Page 106 of Cream & Sugar
Yes, yes, oh my god yes, I scream inside my head.
“Escargots de Bourgogne!”
Our waiter returns out of nowhere, carrying a steaming platter. Freddie hastily drops his foot and I sit bolt upright, as though straightening my spine might hide the size of my erection.
“Merci,” I say, frantically grabbing a napkin for my lap. “I mean, thank you!”
Freddie covers his mouth with one hand and I feel myself going tomato red. The waiter looks at me, concerned.
“Are you alright, sir? I can ask them to turn the heating down?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” My back prickles like my skin is on fire. “Actually, maybe some water with ice?”
“Right away, sir.” He nods and heads off in the direction of the bar.
Freddie’s turned to one side, fighting to keep his laughter at bay.
“Yes, yes, you’re hilarious,” I say, witheringly as I try not to make a big show of rearranging myself into a more comfortable position.
“Sorry!” Freddie waves his hands in a criss-cross pattern. “But your face was priceless.”
“You’re a menace, Freddie Young.”
“I’m aware,” he says, proudly.
I roll my eyes. “May I politely request that we wait until we’re not in public?”
“Ha! Sure. Guess I was getting a little ahead of myself.” Freddie leans in closer, his voice barely louder than the sizzling escargots between us. “Although, seeing how easily I can make you go all starry-eyed is pretty fucking hot.”
I can’t argue with that. In seconds, he had me fully hard with just one foot. I wonder what other tricks he has up his sleeve. From the way he’s looking at me, I’m guessing I’ll find out pretty soon. It’s a new feeling, this total physical need. When I’m near him, it feels like sparks are flying between us, burning hotter and brighter the closer we become. My body is his, and I’ve never been more willing to surrender it to anyone.
My boyfriend, the perfect specimen that he is, picks up his fork and pokes one of the escargots.
“I’m not being funny,”—he wrinkles his nose—“but these look likesnails.”
I mop up the last of my beef bourguignon with a piece of bread and toss it in my mouth. Gosh, that was heavenly, but I couldn’t manage another bite.
Freddie polishes off his French fries and leans back in his seat, loosening his belt.
“Woof. That was totally—”
“Rad?”
Freddie narrows his eyes. “I was going to saydelicious, I’ll have you know. But yes, it was rad.” He licks French fry salt from his fingertips, hardly fancy restaurant behaviour, but he looks so good doing it, no one in their right mind could object.
The waiter comes for our plates and offers us dessert menus which we politely refuse. Any more food and Freddie will have to roll me home.
Once I’ve paid the bill and asked our waiter to pass our compliments to the chef, I suggest a walk to burn off some of the food. Freddie agrees and we make our way outside.
“Wanna go down to the seafront?” Freddie suggests, his breath steaming in the cold night air.
Now seems like the perfect time for his surprise.
“Come with me first.” I lead us back to the car and pop the boot where a large shopping bag stands upright, its content hidden by a sheet of black wrapping paper. I pick up the bag and hand it to Freddie. “This is for you.”
Freddie peels the paper aside, revealing the checkered navy fabric underneath. Curiously, he lifts his gift out of the bag, his eyes widening when a sherpa-lined trucker jacket unfurls in his hands.
“Oh, Shaun…” He stares at it in disbelief. “You got this for me?”
