<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Sebastian </span></div><br/>"What are you doing here?”<br/><br/>The question was murmured under his breath as he climbed up the steps and began moving towards the set of grand doors leading into the charity event. While he walked his large calloused hands pulled at the monkey suit he was wearing. The expensive silk and cotton blend of the Armani suit felt loose on his body. In his mind he knew that there was nothing wrong with the suit, that it was perfectly tailored to his hulking muscular physique. He couldn’t have asked or paid for a better suit.<br/><br/>The problem was that it felt like a lie. The little voice in his head couldn’t help but remind him that he would be happier in a pair of ripped jeans and a frayed well-worn white beater. Just the thought of being dressed like that and being back at home nursing his favorite beer made a ghost of a smile flit across Sebastian’s face. Seconds later it was replaced by annoyance.<br/><br/>HE worked hard for this money, worked hard to turn a fledging construction company into a powerhouse. The success he was having in his life was because of his own skill and actions. He deserved this (well maybe not charity galas SPECFICALLY) and earned it unlike a lot of the other rich SOBs he dealt with.<br/><br/>He pushed forward stepping into whatever fundraiser or charity event his so called “friends” pushed him to go to. He easily pushed through the crowds his large bulk and calloused large hands pushing people to the side left and right. He easily made his way towards the main hall the one with the large dance floor and the drinks were already flowing. He situated himself towards the back of the area picking a spot where he could see everyone and everything but didn’t have to worry about some one sneaking up on him.<br/><br/>He tipped the waitress coming by generously A. Because he felt for anyone in service and B. He wanted to stay in her mind when she was making the rounds with fresh drinks. He nursed his scotch taking slow carefully measured sips of the amber drink as he watched the crowds go by.<br/><br/>…………………………………………………..<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Alexander</span></div><br/>“So what do you think?”<br/><br/>Alexander huffed shaking his head from side as he glanced back over at his new friend Oscar.  Oscar was something of an interesting player in the world the young cook suddenly found himself in. He was for all extent and purposes a professional boy toy.  He kept an endless string of older women and young heiress in his little black book to buy him things. Alex didn’t understand how it worked. He was attractive enough with his tan Latin skin and his rock-hard body but how did all these women get so comfortable sharing and buying things for him?<br/><br/>Whatever it was that Oscar had he thought Alexander was capable of the same. Ever since the two met at one of Alexanders cooking events Oscar seemed to think it was his personal mission to turn Alexander into a stud gigolo like him. No matter how many times Alex told him that he had more than enough money. He was investing like crazy using the large checks he got from the various rich and famous for his cooking. Every personal cooking gig he took was invested and spent wisely.<br/><br/>“I think the charity event is important.” He remarked refusing to speak any about the OTHER thing he was asking. Instead he simply shook his head and reached out to snag an appetizer from a passing waitress. He popped it into his mouth chewing on it and testing out the flavor before making a face. He rolled his shoulders causing the rented tux he was wearing to wrinkle slightly.<br/><br/>“Though the catering leaves much to desire…”<br/>