Bah, Humbug, A M/M Christmas Novel

134

Bah, Humbug

By

Dianna Bell

Bah, Humbug

© 2016, Dianna Bell

Self-publishing

belldianna@ymail.com

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher

This book contains material that is only suitable for mature readers. It contains scenes of a sexual nature between two or more consenting adults. This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places, is purely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

I want to take the time to say a special and heartfelt thank you to C.W. Stevens, my editor. She is a miracle worker, the one person who takes my jumbled thoughts and works her magic so they make sense. Girl you have the patience of a saint, and you are truly an angel. Thank you for all you do, and so selflessly too. I love you.

To my daughter Andrea, this one is for you kiddo, I love you more. Continue to your love of the written word, stories can take you anywhere and everywhere you can imagine. Thank you for your constant support. You are my number one cheerleader, and words cannot express how much your support, your faith, and your unconditional love means to me. Mommy loves you, baby.

Blurb

Whoever said that money can't buy you happiness hit the nail smack-dab on the head. Ellis Carmichael had made his millions before the age of twenty. He'd launched his patented internet site, hotexpectations.com, which was the main go-to social site for gay men to meet other like-minded gay men and mingle. It was a very exclusive, members-only website, used by the gay and bi-curious Sugar Daddies, to discreetly hook up with the Sugar Babies of their dreams. The website had exploded, becoming an almost overnight success.

Now, a little over ten years later and with thousands of matches made, Ellis was one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world. At thirty-four years old he was feeling very much alone at the top of his world. Ellis' mood took a nosedive with the realization that the winter holidays were fast approaching. With it came all the festivities that seemed to rub salt deeper into the gaping wound of his lonely heart.

Especially Christmas, a day that only served to remind him of just how alone he was in his wealthy kingdom. He vowed to skip the tortuous celebrations this year altogether; all those happy people putting themselves in debt by buying gifts, along with all the music and decorations, and especially all the happy couples and loving families that were around every corner you turned.

That was Ellis' plan until one frigid evening after leaving his office, his driver and car nearly plowed over a little vagrant, with stunning green eyes, who was trying to cross the busy city street. Ellis’ heart may be a little jaded, but he was human. He stopped to make sure the boy, who was literally swimming in his much larger, threadbare jacket, was uninjured. The little beauty was protectively clutching a little collection pot for the homeless. Something inside Ellis demanded that he made sure the young man was alright. Little did Ellis realize he had just ran into his Christmas Miracle. There would be no Bah, Humbug for him or his little green-eyed elf this year.

Chapter 1

Good morning, Mr. Carrington. There are several messages you need to address as soon as possible. I’ve forwarded the urgent emails to your inbox, and the remainder you can peruse at you’re at your earliest convenience. Also, I'm pleased to inform you that the reporter with the Daily Review has completed his interview from the latest matched pair from the website, Evan and Matthew. It went splendidly last night at the restaurant you suggested.

The only piece they have left to do is the interview with the remaining, still-single sugar babies, and the meeting will take place over the weekend. Stephanie finally finished her morning spiel as she came to a halt in the middle of my pristine, gray-on-white office suite, her tablet held firmly in her dainty hand.

Stephanie is my Personal Assistant; a really gorgeous woman with a cloud of mahogany curls she usually kept swept back into a severe bun. Her bright, blue eyes flashed her intelligence for all to see. Her delicate bone structure only added to her beauty. She wasn’t particularly tall, and she had curves enough to drive any man within viewing distance to take more than a few appreciative glances in her direction. She would have definitely caught my eye if I swung for her team, but I liked my bed partners slender, pretty, smooth, and sporting a mouth-watering cock between their legs.

Stephanie had been with me since the early stages of my business, when I was trying to get it off the ground and make a name for myself in the industry. Since then, my unique dating website, hotexpectations.com, has become successful enough for me to take over the penthouse suites of the city’s prestigious downtown Magnate Tower building. My office suites alone took up almost half the top floor. The elegantly designed office spaces boasted a sweeping view of downtown with all its flashy billboards, high-end shops, and other office buildings as far as the eye could see.

My ever-efficient PA usually began her day long before I set foot in the building. She usually wound up trotting behind me from the moment I stepped off my private elevator and entered my inner sanctum. Stephanie would take my coat, scarf, and gloves and hang them in the coat closet, behind the office door. Today was no different than any other day. She performed her usual welcoming ritual while bringing me up to date on everything I needed to know.

Shrugging out of my dark gray Brooks Brothers suit jacket, I hung it on the back of my chair before taking a seat behind my massive desk. I picked up my waiting, steaming-hot cup of coffee and took a blissful first sip of the gourmet roasted beverage and sighed with contentment. I thought to myself, I must remember to give this woman a raise. Not only was she extremely efficient in running my office, but she also took care of me like an errant but well-adored little brother. Stephanie wasn’t intimidated or scared of my brooding personality, or my rapid-fire mood swings.

Even though I didn’t feel like smiling about anything this morning I made sure to thank her for everything she does, with a bright smile plastered on my face. Then I dismissed her until further notice. On her way out the door, I asked her retreating form to hold my calls and close my office door behind her for the time being. I needed a minute to clear my mind and my melancholy mood in order to get down to the task of taking care of my business.

Shaking my head at myself, I needed to regroup after my escapades last night as well. I had high hopes for the sweet little blond I’d brought home. I'd wanted him and his tight little body to be able to fill the ever-growing void of whatever it was settling into my very soul, or to at least offer some kind of reprieve to this dark, depressive cloud settling over me, effectively bringing my mood down. It’s been pulling at me for the last couple of months. The young man had been a perfect specimen of what I’m usually attracted to. He was slender, sweet, and pretty; right up my alley with a nice, rounded tight ass. By the end of the night, he was just another unremarkable distraction in a long line of many.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame the pretty little thing for the obvious rut I’ve found myself in, nor was I disappointed in his performance. He’d allowed me to do whatever I wanted to that hot little body of his. The petite little cutie had taken a brutal fucking without complaint, but as soon I my slid my dick out of his tight little bubble butt, the emptiness within me returned with a vengeance. I ended up sending him on his merry little way, with a promise to give him a call that I’d never make.

You would think by owning and acting as CEO of my very successful dating website, dedicated to matching gay men to each other, that I would be leading by example; living my own happily-ever-after, with my perfect match. But I wasn’t. I’d never used hotexpectations.com for myself because the site matched sugar babies to their ideal sugar daddies. Those men were all looking for a range of different things in the relationships they were seeking. This was the complete opposite of what I was looking for in a life partner. I haven’t been able to find that special person who would be attracted to the real me and not my bank account.

I wanted my someone special. A love interest with the ability to see that I’m a person with feelings, a person capable of being hurt and feeling lonely even though I'm supposedly living the American dream. My money could buy me anything my heart desired, but it couldn’t help me find the love capable of filling the empty slot in my life, my home, and my heart. So fuck it. I just gave up looking altogether and filled my nights with unknowns, body after body, to scratch whatever itch I may have had from time to time.

Releasing a deep sigh, I tried to shake off my despondent mood. With my coffee cup still in hand, I swiveled around in my chair and peered through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the busy city square, twenty-five stories below my office suites. All I could really see were those damned flashy Christmas decorations popping up all over the city since Thanksgiving passed a week ago.

Getting to work was bad enough on a regular day, but the commute was made even worse with traffic being detoured for the fucking yearly Thanksgiving Day parade. Now the frenzy of Christmas was slowly taking over the hustle and bustle of the already busy city as well. All those festivities were just another reminder I had no one other than my staff to hand out presents and holiday bonuses to. There was no one special for me to spoil during this season of giving.

Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that every restaurant in the city was open no matter which holiday it was, I would have spent Thanksgiving by myself, or being coddled by Stephanie’s family yet again this year. My mother had long since passed away and my father has never laid eyes on me. The unknown man had taken off the minute my mom told the bastard she was pregnant.

She had raised me single-handedly, but cancer had taken her away from me long before I was able to lavish my wealth on her. I've been alone since the ripe old age of nineteen, and I have remained alone to this very day. Yeah, I should be happy as hell to be a bachelor, responsible for no one other than myself, but I'm not. I want someone special to share it all with. What was it all worth if I just went home day after day to an empty mansion, took exotic trips alone with nobody to talk to, no one to share my problems and my triumphs with?

Bah… I groaned out loud and swiveled my chair back around to face my desk. I slammed the now empty cup down on the lacquered surface and began going through my messages. I answered all my emails and gathered the notes on the phone calls Stephanie needed to return today. I was just signing the last document when I heard her tentative knock on my door.

Yes, come in, I called loud enough for her to hear me. She opened the door and made her way over to my desk. Her fashionable heels clicked against the high-gloss, slate-gray marble tiles as she made her way to the pristine white leather chairs in front of my desk.

Hey boss, the Daily Review sent over a copy of last night's taped interview. They plan to air it on Friday, she informed me as she slipped an encased DVD disc onto the corner of my desk.

I sat back in my chair and tapped my Montblanc fountain pen against my bottom lip. Why do you think they chose this time of year over all the other time frames to conduct interviews about gay dating? Especially an in-depth piece about rich, older gay men dating younger, less than wealthy men? I originally agreed to this fiasco because . . . let’s face it. It’s wonderful publicity for the business. But I can’t help feel like there’s going to be some sort of negative repercussions from it. I voiced my fears to not only my PA, but my friend as well.

Stephanie flipped her dark chocolate tresses over her shoulder before she replied. Ellis, you know as well as I do that there is always going to be negative reactions towards the website for several reasons. The main reason being, it is a homosexual dating site. Secondly, it’s going to be perceived as an online engine for rich, gay men to prey on younger, more vulnerable men.

"This negative perception of what we are actually doing and trying to accomplish is why I encouraged you to allow these interviews. Stop worrying. People are going to hear the in-depth opinions and experiences from all sides and all parties involved, and from the clients who use the site. The only problem I have with the situation is your refusal to be interviewed."

I rolled my eyes at her. I should have known she'd bring up the topic yet again. I'm not going over this again. It’s bad enough it’s being said I am running some kind of online brothel. The good church folks are shouting to God and all of creation that I'm using technology to lure wholesome young men down the deviant path of money and sodomy.

I slowly shook my head at her. Now you want me to plaster my face out there for all those lunatics to see me and be able to recognize me. You might as well paint a big-ass target on my back so they can shoot me on sight. I'm proud of my business, and like you said, all parties are adults. I'm just providing a channel for people to meet other like-minded individuals who are looking for whatever it is they’re looking for, together. I see nothing wrong with it, but evidently others don't share those same views on the subject. I finished on a frustrated sigh.

To be as frank as I possibly can, I don’t want my face out there. I don’t want to be publicly known. I like the fact that I'm able to run to my corner deli without being mobbed. I like the fact that I still have my privacy, and I want to keep it that way. That’s why I pay you, my public relations department, and team of lawyers an obscene amount of money to be my public face and voice. I handed her my now empty cup for a refill and the notes she needed to answer my remaining messages.

She held up her free hand, "Alright, alright. I'll stop pushing you to do the interview and make it known to the network that there will be no chance of them getting one