Come Di(n)e With Me, page 14
He was happy to get a bit of bare flesh in his legs, obviously, his stomach and chest, but he’d never show his face. He was also smart enough to hide as much of the bedroom as possible, not that Sam would ever accidentally stumble across his adverts, mind.
Once he was done taking pictures, he opened Reddit and got to work.
SELLING- £200 – Uncut Paramedic – Selling used, fucked-in underwear. Other pairs available. First cum, first served. Also open to requests.
He posted several of the best pictures and then repeated the process on two other websites. After that, he had another pair from Wednesday to post, and he also thought he’d try a white t-shirt today as well. He’d never sold a top before, so would do a bit of research first. He’d have to check to see if it was likely to sell for more money after being used as a spaff-rag or not. Maybe he could sleep in it, or go for a run in it instead?
***
An hour later, and still flustered, Sam hadn’t heard from, or had any kind of update from Sandy. If today was the day, he didn’t want to miss his big chance by not turning up on time.
What’s the worst that could happen if he rocked up at Sandy’s work asking to have a quick chat with him?
The studios were about two miles out of town, if he remembered rightly. He’d driven past a couple of times, but never actually been inside.
Dashing back to the apartment’s garage block, he picked up the car he had been sharing with Peters and headed straight over to see Sandy.
“Hello. Err. Is it possible to see Sandy please? Sandy Lewis-Horner. He’s an executive producer.” Sam said in his poshest speaking voice. Still a little out of breath, he tried to calm himself down. He shouldn’t have run through town earlier. He had a slight sweat on, and although his audition probably wouldn’t be in the next hour, who’s to say that Sandy couldn’t step in and pull something else out of the bag for him? For all he knew, it might have been pushed back until next week.
“Is he expecting you?” the young, cute man behind the sleek desk asked as he typed something in his computer.
“Yes!” Sam said over excitedly. “He told me to come down today, but he didn’t give me a time.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it sounded better than ‘he didn’t give me a revised time’.
The receptionist furrowed his brow a moment as he scrolled down a list on his screen. “Sorry, can you just repeat that name for me?”
“Sandy Lewis-Horner. He’s an executive producer here. One of my close friends, actually.”
“And you’re sure he works here?”
“Yes, absolutely. He asked me to come down and audition for ‘Flights of Fancy’.
“Flights of Fancy? Let me take a look a moment. I’ve got the pre-production listed on my schedule, but no Flights of Fancy, or Sandy Lewis-Horner on my list. That is strange,” he said, looking up at Sam. Did he think Sam was pulling a fast one? People must do that all the time to get their five minutes chance with a casting director, he figured.
“Honestly, he’s my friend. I’m not lying, I promise.”
The man looked again. “His name isn’t short for Alexander, is it, by any chance?”
“No, I don’t think so. Well, I’ve never heard him be called that, but I guess it might be possible? I’m even having dinner with him tonight! I’m sure he’s at work. I mean, I’m absolutely sure he works here.” Sam said, growing increasingly concerned. Had he got the right studio? In fact, there wasn’t another anywhere near here, as far as he knew.
“Ah, right. I’ve got a Seamus Lewis-Horner, though. But no Flights of Fancy.”
No! Sandy couldn’t be a Seamus, could he? Knowing Sandy, Sam could absolutely believe it.
“Seamus Lewis-Horner?” he repeated incredulously. “Um, I guess it could be him?”
The man smiled. A knowing smile that moments later would make Sam feel like an idiot. “I hate to break it to you, but your friend ‘Sandy’ isn’t an executive at all. He’s a trainee assistant catering manager.”
Sam looked flabbergasted. He didn’t know what to say. What could he say after knowing ‘Sandy’ as an executive producer for so many years?
“Trainee assistant catering manager?” he almost laughed. “Of course he is.”
Thirteen
Stewart stormed into the house in a rage of self-loathing. He was disgusted with himself for giving into temptation last night. He should have just owned up. Told Patrick there and then what he’d got up to when his husband’s back was turned. The guilt was eating him up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last the night without cracking. He knew he’d never do well with lying or betrayal, but up until now, he’d never put it to the test. How the hell did it he let it happen in the first place?
Without even checking if Anton was out or not, he ran straight upstairs, stripped off and jumped into the bed he’d shared with his husband for the past few years. The smell of the bedsheets was comforting, yet understandably unsettling.
He was so hungover and tired. He desperately wanted to get straight off to sleep, but after tossing and turning for around twenty minutes, he realised his guilt just wouldn’t let up. All he could do was torment himself about what he’d done. Flashbacks of last night refused to let him fall off. His desire in the moment for Peters. Peters holding onto his erection whilst he removed his underwear. Peters climbing on top, grinding himself into Stewart… graphic memories that, no matter how drunk he was at the time, refused to dissipate.
They weren’t fun, titillating snippets of excitement, waiting to be relived the next time he masturbated. They weren’t a notch on the bedpost, or something he was proud of.
He was downright disgusted with himself.
At least he was grateful that it happened in Sam’s flat, in his and Peters’ bed, rather than his own. Oh, God, Sam… it wasn’t just Patrick he’d betrayed.
Stewart had half a mind to go downstairs and knock back whatever he had in the cupboard to get himself off. Sleeping pills, a bottle of whiskey… he just needed to get to sleep, otherwise there’d be no way in hell he could handle this evening.
***
Sam had left the studios without waiting to speak to Sandy. What was there he could say to make it better? He was absolutely furious, but at the same time strangely amused.
‘Seamus’ had been stringing him, and everyone else along for so long now, but why?
What was the point? None of them cared about his ‘high powered’ career. What did it matter to Sam if he was an exec or a caterer, a Sandy or a Seamus?
Sam wondered if Anton knew what his husband really did for a living. He must have done, surely? Certainty, he would have known Sandy’s real name, at least. Don’t you need to know that when you marry someone? Unless they weren’t really married?
How did they afford that big house on a trainee assistant catering manager’s salary though, as from what he’d heard over the years, it was Sandy’s house and not Anton’s.
There were so many questions.
Sam was mad at himself. Why had he cared so much about this one particular audition? Why had he put so much time into this rather than looking at what else was out there? Why hadn’t he taken the earlier audition seriously?
Then he remembered.
It was Sandy.
Sandy had said it would be great for his career.
***
“No work for you again today, then?” Sandy asked when he walked through the kitchen door. He was using a rather annoying parental tone that really grated on Faye. “I thought I might have the house to myself for a few hours.”
Just what she needed. Another man trying to tell her what to do.
She’d been sat at the breakfast table minding her own business for the last hour. Within minutes of Sandy sweeping into the house, he’d managed to annoy her. Why did he have to act like this? Thank God they only had two meals left. She had already told herself she’d avoid any future social gatherings that involved Sandy for the foreseeable future. Four days like this was more than enough for a lifetime.
“Would you like a sandwich?”
“Sure, thanks… if you’re making one,” she replied, trying to sound more grateful than she was feeling. “I am working, actually. I’m planning my next seminar. Oh, and as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve also had an idea for tomorrow night. If we must do some entertainment, I’ve just read up on something online. It seems easy enough to arrange, if you’re happy for me to take the reins?”
“Absolutely,” he said, just before heading to the other side of the kitchen. “Although I was hoping you could also help with dinner, as I’m very busy at work and won’t have a lot of time before I get back.”
Faye sighed. Typical, that a man would assume a woman should automatically be able to jump in and help with the cooking. Not much longer, she kept telling herself.
“No problem. Oh, and speaking of work, as it happens, I’m also just about to hire my first employee,” Faye said authoritatively.
“Moanie’s gone out, has she?” he called out, looking around as if Faye might be hiding her somewhere.
She didn’t know why, but Sandy acted stranger, even for him, when he spoke of, or in his daughter’s presence. She noticed that his voice crept up just a little higher, as if he was trying to sound light and breezy. Reading between the lines, she knew this absolutely wasn’t the case. Faye was dying to find out why, but she didn’t want to rock the boat with Sandy or ruin her budding friendship over something she’d presumably find out eventually, anyway. There was just no way in hell that Sandy would let her in on it.
Stretching her legs, she got up from the table. “Funny you should mention Moanie, because it’s her I’ve offered the role to.”
Sandy stopped in his tracks. With a stern look on his face, he turned to Faye from the other side of the kitchen island.
Ignoring her forced smile, he looked her in the eye as though he was about to tell her he was going to put her dog down.
“Just tread lightly with Moanie,” he said, putting on a concerned front. “Be careful.”
Faye scoffed. Really? From the few days she’d known Moanie, she’d warmed to her far more than she had with Sandy in all the years of knowing him. But Faye was in his house, she was his guest after all.
“Why, may I ask?”
Sandy took a moment. He returned to busying himself in the fridge, and then let out a sigh. All bravado, of course. “You see, Moanie is everyone’s best friend. She latches on to people. She’ll be your closest confidant when she wants something off you, but the minute the going gets tough, or she has a better offer, she’ll be gone without so much as a goodbye.”
Faye couldn’t believe he was talking about his own daughter like this. Who did that?
“Really?” she asked, with her eyebrows raised.
“Faye, you’re my friend,” he stressed, taking a crusty loaf out of the bread bin. It wasn’t quite the ‘I love you’ sentiment, but he at least sounded like he was trying, “but she’s bad news. She comes and goes. We won’t see or hear from her in months, then out of the blue, the minute she needs something, usually money, she’ll turn up. She hangs around until she eventually gets what she wants and then leaves again without a trace.”
Faye was finding it uneasy to listen to. She was sure her connection with Moanie was genuine. They obviously liked each other’s company. It was the start of a real friendship and, hopefully, a strong working career. Faye’s face obviously showed its disbelief.
Reading her reaction, Sandy added, “Let me ask you this; every time you’ve had a decent conversation, every time you’ve bonded, have you been drinking? Usually late at night? She’d be there waiting for you each evening when we got in?”
Faye pondered a moment. Had it always been like that? Had Moanie always been waiting, ready to pounce, like Sandy suggested?
“She’s got a drinking problem. Anton and I have tried to help many, many times. We’ve sent her to rehab, we’ve offered her jobs, we’ve put a roof over her head, this one and elsewhere, but each time she throws it away. I hate to talk about my own daughter like this, but I just don’t want you falling for the same tricks we have so many times,” he stressed. “I’m glad she’s behaving herself around you, and I’m glad you like her. I’m only asking that you be careful. Don’t give her too much money and don’t necessarily believe everything she tells you. Go sit yourself down and I’ll bring your lunch over in a moment with some freshly squeezed orange juice.”
Faye returned to the kitchen table, closed her laptop and cleared away some papers to make space.
With a sensitive yet meaningful look on his face, Sandy brought a tray over with two sandwiches, a couple of tumblers, and a jug of orange juice with bits in it.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the plate he offered her.
There was nothing she could do now, but enjoy her lunch.
“Mmm, this juice is delicious,” she said, having knocked back half a glass, before turning her attention to the sandwich. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was.
“So, tell me about your idea for the entertainment?” Sandy asked, appearing genuine.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, spitting out a mouthful. “What’s in this?”
“It’s a mozzarella, salami and roasted red pepper sandwich. Delicious, isn’t it?” he grinned.
“Sandy! You know I’m vegetarian.”
“Oh lord, dear me. I’m so sorry. What a mistake to make! Here, let me fix you something else instead.”
“Thanks, I’m not hungry now,” she growled, picking up a pile of her things before storming off upstairs.
Well, she certainly couldn’t work after that. Faye couldn’t believe he’d served her meat. Was it intentional, or was he just not thinking?
More to the point, was there any truth to what he’d said about Moanie, or was it just a bitter old man in a spat with his daughter?
***
It was no good. Stewart just could not get to sleep. He’d tried everything. Stripping off as he usually would to sleep, closing the curtains, a bit of white noise from his phone… nothing was working for him. He was devastated about what he’d done and he thought the only way around it would be to come clean. He hated lying to his husband like this. He would just have to tell Patrick and let him decide the outcome.
Stewart would have liked at least a couple of hours sleep, but in the end, he just gave up. He just hoped his time back in bed would count for something towards his tiredness? It was rest, at least, wasn’t it?
Needing the loo, he crawled out of bed. As usual, their ensuite was out of toilet paper, so taking advantage of the empty house, he walked across the landing to use the main house bath.
Catching himself naked in the mirror, he once again felt disgust and shame. The sight of his own dick, hanging flaccid and miserable like that made him feel awful. Usually walking around naked would quickly get him in the mood, but now he wondered if he’d ever get his sex-drive back. Oh, what the fuck had he done?
It was now past lunch, and in fact, there wasn’t a great deal of time until tonight’s dinner. With that in mind, he’d decided he needn’t go back to Peters’ now at all. He could just hang around here until everyone else arrived. He had everything he needed right here. All he had to do was send a text to let Peters know of his plans.
He yawned and stretched, just before he was about to sit down on the loo.
“Oh, hello there, sailor!”
“Anton!” Stewart screamed out, before slamming the door shut.
What the hell was he doing standing there like that? Perving over him like a seedy old man.
How long had he been watching?
“What the fuck are you doing?” Stewart squeaked in a high pitch from behind the door.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I came back early so I could prep for tonight. No need to get defensive. I’ve seen it all before.”
“How long have you been in?”
“About an hour, luv,” Anton shouted from the landing. “Didn’t want to disturb you earlier, so I let you sleep. Nice arse, by the way! Patrick is a lucky man.”
Stewart’s heart was racing. This was the last thing he needed today; something else to feel shit about. Another reason to feel guilty in the eyes of his husband. He tried to calm himself down a little.
With the benefit of the doubt, it could have been an honest mistake. Anton might have just been walking past. That didn’t excuse his lewd comments, though.
Stewart was already in a foul mood; he didn’t want to make that worse by hating on Anton as well.
Maybe he should go back to Peters’, just for some peace and quiet?
“Sorry, you just scared me, that’s all.”
***
Trying to forget about her sandwich being spiked, Faye was more concerned with the conversation about Moanie. She didn’t know how to handle that. Yes, she’d known Sandy much longer, and her allegiance should have been with him, but on the other hand, she’d instantly clicked with Moanie and if nothing else, there was a close friendship forming.
Fortunately, not long after lunch, he’d left her to it. As soon as he’d popped out somewhere or another, she returned to the kitchen table a little calmer than when she’d left it.
Timed perfectly, as if she was just waiting for him to leave, Moanie returned through the front door as soon as Sandy had left via the back door.
“So, I told your dad you were thinking about working with me, and he warned me against it,” Faye blurted out, as if she had no choice in the matter.
Somehow, it felt right to be honest with Moanie, rather than Sandy. She certainly didn’t want to protect him. But maybe, she should have been a bit more diplomatic. After all, it’s not nice to be told someone thinks you’re bad news.
Moanie smiled. It wasn’t a sarcastic smile, or an evil genius smile, more of an expectant smile.
“I’m not surprised,” she sighed, taking her time.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Faye asked hesitantly. “But for the record, it’s not like he’s put me off working with you, or being your friend.”
