Page 3 of Doubting Hearts

“Yeah, right, maybe when you sleep.” She grinned. “Actually, I think that young man from the RAF base may be coming in tonight, the one who fancies you? Cute little Mikey? I think you should definitely take him in hand later and bend him over or let him bend you over—” Her double entendres were not wasted on me.

“Right, that’s enough,” I said coolly even as my face flushed. Tammy giggled, her hands waving around in glee, her dark-brown bob shaking as she laughed.

“He just loves you, Toby. His eyes follow you everywhere you go.

We all think it’s really sweet.”

“He’s only about twenty years old, for God’s sake,” I said in exasperation. “It’d be like fucking a kid.”

Tammy’s eyes widened, and I bit my tongue. One of the things I did not share with her were my sexual exploits, minimal though they were at the moment. Her insatiable questions about who was on top and who was on the bottom and what exactly did we do as gay men when we were in bed together were a constant source of discussion. “So you—err—you actually penetrate—” Her words were cut off by my hand across her mouth.

“Never you mind, missy,” I said silkily. “I need to get back to work.” I removed my hand and walked toward the door.

“God, that is so hot,” she breathed. “The thought of you and some guy actually going at it like that.”

I shook my head, looking at her in disbelief. “What is it with you straight women and your fascination with gay-man sex? I’ve seen those bloody books you read. What’s that all about?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it, buster,” she giggled. “The reading, I mean. Suffice it to say that they are scorching, and we ladies can’t get enough of them. Straight men like woman-on-woman action—what’s wrong with it being the other way around?”

“When I’m in your fantasies” was my parting shot. “It makes me feel a little uncomfortable, Tam.” I walked out into the reception area, nodding at the relief receptionist, Stacy, sitting behind the desk. She smiled. Tammy continued with her diatribe in earshot of anyone close by.

“Toby, darling, you know you look so hot in my fantasies. You have the tightest arse I’ve ever seen on a man. You’re a real dreamboat, you are, my little Max.”

I chuckled at that even as Stacy’s eyes grew rounder. I swore she eyed my arse as I walked away into the foyer. So did the guy standing behind the reception desk waiting to be served. Oh, the joys of having a decent rear. Her reference to Max was one I’d been told before. Some people thought I looked a lot like the actor Max Irons, which was a great compliment, I thought.

I looked at my watch. It was almost 7:00 p.m. Simon would be at me to take the time off and leave the nighttime running of the place to the evening duty manager, the man I thought of as my “understudy.” Chris Mortimer was a decent enough fill-in, but I still didn’t let go of anything that was going on. I saw Chris chatting to someone over in the lounge. He nodded at me, and I nodded back.

Tammy waved as she left to go home. “See you tomorrow, Toby,” she said cheerily. I waved back, making my way up the winding staircase of the lobby to the second floor. My self-contained living quarters were on the opposite side of the hotel, in a small wing that overlooked the street. I let myself into my comfortable but spartanly furnished two-room “suite,” heaving a sigh of relief as I loosened my tie. I had a comfortable, open- plan lounge/bedroom, with space for my double bed and a couple of large beanbags on the floor. I sat there when I wanted to watch my big screen telly mounted on the wall. If I didn’t get to record The Walking Dead I was inconsolable. There was something about mindless zombie movies I enjoyed, and I had a real man crush on Andrew Lincoln. There was a small dining-room table in the corner with a chair covered with clutter.

I had a bathroom off the living area, with a shower, a bath, which was a real luxury, and the usual amenities. I moved to the window, gazing down into the street below. It was still light outside, and sunset wouldn’t be for another couple of hours.

I changed into a pair of sweats. I sighed, noticing they hung off my hips rather loosely. I thought guiltily I really wasn’t eating properly and had probably lost some weight. All I wanted to do now was order room service, watch the evening news and unwind. As I changed, I wondered how things had gone with Simon and Mrs. Mountjoy. I still felt angry. Most of the staff in the hotel knew I was gay. I’d never hidden it, but I didn’t broadcast it. Since I’d broken up with Trevor, the pickings in town for gay-men hookups were slim. I’d intended going into Leicester to one of the gay clubs to find like-minded males, but I’d never really had time. If truth be told, I wasn’t into the whole nightclub and bar thing anyway. Of course, there was always Mikey. But I’d feel like a chicken hawk taking that one down. It depended, I supposed, on how desperate I was getting. I wasn’t far off level five, which was the highest in my book.

The TV was on the Gold Channel, and I watched, intrigued, as a bunch of half-naked men cavorted on the beach in some volleyball tournament. It looked like Baywatch. The men’s well-oiled muscles glistened as their arse cheeks tightened, and I could definitely see myself taking a fancy to one or two of them.

“Down, boy,” I murmured as I caressed my rapidly rising erection. “Time to play later in the shower. I need to eat now. How does a Brie and crispy bacon sandwich take your fancy?”

Being Mr. Cocky, he didn’t reply, but I decided his silence was acquiescence. I ordered food from the kitchen and sat down to read a book. About fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. I looked up in surprise. Normally it took at least half an hour for Jerome to fix me up, seeing as how I was staff and took second place behind customers’ orders. I opened the door in just my sweats, expecting to see the cheeky face of the young busboy, Alan, standing there. It threw me when I found my boss on my doorstep. It was a rare occurrence, probably only about the third time he’d been up here. He glanced briefly at my naked chest, and I felt a little exposed. He regarded my low-slung pants fleetingly, and I thought he swallowed. I felt a shimmer of apprehension in my belly at the greedy look in his eyes. That and a frisson of something else that wasn’t entirely unwelcome and started in my groin. My world tilted.

“Simon? Come in. I didn’t expect to see you.” I stood awkwardly, not really knowing how to handle these new emotions surging through my being.

Christ, what the fuck is wrong with me? I must be really bloody desperate.

He smiled and walked into my room. “Obviously. I’m sorry to interrupt what you were doing.” He raised an eyebrow at me, and I felt like a small boy who’d been caught masturbating in his bed. This man had that effect on me.

“Uhm, I’ll just get a tee shirt on—”

He waved an airy hand. “Don’t bother, Toby. It’s your time off. You don’t have to stand on ceremony for me.” He plonked himself down in my easy chair, leaving me to hastily drag on a shirt out of respect, then sit down on the bed. I noticed a slightly crestfallen look in his eyes as I did so.

Christ, did he just look disappointed I got dressed? Crap. I must be seeing things. At least that’s what I wanted to believe. The fact I was finding my boss attractive was really starting to scare me. I hadn’t felt this before in our years together.

He spoke gently. “I wanted to check on you. That bloody woman downstairs was being a real pain, and I could see you were getting riled. Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine, Simon. I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I thought I was beyond all that shit.”

“One is never beyond ‘all that shit,’ Toby. That horrible woman was testing even my patience.” He smiled like a shark about to bite a surfer’s leg off for fun. “But I think I managed to placate her. She got a free stay here, an invitation to the Butterfly Dining Room for dinner, and a few choice phrases from me from the Bible about suffering one’s unfortunate fellow man to live.” He grinned, his face looking younger. “I find that always helps when dealing with people like her, however distasteful it is pandering to their whims. It’s the nature of the beast we find ourselves with, unfortunately.” He leaned back comfortably and observed me.

“So, you’re okay then? I can’t have my right-hand man in a state about homophobic comments made by a stupid, ignorant woman.”