Chapter 3

Why was he here booking in as a guest? How in God’s name could he afford it?

I’d completely lost touch with the family after I’d moved away and received the briefest of updates on Robbie from my sister, Isla.

My parents, well, Mum really, had never forgiven me for running away, and I couldn’t blame them. I still saw them on occasion, but I rarely went home. I knew I should have stuck around and faced the consequences, but I was young and terrified of Simon and the police.

As it was, Robbie’s accident had been classed as that, a stupid schoolboy prank gone wrong.

The problem was, I’d had so much to contend with after I left, I’d selfishly not given a thought to how others—my family—were fairing. In my mind, I didn’t deserve forgiveness, not for Robbie nor for causing everyone grief.

Isla had said Mum and Dad couldn’t understand why I hadn’t returned home after I left Aunt Debbie’s, and I’d not told her why. It was still too painful to think about now. I’m sure they would have helped me, but at the time, the idea of going home to face the music had sent me spiralling into full-blown panic.

So, I’d stayed away, and the longer I left it, the harder it was to return, certainly in the short term. As the years had passed, I’d reached out to them, and while they’d asked why I hadn’t gone home, I refused to talk about my life after I left.

I decided I should call Isla to see if she knew anything.

As it was, I didn’t need to. Gossip was running rampant in the staff room the following morning.

“Did you see who checked in yesterday?” Fabian asked. “Only Simon fucking Stroker.”

He looked around the room. A few of us, including me, looked at him, not having a clue what he was talking about.

“You mean the guy that checked in yesterday afternoon? Dirty-blond hair, scruff. That guy?” I asked.

I couldn’t say too much. I didn’t want to let on to anyone that I knew him.

“He said his name was Simon Fletcher,” Holly added.

“That might be his real name,” Fabian continued, “but his porn name is Simon Stroker.”

I spat out the coffee I’d just drunk. Porn name?

What the fuck?

“It’s not him,” Greg said. “I’ve watched loads of porn. He looks totally different.”

“I’m telling you.” Fabian held up his hands. “It’s him. I’d recognise him anywhere. What I wouldn’t give to have sex with him.” He gazed off into the distance, a smile on his face. No doubt lost in his own fantasy.

Colour me curious, but why would he be having sex with men? I’d only ever seen him with girls when he was younger.

“He’s straight, isn’t he?” I asked, perplexed, realising at the moment I’d almost given the game away. “He looked it, anyway.”

“He’s about as straight as wet spaghetti,” Greg said. “Have you not seen him ‘in action’?” He emphasised his comment with air quotes.

To be honest, I’d never watched much porn. Not as a kid and definitely not when I was working the streets. I lived the life; I didn’t want to watch it too.

I preferred the real thing, and now I thought about it, maybe I was the only guy in the room that didn’t watch any.

“So, he makes gay porn?” I asked again. This news was unbelievable.

“Yeah, look at this.” Fabian shoved his phone in front of my face, carnal grunts and groans sounding loud in the staff room.

There was no mistaking it. There was Simon in all his glory, pounding into a guy for all he was worth. For years, I’d imagined what he’d look like naked when all I’d needed to do was watch some porn.

“He not only stars in it,” Greg said, “but he has his own channel. I reckon he makes a mint doing it. He’s won a fair few awards too.”

“For having sex on screen,” I clarified.

“Yep. He’s hot as fuck, don’t you think?” Fabian turned the phone around, and his eyes grew wide.

“Put it away, hot shot. Time for work.” Holly stood and winked at me. She mouthed ‘later’, and I nodded, with little enthusiasm. I had no intention of meeting up with her later. Seeing Simon yesterday had dampened my libido.

Fabian followed her, still in his little dream world.

My primary goal for the day was to avoid the man at all costs for the time he was here. If I could do that, I’d be fine.

I knew the moment he saw me, all bets would be off. There was no telling what he would do.

I finished the rest of my coffee in relative silence, my mind whirling with the fact that the man I’d wanked over was a porn star. Not just anyone, but a gay one at that.

If only sixteen-year-old Duke had known, but I guess he’d got into it later in life. He definitely wasn’t doing it when I was around.

“You okay there?” Greg asked. He sat next to me on the grey leather sofa. “Something you need to tell us?”

“Nah, not that I can think of.” Telling anyone about our past association would surely raise more questions than I would be happy answering.

“Well, you’d best buck your ideas up. You have a massage with Mr Stroker booked in for midday. Aren’t you the lucky one?”

He slapped me on the thigh and stood, a huge grin on his face.

Fuck.

No way could I do that, but it was Sod’s law, wasn’t it? You could see it coming a mile off. I’d need to speak to the front desk, find some excuse not to be in the same room as him, and definitely not when he was naked.

He’d only have to see my name, and alarm bells would ring. How many people had the name Duke?

“Tell us all about it,” he said over his shoulder as he left the room.

I found myself alone. Everyone else had gone to their respective jobs or appointments. I had another half an hour before I needed to be anywhere. Tempted to take one more look at the object of my teenage fantasies, I took my phone out of my bag and searched for his name.

‘Simon Stroker, porn star’

Fuck, there were loads of entries.

I scrolled through them. Twinks, bears. Who thought up these scene names?

‘Stroker strokes all the bears’

Curious, I clicked play, and after an advert for a vibrating butt plug, the video finally loaded.

I kept the volume low and turned my phone away from the door. I didn’t need to be caught.

He was almost unrecognisable. His hair was a little longer, and he’d filled out a lot since the last time I’d seen him all those years ago.

That arse, though. Firm muscular buttocks and thighs that clenched with each thrust.

The angle changed, and I finally got to see his cock. Lord, it was something else. Thick and cut. Unusual, but I wouldn’t complain.

My mouth watered, wondering how he would taste. Would I be able to take him?

Not that the chance would ever arise. He loathed me, and the hatred I’d seen in his eyes the last time we spoke was hard to miss.

A slight flash of orange caught my eye, and I paused the film to look closer. Was that a bird? A phoenix maybe?

I hit play again, transfixed by the intensity of his stare as he looked into the camera. It was as if he were looking right at me. Sweat dripped down his body, over his abs and into the sparse covering of pubic hair.

My cock pulsed in my trousers. Jesus, fuck. I couldn’t go see my next client with a boner, but the sight of his glorious body and my arousal was evident.

I ended the video and stood up, willing it to go away, pulling down the tunic I wore to at least hide it.

“Duke? Are you in here?” I dropped my phone, hearing it crack as it hit the floor. Jesus fucking Christ. Could this day get any worse?

Craig entered, and I thanked fuck he hadn’t come in a moment earlier. I turned away from him, hiding my arousal.

“What did you need?” I asked, grabbing my messenger bag and placing everything in my locker.

“Could you take one of my eleven o’clock appointments today? I’m double-booked.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said. I could have hugged him.

A massage could take anything up to two hours, which would mean I’d have to cancel my appointment with Mr Stroker.

There were other masseurs that could do the job just as well as I could.

“Let’s go change it in the appointment book.” I smiled at Craig. “I could kiss you.”

He looked at me. “What’s up with you? You’re acting weird.”

“Nope, just happy to help a friend.”

“Okaaay!” He peered over my shoulder. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing, just scrolling on my phone before my appointment.”

“Not looking at Mr Stroker?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, and you’ve cracked your screen.”

“Yeah, I know. Butterfingers. And he’s not my type. More Fabian’s, I think. He’s a little old for me.”

Craig’s brow wrinkled. “Really? I’ve seen you with older guys, and women come to that.”

“A guy can change his mind, can’t he?” I was trying not to sound rude, but the train of this conversation needed to change.

“You can, but he doesn’t look that much older than you.”

He was two years older. Not that much at all.

“Shall we go?” I gestured to the door. I was done with this conversation.

My luck held out for the rest of the day, and I didn’t see Simon at all. I’d spotted him in the dining room just after lunch but turned around at the last minute. He’d been sitting in one of the small alcoves, usually reserved for our more exclusive guests.

From all accounts, he was just that. An important VIP.

To me, he would always be Simon. My best friend’s brother, the object of my obsession for years. We’d had fun until that night. He’d let us sit with him as he played his video games when we were younger. I’d watch him more than the screen. His rough looks attracting me like no other boy I knew.

Now, he looked tired, polished even. Nothing like the person I used to know.

Safe at home, I finally relaxed. I’d been on edge all day, not knowing if he was lingering around the next corner.

I’d checked with Holly and knew he’d be staying for a week. If I could hold out until then, it’d be a fucking miracle. The place wasn’t huge.

An old manor house, set in acres of grounds, we were an escape for many actors wanting to get away. All employees signed a non-disclosure agreement upon starting and got their backgrounds checked. It had been a nervous time for me when I joined them, but I’d been out of the game for a while and had got some good references from previous places I’d worked.

I’d avoided arrest, unlike some of my previous acquaintances, always able to talk my way out of it.

Skipping lunch hadn’t been ideal, and I was starving by the time I arrived home. I threw together a quick stir fry: chicken, noodles and some veggies.

Not a gourmet chef, although I’d dated one way back in the day. He’d taught me a few things…but the less said about that, the better. I shook my head, remembering some of the things he’d asked me to do to him. Some were weird even to me, and I’d never looked at a marrow in quite the same way again.

I cleared up quickly and settled on the sofa. My own muscles were sore, and a long soak in a bath would be just what I needed.

First, though, I needed to call Isla.

“Hey, sis.”

“Duke. Good to hear from you. How are things?”

“I’m tired but otherwise good.” I hesitated. “How are Mum and Dad?”

“You could come visit and find out for yourself.”

“Maybe.” But we both knew that was a lie.

“Why is it so hard for you to come home? I get you were young when you left, but they miss you. Sometimes you’re a selfish bastard, Duke.”

She wasn’t wrong. I had visited but kept any contact to a minimum. The questions they’d ask me about what I did and where I’d been? I still wasn’t ready to answer them even after fifteen years.

“Look, I’m sorry. I…”

“One day you’ll have to explain it to me. What did you want anyway?”

“What makes you think I want anything? Can’t I call my sister for a chat?”

“Pfft. That almost never happens. Usually you want an update on the Fletcher family. I don’t know why you don’t reach out to Robbie either. I know it’s been a long time, but let bygones be just that.”

One of the reasons I didn’t go home was because of Robbie. If he knew I was home, he’d want to see me, but the guilt and shame I felt about the night of the accident kept me away.

Realising I did only call when I wanted something, I made small talk.

“How are things at the restaurant?” My parents had moved away from the pub and opened a place in Chester, by the river. It was popular and busy. Isla had taken on the role of manager, a position she was born to do. The customers loved her, as did the staff.

“It’s going well. Race day soon and you know we’re always busy then. Why don’t you come? We could do with the help, and I’m sure you’d get a free meal thrown in.”

“I might just do that.” Race season was almost over, but there was one meet left. Lately I’d been thinking more about what I’d left behind, old memories surfacing. Not all good ones.

“Let me know. Mum and Dad would really love to see you again, and even though you’re an annoying little shit, I’d be happy too.”

Isla was older than me, but not by much, and we’d been close when we were younger. The years I’d spent away had driven a wedge between us, but bit by bit, I was trying to repair what we had.

“So, what did you really call for?”

“Simon Fletcher. What do you know about him?”

“See, I knew there was a reason.” She tutted but continued. “I don’t know much. He kind of disappeared, much like you did. I heard he’d got into indie movies, but I do wonder how much of that is true. Robbie has been getting some pretty expensive treatment, from what I hear.”

“That fits with what I know.”

“What do you know? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Simon turned up at the spa yesterday.”

“Fuck, Duke. Has he seen you?”

“No, thank God. I’ve managed to avoid him. But what I did find out was that he’s an award-winning porn star.”

Her intake of breath was audible. “No fucking way!”

“The best of it, he’s a gay porn star. I’ve seen the evidence.”

“How did you find out?”

“One of the porters here said he recognised him. Insisted on sharing one of his videos with us all.”

“Did you watch? I know you always had a thing for Simon.”

“Did not.”

“Did fucking too, Duke. You idolised him. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was the only reason you were friends with Robbie.”

“You know that’s not true. Robbie was my best friend,” I whispered.

“I know, I’m sorry, but you can’t deny you had a thing for him.”

I said nothing. She knew I had. At one time, we told each other everything. When had that stopped?

Oh, yeah. When I’d left them all with nothing but a note. It was a wonder she spoke to me at all.

“Anyway,” I said, wanting to change the subject.

“Anyway. Please come see us, Duke, and if I find out anything else about Simon, I’ll give you a call.”

“I miss you.” Where did that come from?

“I know you do, and when you’re ready to tell me everything, I’ll be here to listen. I don’t care how bad it is, Duke. I’m your sister…always.”

There was no more to be said, and we ended the call.

Shame stopped me from revealing all to Isla and my parents. Would they ever forgive me for the things I’d done?

I didn’t have the answer to that. Seeing Simon had brought a lot of old emotions to the surface. Perhaps it was time to put them to rest.

I slept fitfully, constantly waking every two hours until the alarm, and when I arrived at work, I was irritable and grouchy.

No amount of coffee was going to make it any better, but I had to try.

I drank two cups before heading to my first appointment. A massage with one of my regulars.

Without any thought, I entered the dining room, spotting my client sitting by the window. She was middle-aged, retired, and had been a bit of a celebrity model back in the day. She still looked good.

“Ah, there he is. The lovely Duke.” She beamed, and I walked towards her, putting a smile on my face.

If I’d been in a better mood, if I’d have just checked the room before entering, I might have seen Simon sitting in the alcove he’d been in last night.

Instead, I’d strode into the room as I normally did.

A firm hand gripped my arm, whirling me around.

“You.” I looked into the dark, hatred-filled eyes of the man I’d avoided for fifteen years.

Simon Fletcher.