Page 23 of Molly Boys

Ev stepped back to allow Francis and Dickie to enter the small room first. It wasn’t the first time he’d visited via this hidden entrance and he wasn’t at all surprised when a clean and rather average-looking servant closed the door behind him.

“If you will follow me, Your Lordship.” The man inclined his head toward Francis, his eyes briefly flicking to Everett and then Dickie.

There was nothing else in the room except the aforementioned heavy and mean-looking winch. Ev suppressed an involuntary shudder at the brief thought of being buried alive under all that stone and dirt.

Directly ahead of them was a set of steps leading upwards. They followed the servant to find a polished mahogany door with shiny brass fittings, a dichotomy to the heavily pitted and poorly maintained metal door behind them.

As the door opened, a cacophony of sound and light greeted them, and Ev felt his shoulders relax. Louie’s place may have been a bit wilder than Francis’, but it was still one of their safe spaces. As they followed the servant further into the room, Ev almost smiled.

6

They had walked into a modern-day Roman orgy. Ev’s brows rose slightly as he took in the gross opulence and sea of semi-naked writhing bodies filling the small ballroom. It wasn’t the usual entertainment one would find at Mother Clap’s but then again, he’d learned to expect the unexpected with Louie. There was no limit to the man’s imagination or appetite.

Gilded fixtures adorned the walls and edged the coffered ceiling, making it feel as if the whole room was filled with warmth and sunlight. It was, Ev imagined, what Louis XIV’s palace at Versailles would have looked like.

The floor was polished to a shine, and elegant crimson cushioned chairs lined the walls and grouped around tables. A huge stage dominated one end of the room, draped with heavy wine-coloured damask curtains fringed with golden tassels. Chaises were scattered everywhere, and golden platters of fruits and cheeses, urns spilling with rich greenery and cut hot-house flowers filled every available space. Delicate jugs containing wine the hue of freshly spilled blood sat atop tables next to golden platters of fruits and cheeses, and everywhere guests lounged in various stages of undress.

At first it looked as if they were all wrapped in bedsheets. However, Ev noted elaborate golden twines gathering the fabric to bodies, while fig-leaf circlets and laurels rested on elaborate hairstyles and laced sandals adorned bare feet. They were all in costume.

“Francis darling!” A loud voice cried out.

The crowd parted and a small, nearly emaciated man swept through. A toga hung from one bony shoulder, offering a glimpse of sparse black chest hair before dipping down and wrapping around his lower body and between his legs, then looping neatly over one wrist. Sandals were laced up his skinny calves, and on his closely cropped dark hair was a set of gold laurels. In one hand he clutched a golden horn filled with wine and in the other, a handful of grapes.

“Having a little soirée?” Francis’ brow quirked.

“It’s my birthday.” The man laughed gaily and threw his arm out to encompass the room, almost spilling his wine. “It’s positively bacchanalian, isn’t it perfect?”

“Indeed,” Francis chuckled. “It’s so perfectly you, Louie love.”

“Everett!” Louie leaned forward and air-kissed either side of Ev’s cheeks before turning his attention to Dickie. “And who is this delectable creature? Is he my birthday present?”

“No.” Ev’s mouth curved in amusement as Louie pouted and Francis chuckled.

“Well,” he recovered quickly and held his hand out daintily. “I’m Louie.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Dickie flushed as he shook Louie’s hand.

“Isn’t he darling?” Louie beamed. “What’s your name, my pretty?”

“Louie, this is Darling Dickie,” Francis introduced him.

Louie threw his head back and laughed in sheer delight. “What an absolutely perfect nom de plume for such a pretty boy.”

Dickie flushed again. “Thank you.”

“Welcome! Welcome to my humble abode!” he announced as he raised his arms.

“Louie, there’s nothing humble about you or your abode,” Everett said, his tone dry as he gazed at the assembled company. His eyes narrowed in contemplation as they landed back on Louie. “Who are you supposed to be? Julius Caesar?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Louie huffed indignantly. “I’m Bacchus, god of wine and cock.”

“I think you’ll find that’s wine and fertility.”

“Same thing.” Louie shrugged. “Only without the pesky risk of producing inconvenient bastards.” He turned sharply and bellowed, “Bring wine for my guests!”

“Is it me or does he seem inordinately suited to this particular setting?” Francis murmured.

As Ev thought back to all the masquerades and flights of fancy Louie had previously hosted, he was forced to conclude Francis had a point. Louie was always flamboyant and capricious, in his element at any party, but he did seem very much at ease in his current role.