Finding a Niche

"Can you stay here in Baltimore through the show—moved to New York, if I can, but here if I can't—and help me bring order into the chaos?"

"Yes, of course," I said, my scheduling racing through my mind, wondering what I could cancel or switch, but realizing that there was no question that I would do that.

"And I can save the hotel fees. I have an apartment nearby. You could stay with me."

"Yes, that would be good," I answered.

"With me, in my bed." He sounded unsure of what I might say. "With no condoms in reach," he added.

"Of course, I would love that," I said.

"Oh, God, I love fucking you," he cried out. And then he fucked me again.

He managed to get his show changed to New York City at a venue near to that of the Louis Vuitton show and for the afternoon after the evening Vuitton show. Several Vuitton buyers stayed over to see the LaCross show.

The only glitch, which didn't prove to be one, is that one of his male models took sick right before the show and I stepped in to walk the catwalk for him. Thank the gods, I didn't screw up and Kevin covered me with kisses and praise.

"I couldn't have done this without you," he declared. "It wasn't just your substituting for Jacques. You have given me so much help on this in the past two weeks, taking many burdens off me."

"This might be a good time for me to give you one of my other consultancy recommendations, then," I said. "You need a partner. You're trying to do too much. You need someone else to share the burden with. We could assemble a list of possible partners for you, if you . . . why are you looking at me like that, Kevin?"

"Why would I look any further than you for an ideal partner—both for the fashion house and for me?" he asked, flashing me that smile that always disarmed me completely.

I called Arthur Ritchey and said he'd be receiving a check for the services the consultancy had rendered for the LaCross fashion house and that he could keep my share of that to cover for canceling out my contract with him. I had found my ideal niche in life.

"You let him bareback you, didn't you?" Ritchey said.

"Of course I did," I answered.

Ritchey laughed.