...Debussy listened idly to Timmy screaming. He wasn’t paying attention to the words, he’d stopped paying attention…several arguments ago, actually. Timmy was exactly his type, short and slender, with big eyes and pouty lips. The twinkiest of twinks.

The door slammed closed and his office went suddenly quiet.

Bussy sighed and logged off; he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, enjoying the peace.

The last words Timmy’d screamed at him finally penetrated. “We’re through, you asshole.”

Well. It was probably for the best. Timmy had been a spoiled little twink who thought the world owed him a living. Bussy wasn’t sure why he always wound up with whiny brats.

He stood and headed out; maybe he’d eat in the kitchen tonight. He certainly didn’t have anyone else to consider.

The restaurant was slow, but the bar was hopping, laughter and chatter making him smile. He’d bet Quint was on duty; the kid had a way with the guests. Tall and buff and blond, every man in the joint wanted a piece of the kid. As far as Bussy knew, though, Quint never went home with anyone. In fact, Quint was the least promiscuous man he’d ever seen.

He headed for the bar, sliding into a stool at the far end. The restaurant sounded better than the kitchen for his dinner and what better way than to start it off with a drink at the bar?

Huge blue eyes met his. “Wh…what can I get you, boss?”

“I’ll take a Dirty Kiss.” It was the resort specialty. Actually, it was Quint’s specialty.

“Absolutely.” Quint licked his lips and headed for the hot chocolate and rum.

Now that was pretty, the way Quint’s lips shone after he’d licked them. That kid was imminently fuckable. Too bad Quint wasn’t the least bit interested in him. Bussy knew he attracted the twinks. Maybe that’s why they had become his type.