by James Lear
‘I changed.’
Angie looked at me for a while and then nodded. ‘Yes. You did.’
Does she know? Has she guessed?
She’s waiting. Come on, Joe. Do it.
It was like one of those dreams when you want to scream, but nothing comes out. My voice was paralyzed.
‘Are you seeing anyone?’
I said ‘no’ immediately and then added ‘not really.’
‘Not really, but sort of?’
‘Sort of. Maybe. I’m thinking about it.’
‘And who is it?’
This is it, Joe. You can do it.
The words wouldn’t come out.
Angie’s gaze was unrelenting. ‘Anyone I know?’
What has she guessed? What’s she been told?
‘No.’
‘Oh.’ She waited and then said, ‘I just wondered if it might be Stuart.’
The whooshing in my ears intensified. Had she really said that?
‘Stuart?’
‘At the wedding?’
‘Yes. It was the first time I’ve seen him in years.’
‘I know that. But you know.’ She nodded her head from side to side, as if what she was saying was too obvious for words.
‘What?’
‘Come on, Joe. Stuart’s always been crazy about you.’
‘Has he? I didn’t know.’
‘And you spent the night in his room.’
‘So what?’
‘Don’t tell me you were just catching up on old times, Joe. I wasn’t born yesterday.’
She didn’t seem particularly surprised that I would spend the night with another man. ‘OK, if you really want to know, yes, I did spend the night in Stuart’s room.’
‘Ah.’
‘But there’s nothing going on between us.’
‘Isn’t there?’
‘Stuart’s seeing someone else.’
‘And if he wasn’t?’
This is it, Joe. This is the test, the moment when you decide whether you’re a decent human being or just another dickhead.
‘Who knows? Maybe.’
‘Right.’ She sighed again, maybe in relief. ‘I know it’s ridiculous, but in a way, I rather liked the idea of you and him. I mean, we always used to wonder.’
‘Who did?’
‘Jackie and me and the other girls. You and Stuart were such good friends.’
‘That’s all we were.’
‘Really? Are you sure about that?’
‘Sure.’ Even now, she didn’t need to know that I’d been unfaithful on my stag night. ‘Stuart was like a brother to me.’
‘And now?’
‘Like I said, we’ve all changed.’
Now it seemed to be Angie’s turn to lose her voice. She kept taking a breath as if to speak, then stopping, fiddling with her fingernails and her hair.
‘Angie.’
She looked up, and her eyes were full of tears. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m gay.’
There. It was out at last. Her tears spilled out. I felt instantly calm, my heart slowed, my head cleared. At the crisis of my life, I finally found self-control.
‘Were you always?’
‘No.’
‘I mean, when we were going out together, in those first few years? Were you then?’
‘No.’
‘Were you thinking of men when we had sex?’
‘No. I was thinking of you. Only you.’
‘Do you promise?’
‘Whatever happened since, that was real.’ More real than anything that’s happened since, I thought. More solid than all the men who have come and gone since. More real than Stuart or Adrian. The defining relationship of my life. The only one I ever really had. And I lost it.
‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’ She reached out, and I took her hand. ‘We were happy.’
‘Very happy.’
Angie was crying properly now. ‘Will we ever be that happy again?’
‘I don’t know. You and Dan?’
She laughed through her tears and had to blow her nose. ‘Maybe. I like him. He’s a good man.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘And your . . . new friend?’
‘He’s a good man as well. Too good for me probably.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Joe. No one will ever be good enough for you.’
‘I don’t deserve your understanding.’
She wiped her eyes. ‘Let’s not make this any harder than it already is. You’ve been kind to me. Let me be kind to you.’
We stood and hugged and held each other in the silent house, crying together until the coffee was stone cold and we were both late for work.
I phoned in sick and told the boss I’d be in sometime in the afternoon if I felt well enough. Instead of getting my usual train, I took the car a few miles up the road to the hospital and found my way to the sexual health clinic.
That evening I texted Adrian.
Rule one and rule two done.
He texted right back.
And rule three?
So far so good, I said, which was a big lie, but I’d already decided that having a night with my oldest and closest friend did not count as ‘fucking around.’
Good man, Adrian texted and then sent a photograph that suggested he was wishing the month was over almost as much as I was. I replied in kind, and so on, with the inevitable conclusion.
When it was over, I called him.
‘Can I see you?’
‘Yes, after the month is over.’
‘Not before then?’
‘No.’
I felt a cold punch of disappointment. I was lonely. I wanted him. Why didn’t he want me? I’d done what he told me to do. Why couldn’t I have my reward now?
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Joe. Really.’
‘I want to be with you.’
‘And I want to be with you. And if we can do this, we’ll be together. But it needs to be right.’
‘OK.’ Shit, this was awful. My dick was getting hard again at the sound of his voice, and I wanted instant gratification. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do. Goodnight, Joe.’
‘Goodnight, Adrian.’ And before I could tell him exactly what I planned to do when I saw him, he hung up.
Paul proved to be a lot more flexible. And this, patient reader, is where my life unravels.
When Paul started sending me suggestive texts and photos of his martial arts training (which seemed to involve nothing much in the way of kit), I should have cancelled our dinner date right away. When the topless shots began, I should have warned him to keep away from me. But I didn’t.
We met in Soho, a part of town where my family would never go and where I was unlikely to meet anyone I knew. Paul suggested a pub, gave me the address and time, and ‘we’ll take it from there’, presumably meaning that we’d wander round until we found a restaurant we liked.
He turned up looking freshly showered, in a white open-necked shirt and jeans. It was a warm evening, he didn’t need more. His smile, when he saw me, was eager and innocent; perhaps, after all, he was just a nice, naïve young man who was looking for a father figure. Okay, the shirt fitted rather well, showing off his athletic torso. Yes, the jeans were snugger around the arse than was strictly necessary – but then again, most of the other guys under 30 in the pub were similarly dressed. And this wasn’t a gay pub. I checked before I came. Office workers, theatregoers, tourists, nothing compromising. We were just two mates meeting for a drink.
‘Really pleased you came,’ he said, shaking my hand and looking me right in the eye. ‘I wasn’t sure you would, now that… well, you know.’
‘What?’
‘Hasn’t she told you? Nicky and I have decided to cool things off a bit.’
Run away now.
‘What happened?’
‘Oh, nothing happened. We just couldn’t see ourselves being together in five years’ time, so we thought it was best to end it now.’
‘I see. Good decision.’
‘So I’m young, free and single,’ said Paul as we sat at our table. ‘And all alone in London.’
‘Yeah, right.’ I tried to sound dismissive. ‘So, did you see the match last night?’
‘No. Not interested. Sorry.’
‘What did you do, then?’ Stupid question, Joe. Too personal, and too leading.
‘Went out with some of the other people on the course. It was okay, but I went back to the hotel pretty early. There’s a little gym there, with a sauna, so I did a workout and then relaxed a bit.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘I was the only one there.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah. All alone.’
‘Ah.’ I drank, racking my brains for safe subjects.
‘The rooms are okay. Small, but really clean.’
‘Nice.’
‘I’m not even sharing.’
‘Oh, that’s good then.’ Nothing presented itself. Politics? Television? Where did you go on your holidays?
‘I took a few selfies.’
What do you say to that? I laughed nervously.
‘I thought about sending them to you, but…’ He didn’t look quite so innocent now.
‘What?’
‘I thought they might be a bit over-the-top.’
Now’s your chance, Joe. Tell him he’s barking up the wrong tree. Walk out of the pub if necessary. Think of the age gap. Think of how bad it would look if the family finds out. Oh… and think of Adrian as well, of course. I remembered that just in time.
I said nothing.
‘Perhaps I was wrong. What do you think?’ He had his phone in his hand. Well, there was no harm in looking, surely? I mean, this was just a bit of a laugh, wasn’t it? He swiped and poked the screen a few times, then handed it over. ‘There.’
He was lying naked on the bed, the sheets pulled up to just below his pubes. One arm was behind his head; the other hand was resting on his tight, furry stomach. The phone must have been propped up on a chair or dressing table near his feet.
‘Wow.’
‘There are more, but…’
‘What made you want to take photos like that?’
‘Oh, you know.’ We both looked at the photo, then glanced up. Our eyes met. I quickly looked away. ‘I like to see what I look like.’
‘Yeah. Well.’
‘And I was thinking about you.’
Shit. It was out. Lying in bed, naked, thinking about me, taking photos, and there are more…
‘Oh.’ I could feel my face burning, my dick getting heavy.
‘Look.’ He swiped the screen, and the sheet was down. His cock was rigid, pointing straight up towards his navel, resting on a thick nest of black hair. He looked fucking beautiful.
‘I’m not sure you should be showing me this, Paul.’
‘Why not?’ He was so close to me now our arms were touching.
‘Because…’
‘What? Don’t you like it?’
‘I…’
‘You do like it, don’t you?’
For Christ’s sake, Joe. Deny it. Lie. You’ve lied all your life, why can’t you do it now?
‘I wasn’t wrong, was I? I mean, you are… you know.’
Oh shit, what was the point of pretending? I knew what was going to happen. I was going to go back to Paul’s hotel room and I was going to bang his brains out. Then I was going to lie to Adrian about it. I’m not strong enough, I know that. I can’t do anything to stop the inevitable. I sighed. ‘Yes, I am. You weren’t wrong.’
He looked delighted. ‘I don’t know how I knew it, but I just knew it.’
‘Look, Paul, I’m not sure this is a great idea.’
‘I’m not going to tell Nicky, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘And I’m old enough to be your father.’
‘That’s one of the reasons I fancy you so much.’
‘Really?’
‘I’ve been imagining how big your cock is.’
‘Paul, for God’s sake.’ But he was right; my cock is big, and it was getting bigger by the second, reaching out towards him.
‘It’s okay, Joe.’ He was leaning against me now, our bodies touching from leg to shoulder. ‘Everything is fine.’
‘Is it?’
‘I want this, and you want this. We’re not hurting anyone. Nobody’s going to know.’
‘We have to be careful.’ And that was it. I’d admitted everything. How long had it taken Paul to seduce me? I looked at my glass. About a third of a pint. Ten minutes? Not even that.
‘Yeah.’ He stood up and drained his glass. I watched his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his hairy neck. The front of his jeans looked fuller than before. ‘Ready?’
‘Where are we going?’
He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Back to my hotel, of course.’
The hotel was a glorified student hall of residence near Centre Point, a large, prison-like building with tiny windows and an airless lobby, sealed off from the outside world by card-controlled glass doors. We shared the lift to the tenth floor with a couple of Italian language students who were, fortunately, oblivious to the sexual tension in the air. I thought of another lift, months ago, in Harry’s house, my first footsteps on this road. Another lift, another life.
The door opened. We were out. Paul ran down the corridor, constantly looking over his shoulder as if I was about to disappear. The corridor seemed to go on forever, like one of those trick shots in the movies where distances extend before your eyes, dreamlike, eternal. Would I always be following someone up to their flat – a new address, a new body, the same experiences, the same sense of shame and regret? And if I did this thing I was surely going to do, I could kiss goodbye to any hope of a relationship with Adrian. Even if he doesn’t find out, he deserves better than the sort of man I have become. I’ll just cut loose from responsibility, because that’s obviously what I want. I’ll be a distant father. Nobody will notice the difference. I’ll keep working and training and chasing cute boys down hotel corridors until I’m too old to catch them, or to care.
‘Come on,’ said Paul, standing inside the door. ‘Quick.’
He shut the door behind me, and before the click had stopped reverberating he was on his knees, burying his face in my groin. The room was dark, just the evening light coming through the small windows, and it was way too warm. His lips found my cock through the fabric of my trousers. Nothing else mattered. Keep doing that, boy. Block everything else out, for an hour, a night, for ever.
I unbuckled my belt and undid the top of my trousers. That was all the encouragement Paul needed. He unzipped me, pulled down my pants. My cock bounced up and out, wet at the end, ready for anything.
‘Oh God.’ He held it and stared at it. ‘Oh. Oh my God.’
‘What?’
‘It’s just… I mean I’ve never actually…’
‘You’ve never done this before?’
‘No.’
Another level of guilt, then. But I was past caring. It just made me harder. ‘Take your time. Lick it for me, Paul. Come on. Show me you want it.’
He licked up and down the shaft, scratching me with his stubble, and kissed every inch of it from base to tip. Precum moistened his lips, and he licked them.
‘Mmmmm.’
‘Now suck it.’
‘Can I turn the lights on? I want to see you.’
‘Yeah.’ I shuffled over towards the bed – a small double, with a shiny, slippery, pale blue cover. I sat on the edge, knees apart, hobbled at the ankle. Paul turned on the light, and stood looking at me, a dazed expression on his face. His mouth was hanging open. I clicked my fingers. ‘Come here, then. On your knees. Suck it.’
He threw himself down, took hold of my cock in one hand and kissed the head again. And then his mouth opened, he took as much as he could, he choked, his eyes watered, he came up for air and then went down again. He was a cocksucker.
; Paul, my daughter’s recently-ex-boyfriend, half my age, was sucking my cock. Not just that – he was worshipping my fucking cock. This handsome, athletic twenty-something was slobbering up and down my hard rod, desperate to take every inch of it. He’d wanted it from the moment he saw me, and now he was getting it. He was going to get it all fucking night, down his throat, up his arse, any way I wanted to give it to him.
I nearly came.
‘Get up. Take your clothes off.’
It took Paul five seconds to get naked. I’d seen it all in pictures of course, but nothing could prepare me for the warm, furry, pulsing reality. He was as hard as only a 21-year-old man can be. I wondered how many times I could make him come in the next ten, twelve hours. Five? Six? I reached round and grabbed his firm, hairy buttocks and squeezed.
‘Your arse is mine.’
‘Yes.’
‘Your mouth.’
‘Yes.’
‘And this.’ I grabbed his cock and balls, making a circle of thumb and middle finger. ‘This is mine.’
‘I’m yours. I want you to do everything to me.’
‘It’s a deal. Now get back on your knees.’
He was obedient; perhaps that was the martial arts training. And he learned fast, shielding his teeth behind his lips, sucking me without gagging, producing enough saliva to give me a smooth ride.
Fuck, my dick was hard. I couldn’t remember it ever being so hard. It was almost painful, like those adolescent erections that wouldn’t go down and felt like a steel bar jammed in your groin. If this led to destruction, so be it. I wanted it. Let it come. The harder I fuck him the more complete my downfall.
I heard him choking, and saw tears running from his eyes, but he kept on sucking like a good little soldier following his officer’s orders.
And then a kind of rage descended on. I lost any sense of myself and the world outside this tiny box of a hotel room – a bed, a floor, a bathroom no bigger than a cupboard. My children, my wife, Adrian, my future, meant nothing. Less than nothing. I wanted to smash them all, to forget them, to lose myself forever.
‘Get up.’
Paul obeyed. He stood before me, arms hanging by his sides, his forehead wet with sweat, his face wet with tears and saliva. His cock was rock hard and oozing, and long string of precum hanging off it.