“Like everyone else.”
“Like everyone else, yes. But when he’s with men, he’s earnest. Eager to please. He wants to be pleasing and even though his actual personality is…very far from that, he’s learned how to be pleasing in…other ways.”
Ahmed’s mind ran a quick reel of how many ways desperation could please him. “Ah,” he said. “I see.”
Ruqaiyyah was watching his face. “Yes, I think you do. Should I introduce you two?”
“Let me get a drink first.”
“Have mine.”
He threw it into the back of his throat, the whiskey burning a short and fierce light, then handed the glass back to her. “All right.”
Ruqaiyyah hid a small smile. “Come on then.”
The actor was telling a story when they came up, his long hands gesticulating in the blue light, his voice deep and amused. He broke it off when he saw Ruqaiyyah and came up to kiss her cheek. “Ruky-bebi! Where have you been all night? I’ve been dying to have a drink with you.”
“Out and about, taking care of business, luring new people in. This is Ahmed.”
The actor looked him up and down, slowly and blatantly. Ahmed stared coolly back. “Nice to meet you,” the actor said, offering his hand. “Seun.”
“Pleasure.” Ahmed felt the actor press down on his hand as he kept eye contact, and he almost smiled. It was so typical, these little power plays, these little tests, like he wanted to find out where Ahmed fell in the hierarchy. Men like Seun always had one, a map that dictated how they moved through the world, who was useful, who they should defer to, who they could safely ignore. It was a stupid game, one that he didn’t usually play, but this wasn’t a usual place and if there was a game to be played, Ahmed would, as he always did, win. He gently ground the bones of the actor’s hand together, keeping their eyes locked so he could watch the frisson of pain that shot across Seun’s face and then, of course, inevitably, the dilation of desire in his pupils. These games were almost too fucking easy sometimes.
Ruqaiyyah smiled. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, and turned to order another drink.
“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” Ahmed said. He was ignoring everyone else at the bar and he could see that Seun was flustered by the singularity of his attention.
He was trying to play it cool, though, keep that elegant skin on. “No wahala. It’s your first time here, right?”
“It’s your first time seeing me here,” Ahmed replied, this time letting his smile show, a I-see-what-you’re-looking-for type of thing. Seun smiled back, looking a little embarrassed.
“Well, I have a room that I like here, and I think it’s available.”
“Lead the way,” said Ahmed, leaning back and watching as Seun stepped past him, long limbs articulating smoothly. He had a beautiful body, Ahmed had to concede, if an average face. A nice mouth. He followed Seun through the sheer clouds. There were trays of edibles set around and Seun picked a small tart off one of them.
“Have you had these?” he asked. “They pack quite a punch after a while.”
“I had one earlier.”
Seun stopped and turned. “Have another,” he said, reaching his hand out to Ahmed’s mouth, a broken tart in his fingers. The curd was a pale yellow.
“Lemon?” Ahmed let Seun place it between his lips, fingers brushing his skin.
“Mango, actually.”
“It’s good.”
“Here, you have a crumb on your face.” Seun lifted his hand and brushed beside Ahmed’s mouth, startling when Ahmed grabbed his wrist and held it tightly.
“The room,” he said. He was losing patience with the little flirtations; he had things to peel off the inside of his skin, and if this boy wanted to help with the peeling, then fine, but get to it. Seun got that small thrilled look on his face, the one people got when they mistook his desire to be about them, like he was eager to be with them. Sometimes Ahmed let them believe that. Other times, while holding them down, bodies twisted, he whispered in their ears that they could be anybody, that they were just a thing, a place for him to be. Some of them came then. He wanted to say that to Seun, but maybe later when they knew each other a little better.
The room was lit differently, a pale rose. All these damn pastels, cooling off the walls and the bed and the armchairs. When Seun took off his shirt and the light hit his chest, though, Ahmed didn’t mind. There were things the color did to the boy’s skin, a surreal cast to everything; it was exactly how Ahmed felt inside. He watched Seun unbuckle his belt, the hiss of leather passing through loops. He could’ve taken off his jeans and left the belt in, but when he passed the belt to Ahmed casually, as if he was just giving him something to hold, Ahmed took it, acknowledging that it could be—it would be useful. He folded it and put it aside.
Seun unzipped the jeans and pushed them down his hips. He wasn’t wearing underwear and he was already aroused. Ahmed stood and watched him lever the denim down his legs and off his feet. When the undressing was complete, Seun stood with his hands on his hips. His partial erection was large, heavy. Ahmed understood why he’d stripped immediately—showing what he had to offer, believing it to be of worth enough to bypass any other vetting someone might want to do of him or who he was or what he had to offer.
“Well?” Seun said, smirking.
Ahmed sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed his ankle on his knee. “Why do you come here?” he asked.
Seun dropped his arms, thrown by the response but trying not to show it. “Well, Ruqaiyyah is discreet, you know. That’s always number one. Especially for someone like me, who’s on TV, who’s high-profile. I have to be careful about what kind of social life I have; last thing I want is to be some sordid gist on the gossip blogs, you know?” He was starting to ramble. Ahmed sat quietly and listened. “Everywhere I go, there are cameras, whether it’s red carpet or being at an event, at a restaurant, and people just bringing out their phones, wanting selfies with me, shit like that. And it’s irritating sometimes, but it’s the price of fame, you know? I remind myself; this is my life! This is just my life!” He spread out his arms, as if power was sweeping from them, then smoothed his palms down his torso. “So, yeah, that’s why I come here. For some privacy. Where I don’t have to be in celebrity mode.”
“This is you as yourself?”
Seun touched his penis absently. “I didn’t say that. This is me as…who I am here and now. Why are you here?”
Ahmed watched the boy stroke himself and didn’t answer.
Seun began to do it with more purpose. “You know you’re looking rough,” he said. “Your clothes are rumpled; you look as if you haven’t slept in days.”
“I haven’t slept in days.”
Seun stepped closer. “So why are you here?”
Ahmed sighed and stood up, pulling off his caftan. “Kneel down,” he said, his voice businesslike.
“Excuse me?”
Ahmed slid his hands against his own skull, cracked his neck, and took account of the things inside his skin. “I said, kneel the fuck down.”
