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Heat

A short, rather hot story

By Julie MurrowPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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‘As thus: mine eye’s due is thy outward part, And my heart’s right thy inward love of heart’ Shakespeare, Sonnet No. 46.

Sacha was a music teacher, an accomplished pianist whose guitar was an extension of himself. He had delicate hands and long, lean, spatulate fingers that plucked the guitar strings in a way that would make your heart weep. Sacha was a quiet, solitary person who enjoyed his own company, only venturing on nights out for a drink with a couple of close friends occasionally. Of course, that somewhat precluded the opportunity to meet Mr Right. Despite his introverted character, Sacha was quick-witted and easy-going. His friends were always bemoaning his single status asking how it could still be so when he was such a great guy and so easy on the eye too. Sacha wasn’t blind, he could see when he looked in the mirror that there wasn’t a monster looking back at him. He was one inch off six feet tall. He was lean but solid, thanks to years of playing football. His long black hair was usually tied in a plait revealing his high cheek bones, full, red lips and bright blue eyes. Unfortunately what Sacha’s friends did not know was that it wasn’t just Mr Right that Sacha was looking for. He had known for a long time that he was naturally submissive and because he wasn’t comfortable with online dating he had accepted the fact that he would just have to wait for Mr Right to appear. It wasn’t just a sub/dom relationship he wanted but someone who would truly love him, care for him, look after him and direct him but who would appreciate Sacha’s need for independence and solitude sometimes.

He was definitely a gentle soul and so it was with trepidation that he opened the letter that had just landed on his door mat. His brow furrowed and his lips turned down as he read the Visiting Order from the local prison. He had been dreading the day when he would have to visit his uncle but he had promised and since his uncle was his only living relative on his deceased father’s side, Sacha felt more than obliged to make good on his promise.

Two weeks later Sacha found himself in the Visitors’ Centre at the prison. He signed in and waited with the other visitors for the door to open and allow them entry into the open visits room. His stomach was churning and his throat was dry. Thank God there were refreshments. At the sound of the door opening Sacha walked into the room and immediately spotted the older man waving from a table in the corner. He greeted him and fetched them both a cup of tea before sitting down to catch up on everything and nothing. Sacha had dressed smart casual for the visit - faded blue jeans and a white shirt. After some time Sacha began to relax in this place a million miles outside of his comfort zone. He leaned back in his chair, the ankle of one long leg resting on the knee of the other and laughed at a story his uncle was recalling. As Sacha calmed down he sipped his tea and glanced around and then it hit him in the solar plexus. Prison Officer 010. He was looking straight at Sacha. Tall and broad, oozing masculinity, his green eyes captured Sacha’s in a long searing stare. Simultaneously, they both looked away but both felt that something had irrevocably changed.

Time came to leave and before he left the room Sacha quickly looked around to get a last glimpse of that perfect man. He didn’t have to look far. PO 010 was staring at him again. The line of people leaving the Visitors’ Centre carried Sacha along with them until it was Sacha’s turn to sign out. And that’s when he took the biggest risk of his life. Along the line where he had written his name and contact details he added his signature but also wrote 010 I felt it too.

Back at home in his little cottage Sacha paced back and forth berating himself for being so ridiculous. It would be just his luck to receive some sort of reprimand from the prison staff. A grumbling sound interrupted his thoughts. It was his stomach reminding him to eat and so he headed off to the kitchen. While he was re-heating some chilli that he’d made the night before, he heard his phone ping from the other room. He stopped dead. His heart was suddenly thumping and his mouth went dry. He returned to his desk and picked up his phone. It was a text message from one of his friends asking him to come out on Friday night for drinks. Sacha replied that he had his tax return to start and a teasing text conversation followed. It was obvious that his friend wasn’t going to take no for an answer and eventually Sacha gave in and agreed to meet his little group of friends at 7.30pm in their usual haunt.

Laughing to himself Sacha put the phone back down on the desk but as he walked away his phone rang. Tutting with a smile on his face Sacha answered the call. “Okay, okay, I said I’ll come didn’t I?” A deep, rough voice replied “Oh good, I’d love to see that.” Sacha felt the blood rush from his head. “I’m sorry. Who is this?” His fingers were crossed so hard it was painful. “I think you already know, since you felt it too, Sacha Wilde. So, tell me, what did you feel?” Sacha swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “I, I don’t know.” The voice on the other end of the line spoke, a husky whisper. “I do. Is your cock hard?” Without even thinking Sacha whispered “Yes, it is.” “Touch it,” said the voice. Sacha did as he was instructed and gasped. He was a little surprised at how hard he actually was. Before he could get any words out there was a knock on the door. Sacha cursed under his breath and went to see who it was (and to tell them, politely, to go away). Phone still at his ear, Sacha opened the door and there stood PO 010, also with his phone to his ear. Simultaneously and without breaking eye contact, the two men ended the call. Sacha was the first to speak, his sense of propriety kicking in. He stood back from the door, “Please, come in. I’m so sorry I don’t know your name…” “Greg. Greg Wright” said the other man, running his hand casually through his curly auburn hair. Sacha was mesmerised as Greg ducked his head slightly as he stepped over the threshold. Sacha closed the door and as he turned to enter the living room he bumped straight into Greg’s hard body. Before he could utter a word Greg placed one finger under Sacha’s chin and pulled him so close that their lips were almost touching. Beads of sweat trickled down Sacha’s back as he instinctively opened his mouth to receive Greg’s kiss. But Greg had other plans. His eyes twinkled as he shook his head, “Not yet. I want to hear you beg.” He removed his finger from under Sacha’s chin and pressed down gently on his shoulder. He could feel Sacha trembling under his touch. Without a word being spoken Sacha went to his knees and looked up. Greg’s emerald eyes were burning with emotion and in that moment Sacha knew that his search for Mr Right had just ended, forever.

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About the Creator

Julie Murrow

I'm an avid reader, writer and pianist. I have written on a variety of subjects and in various genres from children's stories, poetry and history to adult short stories. My three Skinny Pigs and I live by the sea, where I grew up.

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