orlando's convinced – and Sean, you can back me up on this – that it's his fault for pushing you to touch him. For disobeying the primary rule of the lap dance." Ian said, looking to Sean for confirmation.

"He's right," Sean said. "Orlando defended you to the end. But thinks you left because you truly didn't care for him."

Viggo sighed. "That's the furthest thing from the truth."

Eric moved from his chair, and went to sit on the arm of Viggo's chair. "I think we're all convinced of that now. The question is how we convince Orlando of this. He's a different breed, and we'll have to maneuver around him with kid gloves for a while."

"You mean 'wine and dine' him?" Ian asked.

Eric stood up, excited. "Yes! That's exactly it!"

"What are ye fookin' talkin' about, Eric?"

Ian chuckled. "Sean, did anyone tell you that you've got an amazing grasp of the English language?"

Eric couldn't wait to communicate his plan. He was already pacing the room. "Here's what we do. Sean, do you have anyone booked for that table for the next two weeks?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Because Viggo's going to book it every night Orlando dances for the next two weeks."

"There's no way I can show my face in there," Viggo protested.

"You don't have to. The table will be empty, except for a bottle of Orlando's favorite wine and a vase with one yellow rose…every night for two weeks."

Sean was enthusiastic as well. "I can keep track of Orlando's reactions. Just in case," he added, shooting a look at Viggo.

"Sean, please," Ian pleaded.

"Ok, I'm sorry, Vig," he said, reluctantly. "If I hurry, we can get it set up for tonight. I'll make sure the rose and wine aren't there until he's back dressing."

Viggo sighed again. He'd have a table, but wouldn't be able to see his lover…well, his hopefully-soon-to-be-lover.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Viggo said, shaking hands with all of them. "I'm very lucky to have such open minded friends such as yourselves. Eric, it was a special pleasure meeting you…knowing how important you've been in Orlando's life. He'll be happy to see you, I'm sure."

"Actually," Eric said…"I think I'll wait a couple of days before going to see him. I'd hate to upstage your yellow rose trick."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Viggo stayed behind in his office after the three men went out into the lobby. He heard a bit of shouting, and presumed Eric and Johnny were having words. Viggo would just as soon not speak to Johnny, but he knew that would have to happen as well.

After a while, all was quiet. Alexandra let herself into his office. "Everyone's gone."

"Even…"

"Yes, Eric wouldn't let him stay. He said, 'There's another time and place for that discussion'."

"Good thing," he sighed. "So here's the plan."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Orlando heard a rapping on his dressing room door. "Who is it?" he called out cautiously.

"Do ye think I'd do a fool thing like lettin' that wanker in here?"

Orlando smiled, recognizing Sean's voice, and opened the door. "I just don't think I could face him."

"I know, lad," Sean agreed. Just then, he noticed Orlando's attire. He was wearing a sleeveless, deep cut white t-shirt, sheer white bikini bottoms, and thigh-high white boots. "Um, Orlando?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows and giving the young man the 'once over'.
"You like?" Orlando asked, a 'come hither' look in his eyes. "I told you I had a new routine. And don't worry, they've put plastic over the stage. There won't be *too* much water."

Sean sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Fookin' 'Flashdance', that's what it is." But in reality, a small part of him couldn't wait to see Orlando's white t-shirt doused with water.

After Sean left, Orlando finished up his signature kohl eyeliner, waterproof this time, and headed out to the curtain to await his announcement. Out of habit, he supposed, he peeked through the curtain. He was surprised when he saw the table…Viggo's table…laden with a wine bottle and a yellow rose.

He was suddenly taken with a horrible case of stage fright.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Comments

[rifleman-s.livejournal.com]

Oh what a tangled web . . .!!

Orlando and Viggo are both so fortunate to have good friends who really care about them and who were just in the right place at the right time. I don't think Viggo could have got through with his sanity intact were it not for Alex - what a treasure! (Hooray for secretaries!!).

And the plot definitely thickens . . . it's such a good story and I can really feel the pain of some and the satisfaction in helping of others.

What an amazing emotional roller-coaster, too! I was sighing one moment and sobbing the next - very moving writing at times.