Page 28 of His Dirty Obsession
When I arrived at the theatre, everyone was as nervous as I was. There was lots of pacing and running through lines, dancing and a fair amount of hip thrusts. We’d get through this, though. We had to. It was opening night with lots of agents, entertainment critics and no doubt an audience wanting some fun.
I opened up my bag, getting out the lunch Ben had made for me. I needed little, just something to take the edge off the hunger and nausea. It wouldn’t do to have my stomach growl in the middle of a strip scene. I wasn’t sure what I was more nervous about, the stripping or the thought I could get hard during the play.
Opening the lunch box, I smiled seeing what Ben had packed; cheese, crackers, chopped apple, my favourite malt loaf and some chocolate. A Flake no less, and tucked down the side was a piece of paper. I opened it, wondering what I’d find.
To my favourite stripper!
I know you’ll be amazing, as always. I can’t wait to watch you. Watch as you reveal that enticing body. I’ll imagine you’re doing it just for me, getting hard knowing what we’ve done. What we do.
I’m hoping we’ll be ending the night with a bang.
Ben
Fuck. I adjusted my dick; his words had made me harder than a rock. They were full of promise, and I hoped he meant what I thought he did. Ending the night with a bang sounded like my kind of night.
“You OK there?”
I glanced up to see Dex, one of the dancers, looking at me with interest.
“I’m good, thanks. Just grabbing some food, reading a note.” I waved it in the air, hoping he’d just go away.
“Must be some hot note.” He indicated my dick, which was straining to burst out of my sweats. I laughed sheepishly, embarrassed at having been caught.
“Something like that.”
“Want a hand? I’m offering if you do.” He licked his lips, and I had no doubt he’d help me out, but it wasn’t his hand or mouth I wanted on me.
“I’m good, but thanks for the offer.” I crossed my legs in a vain effort to hide my erection, but to no avail.
“Any time, Xavier. I’d be more than happy to help.” He winked as he turned away, a swing in his step. He was a complete tart. I’d heard him try to pick up half the guys in the play already and seen him with his tongue down the throat of the stagehand a couple of days ago.
I shook my head. No way I was going there, but what to do with this very prominent boner? I’d just have to wait for it to go down, nothing for it.
Might as well eat at the same time. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my social media. I’d found Ben’s profile a few weeks ago but had been reluctant to send him a friend request. Seemed fucking stupid when I thought about it. I’d had his dick down my throat more times than I could count, but for some reason, sending that request seemed weird, and I had no idea why.
I clicked on it now, seeing that he had his privacy settings so strict, I’d not see anything. I found Ava. I already had her as a friend, had for a while, and scrolled through her feed, finding myself in her photos. There were a few of Ben, some from a few years ago. He was a little slimmer but no less good-looking. Pretty hot, actually.
I smiled at his youthful face. He looked cute. A couple of swipes later and I was looking into the eyes of that guy I’d seen sucking his dick a while back. Richard, I thought, but Ben called him Dick. He was all over him, his tongue in his ear while he looked into the camera. Did Ben look a little uncomfortable, or was that just wishful thinking?
I flicked to the next photo, grimacing at it. Dick’s lips plastered to Ben’s, but again, there was that look on Ben’s face. My imagination, bound to be. These photos were a few years old. They’d known each other for a while.
I shut down the app, feeling a little sleazy now, having snooped at the pictures. I mean, they were there for all and sundry to see, but I’d gone searching for them. Fucking Dick. I’d bet he’d had Ben’s dick in his arse. I crossed my arms and sulked.
Well, that had certainly sorted out my erection. It had deflated like a worn-out balloon.
I’d need to keep the pictures in my mind during the play, certainly throughout the stripping scenes—nothing to see here.
Soon enough, I was called for my last fitting, ready for the dress rehearsal, and before I knew it, it was almost time for curtain up. I felt physically sick. Any minute now could see me throwing up the meagre lunch I’d eaten. I looked around to see many of the others probably looking a similar colour to me…a sickly shade of green.
Andrew, the producer, stepped in front of us, a huge smile on his face.
“Make it epic, boys. Make the audience want you, make them go home and dream about you. I know you can do this. I have faith. Now go break a leg.”
Not exactly inspiring words, but he’d tried. We shuffled back to our dressing room, lost in our own thoughts, but while I should have been thinking about the play, my words and more importantly, my dance moves, all I could think about was the possibility that tonight could be the night!
Please, God. Please let it be tonight. I was ready, and I was waiting.
Chapter 12
