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London

It was Saturday night and Kevin Chase was performing live on The Craig Winston Show. He hated gigging in tight studio spaces, so close to the primly seated front row it felt as if he was screaming the lyrics in their faces. It reminded him of his audition with Cut N Dry: the panel of execs, Sketch looking on approvingly as he had sang and danced like a court buffoon until every muscle in his body hurt. It had gone to the wire between him and some stammering kid whose name he couldn’t remember.

The choice, Sketch told him later, had been easy.

Tonight marked the unveiling of his new single, the coming-of-age ‘Wise Up’. Recently commissioned by Cut N Dry in light of Kevin’s refusal to continue playing the pretty-boy-perfect role, it was about crossing the frontier into adulthood—or at least that was how Sketch had sold it. It wasn’t quite as sexy and edgy as Kevin had hoped for, but he supposed it was a start. At least it wasn’t about cuddly fucking toys.

‘ You say you wanna feel me, girl this is the real me, come right here and deal me, cos girl I wanna call ya, I swear I will enthral ya, baby take it all yeah … ’

The audience remained on their fat asses as Kevin charged the small stage, working his dance routines, the flaps of his knee-length Cavalli coat flying out behind him. A handful of Little Chasers had been admitted which prevented the whole thing becoming totally cringe-worthy, like he was an upstart kid flaunting his wares at a school assembly, and squealed their approval as he shuffled to the beat.

‘ I swear girl you’re so beautiful, you know I think you’re beautiful … ’

At this the Little Chasers squealed some more, and Kevin noticed through the blaring lights that one of them was at least his age, if not a couple years older. That was a novelty. She was pretty, too, with a thick dark fringe and sparkling eyes.

‘Be mine tonight, the best night of your life …’ He stepped off the stage, an impromptu move, and claimed the girl’s hand. Fingers snatched at him from all directions, mauling his clothes and tugging him close. But Kevin’s gaze remained on the girl’s. ‘Don’t put up a fight, let me hold you tight …’

The girl stared back at him in open worship, her lips sweetly parted.

Kevin hit the closing high note, tipping his head back to belt it, and before the lights went down he twirled once, brilliantly, on the spot, punching his arm high into the air. The applause was ear-splitting. Kevin returned to the stage to receive Craig Winston’s praise, and decided then that he would be banging that girl tonight.

‘ Never go with a fan. ’

That had been one of Sketch’s first nuggets of advice.

But Sketch wasn’t here now, was he?

The girl was. His assistant had sorted it.

‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ the girl told him, her voice shaking wildly as she perched on a chair in his dressing room. Kevin was busy peeling off his suit.

‘You don’t mind …’ he gestured to his bare, sweat-drenched torso, ‘do you?’

She blushed and turned away. ‘I, er …’

‘What’s your name?’ he asked, relishing the power. This was a different kind of power to the power he felt on stage. Sexual. Potent. Animalistic.

It would be his first time. Great that she was older, she could steer him if he needed it, but his own pleasure would be paramount. It was the golden combination.

‘M-Marie,’ she faltered.

‘That’s a pretty name.’

Kevin kept his pants on for now. He was conscious that he hadn’t yet got hard. When were you supposed to? Now? When she got her tits out? After it went in?

He stroked her hair. ‘You like me, don’t you?’ he warbled.

‘Yes,’ Marie choked.

‘I bet you never thought you’d be here, right?’

‘N-no.’

He leaned down. ‘I’m going to have sex with you,’ he whispered.

Marie’s eyes were pools of lust. She tried to kiss him.

‘Not yet,’ he told her. ‘Take your top off.’

Her fingers trembling, Marie undid the buttons of her shirt. Underneath she was wearing a plain white bra. Her stomach was pale and smooth and she had a constellation of freckles on her chest. Kevin reached to touch them. Slowly his hand moved lower, cupping her breast. It felt heavy in his palm, like a balloon filled with water. He handled it enquiringly, as if he were testing the weight of a bag of sugar. He moved to the other one, and her nipple stiffened under his thumb.

Marie tucked her arms behind her back and released the clasp. Her tits sprang into view, full and white. Kevin registered a faint ripple of longing, obstructed before it reached his groin: a message that wasn’t quite computing.

He continued to fondle distractedly, like a chef oiling a cut of pork.

‘Do you like them?’ Marie asked in a small voice.

He supposed so. ‘Yeh.’

For Marie it was a green light. Quick as a flash, she was fumbling into his underpants, attempting to release his coiled-up dick.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked when he pulled away.

‘Nothin’,’ he grunted. ‘You done this before?’

Marie lifted her chin. ‘Course.’

‘Good.’

As if to prove it, Marie shuffled out of her skirt and knickers and stood before him in all her naked glory. Kevin watched the triangle of fuzz between her legs, warily, as if it were an animal about to pounce. Still he felt nothing.

Maybe he should speak to Sketch about increasing his vitamin dosage.

One blue pill, one red pill, every day like clockwork—he had to stay healthy, Sketch vowed, keep ahead of the competition. The pills were a special formula designed to soothe, relax and nourish. Kevin had been guzzling them for as long as he could remember. Given how out of control he had felt lately, he dreaded the thought of what he would be reduced to without them. Without them, he might die.

Joan had made sure in those early days that he never missed a pill. Do what Sketch says, honey; Sketch knows best. Of course Sketch knew best. Sketch always did. It was gruesome how much of a brownnose Joan was—all yes, Sketch this and yes, Sketch that. Her head was so far up Sketch’s ass you could practically see her toenails in the seat of his pants.

‘Can I give you a blowjob?’

Kevin looked down at his dangling appendage. Maybe once it got in Marie’s mouth it would start doing something. But that never happened in porn. The guy’s penis was already an upright, splendid spear—not a flaccid, starved little thing that resembled a gerbil at the bottom of a cage. He wanted to weep.

Kevin backed up. ‘Actually, I don’t think—’

Marie moved like lightning. She was a substantial size, the same height as him easily, and threw him against the dressing room door. Tits smashed against his chest and her glossy lips attacked his face. He could feel her warm, fruit-scented breath, and before he knew it she was clasping his dick, rubbing it with the flat of her hand, up and down, up and down, until the friction started to burn.

‘Stop it.’ He took her wrist. It hurt. ‘Back off a second.’

‘Let me, Kevin, please,’ she begged. ‘I promise it’ll be good—’

‘No—’

‘I’ll swallow. I promise to swallow—’

‘Stop!’ Kevin pushed her away. Marie stood, helpless, attempting to cover her modesty now the glow of their union was off the cards.

Her bottom lip wobbled. She was about to cry. Great.

‘Get dressed,’ he told her, as kindly as he could. This wasn’t her fault.

‘But …’

‘Just do it!’ he roared. ‘Get dressed and get out. Now!’

With a series of whimpers, Marie took her time pulling on her clothes, waiting for him to change his mind and ask her to stay. When he didn’t, she miserably hauled open the door and slunk outside, her eyes brimming with tears.

Kevin closed the door. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands, trembling.

He felt awful. What a fucking disaster.