Once the place is that full, we just lock the door and pull down the blinds… “We can have a hundred horny guys in here on a busy Saturday. Once those doors are locked, anything goes in here, my friend…. Then he looks directly at me, and his eyes pin me to the spot. He wipes the bar top down slowly, with studied intent. I don’t know where you stand on that kind of thing…. “Well… it might sound a bit forward, but why don’t we halve the expense and share a room? We’re both quids in that way.” I think I’m gonna do the same thing myself…”
I’d be a danger to anyone behind a wheel right now…” “I saw a poster out there, selling rooms here for thirty five quid a night. We are obviously both in the same boat, to be fair. Callum still has two hundred miles or so to drive, and he is pretty much done in. His name was Callum, and he was just coming home after a tour of duty in Cyprus.
But he gave me a genuine smile of gratitude, and sat at the next table to me. By the time I had got to him to help, he was already half up, obviously dazed and shaken.
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He slid on a patch of spilled coffee that had been just left there and slammed down toward the floor like a felled tree, just feet from me. His kit bag was slung over his shoulder and his eyes were like lead.
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I was sitting hunched over a coffee that had the consistency of diesel fuel when a short, tanned soldier walked in wearing full uniform. Jorge scanned me from head to toe in a second and, as I sagged into the water, he flashed me a polite, almost welcoming smile. And then his eyes locked on to me as I grabbed the rail on the tub’s edge. He swept the entire area around him with a long, intense stare. I padded slowly towards the tub, and his eyes lowered to take in the view. And, god help me, that was just the part I could see above the water. He looked like something straight out of a weapons grade porn DVD. He sat there in the tub, his artwork of a torso beaded with rivulets of water. Jorge’s chest was dusted with a smattering of light, short hairs that fanned out towards his rose blush nipples.
His mouth was a thin, cool line etched between pert, plump lips as inviting as the hot tub itself. You could read a guy like that just from the way that the light danced in his eyes. But they were incredibly expressive, open and alive. He had short, spiky hair the colour of an ink black night, and eyes not much lighter. He looked like some kind of stunning water sculpture that had just dropped out of the sky. He was slouched in a languid sprawl across the whole back of the hot tub, with his tanned arms splayed on the sides and his head thrown back, staring up at the ceiling. I first saw Jorge in the Jacuzzi near the pool. This latest collection features three long stories full of explicit sexual encounters.
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