Chapter 2

Six long months in LA, and I was dying for a rest. As much as I loved it in the US, my home would always be here. My manager, Dexter, had recommended this exclusive spa, telling me I wouldn’t find a better massage. Discretion was their motto, and he could almost guarantee no one would recognise me.

Well, unless they watched porn, that is.

They’d not know me as Simon Fletcher, but as my alter ego, Simon Stroker. The name was cheesy, as most porn names were, but now I was tiring of the whole thing.

Although I was nowhere near my sell-by date, I had other things I wanted to achieve, and being an award-winning porn star wouldn’t help my case.

Porn paid well, though, and had helped towards paying my brother’s medical fees. The NHS could only do so much, and we’d been more than grateful for the help they’d given him fifteen years ago. But a breakthrough by an Australian doctor had meant Robbie was as close to walking as he’d ever been.

The memory of that night, fifteen years ago, was etched for all eternity in my mind. I’d been out running and had heard my brother shouting at the top of his lungs.

I’d run towards the sound, knowing exactly where I’d find him and whom I would find him with. Fucking Duke Anders.

They were inseparable.

Even as a gawky sixteen-year-old, Duke had something about him I’d found alluring. But he was my brother’s best friend…and he was sixteen.

Okay, he was of legal age, but you’d not find me going there. Not until he was older, anyway.

But that night had put paid to any plans I had of ever coming out to him.

Those thoughts had kept me awake for years afterwards. I’d seen the sly glances he’d thrown my way when he thought I wasn’t looking. Would we have been anything?

It was doubtful, and even if I had, the chance of us being together now would be slim. We were both young. He was impressionable. I’d never have taken advantage. It wasn’t my style.

Even in the porn industry, if anyone looked young, I’d say no. No way did I want to be associated with that.

I’d started off in straight porn. Fucking women, but not really enjoying it. It took all the pills I could take to keep hard until the shoot was over. Then I’d go home, exhausted from the long days and collapse until I had to do it all again.

I was close to calling it a day when, after a chance meeting with my now manager, I’d moved into gay porn. I fucking loved it. No faking required. Well, not much anyway. There was always the odd one that just didn’t do it for me.

The more popular I got, the choosier I could be, and soon, I was running my own channel, able to pick and choose.

No coincidence I went for mixed-race men. They reminded me of Duke. Some had locs, some didn’t, and despite what he’d done to my brother, the attraction always lingered.

I’d dated a couple of guys, but forming lasting relationships was not for me. Being in the porn industry kind of put paid to that. It was difficult to find a partner accepting of my profession.

I’d been reluctant to tell my parents at first, and they were understandably up in arms when I did. I kept nothing back, but when the good money rolled in and we could get the treatment that Robbie badly needed, they’d relented. Mum hadn’t talked to me for months initially. I knew I was a disappointment, but more than that, she’d called me an embarrassment.

How could she tell her friends and family what I did for a living, she’d shouted in one of the many arguments we had when I’d returned home.

She’d tell them I was in movies, and when they asked what they could see me in, just said it was nothing big. That I was a bit-part actor only starring in small independent films.

I understood their reluctance, but I was doing it for Robbie. Dad just never spoke about it.

Robbie, on the other hand, thought it was hilarious. Typical of him, though, he saw the funny side of everything.

Even when he’d come out of his coma after three weeks, he’d joked around, making the doctors and nurses laugh. They’d been amazed at his recovery, but it was clear after a month or so that he’d never walk again.

Or so we’d thought. I knew my money had helped, and I’d do it all again. He was my brother, after all.

Now, standing in the reception of this fabulous hotel, I appreciated the seclusion my money could afford.

I didn’t need every Tom, Dick or Harry recognising me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of offers I’d get.

Sex was my job, not my life.

The receptionist, Holly, didn’t recognise me. Thank God, but it still didn’t stop her from drooling. She did her best to grab my attention, but I was here to relax, and anyway, she really wasn’t my type.

I wondered, not for the first time, what Duke looked like now and what he was doing with his life.

He’d run away from home the night of Robbie’s accident and had never returned, to my knowledge. I’d called around to his parents’ pub the day after, demanding to see him, only to be told he’d disappeared the night before.

His parents and sister were distraught, especially when he’d fallen off the grid mere weeks later. Because of me and the way I’d acted that night, I’d deprived them of their son. I’d regretted my decision, but it was his fault, wasn’t it?

According to Robbie, it wasn’t. Yes, Duke had dared him, but Robbie could have said no. He point-blank refused to place any blame on Duke.

But when you watch your brother fall and can do fuck all about it, fear and panic make you do stupid things.

Blaming Duke had been one of them, and even though Robbie didn’t blame him, I still did. If Duke hadn’t made that stupid dare, my brother wouldn’t have spent the last God knows how many years in a wheelchair, unable to walk.

It could have been so much worse. He could have ended up a quadriplegic, resulting in complete paralysis. We thanked our lucky stars every day he hadn’t died.

Holly’s tinkling voice brought me back to the here and now, and I listened as she told me about all the facilities they had on offer; personal trainers, full-body massages, many spa treatments. All done with the utmost discretion. I wondered what Dexter had told them for her to say that?

“We’ve had many stars here, Mr Fletcher. We’re very honoured you chose to spend your stay here.”

She handed the waiting porter a key card.

“Your suite is on the top floor, and Fabian here will help you with your luggage.”

A young man stepped forward and took hold of my suitcase.

“If you’d like to follow me, Mr Fletcher.”

The huge smile on his face almost had me believing he’d at least seen one of my movies. The sway in his hips as he led the way to the penthouse suite convinced me I was right. His tight-fitting trousers stressed every one of his sinuous movements.

He couldn’t have been older than twenty. Did he even shave?

“Here’s your keycard, Mr Fletcher, and if there’s anything I can do to make your stay here even more enjoyable, just ask for Fabian.”

He pressed the card into my hand with a cheeky wink and closed the door behind him.

I blew out a breath. The sheer audacity of some people when they realised who I was was staggering. Some thought they had the right to be brazen. Just because they’d seen my arse and cock, it did not give them the right to come on to me twenty-four hours a day.

I was Simon Fletcher more than I was Simon Stroker. He was a figment of some PR company’s imagination. A porn star who shagged anyone and let anyone shag him.

I was not that person, not the cocky guy on the screen. That was all a facade.

Lately, I’d been dreaming of the simpler things in life: a stable home, a husband, and a comfortable life.

Was that too much to ask?

I was working on it. Slowly reducing my on-screen appearances until soon, there’d be no more new movies.

I collapsed onto the enormous bed, sinking into the soft duvet, sighing as it enveloped me. Jet lag was making itself known, but if I slept now, I’d not sleep tonight. Best to keep myself active. Maybe hit the gym, take a swim or just grab a bite to eat in the award-winning restaurant, so Holly had said.

They all sounded like good ideas. I’d just rest here for a moment and gather my strength.

The shrill sound of my phone woke me.

I shot off the bed, trying to recall where I’d put the damn thing.

“Hello,” I blurted. It was Dexter.

“You said you’d call when you arrived.” His Southern drawl was loud and clear. “I was waiting.”

I checked my watch.

“Shit and fuck.” I’d been sleeping for two hours.

“Fell asleep, did we? I thought you knew better, Simon.”

“I usually do. I must have been knackered.” I yawned, as if proving my point. “I had plans to visit the gym and pool, then get something to eat.”

“It’s still only four in the afternoon. You still have time.”

I did, didn’t I? I sauntered over to the French doors and threw them open, stepping out onto the spacious balcony. I breathed deeply and inhaled the sweet scent of honeysuckle that clung to the white lattice fencing against the wall.

It reminded me of home.

Mum had nurtured hers. Training it to grow over the front door. My room was directly above it, and the sometimes overpowering fragrance would fill the air. Funny how some things took you right back.

I could see for miles from my vantage point at the top of the building. The perfectly tended gardens laid out before me like a tapestry of colour. Lush green lawns, startling red and orange flowers and soft purple lavender, the only plant I actually recognised. I’d never make a gardener, that was for sure.

If I ever had a house and garden, I’d need to hire someone to tend to it.

Dexter continued to talk, telling me he insisted I rest and relax for the following week. He’d not be calling again unless there was a dire emergency. I apparently needed a complete detox, not just from the movies but from social media too. He did not want to see my face at all.

I drank in the serenity of this place, barely listening to him, already mentally switching off. I needed the break.

Usually, I’d still be on edge, unable to fully relax, but this place seemed different, and in the short time I’d been here, I felt myself finally letting go.

I spied a couple of men in the distance, admiring their physiques when I remembered that Dexter was still talking.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I’d not heard a word.

“Go and rest. Take full advantage of what they have to offer. That doesn’t mean the staff either, Simon.”

I laughed. That’s what he thought.

“I get it, Dex. I’ll speak to you in a week. You’ve booked the car, right?”

“Yep. A week from now. Behave yourself, and don’t get into any trouble!”

He ended the call, but by now the men I’d been watching had disappeared from view.

The sun was still hot, and I stripped off my shirt, my jeans slung low on my hips, just showing a glimpse of my tattoo above the waistband.

The phoenix was small, not too obtrusive, despite the vivid colours. I’d had it to remind me that anyone can come back from something, regardless of the hardship involved.

A nod to my brother and what he’d endured.

I told no one of its significance. Not even Dexter knew the reason, and after asking numerous times, he had ceased to ask.

I placed my hands on the balustrade, the rough stone still hot from the sun sitting high in the sky. Summer in England couldn’t be beaten when the weather was good.

I closed my eyes and basked in the heat.

I could stay here all day, but when my stomach growled, I knew it was time to grab some food.

The gym could wait, but a swim sounded good.

I went back inside and unpacked my case, setting aside my swim shorts and flip-flops. Towels were provided, and I slipped on the white fluffy robe hanging in the wardrobe.

On my way up to the suite, I’d seen a few guests wearing them. I wouldn’t be out of place.

Remembering at the last minute, I removed my Breitling watch and placed it in the safe along with my passport, wallet and phone.

If I was going to completely unwind, I wouldn’t be needing them for the remainder of my stay.

I nodded to Holly on my way past reception, giving her what I knew would be a dazzling smile.

She blushed, biting her lip. Poor girl. I shouldn’t be leading her on, but sometimes, it was just so easy to do.

The pool itself was empty, and I slipped out of my robe before slithering into the warm water. It was luxurious.

I loved swimming and did it every chance I got. It helped keep my muscles strong without looking like I worked out seven days a week.

I ducked down under the water before commencing my routine.

Fifty lengths was my usual, but this pool was shorter than the one in my home back in LA. No matter, as long as I got my fifty in, I’d be good.

I felt the tiredness melt away as I completed each length. I was ready for anything, and right now, that was a meal and a glass of wine.

Retreating to the changing room, I slipped out of my shorts and wrapped the large towel around my waist. I was about to put on the robe when a sound off to my left caught my attention.

“We shouldn’t be back here,” a male voice said.

“There’s no one about,” another answered. “There’s just that one guy in the pool. We’ll be safe. I promise.”

I crept silently towards the voices, careful not to make a sound and peered around the partition to see two men, lips locked, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

From their attire, it was obvious they were staff members.

I should go. This was a private moment, and when one of the guys began to undo his belt, I knew it was time for me to leave.

I could report them. It wasn’t exactly a private area, and it gave me an idea for a scene in my next movie.

Would I be receiving or giving? I didn’t mind either way. I lingered a moment longer as I heard a muted groan, followed by the loud growl of my stomach.

Ah, fuck.

“Did you hear that?” one of them said, but I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

With flip-flops in hand, I hastily left the changing room before anyone found me, smiling to myself.

At least someone would be getting some tonight.

What kind of place had Dexter booked me into?

A porn star’s paradise, that’s what.

Perhaps this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.