Sharon Maria Bidwell

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Alex’s heart has been broken one too many times. But a piece of ass just isn’t giving him
peace of mind. He needs something more. So where do the lovelorn turn for inspiration? The stars, of course.

It took much pointing and hand gestures for Alex to receive a smile as his reward. It completely transformed the man’s face, which had looked perpetually stern and perplexed up until this moment. Alex found he was smiling back, until his expression gave way to one of puzzlement. The young man reached out with his hand and let the spray from the shower run over his fingers. Surely, whatever country this guy came from, they used showers. Maybe he came from somewhere such as Norway or Finland. That would possibly explain the pale features, though the white hair was definitely unusual. Alex had thought it bleached, but now he was not so certain. It looked natural. Well, some people did go grey and even pure white, at quite a young age. Why wear those silly contacts, though?

As the stranger began to strip — the suit came off easier than he expected — heat rose to Alex’s face. “I… Er…” He settled for turning his back, standing politely by, waiting for the garment, which he intended to put in the washing machine. Alex remained the good Samaritan, until only a brief glance had him turning his head, his gaze drawn inexplicably back to that tall, slender frame, each muscle bunching and twisting in statuesque perfection as it came into view.

Realising he gaped, Alex turned away, only to discover his throat felt unbelievably dry as he tried to swallow. Dear God, the man was beautiful! Firmly muscled, though incredibly, almost obscenely lean; everything looked so tight.

Moments later, he held a bundle of clothes in his hands and turned back to watch that sculptured Adonis step into the shower, despite knowing he shouldn’t spy. A soft moan came from the man’s lips as the water hit his skin. Alex’s lips parted a little and then he had to snap his teeth together, hard, to keep from copying the sound. He’d explained the idea of shower gel and the stranger certainly seemed to have the hang of it, as having turned full circle to make sure he was wet all over, he now faced the wall, filled his hand with a generous dollop of the coloured gel from the can, and lathered it up in his hands. Alex’s attempt to explain that it would expand into foam and that he need only use a little seemed redundant now; as he watched the thick, white cream spreading to cover every inch of that perfect skin, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat glad of the man’s extravagance.

His gaze followed those slender hands as they caressed every curve and slope, starting from the neck, moving down to the shoulders, and then to his sides. Muscles in his back rippled; the guy’s backside jumped and jiggled. Water droplets ran in snaking trickles over his skin, joining to form heavier, fuller passages of thick, wet trails.

The pale man’s hands moved lower, soaping up his thighs. He stood briefly, carefully, as he raised one leg so he could wash one smooth calve all the way down to his ankle. Then he repeated the exercise to wash the other leg. Alex blinked, coming a little back to himself, and he might have left the room then, if the idea that the guy shaved his legs wasn’t so overwhelming. No sooner did he decide this guy was peculiar, than he discovered things were just getting weirder. Those hands moved inwards now — the stranger obviously paying attention to his groin. At least he would smell better, but the idea of him all squeaky-clean made Alex squeak in other ways.

As the stranger turned in the shower, Alex received another shock. The guy was completely hairless… everywhere, except for those tumbling white waves that sprouted from the top of his head. How had he failed to notice that? With nothing hidden, Alex received an eyeful.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Alex looked up and met that glittering violet gaze. The lips curved upwards slightly, but the expression was more one of question than invitation.

Way to go. Caught staring, Alex fumbled for an excuse. “Don’t forget to use the shampoo and wash your hair,” he mumbled. He hurried out of the room, heart pounding. Alas, it wasn’t the only thing throbbing with a wild, uncontrollable rhythm.

© Sharon Maria Bidwell, all rights reserved.