Page 14 of Freddie

“I have to go, but I’ll see you later? 8pm okay?” he asks again, looking a little sheepish. I take my hand and place it on his cock that’s covered in those tight leather pants, and he groans but doesn’t act on it. He must like the buildup because my cock is rearing its head to see if there’s another round up for grabs.

“Yeah, big bear, see you later,” I grin like an idiot as I watch him adjust himself then head to the exit. He turns just as the door unlocks and a waft of cold air comes into the sex-scented meeting room.

“Wear those gloves later, I want to see them on my cock,” he confesses and then, with a chuckle reminiscent of a naughty schoolboy, he’s out of the room and off down the hall.

“Fuuuuuuck me,” I say on an exhale as I try to piece together what the fuck just happened. Could things be looking up? I don’t want to get my hopes up, but Simmons seemed genuine, and who knows, a man with a membership to Nyctra must live in the same city, which meant he lived in the same city as me. Maybe I’d be seeing more of my honey bear. I could and would dream.

The intensity of just a hand job from him only confirms for me my original theory on if I had gone to work with Benji back in 2020, I could not stop myself catching feelings. Not when men like Simmons exist.

Chapter 16

Simmons

The steam follows me out of the ensuite as I make my way to the bed where my clothes for tonight are waiting for me. I scrub at my hair to dry it, leaving the rest of my body to drip-dry. Being as hairy as I am, it’s just easier to let nature do the work for me.

I pad across the suite to check my phone as I hear a knock on the door. I quickly check my watch. 7.45pm. Freddie’s early, that was okay though. The sooner I could get my hands back on him, the better. I wasn’t going to argue. Quickly jumping into my sweatpants, the nicer clothes forgotten, I throw open the door with my sexiest grin as I lean against the frame cross-legged.

“Hi, I have a note for a… Simmons?” A young guy staring at me from gold-rimmed glasses that are far too big for his small face says to me.

I look around him, then do a swift check left and right. Hmm… no Freddie. Then my brain comes back online.

“A note?” I ask the kid in front of me. His hand is outstretched with an envelope that I now realise he’s been holding the whole of this interaction.

“Oh, yeah, I’m Simmons,” I tell him with a frown as I take the note from his manicured hand. He turns to take off but looks at me over his shoulder.

“If it were me, I would have shown up,” he says, making no effort to hide the fact that he's slowly checking me out, ending it with a wink. Then he’s gone, having turned the corner to where the lifts are. Okay, then.

I stare at the envelope, still confused who else apart from Freddie would know my room number, and the feeling of dread washes over me with a side of hurt. I kick the door closed and sit on the edge of the bed to tear the note open and read it.

hey big bear,

I’m really sorry but I have to raincheck our booty call

the devil works hard, but I work harder ;)

I’ve stuck my number at the bottom, dont be stranger

one of these days you’ll dick me down!

for now, apologies to Simmons junior

speak soon

Freddie

8=====D

Did he sign his name with a… dick? I snort as I shake my head. What a brat. Gutted as I am, I’m glad to have his number finally. I felt a genuine connection to Freddie when we first met, and then the second and third time too. There’s just something about him that pulls me in. I re-read the note a couple more times and even attempt to hear his thick accent as I do but even in my mind, I can’t do it justice. Maybe if we start chatting, he will send me sexy voice notes. Putting the note on the side table, I reach for the minibar, my mind now on spending the night flicking through hotel TV channels and drinking the minibar dry at Burt's expense.

As if my thoughts have reached the man himself, my phone vibrates with an incoming call from him. I break the neck of the small vodka and pour it into the glass I found when brushing my teeth this morning.

“Hey, how’s your mama? Baking away, I hope,” I tease as I sip the haughty spirit.

“You know she always is, Simmons. I wanted to call. Check in. How was the interview? I’m not coming home to be cancelled, am I?”

I know he is just kidding, but a part of me worries as I think back to the interview. Was I inappropriate? Was I professional enough? When I found out it was Freddie doing the interview, everything fell away and all that mattered was being with him in the same room with no one else around.

“I felt it went well. I answered the questions as best I could. It didn’t deviate too much from the ones I was sent beforehand, and the interviewer was kind and not too intrusive.”