Something Different Read online

  Something Different

  Allegra Johnson

  Copyright © 2019 Allegra Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  ASIN: B07MNVQJQN

  Please note: This story will contain strong language, adult situations, and brief moments of nudity. If any of these offend you please consider not reading this, you will be offended. Often.

  This is a complete work of fiction, based on the whims of the author. Any incidents, names, or situations you think may be related to you are purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  From the author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Thank you for reading.

  Dedication

  In loving memory of my Sistah, Frances “Fran” Graci. Once my best friend, now my angel. I love you. Until we meet again . . . save me a seat at the naughty table.

  May 30, 1965 - December 19, 2017

  From the author

  In Chapter 4, the author writes of an NFL game between her beloved New England Patriots and their rivals, the New York Jets. The results and description of that game are a complete and utter fantasy and in no way represent a true account of the game.

  I’d like to thank Avery Cockburn for allowing me to use her book, Playing for Keeps, in Something Different. Avery Cockburn is a wonderfully talented LBGTQ author and will forever remain my favorite. Avery’s series Glasgow Lads and Glasgow Lads on Ice, can be found on Amazon.

  Special thanks to Eva Moore for her cameo appearance as the fabulous event coordinator for both fictional events. Eva Moore is a contemporary romance author, and her series Girls’ Nights Out and Exposed Dreams can be found at most digital booksellers. Eva’s encouragement and support were the catalysts to my journey to become a published author. I thank her for everything she has taught me, her continuous support, and the use of her name and role in this story.

  This book was originally published as a fanfic with the title Something Different with Someone New, based on an annual Fantasy Ball OSRBC event. I have since revised the original content by adding over ten thousand words including previously deleted scenes. Something Different is now a novella prequel to The Silverton Series.

  And a final thank you to my editor, Jessica Cale, with Safeword Author Services. I appreciate your patience, encouragement, and expertise. I look forward to working with you again in the future. Also, you readers may want to thank her as well. With a combination of my inexperience and dyslexia, the first draft was . . . how should I say this? A hot mess. Yeah, that should cover it. Jessica worked her editor magic and helped me turn that hot mess into a something wonderful. Thanks again, Jess.

  Chapter 1

  Sebastian grabbed a bottle of Fuller’s and headed to the brown leather sectional with the intention of doing nothing—just drink, watch sport, and relax. Finally home after back-to-back-to-back photo shoots, he deserved a bit of R&R. The idea of retirement was sounding better and better. He needed to look into his options. For now, he was going to enjoy the two-week lull between shoots by catching up with mates he hadn’t seen in months. More importantly, there were no schedules to adhere to.

  Stretching his six-foot-four frame out along the chaise, he found the remote and began searching for something to watch. Settling on the rugby, he took a long drink of his ale, draining nearly half. Next to the score at the top of the screen was a colorful Happy New Year graphic.

  It was New Year’s Eve.

  Had it been a year already? It didn’t seem that long. He had kept busy, taking any jobs his agent could find. Workout gear at some gym or other in New York? Sure. Ski gear in the Alps? Yes. Snorkeling equipment in the Caribbean? Absofuckinglutely! He didn’t care what the shoot was for, he would do it. Not that he needed the money. He had plenty and then some; thank Christ for prenups. No, he didn’t need the money, he needed the distraction. A distraction from what a mess his life had become.

  He and Maria had met on a shoot in Greece, spent a few sex-filled days together after, and thus began an eight-month long-distance relationship. Bas snorted to himself. Relationship. More like, “Hey, I’m in Hong Kong. You’re in Hong Kong. Let's get together.” There were many naughty Skype sessions, sexting, and that two-week holiday in Rio. Even with that little bit, he’d thought himself in love.

  What a fool.

  Then came that cool spring day here at his flat. Maria had said she was pregnant, and he’d done what he thought was right. They were married within a month's time. It was the following month he discovered she’d faked the pregnancy to trap him into the marriage. Who knew you could buy a positive home pregnancy test online? He’d forgiven her, but after catching her cheating again—with her photographer, no less. Talk about cliché—Bas filed for divorce, ending their two-year marriage. It was finalized one year ago today.

  The ringing of his landline drew his attention to the present. He looked at it, debating whether or not to answer. Most likely a robocall. The empty bottle in hand was the deciding factor. Screw it, he needed another ale anyway. Stopping to grab the cordless, he proceeded to the fridge. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Bas! Thank God you answered! You’re in London, right? I called the loft, right? Please tell me you’re in London. This is—”

  “Eva. Yes, I know. How are you, love? What has you in such a panic?” He took a swallow of ale, heading back to the chaise.

  “I need a favor,” she said on an exhale. “I’m in Piccadilly doing a charity ball benefiting H.E.R.O. – you know, they house homeless vets around the world, provide job training, and all that? It’s a great cause, and I know you’re a huge supporter of the military . . .” She trailed off to give Bas a moment to reply.

  “I know the charity. I was at a fundraiser for them a few months back in New York. What can I do to help?”

  “I’m running the event, and, well . . .” She sighed. “One of my bachelors has the flu and can’t make it. With you being divorced now—thank God. What were you thinking? Never mind. We’ll get back to that. As I was saying, now that you’re divorced, I was hoping you could maybe fill in for me. Please? I’ll owe you big time!”

  Sebastian cringed. A bachelor auction. He had done a few of those. They were scary, awful, the worst. Woman screaming, rushing the stage, tearing off clothes. He’d been lucky to leave there in his boxers last time. Oh God, no! He couldn’t do it. Fuck no. He just—

  But it’s for a good cause. His mate Jack had had some problems after returning from Iraq; maybe if he’d had something like this, he wouldn’t have ended his life. But fuck, an auction? Couldn’t he just write a check? One of those huge ones . . .

  Sensing the hesitation in his reply, Eva added, “I promise it’ll be different this time. I have security to keep the ladies at bay.”

  “That’s what you said last time, and look how well that turned out! Look, Eva, I’d—”

  “No, no, I promise! It won’t be like last time. I have a new security team, and they are top notch. All of them former military. These guys have protected presidents, royalty! They will keep any ladies from rushing the stage. They will, I swear.”

  With a frustrated groan, Bas spoke. “Fine. When and where? And I’m warning you, if one lady—and I use that term very loosely—sets one toe on that stage, I’m out of there, and I will never, ever, ever do this again. Understood? One toe, Eva, just one wee bit of toe, and I’m gone.”

  A delighted squeal came through the phone. “So you’ll do it? Really? Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

  “Of cour
se I’ll do it. I can never say no to you.”

  She blew out a relieved breath. “I promise it won’t be like last time. This is going to be a classy event. It’s at the Ritz. I’ll need you to be here by, say, 6:30. I’ll text you the details. I’m surprised you didn’t already have plans tonight, though.”

  Bas choked on the last swallow of ale. “What? Wait. Tonight?”

  “Oh, didn’t I say it was tonight? I thought I did. Okay, see you in a few hours. You should be getting that text about now.”

  With that, the line went dead as his mobile chimed an incoming message.

  Oh, this is just fanfuckingtastic. Bas tossed his empty bottle into the recycle bin. He made his way to the bedroom. I hope to God I have a tux here, he thought sourly as he flicked on the light in his dressing room. What am I getting myself into?

  Standing just beyond the threshold, Sebastian looked around. A large section was empty but for the boxes stacked on the floor. He made a mental note to schedule a pick-up with the local charity.

  “When are you coming to collect your belongings?” he had asked Maria as they’d signed the divorce decree.

  “What belongings?”

  “Your clothes, shoes, accessories, and the like.”

  Maria had waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, just do what you will with them. They’re useless to me.”

  “Right, much like the vows you took,” he had muttered bitterly.

  Tearing his gaze from the boxes to his suits hanging in protective bags, he took the few steps over. A quick search confirmed his lack of tuxedo. He settled on a classic Armani suit in charcoal gray with a crisp white linen shirt. He chose his favorite deep teal necktie to finish the look. Bas turned on the steamer before heading for the shower. He’d steam the creases out later.

  Stepping into the shower, Bas considered the multitude of shower heads and controls in the limestone wall. Turning on the rainfall overhead, Bas began showering. He squeezed a dollop of shower gel into his palm and began with his face and neck, moving down along his pecs. A bit of massage sparked an internal debate over the need to have a wank, but he didn’t have the time. He continued washing his body and finished with his hair.

  As he emerged from the shower, he reached for a fluffy tan towel and vigorously rubbed it down his body to dry. Bas wrapped the towel around his waist, taking a second towel to rid his hair of excess water. He went to the dressing table to shave, then he styled his hair. Satisfied with the slightly tousled look and making a mental note he needed a trim, Bas made his way back to his dressing area to steam any creases out of his suit, shirt, and tie.

  Announcing himself fit for the ball in front of his full-length mirror, Sebastian left the dressing area. Stopping just inside his bedroom, he did a quick pat down of his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys? Check, check, and check.

  Bas glanced at his nightstand. After a moment's hesitation, he crossed the room, opened the drawer, and retrieved a strip of condoms. Better safe than sorry.

  ~*~

  Stepping out onto Hugon Road, Bas saw the taxi he had ordered pulling up to the curb. “The Ritz, Piccadilly,” he told the driver after seating himself. Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was already 6:20. He was going to be late. He took out his mobile and texted Eva.

  Bas: OMW just in the taxi now BTS

  Eva: The sooner the better, please

  Bas: Doing my best but not driving the taxi

  Not waiting for the reply sure to come, he stuffed the phone back into the inner breast pocket. Resting his head on the back of the seat, Bas closed his eyes, thinking of different scenarios of what would go wrong tonight.

  Arriving at the venue, Sebastian paid his fare and exited the taxi. He made his way into the hotel lobby at a brisk pace. The lobby was a mass of people milling around with small groups chatting in low voices.

  Bas had little time to take in the posh decor. Walking at a pace just short of a jog, he started down the hallway leading to the ballroom. As he approached the lifts, he heard the ding just prior to the doors opening. He stopped short, and half a dozen women raced out as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. Allowing them a moment to pass, he’d taken a few steps when a very small, very pretty lady walked right into him.

  “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, I . . ..” She became more flustered by the second.

  A soft gasp from behind her briefly shifted his gaze to a slightly younger, nearly identical lady wearing a bemused grin. A sister, perhaps?

  The first woman found her words. “I . . . oh wow, you have beautiful eyes.”

  Regaining eye contact, he thought, and so do you. Sebastian let a small chuckle escape his lips. She really was adorable. “My fault. I apologize, I thought those ladies were the only ones in the lift. I should have waited a bit longer. I’m in a rush, late for the . . .” Pausing as he heard his name called, he looked up to see Eva heading toward him. “Auction. Here comes the ringmaster to collect her dancing monkey. Sorry to cut this short.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he placed a gentle kiss just above her knuckles.

  Where the hell had that come from?

  Taking in her dress, he smiled knowingly. “Perhaps we’ll meet again sometime.” Taking a side step, he started toward Eva. The younger of the two women he’d just left was clearly excited about something, and her high-pitched voice faded with every step.

  “It’s about time you got here,” Eva started.

  Glancing at his watch, he flinched a bit. “Yes, well, I had but a few hours’ notice. Need I remind you I’m doing you the favor here?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. You know I don’t like mishaps or miscues.”

  “Mmhmm. Have no fear. All is well now. As long as we agree, no women rushing the stage.” He lifted one eyebrow, pinning her in his gaze.

  With a slight nod and a smile, she replied, “Including or excluding that lady back there?”

  Bas let out a small chuckle. “Including that lady back there.” He could not picture the adorably flustered lass rushing any stage. Not that he’d mind if she did.

  Eva showed Sebastian to a side conference room turned holding area. Walking into the room, he did the standard nod hello to the few that made eye contact before finding a wall to hold up.

  Chapter 2

  MacKenzie stared at her reflection in the mirror. With a deep sigh, she really looked at herself. In her five-inch heels, she appeared to be of average height, her auburn hair recently cut into a stylish bob. “A new year, a new you, Ma,” Ella had said as she had dragged her to the salon. The cut did look good. It was different. Everything was different . . .

  No, don’t go there. She stopped herself. Continuing with her self-appraisal, she noted her hips were wider than before the three kids. Her stomach was no longer flat, but it was toned. Turning a bit to the side, she took in the size of her ass. Well, at least that’s still looking good. She had a woman’s body, and she was proud of it. Jason had loved her body . . .

  Stop it, MacKenzie pleaded with herself. Not here, not tonight. She waved her hands before her tear-filled eyes in an effort to stop the flow lest she mess up her makeup. She’d just been forced to sit through an hour-long session to put it on, and she didn’t want that to be for nothing.

  She was not a makeup kinda gal. Maybe some eyeliner and mascara, a bit of lip color, that’s all she needed. She shook her head. “An hour and you can barely tell I’m wearing any.” The natural look, Ella had said. Seemed a waste of time, if you asked her.

  No one had asked. She was informed—more like bombarded—by the three people she held most dear. They had attacked her!

  Okay, well, they didn’t exactly attack—perhaps more of an intervention.

  The kids meant well. She knew she should try to move on. Only . . . how? How do you just move on after a lifetime together?

  MacKenzie sank down onto the bed, letting her mind go. She’d met Jason the first day of her freshman year. She had been lost trying to find her class, and the late bell had already sounded. Rushing down a hall
way, she had turned a corner and bam! There was Jason. Her face had landed somewhere around his rock-hard midsection with a dull thump. He’d helped her find her class, asked her for her number, and the rest, as they say, was history.

  Sighing, she went back to the mirror. This was going to be so hard. Not the hardest thing she’d had to do, not by a long shot. No, that honor went to saying goodbye to the man she loved with every breath, the man who had given her three beautiful children, the man she had planned the rest of her life with. But she was still here, and he was not.

  Shaking her head clear of all those thoughts, she took in her costume, for lack of a better term. She felt as if she were playing dress up in the deep purple and black beaded flapper gown. It had a plunging neckline, giving a glimpse of cleavage. She wore a black lace choker with a large tear-shaped amethyst dangling in the center, matching earrings, and a stupid fucking headband with a goddamn feather. MacKenzie was not pleased with the feather, but Ella wanted her to have the full experience.