Page 2 of Freddie

I knew that would get a rise out of him.

Benj-O: God no. I’ve seen what you’re packing and I like my men a little more… girthy

Freddie: Fuck you. I have girth

Benj-O: Do you? Maybe I don’t remember because it was so long ago since the locker room days

The fuck? Well, let’s correct that.

Freddie: Look at that? What’s telling you I have no girth?????

Benj-O: Fuck sake! My gran is sitting right next to me, she could have seen your dumb cock!

Freddie: Don’t call my cock dumb

Benj-O: That's your concern?

Freddie: Fine

Freddie: Sorry Benjis gran

Freddie: Unless she liked it and then, hello granny :P ;)

Benj-O: Take it back, I’m not offering you a job at all. Get fucked

Freddie: Is that last part from your granny?

After 5 minutes without a reply, I tuck into the last of my breakfast, knowing Benji has blocked me. Dramatic cow that he is.

I sit my empty food plate on my side table and hop in the shower which, thankfully, has an en-suite attached to my room so I don’t have to share it with the Spice Girls upstairs.

Wearing ripped black jeans and my favorite oversized red jumper with aesthetically pleasing holes, I plan my day around the 20-minute health walk we are allowed during lockdown. I tap my chin, plotting. I occasionally write for myself and I have been writing a mini-series that I share with Benji for something to do while bored. It’s mainly dumb stuff about clothing, or this one I’ve been working on is about some sex worker stuff I had read about in an article and made into a fictional comic. Maybe I could make use of that?

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go back to hospitality, but after seeing my college friends and work colleagues sign on for benefits or start side-hustling their baking skills, I wanted something that I could commit to even once the lockdowns ended. Plus, there was no certainty when that would happen, and I didn’t want to still be in the position I was in a year from now. Hell, even six months from now would leave me feeling hopeless.

Maybe I couldn’t suck cock for a living, but what about another type of sex work? I had the internet. I had nothing but time. Grabbing some pens and a notepad, I start doodling and writing some ideas. I’d always been creative and drawn to problem solving, it’s what had made me such an excellent chef.

With a small seed planted and a fuck it attitude, there was nothing to lose and everything to gain. It was time to get writing.

Chapter 3

Freddie

“A sex blog?”

“What’s with the face?” I ask my best friend. My admission causes his face to scrunch up, as if I’d just told him I’d caught the latest STI.

“It’s just… well, when you said you were interested, I thought you meant the same as what I do”, Benji says to me as he grabs another handful of grapes from the box that lies between us on the purple tartan blanket.

The crown shyness of the trees above us lets sparkling summer sunshine through as we lie side by side chatting about my hopes surrounding my alternative career path. Goodbye pastry, hello cake sitting kinks.

“Well, it is technically still sex work. I’d be interviewing sex workers, trying new toys, and even visiting sex clubs and events, as well as education platforms. How is that not sex work?”

“Well, just because you said sex like twelve times doesn’t really make it so, Fee.”

“Oh, fuck up. Yes, it does. You’re just jealous because I’m more intelligent than you and came up with it all on my own,” I say smugly, sticking my tongue out at him as I steal a grape from his hand.

He smacks at me but ends up just spilling the rest of the grapes. Idiot. I snort at his clumsiness, then watch as his smile grows until he’s showing me all his teeth. Shit, I know that look. He launches himself at me to tickle my most sensitive parts.