Kris T. Bethke–Author of M/M Romance

**The admiral indulges my love of alliteration this week–lighthouse, logic, and Lords and Ladies.  Enjoy!**

The historical lighthouse was open for tours during the day, but on the first Saturday night after the first Friday of every month, it was a gathering place.  The men and women in tuxedos and ball gowns wore masks to obscure their identity.  The masks were elaborate creations, adorned with feathers, beads, and gold and silver.  Trying to guess who was behind which mask was one of my favorite parts of the evening.  It wasn’t an easy task.

The Society of Lords and Ladies was all about secrets.

I’d been a member for five years, and attended meetings regularly.  In the real world I was Joe Johnson, mild mannered accountant and sci fi nerd.  But when I donned the tux and mask, and set foot on the small island that held the massive lighthouse, I was the suave and debonair Lord Covington.

The evenings were filled with intellectual conversation and lots of champagne.  I always limited myself to one glass, but there were those members who liked to overindulge.  Lady Smythwick, whose purple gowns were always a bit garish and whose mask ended up on the floor by the end of the night, often had six or seven glasses herself.  But for the most part it was a gathering of fifty or so people who liked to have fun, good conversation, and a little good humored role playing.

Tonight, the main floor of the lighthouse was packed, and the buzz from the multiple conversations was loud.  I’d had my glass of champagne, and several hor d’oeuvres. Though the lighthouse was a good fifty feet in circumference at the base, I was feeling the crush.  Having not drawn the attention of anyone in several long minutes, I took a chance and slipped to the base of the spiral staircase.  I was in fairly good shape, and it took me no time at all to climb the thirty feet to the lantern room.  This particular lighthouse had been decommissioned a good twenty years ago, and the light no longer worked.  But my goal was the peace and quiet, and on this balmy summer night, I slipped through the door onto the widow’s walk.

I was alone only for five or six minutes, before the door creaked open.  I turned to see a large, broad shouldered man in an ivory and black harlequin half mask step through.  He looked strong and capable, his skin a sunkissed bronze that made me think of him lying in the sun.  He smiled when he saw me, showing off his white, even teeth in the moonlight.  I couldn’t help but grin back.

“Lord Covington,” he greeted, his voice a deep rumble.

I inclined my head and stepped to the side so he would have more room.  “Lord Temple.”

Lord Temple stood close enough that I could feel his body heat.  I wanted to lean into him.  Over the past six months, I’d found myself in conversation with him more often than not.  He was fascinating, and the way his mind worked never failed to engage me.  Several months ago, we’d gotten into a heated argument over the legislature’s proposed amendment, and it had taken me an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he was simply playing the devil’s advocate.  He was sharp, intelligent, and kind.  I wished I knew who he was outside of the Society.

“Would you care to engage in a wager, Lord Covington?”

The man’s question caught me off guard, and for a moment I was shocked.  I recovered quickly, and considered his offer.  “What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you agree to an evening out with me,” Temple said.

I squinted suspiciously, tilting my head a little to see him better through the eyeholes of my mask.  “And if I win?”

Temple’s grin was smug.  “You won’t.  But if you do, you can claim whatever prize you wish.”

I was thoroughly intrigued now.  I took a fraction of a step closer.  “Terms?”

Lord Temple lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug.  “I will tell you about yourself and you will answer honestly if I get it right.”

“All right,” I said after a second’s hesitation.  There was no way he could know who I was.  One of the tenants of the Society was that everyone’s true identity remained a secret.  While there were no clandestine dealings going on, it was part of the fun.

“Your name is Joe, and you are an accountant.  You’ve been working for the same firm for at least ten years, and while you like it, you don’t love it.”

I took a huge step back, putting space between us.  “How in the fuck did you know that?” I hissed.

“Logic,” Lord Temple said with a smug superiority that really should have pissed me off.

“Bullshit,” I accused.  “Someone had to have told you.”

He shook his head, and some of his arrogant demeanor vanished.  “No really.  You look around anytime anyone says Joe.  You have a body honed from the gym, which leads me to believe that your physique is not from a physical job and therefore you most likely work in an office.  Three months ago, we got into a discussion about fiscal responsibility and your head for numbers and figures lead me to believe you work with numbers on a daily basis.  Accountant is the most logical profession, though there could be others.”

I was impressed and did my best not to show it.  “And knowing I’ve worked ten years at the same place that I don’t love?”

He smiled then, and leaned closer like he was sharing a secret.  “Last month, you complained that ten years on the job was enough to drive anyone crazy.  Later in the same conversation, you said you liked your job, but that you wouldn’t be opposed to a change.  I…inferred.”

I loved his brain.  That he’d not only heard what I said, but pieced the information together to begin to form a picture of me.  That he’d taken that kind of interest made my pulse pick up. I thought it had been one sided on my part.  Now I knew it wasn’t.

I closed the distance between us, and reached up for his mask.  He caught my wrists, but didn’t pull my hands away.

“If I’m going on a date with you,” I said softly.  “And you know so much about me, don’t you think I should at least see your face?”

Lord Temple grinned.  Then he let go of my wrists, and I pulled away the mask.

My smile was bright enough to outshine the moon.

** This one was a fun one to write.  In fact, it surprised me with some of the bits.  For this week’s challenge we have maid service, an ugly dog, and a big change.  Enjoy!**

The Fairlaine Hotel had been built in the 1860’s.  Its castle-like stone façade had maintained its original beauty and the grounds were painstakingly maintained by an exceedingly excellent staff of groundskeepers.  The interior had been updated on numerous occasions, and the current incarnation had all the amenities of a 5 star hotel while still looking like it belonged to another time.  I managed the whole operations, a coup for someone my age, and I loved every stressful overworked second of it.  I was never completely off duty, though the night manager did take some of the burden from my shoulders.  I very rarely left the property though, because I needed to be on hand to take care of any situation

One of the best things about living in a hotel was the maid service.  I never had to worry about towels, or making the bed.  I never had to vacuum or dust.  My suite of rooms was always neat and tidy.  The guest rooms were always catered to first, but once that had been taken care of, the staff suites were also cleaned.  Usually my rooms were done by the time I managed to make it up there at about eight P.M.  So I was surprised when I walked down the hall and saw the maid cart outside my door, which was propped open.

It all made sense when I walked in.  Leo had only been on staff at the Fairlaine for three weeks, and this was his first shift on his own.  It made sense that it would take him a bit longer to complete his tasks until he really got into the swing of things.  I stood there and watched him work for a moment.  Leo was efficient, though slow, and I had no doubt that he’d eventually handle himself well.  I was pleased with his progress, and with the young man himself.

Until I heard a bark.

Shocked, my gaze shot to the corner where a dog was sitting patiently on a pile of towels.  Not just a dog though.  It had to be the ugliest dog I had ever seen.  It was some sort of mix, but it had gotten the worst off all the traits.  Its ears were long and hairless, its snout somewhere between smooshed in and long and pointy, and its fur was mottled brown, red, white, and gray without any discernable pattern.  It looked like someone had taken a bunch of leftover parts, tossed them into a blender, and this dog was the result.  I would have felt sorry for it, except I shouldn’t have seen it in the first place.

I was going to hate to fire Leo—he had promise—but pets were not allowed in the hotel.  Animals of any kind were banned, unless they were a registered service animal.  This dog, happily panting in the corner, was most certainly not.

I cleared my throat.  Leo startled and jumped, then whirled around, eyes wide.  He colored prettily, even as he started to stammer out an apology.

“Mr. Carpenter, sir!  I’m sorry.  I can explain.”

Oh this I had to hear.  I motioned for him to go on.  Leo took a deep breath. “I was a little slow today because I had to keep running and checking—” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, and then let his head drop low.  “I swear I finished all the guest rooms in a timely manner.”

“Leo,” I said as gently as I could, and waited for him to look up at me.  “First of all, I told you already, you don’t have to call me Mr. Carpenter.  No one does.  Okay?”

He nodded and kept his wide eyes fixed on me.  I smiled to soften the next words.

“But dogs aren’t allowed in the hotel.  Ever.  No exceptions.”  I gave him a stern glare, but as I saw the true sadness creep into his eyes, my “boss” persona faded.  I held open my arms and he came running into them.  I squeezed him tightly and kissed the side of his head.  “Sorry, love.  You knew that when you moved in here with me.  Where in the hell did you get that mutt anyway?”

“Found him,” Leo mumbled into the skin of my neck.  “He was dirty and hungry and obviously it had been awhile since he was loved.  But he’s friendly and so sweet.”

I gave Leo an extra squeeze.  “I’m sorry, but we can’t keep him.”

Leo nodded and pulled away.  He looked up at me with his big blue eyes, and I was ready to promise him the world.  He knew it too, but I had to give him credit for toning it down.  This wasn’t something I could change.  Or could I?

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, my gaze straying to the happy, ugly dog in the corner.  “I bet a lot of our guests would like to bring their pet along.  I bet we’d get twice as many bookings if we were pet friendly.”

“What are you thinking?” Leo asked.  I saw hope light his eyes.

“That there’s that shed by the pond that’s sitting empty.  And it would make a great place for a pet spa and daycare.  That allowing guests to bring their animals would mean higher revenue in the long run.”

Leo nodded.  “Yeah, but…” He paused and glanced at the dog.  “Can you really make that happen?”

“It’d be a big change,” I said absently, my mind working.  “It would take some convincing to get the owners to agree.  I’d have to go to them with a solid plan.  And there would have to be someone who would dedicate themselves to being Animal Guest Liaison.”

Leo caught on fast.  I always knew he was smart.  “I’d be an awesome Animal Guest Liaison.”

“You would,” I agreed.  I pulled him in tight again, and kissed him soundly, only to be interrupted by the dog barking.  I pulled back with a scowl.  “In the meantime, you have to find somewhere else for the dog to stay.”

“Krissy would take him, as long as I didn’t make her keep him indefinitely.”

“Your sister is a gem.”  I nodded, then stepped away.  “Finish your work, take the dog to Krissy’s, and then we’ve got research to do.”

Leo nodded, and moved to do as I directed.  But then he stopped and turned, gracing me with his biggest, most heartfelt smile.  “I love you.  And I love that you would do this for me.”

“It’s not just for you,” I protested.  We both knew it was a lie.  I laughed.  “I love you too, babe.  Get to work.”

**Friday is here again, and this week the Admiral said snails, an accident, and the last dance.  I hope this suffices.  Enjoy!**

“It was an accident.  I didn’t mean to!”

I was trying not to be pissed, but it wasn’t working very well.  I was sitting across from Shayne, and I just stared.  I knew he hadn’t meant to knock me over on purpose.  I know he hadn’t seen the giant puddle of muddle rainwater.  But somehow I didn’t think that would have stopped him, even if he had seen it.  And that was why I was really upset.

“It was a snail,” I said, keeping my voice low.  That didn’t stop the anger from creeping in though.  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then lifted my gaze to look him directly in the eye. “A tiny, harmless, innocuous snail.  I couldn’t do anything to you.”

Shayne wrinkled his nose in distaste even as he blushed.  “There were, like, a dozen of them.  And they are so disgusting.  I just—” He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Jack.  I am.  But I freaked out when I saw them all.”

He was sincere, that much was easy to see.  But I’d been the one who had spent the entire wedding reception sitting in wet pants.  I’d done the best I could to dry the off in the bathroom, but it had done little to help.  As it was, the pants were ruined.  They’d been one of my nicer pairs.  The ones I pulled out when I had to actually dress up at work in order to impress a client.  Perhaps even more than that, they looked fantastic on me.  I had a pretty nice body to begin with, but these pants did really good things for my thighs and ass.  They were a total loss now.

But deep down, I knew he hadn’t meant it.  He’d just reacted.  And if I were completely honest, Shayne’s passion was one of the things that had drawn me to him in the first place.  He reacted to everything with his whole heart and mind, and I absolutely loved that about him. So a few dozen tiny snails in the parking lot grossed him out, and he reacted as only he could.

Another deep breath, and I tried again to let the anger go.  It wasn’t worth it.  And when I caught sight of him staring at me from across the table, his big eyes pleading, I knew I’d forgive him.  He’d been overly solicitous all night, running to the bar whenever I wanted a beer, fetching my food from the buffet, and bringing back the biggest piece of cake that he could find.  He hadn’t complained once about staying so late either, which was a record in and of itself.

The reception was finally winding down.  The brides had left an hour or so ago, off to a sweet little bed and breakfast in the Adirondacks for a week, and the only guests left were us stragglers.  I’d spent most of the nice holding court at my table, entertaining family and friends.  But now, there were only a few dozen people left and the DJ was ready to pack it in for the night.  She announced the last song, and a slow love song started playing.

I looked back across the table at the love of my life, and found myself smiling.  Without saying a word, I held out my hand. Shayne was quick to take it.  I tugged gently, and he stood.  We joined the last few couples on the parquet floor.  I pulled him into my arms, loving the way he fit, and started swaying to the music.

Shayne snuggled in even closer, wrapping one arm around my waist.  I tucked his other hand against my chest, right over my heart.  He smiled, his face lighting, and I found myself returning the grin.  We moved to the sweeping ballad, our bodies in perfect sync.

“I love you Jack,” Shayne breathed, his gaze intense.  “And I’m sorry I accidentally pushed you into a puddle because of the gross snails.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped.  “I love you too.  And you can make it up to me, once we get home and you take off my pants.”

For just a second, his eyes widened, and then his lids dropped to half-mast as he caught on.  “Can we leave now?”

I pulled him in tighter.  “We have to finish our dance.”

Shayne melted against me, laying his head on my shoulder, and breathing out a sigh.  Somehow I was certain that the last dance was just the beginning