Revolting
Chapter 53 -

Chapter Fifteen - Date Night William

Trying to cultivate a relationship with an alpha from another pack was no easy task. It seemed like every day one or both of us was too busy with pack duties to be able to spend time together. A full week passed before we were able to coordinate an actual date together. We had exchanged a few video calls and a few texts, but I was feeling pretty flat about the whole thing by the time he called me to say he had tickets to see some comedian that was performing at the theater in town.

I made arrangements with Shane to make sure I was free for the night, and then went to prepare myself. A hot shower to get the wolf-stink off from training, a quick shave to make sure my face was smooth, brushed my teeth to make sure my breath was good. As this was our first time out together, I kept my clothes fairly conservative, and opted for a black button-down, with a pair of gold cuff links to dress it up a bit.

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, as this was an all-new deal for me. This wasn't some guy I met at the club. This guy didn't drive a Volvo or work as an accountant. This was an Alpha. In fact, he pulled up in front of our packhouse in a flaming red Mustang and those shades that hid his eyes. The fact that he was dressed almost identical to me didn't escape my notice... but somehow the all-black ensemble looked totally different on him than it did on me. He looked dark and dangerous and mysterious, while I... I guess I just look like a blond playboy.

"Nice ride," I commented as I approached the vehicle.

"Yeah," he flashed me that devilish grin, "this is my baby." He patted the roof of the car lovingly. "Surprisingly, one of the few sports cars that I actually fit in, being so tall and all."

I opened the door myself and slid into the passenger side. Indeed, my long legs fit nicely, as long as no one needed to fit into the back seat. I don't have a lot of experience with sports cars. Back home, my father had favored practicality over fun, so all the pack vehicles were SUVs. Michael put the pedal down and was soon cruising down the back roads so fast that the trees were a blur, and he was leaving a trail of dust behind us that looked like a smoke trail. I gripped the armrest and pretended not to be uneasy as he expertly steered around the potholes and navigated sharp turns with squealing tires. I didn't want to look like some scared little weenie, but... my heart was in my throat most of the drive. He didn't slow down till we got close to the city limits, and the probability of meeting a local cop grew very high.

Silence stretched awkwardly between us. For some reason I was feeling nervous, like a virgin out on my first date again. That wasn't me, as I'm normally cool and confident and in control. But Michael had that effect on me. It was like being in the presence of a superstar, or a billionaire, or quite possibly the sexiest man in the world. The silence didn't seem to bother him at all. Occasionally he would glance at me and quirk a smile, making my heart skip a beat... whether it was because he was aiming his charm at me or because he had taken his eyes off the road, I'm not sure.

Finally, we pulled on to Central street, where traffic had backed up due to the big-name show that was performing for one night only. The theater had set up valet parking, and Michael smoothly pulled his mustang up to the podium. Strangely enough, the uniformed man in charge of the vehicles seemed to know Michael. "Welcome Mr. Bishop. Always a pleasure to see you."

"Jack, looks like you got a great turn out tonight," Michael said, casually tossing him the keys, "This is my friend, William Pierceson."

"Welcome, Mr. Pierceson," the valet gave me an appraising look, like he was sizing up the competition, which made me wonder exactly what kind of relationship he had with Michael. I had to make a conscious effort to tamp down any feelings of jealousy that were threatening to surface. It was just a first date, unless you count our day at the lake. It was too soon to be staking any claims. Especially if we were just going to engage in a casual relationship. We hadn't even discussed whether this would be an open or a closed relationship. I simply smiled innocently at the man and let Michael take me by the hand and lead me toward the old theater.

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Michael was making it obvious to everyone with eyes that he and I were not simply friends. He held my hand until we entered the building. Then as we navigated the crowded lobby, he slipped a hand around my back, and pulled me closer to him in a way that seemed strangely more intimate than holding hands in public. It was somewhat protective and more than a little possessive. He steered us toward the VIP section. Again, he was apparently a familiar patron of the theater, as the woman posted in front of the VIP entrance practically melted at his feet. "Oh, Mr. Bishop! I'm so glad you came. Right this way please, your usual seats... please enjoy the show."

"You must come here often," I observed, as several more human patrons greeted Michael with familiarity. It was a little unusual for a werewolf to have such a well-known presence in a human town. The more people you surround yourself with, the harder it becomes to keep your identity a secret.

"I believe in hiding in plain sight," Michael said with ease as he guided me down the aisle to one of the roomy, VIP seats in the very front. If you ask me, it was a little too close. I felt like we would be looking straight up into the performer's nostrils from our position in front of the stage. But Michael only looked smug and satisfied as he thumbed through a program while we waited for the show to start.

There were signs posted all over that said "no eating or drinking", but still Michael and I were given flutes of champagne to sip before the show. A uniformed waiter came and whisked the glasses away before the lights went down. The performer was a famous Hollywood personality, and before long we were laughing so hard that my sides hurt. I couldn't help but notice that Michael had a deep belly laugh that was just as sexy as he was. I, on the other hand, may have snorted a couple of times.

We were about half way through the performance when I felt his warm hand make its way to my thigh. I pretended not to notice and kept my eyes glued to the comedian on the stage. In reality, every fiber of my being was zoned in on that huge hand, waiting with wild anticipation to see what he was going to do. For long, agonizing minutes, he did nothing. He just rested that paw on my thigh like he had every right to touch me.

Then, by slow degrees, his finger tips started to stroke my inner thigh through my slacks. Slow, small circles, almost as if he were making the motion absentmindedly, and wasn't really aware of what he was doing to me. But oh no, he knew exactly what he was doing... and his strokes grew bolder, and more purposeful. While people in the audience were doubled over laughing, I had completely lost interest in the performance. All of my attention was on the hand that was creeping up my inseam, drawing small, electrifying circles on my inner thigh, inching ever closer to the growing bulge in my crotch.

Just as fellow theater goers broke out in applause and cheers for a particularly good set, Michael's hand found my erection, and I went stiff in my seat, hissing in a breath. Any pretense I had made of being unaffected by his touch was blown away as he slowly stroked my length. He leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Hell, yes," I whispered back. If he kept doing what he was doing, I was going to embarrass myself in my pants, right there in public.

He stood and held his hand out to me, and we made our way towards the exit. The woman at the door stopped us. "Is everything okay, Mr. Bishop? The show is not over yet," she whispered.

"Sorry Helen, my friend has an emergency, and we need to leave." Yeah, an emergency in my pants.

"Oh of course, so sorry, Sir." She opened the door just wide enough for us to slip out, trying her best not to disturb the rest of the house with our exit.

Michael pulled me straight out the front doors toward the Valet parking area. This time as we approached the man at the podium, Michael put himself slightly in front of me, using his body to block the other man's view of me. "We're leaving now, if you could please bring my car, Jack." Michael said, in a tone that was neither apologetic nor questionable. Human Jack knew better than to do anything but find the keys and fetch the Mustang. But from the unhappy look on his face, I guessed that he knew perfectly well WHY we were leaving the theater early. I felt a little proud as Michael handed me into the car and then went around to his own side.

I didn't have the balls to ask him where he was taking me. I thought perhaps we would go back to his packhouse. But instead, he pulled up outside of an upscale hotel just on the outskirts of town. He parked the car and turned to face me. "I hope you don't mind... but if we go back to my place, there are bound to be a million interruptions. At least here we can have some privacy," his eyes stroked down my body, "And get to know each other a little better."