Cody moved over to the corner of the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window of the penthouse party room at the top of the high-rise. At one angle we was looking down at the busy E. Colfax Avenue in Denver. The other wall of window overlooked the Denver Zoo. He took a swig of his drink more so that it looked like he was drinking than that he wanted to drink. In truth, he would have liked to get drunk, but this was definitely not the time or place for it.
He did what he could not to look back into the room where a cut black dude had his wife, Pam, backed up against a wall. She certainly didn't look like she minded. They made a body-beautiful couple. In fact everyone in the party room the Saturday night three weeks before Christmas looked like body beautiful. That's why they were here.
Cody himself outshone most of the men present in looks and perfect proportion if not for muscular development.
Cody had tried to pass on the annual Christmas-season conference of the Hayden Key Club Gym and Hotel empire at its Denver headquarters—and he would have skipped it if Tyler Hayden hadn't specifically asked Pam if she was bringing her husband. Pam, as manager of the Chicago facility, was the direct employee of Hayden Enterprises. But the company was Cody's biggest modeling account as well, so, in many ways, he was as much in thrall to the enterprise and Ty Hayden as Pam was.
Hayden had already taken Pam for a spin a couple of times and she had said more than once that it wouldn't be long before he took Cody for a ride too. The Hayden clubs were for no-holds-barred swingers, and Hayden himself was a prime example.
So, here Cody was, at the company Christmas party at the top of the Denver Hayden club tower, with rented retail on the ground floor, three floors of parking garage above that, rented office space on the next two floors, the Hayden Hotel on the next four floors, the gym services the two floors above that, the national headquarters offices the four flights above that, and the party floor at the top.
The Hayden gyms were for very special people. They not only had to be rich, but they also had to be body beautiful. Most were bisexuals who worshipped the full potential of pleasure they could get out of their own bodies. The gym and spa services were for maintaining their hard, cut bodies, not to create them. And clients didn't even bother paying the price unless they were swingers. That's why each of the company's facilities had not only party rooms but hotel space, as well—not to mention very discreet parking.
But the company Christmas party wasn't for the clients. It was for the company managers—all of whom had to maintain body beautiful as well. They displayed this at gatherings such as this by coming topless—women as well as men. This eased the casual sexiness of the parties, where assignations were made—and as the night wore on, were carried out either right there or in one of the hotel rooms below. Before the night was through everyone would be naked—if they hadn't left early. Even then few left alone or with the one they came with.
Cody had planned to leave the party early—and he planned to leave alone. He knew his wife would stay to the bitter end.
Although some came as couples, either both spouses working for the company or the employee's spouse meeting the rigorous requirements, most came unattached, and all came prepared to swing—and not just heterosexually.
Some had to swing literally. There was a trapeze suspended from the ceiling of the two-story party room and Ty Hayden had the privilege of designating who would swing. Often this identified who Hayden would fuck that night. Several would swing on the trapeze, and Hayden would fuck several—women and men alike. Cody's wife, Pam, had already had a turn on the trapeze and Cody had heard rumors that this was the night Hayden would send him, Cody, up on the swing as well.
That's what had Cody on edge. It didn't bother him all that much that Pam would be swinging with or without him at this party. Theirs was a marriage of convenience anyway. Pam liked being escorted in Chicago by a high-profile male model and Cody was happy using the camouflage that he was a lady's man, when, although he didn't indulge much, he preferred the attention of men. Being married gave him the ability to shop discreetly without being taken for granted. The demographic of those turned on by the ads he modeled for was mostly female, so Cody was in the closet with the door closed.
What had him on edge at the Denver gathering was knowing that Geneva, the manager of the San Francisco facility would be at this party and was bringing her husband, Gordon Clay, who owned a modeling and performers' agency in California and was putting the rush on Cody to jump ship from his Chicago agency and come out to the West Coast. Although he was tempted, Cody didn't want to be tempted. He was happy in Chicago and a move, with Pam in Chicago, would be messy. The kicker was that Clay was well known for agenting gay men, including porn stars.
Cody was struggling with the thought of leaving Pam anyway, but he just wasn't up to the change and the aggravation. It didn't help that Gordon was a real hunk, was openly bisexual, and was suggesting more benefits of coming to California than just more money.
The temptation was maddening. Cody had camouflage now—although his camouflage could be wearing thin if the rumors were right that Ty Hayden, who was actively bi, was thinking of sending him up on the trapeze. Working for Gordon would bring him out in the open—and once his preferences were publicly known, his life would face a whole new set of complications. Ty Hayden wouldn't be the least of the complications.
And here Gordon was, walking over to where Cody had isolated himself in a corner at the window as everyone else was getting serious about hooking up. He realized now that he should have picked out some stacked bimbo to hook up to avoid Gordon—God knows a few had signaled their interest. Too late for that now, though. He couldn't even count on Geneva to come looking for her husband. Geneva had just come down from the trapeze and Ty Hayden himself had cut her out of the herd and had an arm around her over by a conference table. Although he was older—in his fifties—Hayden didn't make any demands on his employees that he didn't follow himself. A former Mr. America, he had maintained his muscularity and tone.
Geneva was an ambitious woman. If Hayden wanted to lay her, they would be at it for the next hour or so and Gordon would be at loose ends. Cody looked over occasionally and saw that a young muscle man from the New Orleans gym had joined Hayden and Geneva in a touchy-feelee-kissy buildup to something—something quite soon considering where Hayden had several fingers of a hand buried in Geneva.
"I'm glad to see you here, Cody," Gordon said, as he approached. "I think you've been avoiding me."
"I avoid nearly everyone, Mr. Clay," Cody answered. "I'm afraid I'm pretty much of a recluse."
"Rather a strange thing for someone to be who models in Speedos for national magazines and billboards," Gordon said, with a laugh. "I would think it was more a job for an exhibitionist."
"One would think that, yes," Cody answered, looking down at the hand Gordon had placed on his arm until Gordon dropped his hand. "But not everyone is who you'd think they'd be."
"Funny you should say that, Cody. One would think you were straight unless they'd done their research."
Cody gave the man a hard look. There wasn't much else he could do. He felt the wind going out of his sails. Gordon knew. It had seemed he did considering the offers he'd been making, buy nothing had been baldly stated until now. Clay was a dangerous man to have such information in his control.
"Have you considered the offer to come West and work under me?"
