by Jay Lygon
George shook his head. “You’re very thoughtful, Sam, but I promised you the finest meal in Toronto.”
It was worth a shot.
“Where are you staying?” he asked as he carefully draped his napkin over his lap.
“The Renaissance Marriot. It’s at the Rogers Centre.”
He blinked.
“The Skydome? Where the Blue Jays play?” I still didn’t see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Baseball?” Surely he’d heard of the game. “My room actually overlooks the park. If they had a game this week, I’d be able to watch it from my room. Of course, they’re on the road the whole time I’m there, which is probably why it didn’t cost me a fortune.”
“How nice.”
Maybe he was thinking of my expense report. I was glad dinner went on his and not mine.
“I hear they serve an excellent crown roast for two here.”
I didn’t want to look at his eyes, so I studied the menu as if I were cramming for a test.
We ordered drinks and appetizers. I wanted to go ahead and order my main course, but no one else was in a hurry, so I had to bide my time. After the waiter brought out salads and went through the whole pepper ritual, George decided to make conversation.
“Did you screen that movie today?”
“I saw it.”
“And?” His fork poised over his salad, he waited to hear my judgment.
“That’s three hours of my life I won’t get back.” Much like dinner with him, but I didn’t say that, either.
He wiped his mouth and put the napkin back into his lap. “Surely there’s something nice you can say about it.”
“Not without outright lying.”
“That’s a shame, because the editor-in-chief, Lyle, really wants her for our December cover.”
“You’ve mentioned that before, several times.”
George looked pained. “Help me out here, Sam.”
“It either gets no review or a bad one. If you start dictating an opinion to me, I’ll have to move on.”
“Oh, Sam! Don’t take it that way! You’re so passionate about your work. I understand. I do.” He touched my hand and sighed grandly.
I felt bad about being bitchy. “You have over a month before the issue with my review comes out. Put pressure on her people to commit before then.”
“We’ve tried.”
“Then how about this -- stop calling her management. Give it two weeks. Then have one of your office workers call up and tell them that in light of advance word about the movie, the magazine is thinking of going in a different direction for the December cover, but thank you very much for their time. I guarantee you that within an hour they’ll be begging you to talk to them. Of course, they’ll be rude as hell, because that’s the way the game is played, but when they’re told that everyone is too busy to take their calls, panic will set in.”
George’s beady eyes twinkled. He chortled. “That’s positively inspired!”
Using my fork, I stabbed the lawn clippings on my plate. “I hate Hollywood.”
“But you understand it.”
“I have my agent to thank for that. She’s constantly lecturing me.”
At the mention of Deal, I swear George flinched. I didn’t blame him one bit.
***
After the waiter finally took our dinner plates away, George asked, “Are you going back to your room now? There’s a great martini bar down the street.” He touched my hand again. “Let’s go for a nightcap.”
“Sadly, I was invited to a party for the movie I screened today, and since the magazine wants to keep the star happy, for now, I thought I’d be sociable and drop in.”
George’s libido wrestled with his ambition for a moment and lost. “Definitely, you should go to that party.”
My smile was as superficial as they come. “I’m only doing this for the magazine.”
“We appreciate it.”
“I’m sure you do.” Why did George bring out the pissy asshole in me? Maybe it was the wedding band he wore. Not that I was against open relationships, far from it, but I’d made it pretty clear that I didn’t fool around on the side. Even if Hector had let me pursue sex outside our relationship, George so wasn’t my type. Polite hints seemed to fly right over his head, though, and he kept pushing when most guys would have taken the hint and backed off. Was that sexual harassment? No. He hadn’t threatened my job. Not yet. I hoped he didn’t ever go there.
I made a big show of checking the time. “Well, it was nice getting to see you again.”
“You should come to New York. I’d love to show you around town.”
I took a sip of my iced tea.
George picked up his wine glass. “Or you could come out to P’Town for a weekend. There are a lot of people I could introduce you to.”
“That’s a very nice offer, George. Unfortunately, with all these film festivals, my travel schedule is crazy.” I set my glass down. He set his down. I pulled the linen napkin off my lap and set it on the table. George did the same. I glanced at my watch again. “I’m running a little late. Maybe I’ll see you around the festival.”
George made a face. “I’m heading back to New York tomorrow morning. I only came out to meet you.”
Oh great. “George, about the G-G-Golden Globes, I really don’t think I’m cut out to be on television.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re gorgeous. You could be in movies.”
I smiled wearily. Why did people always say that? They’d never seen me act. Surely mastering that craft was more important than being pretty. “I’m not comfortable in front of cameras. When I was little, I had a bad stutter. I can keep it under control now, but when I’m nervous, I can’t get a word out. I’m going to freeze up and not be able to say a word. The telecast is going to be a disaster.”
George daubed his lips with his napkin. He leaned forward. “I’ve been meaning to ask you -- what’s that cologne you’re wearing, Sam? It’s very primal.”
Okay, time to run for the door. Too bad I’d already used all my exit lines. If I didn’t move fast, taking my leave was going to get downright painful. “This was great. Gotta go. Talk to ya soon.” And I was out of there.
On the elevator ride down to the lobby, I checked my watch again. It was only eleven-thirty. Theoretically, the party began at eleven, but I knew enough to wait a couple hours before I made my appearance. With time to kill, I headed back to my hotel room.
***
“This feels so weird,” I told Hector as we talked on the phone. I sat on a double bed in my hotel room with every pillow propped up behind me. The curtains were open so that I could see the ball park. Except for one bank of lights, though, it was dark.
“You’re okay?” Hector asked.
I twisted the bed sheet white cord around my finger. “I’m fine. And I mean that,” I added quickly. “It’s just that you’re always the one on the road for work, and I’m the one at home, and… Can’t I just phase home to spend the night?”
“No. We agreed that you need to focus on your work at these film festivals, and I’m a distraction. So you stay there and do your work and hobnob with all your industry friends, and when it’s over, then you can come home.”
We agreed? Like hell. He'd simply told me that’s the way it was going to be. For your own good, he’d said. Scowling, I wriggled deeper into the pillows. “Is there a law that says all hotel room drapes and bedspreads have to be a matching ugly print?”
He chuckled.
“I don’t know if I can sleep without my cuffs on. Could you come here just long enough to shackle me for the night, Papi?” I asked.
“If I were to phase to your hotel room right now, I’d probably find you sprawled over the bed.”
Check.
“A hand tracing down the groove between your pecs, over your abs, and down to the waistband of your briefs.”
My sexiest pair, of course.
“Hair mussed and in your eyes. A little pout on your mouth just begg
ing to be kissed away.” Hector’s voice dropped into a hushed bass. “And if I did come, you’d ask if we could cuddle for a bit before I bound you for the night. Of course I’d say yes. You’d suck on my nipples and play with my chest hair. I’d fondle you while we made out--”
My hand balled into a fist above the waistband of my briefs while I fought the temptation to touch myself. “Sir? I’m getting really hard.”
“Me, too.” Hector laughed. “Can you see the dugout from your hotel room?”
“If I jump on the bed.”
He sucked in a breath. “Wicked Boy. Now I’m picturing you jumping on the bed in your underwear.”
“If you phase over right now, I could put on a show for you.”
“No, Sam,” he growled. “Tell me about your day. See any good films?”
He ruined all my fun. “I sat through a couple today, each one a regrettable waste of film.”
“What did you do for dinner?”
“George took me out to some fancy restaurant.” I winced. Would Hector have a problem with that? He didn’t seem to be reacting, but he wasn’t talking, either. The silence made me nervous, so I started babbling. “He wanted to make sure I toed the company line and kissed the appropriate asses. It was nothing but business through the entire meal. Have you ever been to Toronto? I think you’d like this city, Sir. The architecture is really unique. You should have seen this theater I went to today. It was originally built for vaudeville, and they have a museum with hand-painted screens from the old shows. It’s really cool. We should come here some time on vacation.” I curled on my side, thankful for the earpiece that freed me from having to hold my cell phone.
“Are you in for the night?”
“Not really. I have to go to a party in about an hour. I heard that it’s in a dance club. I just hope no one tries to get me out on the floor. It’s so hard to ignore the music. I can’t describe it, but it feels like it takes control of me, and I can’t stop myself from sending out bursts of sex power. I love dancing. I wish I could just get out on the floor and let go like everyone else.”
“Maybe you can dance for me when you get home.”
That sounded like fun. “Order me home right now, Sir, and I’ll give you a lap dance. My ass will rub your cock in time to some sultry blues, and then I’ll slide down on my knees and rub my face against you before I take your zipper in my teeth and work it down. As soon as your fat cock pops free, I’ll worship it properly. Would you like for me to run the tip of my tongue under your foreskin and tease the head for a while? Or maybe you’d like me to do that trick where I hold your cock in my mouth while I lap at your balls. Mmmm. They’d taste so good. You could shove my head down and fuck my face until my lips are bruised.”
He exhaled slowly. “Bad, bad Boy. Trying to tempt me. If you were here right now, I’d put you over my knee.”
“I’d like that.” I rolled onto my back.
“And I’d slowly pull down your briefs.”
So he’d know what he did to me, I whimpered.
“Pull on your nipples, Boy. Work them for me. Are you hard?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I bet your briefs are tight and you want to touch yourself,” Hector said. His voice rolled over my skin like electricity.
I gulped. “Yes, Sir.” My free hand pinched my nipple hard and then tugged on it until pangs shot through it.
“Roll on your stomach. Put a couple pillows under your hips so that your ass is high up in the air, Boy.”
I grabbed the pillows and shoved them under me. It was so nasty doing the phone sex thing with him. “I’ve done it, Sir.”
“Now pull down the back of your briefs so that your ass is bare but your cock is still covered. Got it? Spread your knees as far apart as you can so that your asshole is exposed.”
A long groan escaped as I obeyed him. “Sir, may I close the curtains?”
“Is it night there?” he asked. “Are the lights on in your room?”
“Yes to both, Sir.”
“Then leave the curtains open and the lights on. Maybe someone is sitting all alone in that big, empty stadium and watching you through a pair of binoculars. He can see you waiting to be spanked. He can see how your asshole puckers. He knows how much you want your Master’s cock.”
Even though I knew no one could see me, I cupped my hand over my eyes.
“Listen, Boy.”
The familiar sound of his leather belt sliding out of the loops came through the phone. My cock hardened. I slowly ground against the pillows as I tried to get comfortable. The next sound was even worse torture. He must have held the phone near his pants as he unzipped his fly.
“I just sent you a present. Look on the nightstand,” he told me. A huge, black butt plug, glistening with lube, appeared beside the bed. I frowned. “Work it in, Boy. Fill that ass.”
For a moment, I thought of disobeying. He knew how much I hated a plug. He also must have known I was having rebellious thoughts, because his brand heated up on my ass cheek. With a little pout, I reached for the plug.
“It’s cold, Sir,” I told him as I pressed the tip to my hole. Using gentle but relentless pressure, I slowly worked the widening bulb past my protesting muscles. “It’s too big.”
“Hold still for a moment, Boy. Deep, slow breaths. You’re fighting me. I want you to relax. Submit.”
While I listened to him, I closed my eyes. He was right. I was fighting him. My free hand touched my slave collar. Fighting him always made me miserable. I had no idea why I did it. Just stubborn, I guess.
“Are you ready to obey me?”
I nodded, then realized he couldn’t see that, so I said, “Yes, Sir.”
Hector’s voice got soft. I swore it felt as if he gently stroked my hair while he talked to me over the phone. “Relax. Take your time. Push slowly. Work it in.”
The bulb had my hole stretched almost beyond what I could bear. I bit my lip. A little gasp escaped, though, as the widest part finally moved inside me.
“It’s in, Sir. All the way.”
“Good Boy. How does it feel?”
Exhausted from the effort, I tried to relax. “I’m so full, Sir. It feels sort of good and uncomfortable at the same time.” I wriggled, but nothing relieved the pressure. Hector had me helpless and horny. Too bad he was several thousand miles away.
I cast a glance over my shoulder at the window. It reflected the room back at me. I was quite the sight, with my ass propped up by the pillows and the flange of the butt plug visible between my ass cheeks. Was anyone watching? Had they seen me work that big plug into my ass? Could they tell how turned on I was?
Hector chuckled. “Are you feeling like a dirty slut?”
My mouth opened. “How did you know?”
“I know my Boy. You are a dirty slut, Sam. A bad, dirty slut. Your ass should be spanked hard, shouldn’t it? A dirty little slut should have a dark pink bottom after he’s been properly spanked.”
I gulped. I could feel the air move through the hotel room, pushed by the air conditioner, but I wished it was the whoosh that preceded the slap of a paddle on my bare flesh. My back arched.
“Listen, Boy.” Hector said. I had no idea what he hit, but I could hear the smack of Hector’s leather belt against bare flesh.
Moaning, I writhed. “Please, Sir, please.” The smacks sounded louder and harsher. I thought I’d lose it and phase home.
“Don’t move,” Hector warned me. The sounds that came next were a real test of my obedience. While Hector’s brand grew hotter on my ass, I heard the slick, sloppy sound of lube and a fist. My hole tightened around the butt plug. “Fuck your pillows, slut. Fuck them hard. I want to hear it.”
He didn’t need to tell me twice. I wanted free of the underwear, but I knew that the vision of me trapped in them turned Hector on. Between the soft give of the pillows and the way the underwear bound me, it was futile. The harder I fucked, the more the butt plug rubbed against my prostate. Panting and sweating, I furiously
humped away.
Hector’s hand must have been smoking over his cock. The fap, fap, fap of his fist had me begging. I wanted to suck his cock; I wanted him to fuck me; I wanted to slide my hand into my underwear and flog my meat. He wouldn’t let me have any of it.
“Imagine that stadium full of men watching you, Slut. They know all about you. They’re watching you fuck the pillows. They know your ass is full. They know you deserve to be punished, and they want to see it. They want to watch your Papi smack your ass until it’s red and hot and you’re screaming.”
