Jeremy Longden is working towards his PhD in molecular biology, paying bills by part-time teaching. California is a nice place to live, but the Bay Area is expensive. Which is the only reason why Jeremy considers a dining club's offer to pay him for something unconventional. DIRTY DINING is on the cards. Having checked Jeremy out at the gym, a gay club rep tells him there's good money in taking his clothes off for entertainment. Well. Jeremy is not that kind of guy. Good money though. Worth thinking twice.
I was amused by the changeover from the usual viewpoint of a girl being obliged to strip for money, to a young man being a table waiter and doing the same. The other waiters are upfront and casual about sometimes being asked for more personal services, which they may offer as individuals but the club cannot. Jeremy isn't keen on being used for pay, but a new diner, younger than the ogling old men, might be just his cup of tea if they met casually. Brice Martin doesn't know what to expect, as a guest of a regular, but he is promised that anything must occur by mutual agreement. How far will the two newcomers be prepared to go?
While this is definitely an adult erotic tale, I liked that Brice makes up his mind immediately that paying a man for sex off a menu, just like ordering a pizza, would be disrespectful. As the story progresses however, we see that corporate entertainment can be corrupting, while I was early wondering how long it would be before Jeremy's teaching work or grant was in jeopardy. Amusingly we're told that businesswomen don't want adult entertainment; they're all business. In between nights, we get a convincing look at the worlds in which the men earn their living. I thought Jeremy's vocabulary was too scanty for such an educated person; maybe he was just trying to fit in at the club.
EM Lynley has spent over a decade working in the area of finance, and in DIRTY DINING she tries to show how funding for medical research is being reduced in many countries. That's the serious side. The moral dilemmas posed by the gay club and the balance of power between partners also make interesting reading. But the focus of the story is repeatedly and unashamedly on DIRTY DINING so be ready for strong language and adult behaviour throughout.
Jeremy Lindenβs a PhD student researching an HIV vaccine.
Heβs always short of money, and when biotech startup
PharmaTek reduces funding for his fellowship, heβs tempted
to take a job at a menβs dining club as a serving boy. The
uniforms are skimpy, and heβs expected to remove an item
of
clothing after each course. He can handle that, but he
soon
discovers thereβs more on the menu here than fine cuisine.
How far will he go to pay his tuition, and will money get
in
the way when he realizes heβs interested in more from one
of
his gentlemen?
Brice Martin is an attorney for a Silicon Valley venture
capital firm. When heβs asked to take a client to the
infamous Dinner Club, he finds himself unexpectedly turned
on by the atmosphere and especially by his server, Remy.
He
senses thereβs more to the sexy young man than meets the
eye. The paradox fascinates him, and he canβt get enough
of
Remy.
Their relationship quickly extends beyond the club and
sex.
But the trust and affection theyβve worked to achieve may
crumble when Jeremy discovers Briceβs VC firm is the one
that pulled the plug on PharmaTekβand Jeremyβs research
grant.
Chapter ONE βYOU EVER do any modeling?β The guy came up to Jeremy Linden in the gym locker room while Jeremy was drying off after his shower. Jeremy had noticed him checking out a few other men in the weight room and even at the pool while Jeremy was taking a breather from laps.
βIβm not interested in whatever it is youβre offering.β Jeremy had heard these kinds of offers before. Friends had taken the bait, and it never ended well. No way heβd fall for the scam. It was never just βmodeling.β
βYou could make some easy dough.β
βI donβt need easy dough.β Jeremy opened his locker, but he didnβt want to take the towel off in front of this guy.
βSure you do. Iβve seen your car. Someone smashed into the side of it and you havenβt fixed it yet.β
βToo busy,β Jeremy lied. Truth was he used the insurance money for bills, but heβd never admit as much to this guy.
βDonβt you want to know what the job is?β
βNo.β Jeremy didnβt have time to waste. He grabbed his boxers from the locker, turned away from the guy, and bent down to step into them.
βThatβs all youβd have to do. Just take off your clothes and let people look at you.β
βI donβt strip. No thanks. Emphasis on the βno.ββ
βThree hundred bucks for about two hoursβ work, just to take off your clothes. Not stripping. You just remove one piece at a time. Five hundred if you let someone else take your clothes off for you. No other touching or funny business, unless you want. And that would pay extra.β
βGet out of here before I call the front desk.β
The guy held up his hands and backed out of Jeremyβs personal space. βSure thing. Sorry.β He slid a hand into his jacket, and Jeremy braced for him to pull out some kind of weapon. All he had was a business card. βIβll leave this, and if you change your mind, call me. The jobβs on Friday night.β He put the card on the bench and left.
Jeremy finished dressing quickly before the guy came back or followed someone else in from the gym. He was slinging his backpack over his shoulder when he glanced down at the card. More out of curiosity than anything else, he picked it up.
Β
Thomas Jerrold
The Dinner Club
415-555-1087
Β
He flipped it over, but the back was blank. Just a simple white card with raised black printing. For some reason the simplicity intrigued Jeremy more than anything the guy had said to him, so instead of tossing it, he jammed it into his pocket and headed out. He tossed the pack into the passenger side of his car, then walked around to look at the damage: the whole right side of the car was scraped and dented from someone opening their door as he drove by. He sure would like to get the damage repaired. He could already see a tiny telltale spot of oxidation, and even though the brutal Northern California rainy season was at least a month or so away, the exposed metal under the scraped paint would certainly begin to rust before he could afford to fix it.
Maybe he could get more hours at the tutoring center. Heβd ask about it tonight when he went to work.
Β
Β
BUT THE center didnβt have any more students for him. They had plenty of kids who needed math or writing tutors, but he only did biology and chemistry. He met with his one scheduled pupil, then went home to the apartment he shared with Doug, another grad student at Cal.
Jeremy was starting the fifth year of a PhD in molecular biology, with a specialization in immunology. While other students in his department had a free ride thanks to government and NIH grants, Jeremyβs cutting edge research had won him a coveted fellowship from PharmaTek, a Silicon Valley biotech start-up working on an HIV vaccine. Jeremyβs work on VLPβvirus-like particlesβwas potentially revolutionary and would help to bring their product to the testing phase and then to market more quickly than other approaches.
He was proud to be part of such an important project. While the funding covered his fees and a generous research budget, his personal stipend barely covered the basics in the expensive Bay Area. There wasnβt a spare dollar for the unexpected, like a car accident.
Well, he could just ignore the car. As he stared at it before going inside his apartment building, he thought he could see the rust spot growing before his eyes. Maybe he should just sell the damn thing and use his bike to get around. Heβd long passed the point where he could ask his family for money. At twenty-seven he was supposed to be self-sufficient. He could try to get a loan from the university, orβ¦ he dug his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the little white business card.
Three hundred bucks just to take his clothes off? A couple of hours of being naked didnβt really seem so bad. He was in good shape. He cycled and swam. Heβd even done a triathlon before his research ate into his training time. Nothing wrong in just checking out this Dinner Club. He was staring at the card when Doug, his roommate, came through the front door with a pizza.
βLeftovers, want some?β
Doug worked at one of the best pizza places in town, and even their leftovers were better than fresh pizza from almost anywhere else.
βSure.β For the next thirty minutes, Jeremy forgot about Thomas from the Dinner Club and concentrated on double-crust pizza with chicken, tangy tomato sauce, and marinated artichoke hearts. And they shared a few beers. By then Jeremy had already started working on his reading for class the following day and didnβt have time to google the Dinner Club. Heβd research it tomorrow.
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