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Phoenix by Raye Johnsen Chapter 4 Raoul sat and watched the clock shred his nerves, ticking away the seconds till his meeting with Katze. I can't believe I'm so nervous, he thought. This is my territory. He's reacting to my actions. He took a deep breath. I know what I'm doing, he thought, trying to convince himself. "Good afternoon." Raoul relaxed. He must be getting used to Katze's silent entrances. Katze, for his part, was slightly piqued. He'd been looking forward to Raoul's discomfiture, for both amusement and profit, and this calm thwarted that. Oh well, it simply meant the man was becoming easy in his skin - and that was no bad thing. Tanagura can have only one master, he thought obscurely. "Good afternoon," Raoul responded. He felt strangely disappointed at the unremitting politeness he and Katze used toward each other. The mannerly greetings, the formal phrases - the saccharine shields he and Iason had used to hide the daggers within treaties and the contempt they felt for the foreign diplomats. He felt obscurely irritated using them with Katze. But there was nothing else to use. "Are you prepared?" "Indeed. And you?" "I am prepared to negotiate." Both looked at each other. The silence burnt between them. Go on, speak, Katze willed Raoul. Give me something to respond to! He stared, unconsciously memorizing the long, lean body, the wide shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist, giving an impression of a too-thin body with not enough flesh on his bones; studying the long sweep of yellow hair, darker than Iason's, the dark sapphire of his eyes sad and rich and bright. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen, Katze thought suddenly, knowing it for truth, and felt a slight ache at the thought that he no longer felt so about Iason. Iason had been harsher in face and more symmetrical in form; nobody would feel that Iason was too fragile for responsibility. Iason had a very masculine attractiveness - but, Katze was forced to admit, none of Raoul's androgynous beauty. Raoul, for his part, took note of Katze's intent study. Not going to break the ice, are you? he thought, and eventually cleared his throat. A shock tactic is called for. "For starters, I require that the black and grey markets withdraw completely from Tanagura proper." "That is unacceptable!" Katze replied, shocked. Raoul shrugged. "Then start talking. We neither of us have time to waste." "Agreed." Katze drew a chair up to the desk and laid down a small disk, a match for the one Raoul already had on the desk. While Katze sat down and began loading up the files from his disk onto Raoul's monitor, Raoul gave him a covert examination. Shorter and more slight than Raoul himself, with clear grey eyes and fine red hair, chopped off raggedly. A face smooth and delicate, marred only by the scar snaking down one cheek. Blank and unmarked, this face; it was a face used to hiding secrets. Raoul frowned; he disliked not being able to read his opponents. "I had thought this..." Katze began. Raoul turned to the monitor. An hour later, Katze honestly wanted to ball up one of the printouts and throw it at that Blondie bimbo's head. Well, maybe that was too uncontrolled. He definitely wanted to do something, though! Raoul would not compromise on the rates of tariff, nor on the police patrols. And he kept demanding a lessening of the number of infractions and petty theft. He didn't seem to want to understand that the thieves in question were in many cases kids attempting to eat! Katze blinked and regretted - again - his earlier study of Raoul. Now he was aware of the Elite - his beauty, his intelligence, his strength - and concentrating was proving difficult indeed. Raoul honestly wanted to drop a paperweight on Katze's foot. Well, maybe that was too juvenile and uncouth. He definitely wanted to do something, though! Katze would not compromise on the amount on petty infractions that were edging up the statistics. Granted, they made up 90 percent of the black market, but still a reduction in the rates wouldn't cripple anyone! And he kept demanding a lowering of tariffs! He didn't seem to want to understand that taxes are a necessary part of life. Raoul moved till he was standing beside Katze, leaning over the monitor. "See this graph," he said, pointing. "As you can see, the tariffs are important for the maintenance of the public transport services..." He tried not to remember his earlier review of the way the man had looked, the delicacy of the form contrasting with the strength of his body and will, and instead concentrate on the business at hand. Now was not the time for sexuality... Raoul bent forward a little too far, and his body brushed lightly against Katze's side. He gasped as his chest brushed lightly - too lightly, not lightly enough - against Katze's arm. The contact gave rise to electricity that Raoul had never felt before, scorching across his skin and igniting a fire through his nerves that he didn't understand. Katze had been aware of Raoul's proximity from the moment the other man had bent over the desk. Then he had leant over a little too far and brushed against Katze. The shock that ran through him - from his arm, of all places - had caused him to lean back and suck in a deep breath. He recognised the fire; he'd last felt it the night Iason had discovered his hacking, the night he'd got his scar, the fire that an ex-Furniture like him was never supposed to feel. He swivelled his body up, away from the desk, just as Raoul bent down towards him, and their lips met. Wide blue eyes stared into wide grey eyes; cheeks coloured and paled; and lips brushed, pressed, almost parted but pressed back again. Tongues stroked, entwined, danced, retreated and advanced. Which took whose arms? Which drew who up? Neither knew; neither cared. All they knew was the blazing flame that had suddenly lit itself between them, the electric shock that somehow no longer shocked them but rather enhanced the heat, as they gave in to their unrecognised desires with their first, clumsy, passionate kiss.
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