Chapter 12
Dragon lay purring on Dídac’s stomach, where she got the best breeze from the fan.
Apart from the cat, he was wearing nothing at all.
He looked down at his body, matted black chest hair melding into Dragon’s black-and-tan tortoiseshell coat.
She had been a rescue kitten, who had pretty much marched into Dídac’s life, hissing and spitting as a small lost waif, from the moment he had found her half-dead in the street.
The windows were slightly ajar but the curtains drawn in an attempt to keep the cooler air trapped inside the house and the hotter air outside, while at least allowing some circulation.
Dídac also had plants hung at all the French doors and windows, creating curtains of vegetation that helped to cool the apartment down.
He didn’t believe in air conditioning—the world was in a bad enough state from global heating without him adding to the damage.
All his friends criticized him for it, as he easily had enough money to have heat pumps installed in every room, but this was his small stand in the name of a greener planet.
For that reason he also avoided traveling by plane within Europe if there was any sort of a rail connection.
Sometimes it took him a bit longer to arrive if the company he was with were touring in Germany or Belgium, but he preferred the slowness of train travel.
Carriages were more spacious, people keener to socialize, and traveling by train felt more contemplative, as if he were sliding back into an older, slower, more elegant world.
His dream one day was to take the famous Orient Express across Europe, as he’d heard that a company had restarted the luxury long-distance train line that Agatha Christie made famous in one of her Inspector Poirot novels.
Perhaps one day, with the right person….
A couple of days had gone by, and he was still trying to get his head around what had happened at rehearsal that Tuesday morning.
Kim Delatour had kissed him. It had been a long, soulful, passionate kiss, including tongues.
Thinking about it, his cock rose abruptly, and he was hard in seconds.
Dragon did a double take and instantly sat up.
Offended, she jumped off him and went stalking into the kitchen in search of water.
She was such a prude about these things.
Unthinking, Dídac took hold of his cock and began slowly to pull himself off.
But what had happened? Kim Delatour, that reserved, arrogant Australian theater director, had forgotten himself.
Under the circumstances, the kiss hadn’t been all that surprising.
They had been “working” together pretty intensely.
Their intimate physical play, the smell of each other’s sweat, the feel of their panting breath on each other’s skin, eye contact made spontaneously then held a little too long…
it was if a switch had been flipped in both of their brains.
Neither of them was made of stone, after all.
Kim’s natural authority, always slightly overbearing, did something to Dídac that he couldn’t quite explain.
For the first time, he’d seen Kim’s attraction to him—felt it anyway, pressing against his stomach.
Or had he? It was hard to tell with that man.
His physical and emotional selves seemed quite separate.
The other day, when Kim had come in on him warming up early, Dídac had felt powerful energy radiating from Kim’s gaze, as focused as a laser beam.
But the director had been gruff and quickly moved the situation on toward the business of rehearsal with the other actors.
His only comment—“That… seemed… very heartfelt, sincere”—talk about understatement!
The guy was so stuck up his own ass! How had he got that way?
Seeing him perform in Boomerang had been awe-inspiring, life-changing.
Kim had shone up there on stage like a tall, burnished blond angel.
That commanding stage presence had had the force of making Dídac change career and decide to become an actor.
Of course, he never got to meet that young actor in person.
The director he was now working for didn’t seem to contain much of that young star.
Perhaps he was really an asshole even then.
Yet there was something. When Kim’s eyes were on him, he felt as if the older man were looking deeply into him, stripping away the layers.
He remembered that kiss, the slightly metallic taste of Kim’s saliva, the heat of his body, his strong arms around him, and then his hands on his hips, the bulk and thrust of his cock, which was hard and straining against his stomach, as Dídac’s was sticking out diagonally, tenting his leotard.
How would it feel to have that cock inside him?
To feel Kim laying him back, lifting his legs onto his shoulders, spitting on his hand to lubricate his cock, using more of his spit to slick up Dídac’s ass, and then, gazing deep into his eyes in that arrogant, demanding way of his, claim entry, taking possession of Dídac like his own toy, pushing in, thrusting that hard meat hard into Dídac’s ass.
Dídac’s hand was working up and down his shaft.
He could barely believe what he was doing: masturbating while thinking about that arrogant asshole.
But the truth was he found Kim hot. He wanted that kiss to have gone on.
It seemed so unfair that the other actors had chosen that moment to arrive.
But perhaps it was lucky for them both that they had.
Otherwise, they might have found them with their clothes ripped off and fucking right there on the Rehearsal Room floor.
Dídac’s hand was moving rapidly, and he was getting close to cumming.
Did he want it? Did he want to climax to a fantasy of Kim Delatour, theater director, fucking him up the ass in his arrogant demanding way, wrecking Dídac’s hole as he pounded into him?
With a roar of frustration, Dídac pulled his hand off his cock.
He was so close, almost at the point of no return.
Impulsively he wrenched himself up off the sofa and began to stride around the room, thinking about anything and everything that could take his mind off that weird sexual fantasy.
He was damned if he would give that arrogant asshole the pleasure, the emotional control over him.
Kim Delatour was not going to enter Dídac’s repertoire of fantasy sexual images and that was an end of it.
Following Dragon, Dídac stalked into the kitchen in search of a cool glass of water.
Dragon was sitting just inside the door on the cool tiles.
Dídac took a bottle of water from the fridge and drank deeply.
Then he threw himself face down on the kitchen floor, naked, hoping the coolness of the tiles would bring his temperature—and his erection—down.
Damn that Kim Delatour! How had the man got inside his head?
He sat up and looked at the clock: approaching five.
It would be cooling down outside. That was what he needed—a walk to shake off this stupid fantasy and then do his work on his part so he’d be ready for tomorrow’s rehearsal.
But no more getting there too early. He would arrive with the other actors, warm up with them and be ready for rehearsal on time.
After checking that Dragon had both water and food, he went into his room, threw on some clothes, grabbed his keys and sunglasses, and headed out the door.