Catch and Release

"Oh, well we went to Port Douglas. The holiday was present enough."

"No present?" Jules said as he leant against the doorframe, "You're right Drew. Boyfriend is Dr. Dick. See you for lunch Gracie." He gave a quick wave. " And you Drew Maxwell," he said with a dramatic flourish at the man in question , "can see me anytime you want."

Drew chuckled, "I know where to find you."

"You're alright with that?" Grace asked when she was sure that Jules was safely out of earshot.

"OK with what? Jules? Why do you ask? You seemed quite friendly with him yourself."

"With his teasing. About you know…" she let the sentence trail off, hoping he gott the meaning.

"With you know? Do you mean sex Miss Hawthorne? That Jules wants to fuck me?"

Grace gasped at his bluntness and brought a hand up to her mouth in shock.

His mouth curled up in a lilting half smile that seemed to match his melodic burr, "I'm not concerned by it. Are you? Does it bother you because you want to fuck me too?"

"No. No I don't….You can't…It doesn't bother me…because…I…"

"I know," he said, lifting the other side of his mouth, turning the half smile into a full smirk, "It doesn't bother you because you want to watch."

She turned away from his intense ice blue gaze. Grace had never before thought of two men together as erotic—never before really thought about two men sexually at all. Where would she even start? The shocking image of Drew and Jules locked in an embrace filled her mind. She saw the garden path but this time it was Jules bent over, his blond hair falling over his eyes, his mouth open, moaning and Drew behind him, thrusting. Her nipples tightened to hard points and a rush of heat settled to throb between her legs.

Her phone rang. The sound shocking her out of her fantasy. Before she could reach over to answer it Drew placed his hand over hers. "It's Jules," he said. "Check the extension." She looked down to see Jules's extension flashing on the screen. "Let it go to voice mail. I don't think you want to talk to him now. Not the way you've just been picturing him." Drew silenced the phone by pressing a button and diverting the call to voicemail.

"I haven't…I wasn't." She was babbling again.

He settled back down in the guest chair and said, "Yes you have and yes you were. Tell me. Tell me what you saw."

His voice was seductively low. Compelling.

She shouldn't. She didn't have to, but for some reason she did. "The garden path…I saw you like you were with that woman on the garden path, but with Jules instead."

"And did it turn you on? Are you wet?"

She nodded.

"Good. So, you like to watch. And you've got a homoerotic kink. Still waters run deep don't they Miss Hawthorne? I wonder what else we'll discover about you."

He stood from his chair and Grace saw that was not as unaffected by her confession as his cool façade portrayed. Behind the zip of his black jeans was the definite bulge of an erection. She waited, holding her breath to see what he would do next, say next... but he said nothing. He just left. Left her sitting with panties damp and clit throbbing. For the first time in her life Grace was considering masturbating at work.

* * * *

It was difficult to leave her like that—cheeks rosy, eyes glowing with newly discovered lust. She was untamed heat, unreleased passion. A sexual diamond in the rough. For a man like him, the kind of man who loved the challenge of unpolished lust she was a rare find. An intoxicating mix of base desire, naivety and class.

And Jules. Another surprise. Finding him cradling her foot like a devoted neophyte. Need kindling in those vulnerable doe brown eyes of his. Had Jules ever even been with a woman?

Drew shared an office with two others. A large room divided into a meeting area and three offices divided by three quarter walls. Sharla saw him enter and moved over for a kiss. She pressed her ample chest against him, rolling her hips into his in obvious invitation. He pulled away before she could add tongue. Sharla called herself try-sexual—as in if it were sex she'd try it. She was a lush divorcee in her early forties and completely devoid of shame which made her an adventurous lover. Drew had scratched a need with her before, but he wasn't interested right now. Right now he wanted a naïve blonde with cool grey eyes.

The other staff member they shared office space with was still on holiday. Lucy wouldn't be back until after term began.

"Not interested Drew?" Sharla asked without a hint of jealousy. Sharla offered but never stressed if she was turned down. To her there was no reason to sulk as there was always another man, woman or toy to play with.

"No thanks Sharla."

"Do you have another game set up already? I haven't seen the pool."

He shook his head at the thought of that damn pool. Each year the staff loved to bet on his conquests. They called the game 'catch and release' as if he was some kind of sexual fisherman. The pool was organized by Richard Drake, but Drew had his suspicions that it was Jules who provided all the information. Since the arrival of Jules three years ago the pool had become much more astute. Before that they hardly caught half his actual conquests.

"No game Sharla."

"New Year's Resolution?"

"Something like that."

She made a dismissive snort like noise and said, "I'm off to see Nancy at Medicine. I won't be back until this afternoon."

Drew nodded and moved to his office. His next trip wasn't until March but he had some reading to catch up on. He opened his email to find yet another request from Professor Daniels for him to return to lecturing this year. He replied with a simple No.

No explanation, he wouldn't, he couldn't lecture again—couldn't even think about it. If he did…

"Why so glum?"

Drew looked up to see the pretty face of Jules Starling peering around his cubicle wall. He met his boyish eyes and said, "Not glum Jules. Thinking. You might want to try it some time."

"If you say so. But I don't see the appeal, it might give me wrinkles."

Drew couldn't help an indulgent smile; Jules was far too charming to resist. Resting his chin on his hand he asked, "Did you want something Jules?"

"Ooh such an open ended question. You should know better than that!"

Without waiting for an invitation Jules entered his office pushed the books from his guest chair and sat down.

"Why are you here?" Drew asked.

"What are you doing with Gracie?'

He laughed not because Jules asked, but because he looked so earnest and young defending Miss Hawthorne's honor. "Jules, I think the real question is what you think you're doing with the lovely Miss Hawthorne?"

The young man flushed bright red—confirming Drew's suspicions that Jules was indeed experiencing new and strange feelings for Grace.

"Have you kissed her?" Jules blurted out the question. It exploded from him like an eruption.

"No, I haven't kissed her," Drew said truthfully. He'd felt her come around his fingers but he'd never touched his lips to hers. He didn't kiss. Not conquests, kissing was too intimate a connection.

It was interesting that Jules was so focused on kissing. Not fucking, but kissing. He wondered…

"Do you want to kiss her Jules?"

Jules deer eyes widened and he nodded.

Interesting.

"Have you ever kissed a woman?" Drew asked.

Jules shook his head and looked down somewhat shame faced.

"It's different to a man. They're softer. Smoother. They smell different, taste different."

"You've kissed a man?" The look of shocked wanting on Jules's face turned Drew on. Sheer unbridled lust on such a young face gave him an unparalleled high.

"Yes, I have."

"Will you kiss me?" his voice was soft, yearning. It spoke to Drew, to the part of him that liked to control—to dominate.

"Maybe. If you'll do something for me."

"What?"

Right now Drew was reasonably sure there wasn't much that Jules wouldn't do to taste his mouth. It was a heady rush of power that he was sorely tempted to abuse.

Anything.

He could get this beautiful boy to do anything. He tamped down the feeling, denying the need to test his limits and instead asked for what he'd wanted when he first posed the question. "I want Grace left out of the catch and release pool."

"What?" Jules flushed deep red, he stammered, "I don't have anything to do with that, it's all Drake."

"Drake draws it up but you're the information source."

The young man shook his head again and Drew raised a hand to cut him off before he could voice another denial, "You do. I'm not angry Jules so there's no need to deny it. All I want is that you keep Miss Hawthorne's name out of this year's catch. If Drake has any questions you'll just put him off."

"And you'll kiss me."

"Yes. I'll kiss you."

"Now?" Jules licked his lips. His pink tongue darted out in a nervous swipe of his lips. An action of which he was most likely completely unaware. Lust uncurled in Drew's stomach like a hot lick of fire. While he wore his sexuality in blatant Technicolor Drew had no doubt that Jules was mostly innocent. He had an air of delicious unsullied freshness. Drew found himself suddenly wanting to taste that freshness.

"Promise me and I'll kiss you now."

Jules nodded and tilted his head expectantly.

"No. I want to hear the words."

"I promise. I'll make sure that Grace is kept out of the catch and release pool."

"Good."

Drew stood, unfolding himself from the chair with deliberate calm. He kept his eyes on Jules in the couple of short steps it took to reach him across the cubicle. The young man made a move to stand but Drew stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder. Jules shuddered under his palm and when he met Drew's gaze he could see with certainty how his commanding touch affected him.

It had been a long time since he'd kissed another man. If you could even call the young beauty beneath his hands a man—more boy than man. He cupped Jules' chin, skin so soft it carried only the lightest sheen of silky stubble. Drew traced his thumb across his lower lip and felt the boy shudder at his touch. He leaned into him. Jules' eyelids fluttered shut, such a naively romantic move that it made Drew smile.

He wanted to make this special Drew realized as he leaned closer. He wanted to make this the best kiss that Jules had ever had.

Would ever have.

He wanted Jules to think of this kiss the next time he took his cock in hand. The thought of Jules thinking about him and masturbating sent a shaft of heat straight to Drew's hardening dick.

"Please," Jules pleaded with eyes shut tight.

"Yes," Drew said just before he swept his tongue across the boy's full lower lip. Jules' mouth opened up at the touch and Drew took the invitation. He brushed his tongue lightly at first, teasing until he heard Jules' desperate whimper then he cupped his hand at the back of Jules' neck and took his mouth hard.

Kissed him like a man—hungry, hard and in total control.

In control until Jules shifted his hand to his basket and lightly brushed fingertips across his erection. Just that flickering touch made Drew snap. He pulled Jules up out of the chair and crushed the young man to him. Jules writhed into him, bumping his erection against Drew's in a rhythmic circle action. Each electric touch of Jules' dick pulsed through him. Fuck, it felt good.

So good.

He had to end this. End it now or push the boy down to suck his cock.

That thought snapped Drew back to reality. This was supposed to be just a kiss. A kiss that he had control of—but he'd lost control. He needed to take it back. Drew pulled back, just enough to tease. Holding Jules at arms length, close enough to kiss but far enough away from those amazing writhing hips. Drew kissed, he licked and sucked at those full soft lips until Jules was panting with need.

And then.

And then he pulled away and smiled at the young man's desperate face as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if the kiss had meant nothing.

Drew cleared his throat and said with deliberate calm, "So we have a deal. You keep Miss Hawthorne out of the catch and release pool."

"Yes," Jules said in a shaky voice, sounding fragile and young.

Too young.

"Great." Drew nodded and moved back to sit at his desk. "If there's nothing else—I need to catch up on my email—you should go," he said not even bothering to look up at Jules. He couldn't. He couldn't meet those devastating eyes.

What was it lately with eyes? Grace's cool grey and Jules Bambi brown—they were shredding his sanity. Not that he had a lot anyway—not since…

Fuck! There he was thinking about that again.

He brought a hand up and raked it through his hair. He couldn't think about it. Couldn't lose control and feel it all again. The first email he opened was about his next trip overseas. Two months away. He could last two months. He'd just have to be careful around those eyes.

* * * *

Jules Starling still had his fingers on his lips when he returned to the reception desk. For the whole walk back from Drew's office—up two flights of stairs—he'd been unable to stop touching them. He sat, for how long he wasn't sure, just pressing his fingers against the tingling skin.

That kiss.

Better than sex. Better than any sex that he'd had anyway. If he kissed like that what would sex be like? What would Drew Maxwell pushing inside him be like? And just like that Jules was rock hard again. He shifted on his chair and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, trying to find a position that didn't feel like his balls were strangling.

"Jules, do you think you could give me a lift home today please? Brent is working late and I'd rather avoid the bus if I could."

Jules looked up to see the cool grey eyes of Grace Hawthorne looking at him from across his desk. She had her elegant hands linked together on the high top and had her beautiful chin resting on top of them.

She tilted her head and asked in a soft voice, "Are you alright?"

It was her softness that Jules most liked about Grace. She had a gentle way about her. She didn't rush or shout like so many others he knew. She wasn't obvious. She was subtle and cool. The coolness drew Jules, unlike any woman ever before. Women had never been on his radar—never before Grace anyway.

She repeated her question, "Are you OK?"

He nodded and touched his fingers again to his lips.

"Don't worry about the lift Jules. I'll be fine to take the bus. It's no issue, really," Grace said as she stood tall, squaring her shoulders and looking like the unaffected Ice Queen that Jules had come to quickly adore.

"After I drive you home can I stay?"

"Stay?" She tilted her head and looked perplexed. Jules wanted so desperately for her to say yes that he suddenly found himself nervous.

"For a drink…ummm and a talk?"

The shy little smile that slowly revealed itself was just gorgeous. Serenely beautiful.

Grace Kelly—that's who she is, Jules thought.

"Yes of course. I'd like that. I'd really like that Jules." She reached across the reception desk and took his hand in hers. Those beautiful cool fingers were wrapped around his when over her shoulder he saw Drew Maxwell. He stood at the entry way looking at their entwined hands.

What is he thinking?

Jules watched his eyes flick between him and Grace. Over and over and then he gave a brief shake of his head and left.

What did that mean? Was it him or Grace that made him shake his head? Or was it the sight of both of them that rattled the great Drew Maxwell?

Jules had seen the way Drew watched Grace. Like a big cat watching prey—biding his time, sleek and ready to pounce. It was obvious that Drew wanted Grace. Obvious to Jules anyway, because of the way that he watched Drew. In the last three years of working at the University Jules had perfected the sport of watching Drew Maxwell.

He prided himself on knowing his every move, but he'd been shocked in Drew's office. Shocked by that kiss.

Maybe Drew too had been shocked?

* * * *

"Take down your hair."

Grace put her hand up to the ponytail she'd gathered her hair into after work and shook her head. "It's too hot Jules."

"Come on! I want to see it. It's always up. I was hoping when you went into the bathroom before you were going to let it all down. Come on Rapunzel. Do it. For me. Please." Jules had such a sweet face that it was difficult to deny him anything. From the cheeky grin he wore Grace was pretty sure he knew it too.

"Fine," Grace conceded, removing the elastic band and standing to shake out her hair. She fluffed it out with her hands and was about to make a pithy comment when she was struck dumb by the look on Jules' face.

It was such a man's look.

Not that Jules wasn't a man. He was—of course he was—but she hadn't really thought of him that way. Not in the way that a woman thinks of a man. He was sprawled in one of the deck chairs, legs spread, a beer in hand watching her in almost predatory male way.

No, he couldn't be, Grace argued with herself. She was being crazy. Jules was gay. Openly so—a gay man wouldn't want her. He was just looking, that's all. Just looking. It was when she heard the incoming message chirp of her Blackberry that she realized that she was still standing on the verandah staring at him—with him still looking at her—and she wasn't sure how long it had been.

She entered through the French doors to the kitchen where her Blackberry was sitting on the bench. She took it out of the leather pouch and scrolled down the screen to another 'working late' text from Brent. There'd been quite a few of those since their Christmas break. Despite the fact that they were now living together Grace found herself with more time on her hands than she'd had back in Connecticut.

Before placing the Blackberry back in the leather pouch and slipping it in the pocket of her khaki shorts, Grace arched her back and sighed. What was worse, she wondered, that it seemed Brent was avoiding her, or that she didn't seem to care?

"Do you want another beer?" Grace called out to Jules in a way that would've mortified her mother. A Hostess does not shout drinks—Grace could hear the clipped tones play in her head.

"Yeah thanks love," came the equally casual call out from the verandah.

After refilling her wineglass and uncapping another beer for Jules she walked back through the French doors to the verandah. One of Jules' sunny smiles went a long way towards making her feel better. She was glad that he'd asked to come in for a drink. Without him, she realized that she would've been quite desperately lonely.

Lonely.

How odd for a woman who prided herself on isolation.

"Why so sad sweetpea?" Jules asked as she sat down in the Adirondack beside him.

"Not sad—just thinking."

"You're the second person to say that to me today."

"Really?" Grace said, folding her legs under her and turning in the chair to face Jules. She took a sip of her wine and placed the glass on the wide wooded arm of the deck chair and asked, "Who was the other?"

"Drew Maxwell."

"Drew," Grace said slowly, "What's his story?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well he's got a doctorate doesn't he? In English Literature. You'd think he'd be teaching—not recruiting students."

"I know that the Head of School is always asking him to teach but he won't."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

Grace felt herself flush red. A burning sensation that crept up her chest to her hairline. Jules locked his big brown eyes on her and asked, "What's with the blush Grace? Have you and Drew been naughty?"