In 1974, Calia West, an on the rise New York artist meets Queen, a newly popular band, on their first tour of the USA. After becoming quick friends with each of the dashing frontmen, Calia finds herself growing attached to a certain bold-faced sing...
Freddie's fingers dug into my sides as he kissed me deeper. I had never felt so relieved to be so close to someone. His breath felt meditative, with its steady gusts against my skin.
Being pressed against him relaxed me completely.
I pulled back, watching his face carefully as his brown eyes fluttered open. He had full dark eyelashes and paired with his big brown irises, he seemed to have the kindest doe eyes. Freddie said my name softly, before he wantonly pressed forward to kiss me one more time. As if he didn't know which kiss would be our last.
Tracing my hands down to his shoulder, I paid close attention to the muscles I felt beneath my fingers, trying to memorize the feeling of every rise and divot. He felt strong and stable under my palms, it didn't at all match the unsure look on his face.
Freddie looked so innocent staring at me with the most vulnerable wanting.
I wasn't thinking about Ronnie's advice, or Brian, or even Mary. The only thing I was sure about was how badly I needed to be around Freddie. I couldn't make art, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't enjoy a day out without thinking of him.
"Callia," Freddie began, but I cut him off.
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"No Freddie," I interrupted, anticipating some admission of feelings I didn't want to know he was having, "what are you gonna do about Mary," my hands were sweating already. I had no idea who I'd become after being in this man's company, but I couldn't be logical around him.
Freddie hung his head, squeezing my waist a little tighter, "Callia I can't do anything..," he spoke simply. I didn't have time to wonder why. I didn't offer Freddie any excuse for cheating, but I couldn't deny myself the need I had. As his brown eyes came back up to meet mine, I felt so ashamed realizing that I wouldn't let that stop me.
"Then be with me while you're here," I huffed. The words had left my lips before I'd thought anything over. I didn't know what I was getting into. Freddie looked hesitant, but I could also tell he was just as needy and frustrated as I was.
Freddie shuttered. He leaned forward and our lips connected again in feverish need. I knew his answer immediately.
As soon as we broke apart we were heading back inside, his hand on my waist guiding me from behind. We were both in a daze, "can I come over to yours after the show?" Freddie asked, his voice low as we closed the stage door.
I only nodded. I felt so embarrassed.
My face was red and I felt dirty. There was nothing about my relationship with Freddie that I was ashamed by but I could tell the reality of what we were doing was weighing on both of us. I wasn't a mistress. I was an artist, a successful artist. I had to shake away the feeling. Every time I looked into Freddie's eyes all of that melted away.
