Page 11 of Sweet Thing

“Ahh, Komm her, Dramakönigin!“ (Come here, drama queen!) Gretchen sighed as she opened her arms for an embrace. The relief on Sim’s face was a picture. He fell into the hug with Gretchen, the mother of their group.

Sim didn’t feel like he deserved their forgiveness, but was relieved to have it. He couldn’t deny the tears that welled in his eyes.

“Ah hush now, little Sim. You know what happens to calm whiny babies when Emily‘s around. You might even like it!“ Gretchen ribbed outrageously. Sim pushed back from her hug and shot a scowl at Pieter. His reaction to breastfeeding was obviously the running joke for the night.

Sim saw Pieter’s eyes move past him. He turned, following Pieter‘s gaze to see his ex-agent Veronik Hassell standing behind him. Veronik was an ex-model-turned-agent in her early fifties, she had long silver hair, green eyes, and a strong-featured face, aging gracefully. His emotions already on a knife-edge, Simeon fell into her arms sobbing.

Veronik had been Sim‘s Mother Agent. She was the woman who had discovered him and introduced him to Pieter. She was the first person in the industry to take him seriously, the person who took a chance on him. Professionally, she‘d gone through hell with the fall out of Sim’s media leak stunt. Her reputation had suffered at the time, but she recovered quickly due to her long history and outstanding PR skills. But Simeon was deeply ashamed for the difficulties he had caused her.

“I’m so sorry Veronik,“ he sobbed.

****

The night was coming to an end, and Simeon’s heart felt huge with the emotion of the evening. He was deeply humbled as he said his farewells to his friends outside the gallery. Refusing to share a taxi, Simeon decided he needed to walk and mull over everything that had happened. He strode off downNeustädtische Kirchstraße and took a right towards Friedrichstraße. A fine rain began to fall, but Simeon kept on walking; he didn’t mind getting wet.

An insistent car horn stole Simeon from his introspection. He glanced to his left to see a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Limousine pull to the curb and the driver-side passenger door open.

”Simeon, there you are.” Bastian Roth exclaimed. Simeon was awash with sudden delight at seeing the older man again.

“I didn’t get your number, and then you disappear on me like Cinderella.“ Bastian continued with a pout.

Simeon smiled coquettishly, said nothing, and then turned away and walked on. Bastian exited the limo, and before Sim could protest, he was walking at Simeon’s side down the avenue in the rain. Sim felt a flush of pleasure at the game. He decided he would make Bastian work for the seduction.

“What do you want, Bastian?” Simeon drawled, unimpressed. He was well used to dealing with rich, entitled men.

Bastian smirked at the directness of the question.

“You interest me. I want your number. I want to get to know you a little better, would you like that?” Bastian offered in almost a paternal way.

“I don’t know you. If you think I’m getting in a car with a strange man, you’re delusional. Did your daddy never teach you of stranger danger?” Simeon cocked a brow and quirked a wicked grin.

Bastian walked silently by his side for a minute. “No, my father had little to do with my education. Mon éducation a été acquise dans les écoles privées et puis la Sorbonne.‘’ (My education was gained at private schools, and then, the Sorbonne.) Bastian relayed in seamless French.

“Oh, vos française est bonne,“(Your French is very good) Simeon was pleasantly surprised; he felt a lurch of desire in his gut.

“My mother was French, my father, German. They are both gone now.”

Simeon stopped under a streetlight at the corner of Neustädtische Kirchstrasse and Georgenstrasse. He noticed the car had been stalking them slowly along the road. It was a little creepy. He eyed Bastian Roth, checking the man from head to toe. He was dangerously attractive, blond and blue eyed. Simeon’s perfect type. Sim could already imagine him naked and on all fours for his pleasure. “Okay, you can have my number,” he surrendered.

“And what about your company tonight?” Bastian ventured.

“Ah, Bastian,” Simeon purred. “This won’t do. I asked you what you wanted. You wanted my number, and now you are making a list of demands. I’m not so easy, you know. I think I might just change my mind.” Simeon shook his head playfully and turned to walk off. Bastian caught the arm of Simeon’s leather jacket, pulled him back, and dragged him into a rough kiss. Simeon wriggled to be out of his grasp, but then his body betrayed him, and his lips parted to welcome the probing moist, hot tongue the older man offered. Simeon tasted white wine in Bastian’s mouth and went limp in the older man’s strong arms. He felt consumed by the taste of alcohol and the pleasure of the kiss. His left-hand moved up to caress Bastian’s softly stubbled jaw, and the right landed on his firm muscled ass cheek. An animal need gripped Simeon; I’m such a slut! he thought to himself.

“What do you want?” Simeon asked breathily again when his mouth had been released from the kiss.

“I want to get to know you, come home with me. Please?”

Bastian was pleading? This was a new one on Sim. He was usually the needy one when it came to sex. Under the streetlights and the patter of the spring rain, he gazed into Bastian’s eyes. There was something in his gaze—sadness, loneliness. How could such a handsome man be sad and lonely?

“I can’t be out too late. I have meetings tomorrow and need my beauty sleep.” Simeon purred as he kissed along Bastian’s stubbled jaw line. The man smelled so good—musk, sweat, and sandalwood.

“I won’t keep you up all night—This time!”

“Oh, you’re very confident, aren’t you Mr. Roth.”

“Don’t call me that. My father was Mr. Roth, call me Bast.”

“Okay Bast, come to mine then. It’s not far,” Simeon said linking the older man’s arm and dragging him along. Bastian turned and waved to the driver. Simeon watched the Mercedes-Benz S-Class Limousine pass them and drive away down the street.