I am so fucking glad to have a night off. It's been non-stop promo for the last few weeks and I feel like a God damn zombie. My stylist is threatening to invest in some industrial sized vats of that under eye concealer stuff and charge it to my Amex because she says I'm running her through them on a daily basis at the moment. It's not that I don't want to sleep; it's that nobody's giving me any opportunities. The circles will get larger, it's not my fault.

Lord only knows how I managed to sneak away to Addy's apartment without being tailed by any paparazzi. Of course because the song's all over radio and I'm doing all the interviews and stuff they're pursuing me even harder than usual. I was in two minds about whether or not to even attempt it because you know they'd pull out some bullshit story about me sneaking away to my newest girlfriend or whatever, but the idea of sitting and chilling somewhere nobody knows where I am was too tempting. Addy and I have had a totally mundane evening chowing down on Chinese takeout, watching TV and making bullshit conversation. It's just what the doctor ordered, because I never want to go out ever again. Except I have to because tomorrow night I'm supposed to be hosting some thing at some club for some company. I don't even know what it is except that they're paying me to show up so I have to. Rachael has the details, I'll ask her tomorrow.

"Okay…" Addy turns the page of her magazine while wriggling her toes in my hand. I've finally given her that foot massage I've been joking about for weeks. It's oddly relaxing for me as well as her - concentrating on just kneading my thumbs into the balls of her feet kind of blocks other thoughts from my brain. "First kiss."

"Some chick in junior high, nothing special. You?"

"David in middle school. I remember thinking it was kind of wet and gross."

"Nice, English." I smirk. Addy was flicking through her magazine while I took a phone call from Trace, and she came across a quiz on what you're apparently supposed to know about new acquaintances before you can call them friends. There was nothing decent to watch on TV so she's killing five minutes running us through the list.

"Oooh, first time," she says wickedly. "Dante, in his surf shack."

"Are you serious?" I bust out laughing. I'm not sure whether it's more at the idea of her and Dante or the idea of them going at it as sixteen year olds surrounded by his surfboards. If they were sixteen, I just assumed.

"Yep. And it was thoroughly unromantic too, we only did it because we were the last two in the group who hadn't and we didn't want anybody realising."

I really shouldn't be laughing so hard at that. I'm supposed to be a role model or some shit, I should be disappointed and saddened not laughing my ass off when told shit like that. Peer pressure's an ugly thing, blah blah blah. "Totally opposite. I was fourteen and convinced I was desperately in love like it was some Romeo and Juliet shit. It was dumb."

"Hey, at least you didn't wind up with sand in bad places wishing you hadn't because you really didn't fancy her that much."

"I'll tell Dante you said that."

"Hah!" She snorts. "He knows."

"You told him? That's harsh!"

I know how delicate the male sense of self-esteem can be, and ragging on the bedroom prowess is extremely off putting. It's a pretty low blow, too. After that whole thing where Britney was supposed to have accused me of having a tiny dick, I was really self conscious whenever I got naked with a girl for months after. And that was even after being shown the clip and deciding that I don't think she was actually referring to my penis - what can I tell you, the male ego is fragile. I never said it made sense.

"He came to me after asking for critique so he could improve before getting in the sack with his new girlfriend. I was tactful but honest."

"So you didn't just tell him he sucked?"

"No, that's just mean. Though I did tell him he'd better not take her to that bloody shack again because that was not sexy."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Though I'm never going to remember that place the same way again." I give up on the foot rub and idly rub my hand against her ankle instead. She's stretched out along the sofa with her feet in my lap, and this is so chilled it could almost be like we're back in last year.

It's been a welcome break from being in this year and finally back to work after all this time out. Apart from being so tired all the time, I've been having some issues with the label. The first single's doing fine in airplay but it's not as immediately huge as the last album's singles were, and since it has had some mixed reviews they're worried about the next song choice. I want to release the song about Addy because it's so edgy and different and experimental, but for the self same reason they're running scared of it because they're worried it won't be radio friendly and I'll bomb. It's frustrating; you'd think they'd learn to trust me by now. The first single wasn't my choice it was theirs, and look how that's turned out.

I tried talking to Addy about it, but all this industry shit is so alien to her and she doesn't really get it like Trace or Rachael would. Also… even as I started trying to tell her I was thinking that actually I prefer it when she's left out of it. Addy-land is kind of like my personal escape bubble right now, since I don't have enough time to be able to take a trip to my usual escape bubble back home in Memphis.

"Anyway, moving on…" She drags a pink painted nail down the page until she finds where we were. "Childhood dreams. Guess that's obvious in your case."

"Pretty much. You?"

"Never really had that kind of drive or focus for any one thing." She shrugs her shoulders prettily, and I can see the way her collarbone appears and disappears beneath the movement of skin and muscle. "Which is why I'm always impressed with anybody like you who can be knee high to a grasshopper, work out what they want and stick to it all their lives. I'm just missing the ambition gene."

"You find me impressive?" I waggle my eyebrows at her Home Alone style and she smacks at my arm with the magazine. Lucky for me she can't quiet reach since she's slumped so far down into the cushions.

"You are the cockiest little git I have ever met, you know that?"

"And you're the snarkiest little bitch I've ever met. That's why we get along so well." I pat her foot condescendingly.

"Hmm."

Addy rolls her eyes and shifts yet further into the cushions. I'm doing the same myself, slumping ever further down in my seat. The elusive Lily (who I still haven't managed to meet properly apart from a quick fly by 'hello') is out for the evening yet again, so it's just us and our juvenile laughter. We both came straight from our various work things, but over the evening we're both managed to get increasingly scruffier. I came in doing my whole jeans and waistcoat and tie thing, but the tie and the waistcoat got thrown off at some point and I've done what my mother hates me doing and rolled up my shirt sleeves. When Addy came in she had a very Victoria Beckham look to her, she was in a strapless fitted black dress with some funky belt around the middle and all these chunky bangles and shit, looking all fashionable or whatever. Now the copious jewellery has been taken off and tossed on the coffee table, the belt has joined it, and the smart ponytail she had her hair tied back in is now falling out and she's got all these odd strands of hair in her face. Personally, I prefer it, but I won't deny that she looked good when she walked through the door. Certainly not out of place in the fashion industry.

"So what did you say you were doing tomorrow?" She asks me through a delicate yawn.

"Radio interview, TV spot, photo shoot and then some event opening in the evening." I tick them off on my fingers.

"Lord. And I thought my job had crap hours." She reaches blindly for her bottle of Bud and takes a swig from it. I would never have pegged her as a beer girl but she always smirks and says I need an education on English girls and the way they drink.

"Lifestyles of the rich and famous," I shrug. I don't actually mind promotion half as much as I make it sound sometimes, but once you get on that wheel it can get a little monotonous after a while. It'd probably help if I got more sleep. "Thank God the next few days are gonna be dance rehearsals so I can get a break."

She looks at me like I just announced that I'm a hermaphrodite. "You call dancing your arse off all day a break?"

"I enjoy dancing. I don't enjoy dumb journalists asking me dumb questions."

"Yeah, I heard your interview this morning by the way," she said in amusement. "When he asked you about your ex I thought you were going to lamp him."

"I was going to what him?"

"Lamp. Hit. Smack the shit out of."

"Oh. In which case yeah. Like I give a fuck who she's fucking now."

"He said in an extremely bitter tone which suggests exactly the opposite."

"Nah, I'm just jealous. I haven't got any in months."

"Well then…" She picks up her foot and trails it down my chest in a sexy manner. I'd wonder if she was suggesting something, except she then abruptly pulls it away just before it reaches my crotch. "Sucks for you. Bad luck mate."

"Cock tease."

"Wanker."

"What does that even mean?" I ask through my chuckles.

"Well, it's pretty much a generic insult… though a guy who wanks is masturbating so come to think of it if you haven't got any in months that's probably quite accurate."

"Remind me why I ever thought you were a lady?" I shake my head in disbelief.

She lifts her palms out and shrugs. "Search me. I certainly never pretended to be one."

"See, first you're saying shit like wanker and then you're all Miss Posh 'I Certainly Never' and shit… make up your mind, will ya?"

"No, you make up your mind… pick a DVD, will you? I've run out of magazine questions and delightful as you are when you're whining I don't fancy a slanging match."

I have no idea what a slanging match even is, but since she's twisted her legs off my lap and around to the floor so she can stand up I take the hint and wander over to their shelves. Luckily for me their movies seem well organised by genre, so I can immediately skip the girly shit and go for something more interesting. There are a few interesting looking thrillers, but I don't really want to concentrate tonight so maybe some other time. I'm thinking mindless popcorn movie, and between Top Gun and Transformers she does have a good selection of those.

As I run my index finger along the titles, trying to decide, I suddenly feel an index finger running along my arm.

"Find anything?" She breathes nonchalantly into my ear. She's standing right behind me; her body is close enough that I can feel it brushing against my back.

"Still looking. Not sure what I want."

"Might I make a suggestion?"

"See, there you are with that posh… holy shit."

Umm… it sounds kind of bad if I say that I'm used to women grabbing my dick, like I'm some kind of man whore, but fans just have zero sense of personal boundaries sometimes. Addy however isn't a fan, this is territory we've been over before, but I'm kind of wondering where the fuck this has come from.

"Uhh, Addy?" I can't think of any better question than that, so let her take it whatever way she wants.

"You're bored. I'm bored. We could both use a little relaxation… why not?" She asks. "You and I have already proved we can do no strings."

I should probably be alarmed that she kind of made sense saying that, it's a major sign that the blood is too far gone away from my first brain and that I'm about to be completely vulnerable to doing stupid shit because it seemed like a good idea to the other one. And that other brain doesn't have the greatest track record when it comes to recognising what is or isn't stupid shit. And now I've just noticed that she's been rubbing my crotch this whole time and I've been trying so hard to have thoughts that I haven't done anything about it yet.

I turn around, which breaks her hold on my crotch but just leaves me to notice the lascivious and kind of naughty expression on her face. It also leaves her to push up against me and guide my hands to the zipper on her dress. Come on, brain, don't let me down now, what should I… oh fuck I'd forgotten what great tits she has. I knew that dress didn't leave room for a bra.

Her mouth meets mine and to fuck with it all, it's been a year and I want some fucking sex. The kisses are fast and furious, and the pair of us are both struggling to get my shirt unbuttoned at the same time while not breaking our lip lock. Finally my shirt's off and she throws herself at me, her bare chest pressing into mine while my hands wander over her back and sides. The fact that she's standing there in just a pair of panties while I'm half naked myself has me over-excitable after such a long drought, and I have to give myself a few mental reminders not to rush too fast. It's just hard when I'm so oddly turned on that she basically attacked me in the middle of her living room… and I don't think we're getting anywhere else either because she's too busy pawing at me. Whatever her lips are doing to my neck it's fucking awesome, and we both start to sink to the floor.

I'm going to have rug burns tomorrow but I don't give a flying rat's ass as she climbs on top of me and starts fiddling with my belt buckle, sexily dragging her lips along my torso as she does so. Her hips are pushing into mine, and I'm sure she can feel how aroused I am before she lifts her hips to let me slide off my jeans. Her hand then slips nonchalantly into my boxers and I hiss as I feel her tease the length of me with her fingertips. I fight fire with fire by immediately starting to pay attention to her breasts (which is all kinds of fun for me too, I will never get sick of women and their breasts), but I think she's still got the upper hand because even as I'm running kisses over her I let out little hisses against her skin when she hits a good spot.

Then out of nowhere she stands back up, and I give a little whine of protest. It soon turns into a whoop of joy as she sexily starts to pull her panties off, teasing me every slow second of the way down until she finally steps out of them. I'm laid back on the floor and she's standing over me giving me a fucking glorious view. She's not as tan as she was the last time we did this, but every mole and scar and lump and bump is just how I remember it and it only makes the bulge in my boxers stiffen with the knowledge that I'm guaranteed a good time with this one, she's already tried and tested. That sounds really assholish but I swear it's not meant that way.

I'm nowhere near as cool or sexy as she is as I scramble to get mine off while she's sinking back to the carpet. I'm a little undignified but right on time as she sprawls her body over mine and her tongue finds its way from my belly button right up to my chin and then my mouth. Happily I roam my hands over her body, marvelling at it. She hasn't got as much junk in her trunk as I usually like in my women, but slowly my hands slide over her buttocks and I enjoy every second of it. I'd forgotten how nice she is to touch, slim and toned but with the right amount of meat on her to make her soft.

When finally she puts me out of my misery and slides herself down onto me, I let out a loud hiss that sounds suspiciously like the word 'shit.' Usually girls take a minute or so to get used to me before they start going for it, but immediately she starts rolling her hips in a way that makes guttural moans escape my lips. While my hands slide along her thighs and then grip her hips to guide the rhythm, she rocks back and forth on me and trails her nails lightly down my chest. At every thrust her hips meet mine, she rolls and bucks and squeezes me and quite frankly I think I'd let her do whatever the hell she wants to me right now so long as she keeps this up while she's at it. I should have slept with more English girls before.

Before long we're both sweaty and panting, but the heat and the pace are rising and Lord I hope Lily doesn't get it into her head to come back home just yet because that warm feeling is starting to hit my groin and I know I've got to get her there soon otherwise I'm going to get there first.

"Mmm, Justin," she breathes out as I allow my hands to trail the front of her body. It sounds really fucking hot when she says my name like that.

"Yeah baby, say my name," I grunt.

She looks down at me with a challenging glint and pushes harder down on me, making me yelp. "Say mine."

"Oh fuck, Addy…"

"That's it Justin…"

"JUSTIN!"

***

"What?"

Addy's clicking her fingers in front of my face with an amused expression. "Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty. Remind me never to take you to the cinema, waste of a ticket."

"What?"

What the fuck? We were just fucking in the middle of the floor and… oh. Wait. No we weren't. Well, we were, but only in my wishful imagination which hasn't got laid in over a year. I didn't pull the zipper down on her dress while she writhed sexily against me; she disappeared into her room and came back down in a sports bra and sweatpants. I saw nothin', sadly. I got nothin', even more sadly. I just had one hell of a wet dream which has now royally pissed me off because as good as it was I then had to wake up and remember it didn't actually fucking happen. And that was a hot dream, too.

"I'll get you some tea." She rolls her eyes and tousles my hair affectionately before making her way into the kitchen. I follow her there, rubbing my eyes sleepily and hoping my jeans disguise the bulge in my crotch well enough. Thank God I didn't get there in the dream or I might have… eww, let's not go too far into that thought.

"Did I fall asleep?" I ask a dumb question which she would normally give me a sarcastic answer for, but she's too busy rooting in the cupboards. Even after all those years on Adora, she's still English enough to think tea solves everything.

"Yep. Right about the time that Goose took the Polaroid of that guy in the Mig 28."

"Wow, so like five minutes in?" I'm almost embarrassed. I must have been more sleep deprived than I thought. I think some of the first part of the dream did actually happen (not the sex parts, obviously) but I don't trust my brain to properly separate fact from fiction.

"Nah, it's okay, you looked like you needed the rest and I got to lust over Tom Cruise before he went all crazy in peace. Maverick's hot."

Then I remember that she was using her lust in ways far more fun for me in my dream and fall into a slight sulk. I've had wet dreams before, sure, but that was unusually vivid. Trace is right; I need to get fucking laid. When I go to this shindig tomorrow I'll try and make sure I meet some women.

Damn it, now I can't stop staring at Addy's butt. Somebody help me.