Michael ran his fingers over the rippling muscles of Brad's stomach, entranced by their sculpted perfection. He could have been carved out of shining gold marble such was the beauty of his tanned, oiled torso. He let his eyes wander down to the magnificent display between his thighs and his breath caught in his throat...
Rimmer's stomach growled ferociously. He sighed and put the book down to look at the clock. It was half-past seven. He should really go and find somewhere to eat. Tempting as it was to stay shut in this warm room playing with his dick all evening, he was hungry and he would have to go out for food sooner or later. Outside he could already hear the beginnings of music drifting from clubs and drunken shouting in the distance, and the later he left it the worse it would get. Reluctantly, he put on his coat, tucked his wallet into his pocket and made his way out onto the streets.
He found a small but fairly pleasant restaurant tucked down a side street not far away. The meal was satisfying but lonely, and he saw no need to linger over a coffee or dessert. He paid his bill and left with every intention of returning straight to the hotel, jerking off and going to bed. But as he made his way back, a glowing neon sign caught his eye. Gorgeous Girls! Beautiful Boys! Sex Sex Sex!
He sighed. Apart from the pollution and the bars, the one thing Mimas was famous for was its brothels. It was like the Red Light district of Amsterdam, only five times as big. When astros came down for shore leave, the two most important things they wanted were alcohol and sex; and Mimas provided both with abundance.
He was turning to go when something in his brain reared up and kicked its back legs. He was here all alone. For four weeks. He had nobody to report to; no need to account for all his time. He was entirely free to do whatever he liked and no-one would ever know.
In his head he replayed the image of Brad and Michael, the tanned and toned heroes of his novel, cavorting on the king-size futon of Brad's stylish Manhattan apartment. This might be, in all respects, a world away from that glamorous scenario but in his heart Rimmer was well aware that this was the closest he would ever get. He stared at the dark door across the street. One night. One night to satisfy all those wants and desires he'd starved for twenty years. One night to free his soul and be the person he really was. Just one night.
He crossed the street and, taking one final look around to make sure he hadn't been seen, went through the doors and into the brothel.