Chapter 65

Oh, this one was verynice. I walked across to the bathroom and tapped on the door. “Hyde?” I could hear the sound of the shower, and I knocked harder and raised my voice. “Hyde, would the Paul Smith London be all right?” It was a black suit with flat-front trousers and a zip fly.

“I told you the choice was yours,” he shouted back.

“All right.” I stood there for a moment, picturing him standing under the spray. Four more nights counting tonight, and then I’d be able to join him in the shower. I pictured myself caressing his lightly-furred chest, his nipples becoming erect under my fingertips, and then running my palms down past his waist, finally gripping his dick.

And what would he be doing? Telling me to turn around and brace my hands against the tiles? Stroking along my spine to the cleft of my buttocks? Maybe even dipping into the crevice, finding my hole? Or would he drop to his knees, spread my buttocks, and drive his tongue into me?