Page 20 of Darling

Me:

You’re not too old to put across my knee

Z:

Now you’re just trying to turn me on, daddy

I smile, my dick twitching with interest.

Z:

I’m at the gym, working up a sweat

Me:

Now who’s trying to turn who on?

Z:

I’m always trying to turn you on...

Me:

picture?

The illicit anticipation of waiting for the image is almost as arousing as the image itself, and I remember why I was so reluctant to put an end to things with Felix. This forbidden desire is addictive; it makes me feel alive in ways I otherwise don’t.

It takes a minute, but then it comes through. He’s in an almost shredded black tank top, over-ear earphones on, and cheeks bright pink. His biceps and throat glisten with sweat. He has his tongue pushed out mischievously. My dick flickers awake. I stare at it too long. Another text comes through.

Z:

My asshole is soaked.

Me:

Can I see you tonight?

Z:

Yes, sir. What time?

Me:

I’ll be done here around 6.

Z:

Sounds good. My place?

Me:

Perfect

Z:

I’ll be waiting ass up with the door unlocked

I’m staring at the words, trying to calm my arousal down, when the screen starts singing at me with an incoming call. The foreign secretary’s face blasts onto the screen a second later. He looks stressed, five years older than the last time I saw him, and very happy to see me.