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“They have rooms?” Aled asked, immediately feeling stupid that that was the first question that came to his mind.
Jamie laughed a little as he walked Aled down the hall toward the sound of dinner being served. “Yes, upstairs. This used to be a private residence in the eighteenth century, so there are a couple dozen bedrooms upstairs. When it was converted into a club in the eighteen thirties, the bedrooms were refurbished so members could use them for a variety of reasons.”
Aled sent Jamie a look that said he just bet he knew what those reasons were. He wondered if any of the rooms came complete with hooks and rings on the bedposts.
Jamie laughed louder. “Not that purpose,” he said. “In fact, throughout the late nineteenth century, the Brotherhood had a rule that The Chameleon Club was not to be used as a meat market. Probably because too much of that was going on in the early days of the organization and they wanted to keep the mission pure. You’ll have to ask one of our resident historians if you want to know more about that, though.”
Aled was about to ask who those resident historians were, but they’d just turned the corner into what appeared to be an opulent ballroom that had been converted into a restaurant of sorts. He was stunned speechless for a moment as Jamie led him through to a small table off to one side. The room screamed of luxury and money, but not all of the diners looked as though they’d been born with a silver spoon in their mouths.
In fact, most of them looked decidedly ordinary, though most of them were men. There did appear to be one table of women and a few scattered throughout the other dining parties, but the whole scene didn’t have the same heteronormative air that Aled would have expected when walking into any other restaurant. There were several men in comfortable drag, for one, but not as if they were doing it to make waves.
As soon as they were seated, a server came over to fill their glasses, and Jamie went ahead and ordered a bottle of wine.
“So I guess we’re not playing tonight,” Aled said, leaning into the table and sending Jamie a sly look as soon as the server left.
Jamie brightened and flushed. “Well, maybe later,” he said in a low, soft voice.
That voice and the look that accompanied it, especially as it was somehow enhanced by the way Jamie’s glasses framed his beautiful, brown eyes, had Aled buzzing on the inside. The chemistry between them was just so amazingly off the charts. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.
“Are you settling into the term well?” Jamie asked a moment later, dimming but not breaking the flirty, edgy, sexy mood swirling between them.
“Oh, so this is an official advisor-advisee meeting, then, is it?” Aled teased him in return, straightening and fussing with his cutlery for a moment.
Jamie snorted as he took a sip of his water and nearly choked. “No, not at all.”
“Good,” Aled said reaching for his water and adding “boy” with his eyes.
Jamie grinned like he couldn’t stop himself, and Aled’s insides felt as light as a feather. This was what love should be, he was certain. It should be the giddy moments of getting to know someone you just clicked with. It should be acting and feeling like a stupid, green kid who didn’t know the first thing about relationships. It should be gazing at each other across the table as everyone else in the room faded into nothing, before any sort of conversation had gotten started. It should be feeling in your gut that the two of you were going to end up horizontal and sweaty, making all sorts of porn noises and baring your souls to each other before the night was done.
“I asked the head of my college about the ethics of us seeing each other the other day,” Jamie said, puncturing the mood that had been building in Aled.
Aled’s expression sobered—which made him realize he’d probably been staring at Jamie like the lovesick schoolboy he was—and he said, “Oh. Is it a problem?”
Jamie winced a little, tilted his head to the side, and said, “Not technically. But we definitely need to proceed with caution.” Aled wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. He liked it even less when Jamie went on with, “I was advised to keep things discreet.”
Aled’s shoulders dropped a little. “So the university wants you to keep our relationship a secret,” he said. “Kind of like they used to want men like us to keep our sexuality a secret a few decades ago?” He reached for his glass to wash the sour taste from his mouth.
“Not exactly,” Jamie said, reaching across to offer his hand.
Aled softened and placed his hand in his once he’d lowered his glass. He didn’t want to spoil the sweetness of their new relationship by sulking. He had more than enough reasons not to shout his relationship status from the rooftops himself.
“Our relationship isn’t anyone else’s business,” Jamie went on. “We don’t have to hide it, but it would probably work best if we didn’t skip across campus hand in hand every day.”
Aled laughed at that image. “I don’t know,” he said, sending Jamie a particularly flirty look and playing with his fingers. “I’m damn good at skipping.”
Jamie laughed, and everything seemed right again. The server returned with their wine, and the two of them ordered.
Conversation for the rest of supper was about as normal as a dinner date could be. Aled supposed something had to be said for meeting someone and fucking them only a few hours later for getting past the initial awkwardness of a new relationship. He honestly felt as if he’d known Jamie for years. He didn’t feel as though he had to present himself in a certain way to keep Jamie’s interest, and Jamie already knew the secrets he usually tried to downplay for a man he’d just met.
“You really should join the Brotherhood,” Jamie said nearly two hours after they’d sat down, as their finished dessert plates were pushed off to the side and they each cradled a cup of after-dinner coffee. “I can’t think of many organizations like it in terms of resources.”
“So the Brotherhood is like a directory of services for the queer community?” Aled asked cheekily.
“In a way, it is,” Jamie said with just a hint of playful defensiveness. “It’s particularly useful if you ever need legal help. For whatever reason, the Brotherhood has a nearly two hundred year history of attracting law enforcement members and lawyers.”
“I suppose those sorts of men were desperately needed for queer people historically,” Aled said, leaning back to sip his coffee, and to play footsie with Jamie under the table. Already, he was running through ways of suggesting to Jamie that they head over to his place for extra dessert.
“Absolutely,” Jamie said. “But life back then for gay men wasn’t what most people tend to think it was. In fact—”
