Page 21 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

I read while I wait for my heart rate to return to normal. It continues to thunder against my ribcage staring at the mysterious man with the perfect six-pack and muscles so hard and tight they look like a Roman statue.

HRD4U slowly grabs a bottle of shampoo, and his hands disappear, presumably up to his hair. Not being able to see him from the collarbone up makes it difficult to know for sure, but every little movement sends his rock-hard muscles rippling. With the water cascading over his skin and the steam floating up around him, it’s like a damn wet dream come to life.

God, the man is well-built.

Beautiful body.

Beautiful dick.

And he’s so damn nice and down to Earth with the women who watch him. He treats them respectfully, doesn’t make sleazy comments, or take any of them up on their offers of sex—at least, that’s what he says.

He seems like a genuinely good guy, and he’s single, too, according to the comments he’s made.

I guess good guys—and girls—do finish last and have to pretend to be good always. At least if they want to keep up appearances and maintain their jobs. Both things that are, unfortunately, necessary for me, which doesn’t leave me a lot of options. So, HRD4U is the plan for now, and for as long as it takes to find the perfect man.

My eyes follow every movement as he grabs a bar of soap, lathers it, and massages it over his body…slowly and deliberately.

Chiseled chest.

Bulging biceps.

Washboard abs.

That damn V thingy that makes my knees weak.

Then down over that magnificent dick that’s already hardening again.

The man knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s a master at it.

His hand wraps around his cock, now slick with soap, and he moans.

“Well, ladies, who’s ready for round two?”

He strokes himself slowly from root to tip, rolling his palm against the head.

I grab my vibrator from where it fell between my legs and fire it back up. If he’s going again, so will I. Maybe five or six times.

Just remembering how goddamn hot this all was will be enough to keep me going all night, even after he logs off.

But before I start up again, I reach over with one hand and type out the first comment I have ever made on any of HRD4U’s videos.

INEEDSOMED

Why don’t men like you exist in real life? Why is it so hard to find a nice guy who can talk filthy and fuck dirty? If you know where to find one, I want one. So please, let me know. I’d appreciate any help I can get.

6

FLYNN

If I have to stare at this screen full of numbers much longer, I’m going to throw my computer off this damn desk. I pinch the bridge of my nose and rub at my tired, aching eyes.

“Be a stockbroker,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said.

Well, it sure as hell isn’t like it is in the movies. No lavish parties with overflowing champagne. No yachts with dozens of beautiful models throwing themselves at you. No mansion and expensive car.

I’m not rolling in the dough, and in this economy, neither are my clients. All the red on these portfolios gives me a migraine, and I squeeze my eyes shut against the distortion creeping into the edges of my vision.

Maybe if I don’t look at it, then it won’t be true. But when I open my eyes again, the same numbers taunt me like angry little assholes.

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