'Dear diary, I think Simon is trying to seduce me.'

James sat and looked at the words he had typed into his computer. Maybe 'seduce' was a bit strong? Maybe Simon was....

No, he knew exactly what Simon was up to, he'd watched the man in action too many times not to know what the buckets of caviar and wine were about.

The man had dressed him, for god's sake.

And now that the idea had occurred to him, it was obvious the tailored jacket hadn't been given as a gift because Simon was excited about the arrival of the blueberry crush velvet.

At the time James had thought the hand running up his sleeves and down the lapels had been a bit much.

Jesus, he'd been so blind, Simon must have been stalking him for months! When had it all started? Surly not - wait. There had been that picture. James swivelled to view the painting hanging over his mantle with new eyes.

Had that been Simon's first move? Had the large naked black man done in oils been Simon's declaration of intent?

'Oh bloody hell, diary, I am in so much trouble. Simon wants my body and I haven't a clue how I'm going to persuade him otherwise. I know him - he always gets his, well, woman usually. What am I to do?'

The idea that Simon may have been after more than strengthening brotherly bonds had occurred to him while he had been basking in the glow of a truly orgasmic French truffle cake, which Simon had incidentally fed to him by spoon.

James had licked the silver cutlery greedily as it was withdrawn, hungry for that chocolaty taste, and Simon's wolfish, smouldering smile.

Bollocks. James realised with a start that he was falling for the old rascal's charm. Had fallen, quite far, already.

Who could blame him, Simon was a hunter and he had been using his tastiest lures to entice his prey, what with the crushed blue velvet jacket, the gourmand cooking, shellfish and wine, and - well, large paintings of naked black men aside - the promised trip to Paris sounded nice.

The thought of a single minded Simon stalking him was a bit thrilling, really. Still, he wasn't giving up without a fight! His virtue was not to be toyed with.

With all this planning and scheming - was the hunter ready for the prey to turn? How would Simon react to having a tiger sitting tamely on his bed?

It could happen, for this particular wildcat was tired of his disorderly ways and was ready to be caressed, gentled and fed by hand. That is, if Simon continued to keep him happy, nobody had said he would have to make it easy for the man!

He wanted the rest of the velvet suit, for a start. The pants and the frilled shirt, and the shoes and Argile socks.

And Simon'd bloody well better be good in bed, or he could sod off. James had spent so much money getting his willy fixed not to use it as long and as often as possible.

'Dear Diary, I have come up with a plan...."