Back to: Josiah
Chris looked guiltily up and down the street. This was all Ezra's fault. He never would have done this on his own. It all went back to the last time he went undercover as Ezra's buyer on an arms bust. Emphasis on 'last'.
"Mr. Larabee," Ezra had said patiently. "You are supposed to be an incredibly wealthy dealer of illegal and exotic weaponry. You simply cannot appear at a meeting dressed like... that."
"I'll have you know I spent over two hundred dollars for this suit!" Chris had exclaimed.
Ezra looked at him with that infuriatingly patronizing look he did so well. "I paid over two hundred dollars for this shirt," he said. Then he shrugged. "Or I would have had I purchased it retail."
"Oh?" Chris quirked an eyebrow. "And how exactly did you... acquire that garment?"
"I have my sources in the industry," Ezra had blithely replied. "Now, as to the state of your personal appearance..."
"My what?" The vein in Chris' forehead began to throb in time with the pulsing pain behind his right eye.
The first stop was with the masseuse. After she had eased some of the steel cables that masqueraded as neck muscles, Ezra dragged him off to the next destination.
"No," Chris balked. "I'm not going in there and you can't make me!" he declared. Ezra just looked at him. For a long time.
"Son of a bitch," Chris had cursed. "You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone else that I let you do this," he warned. "I can, and will, make your life a living hell." Ezra just smirked and led the way inside.
"Mr. Standish!" the girl behind the counter enthused. "So nice to see you again!"
Ezra quickly made the introductions. Chris was only half listening as Ezra told the receptionist what they wanted. In shock, he turned to his undercover agent. "Eighty dollars for a shave?" he asked.
"Of course not," Ezra had huffed. "That includes the anti-stress facial, too. Then there's the stimulating scalp massage and the paraffin hand and foot treatments followed by your manicure and pedicure. The whole package is a mere hundred and sixty, but I get a discount."
Stunned, Chris had allowed himself to be led away. An hour and a half later he joined Ezra at the snack bar, where the other man was sipping a sparkling water with a name Chris couldn't pronounce and eating fresh fruit.
"Now," Ezra had beamed, "don't you feel better?"
And, much as he had hated to admit it, he did. Now here he stood, three weeks later, the memory of the sheer sensual pleasure of the treatments burning in his mind. Chris closed his eyes and shook his head then crossed the street slowly. He opened the door.
"Oh, Mr. Larabee, what a pleasure to see you again. The usual?" Numbly, Chris nodded. He hated Ezra Standish.
(Alternative title - Can You Say 'Metrosexual'? I Knew You Could)
|Secret Indulgence Index||On to: Buck|
If you enjoyed this story, we're sure that DoggyJ would love to hear from you.
HOME | DOGGYJ'S FIC | TITLES | AUTHORS | UNIVERSES
This website is maintained by Donna and Barb
with corrections and additions