Hitting The Roof

The cafeteria was as busy as usual. But Doctors, nurses, other hospital staff; visitors, some patients who were permitted to be there and some who were not, today seemed to give the place an extra vitality not seen since before the more or less officially declared end of the pandemic. Geraldine Stowell surveyed the scene with some satisfaction. Her cafeteria team were providing decent, nutritious meals. Far better that than the expensive vending machines that seemed to stand on every corner of The Royal Eastamptionshire County Hospital not actually meeting immediate clinical need.

“Outch!”

“Whoops. Sorry. My fault. There’s not enough room to swing a cat.-Not that I’d want to do such a thing. ” 

“er..No. I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

Minutes later with the two young men each silently aware of their lunch break ebbing away, they had thankfully chosen their meals and paid for them.

“Look there’s an empty table in that far corner. If we make a careful dash for it…”

Without actually pushing aside the infirm, or trampling anyone underfoot, they made it. Theatre Matron Dianne Elms, however, was not impressed. She made a mental note.

“John Poole, by the way. Sorry about your foot. Are you visiting someone?”

John Poole was handsome and shy. Aware of both of these things, he was mildly surprised at his boldness. He had only taken up the suggestion of dashing to this table so that he could take a closer look at his luncheon companion and now he was fearful that as much might be obvious. Self-consciously John hoped that his own features,- swept back dark brown hair, brown eyes with a smile displaying the perfect teeth of one, both of whose parents were dentists, would be found appealing when he chatted up other men.

“Frazer Shaw,” said the other, taking the proffered hand.  “No. I work here. Electrical engineer. Keep all the vital machinery going.- Hence the blue overalls. And I’m confident my foot will mend nicely thanks.  If it doesn’t, I’ll be sure not to let a certain theatre matron within striking distance of my bed.”

He waved his fork in the general direction of Dianne Elms.

Frazer wore his overalls rather well thought John. It was  nice he reflected, as they chatted more easily than John usually found possible, to meet someone as laid back as Frazer who didn’t did not intimidate him with his relaxed demeanour. From beneath dark fair hair,  grey-blue eyes beamed as Frazer spoke. John coughed nervously at the way Frazer’s sensuous lips moved as he spoke.

“And you?,” asked those lips. “What brings you to The Royal Eastamptonshire?”

“Oh, my landlord. Nice old guy, but no family nearby. Here to have his hernia done, So I said I’d be here when he woke up from the operation, as his nephew wont be arriving until this evening.”

“That’s really kind,” said Frazer.

Very briefly, John went on to explain that he was a Legal Executive with the solicitors Keyway, Watson and Khan.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me that you work for a decent outfit like them.”

For the rest of the day John basked in the warmth of this approval; only regretting that although he knew how to persuade the ever liverish, His Honour Judge Atkinson to make decisions favourable to his clients, he could not find the courage to ask Frazer to meet for a drink.

John did however find the courage to go to ‘The Queen’s Shilling’ by himself. Not the most raucous of  Eastampton LGBTQ clubs and bars, but it was the nearest to his home.- An important consideration for someone who was going by himself and expected to return in that state. Had he remembered that this was the first Saturday of the month, John would almost certainly have gone to the Krakatoa club instead. As it was, he met up with friends as diffident as he, in one of the city’s quieter mixed pubs and having gathered the courage in the first place to enjoy the delights of ‘The Queen’s Shilling,’ he amiably wished them well of the Krakatoa Club.

Within minutes of joining the good natured queue to get into ‘The Queen’s Shilling’ the dire prospect dawned. For others of course, like his good friends Kyle and Darren, the prospect was anything but dire. They watched the queue stop and start with the same anxious care as John. The difference was that Kyle and Darren were amongst those in the queue who hoped to be chosen. John by contrast positively did not want  this particular fate. With a bit of luck, either he would not be chosen, or all of the cage tickets will have been allocated anyway by the time he got through the door. He crossed his fingers.

The queue was definitely moving a bit faster. Kyle and Darren for some reason calculated that their own chances would be improved by splitting up and trying to edge their way backwards without being ejected from the queue itself. Alas, their manoeuvres were not well received. The calculation failed miserably and the two were last seen heading for the Krakatoa club.

From time to time John would allow stubble to enhance his good looks. “To butch him up a bit,” as a connoisseur in such matters remarked to apparent  good effect. Unfortunately for John, that same connoisseur, who also happened to have instructed Keyway, Watson and Khan on behalf of a relative, part owned ‘The Queen’s Shilling.’ Thus John was welcomed with particular warmth. His objections on being allocated cage a ticket were genially dismissed with gratitude and a bone crushing bear hug from one who in other spheres of commercial activity was widely thought to know a thing or two about bone crushing.

With an unaccustomed  chorus of encouragement ringing in his ears, John accepted the ticket. ‘1.15 a.m.’ it said, so by then people would be too tired or too drunk perhaps, to witness his 15 minutes of unlooked for fame.

The Rex cinema had been quite a draw in its 20th century heyday. Two decades as a bingo club in the 1980s and 1990s were followed by less glamourous roles in Eastampton life. Now, with the pandemic officially quashed it had become ‘The Queen’s Shilling.’  Loud and vibrant and a large cage suspended from the ceiling were its hallmarks. What had been the Rex cinema’s upper circle now served as the upper bar and unimaginative restaurant, whose culinary offerings made scampi and chips seem something of an adventure. On the first Saturday of the month, it had the additional distinction of affording the best view of whatever delights were being played out in the cage.

John being John, he contrived to enjoy the noise and atmosphere by being as unobtrusive as possible whilst chatting up the prettiest of the quieter twinks who gravitated towards him. He was torn between getting himself sloshed in an effort to gain Dutch Courage for his 15 minutes in the cage and simply slipping out by the emergency exit. As the hours rolled by, it was the possibility that his partner for his 15 minutes in the cage might be one of those twinks that kept him away from the emergency exit and kept him sober.

Rather than glance up to see who might be doing what in the cage, John resolutely gave his attention to what was going on around him.

“Rub that stubble of yours on my bum,” whispered someone as they snogged.

Later, he diffidently made his excuses to a ginger haired lovely who thereby concluded that John was not quite the stud he was looking for and spent the rest of the night saying so to anyone who would listen. In fact John had seen someone he recognised and was anxious to renew their acquaintance.- Not least because this person was by himself and seemed interesting, watchful and alert. For a moment John’s resolved waivered. The emergency exit seemed inviting.
“Hi again,”  beamed the confident Frazer Shaw, still all dark fair hair, grey-blue eyes and those beautiful lips. But this time, Frazer was wearing a tee shirt and frayed jeans. Over his shoulder hung a bag bearing a  Red Cross.

“Hi,” returned John suddenly feeling dizzy,- and it wasn’t because of the heat, lights and pulsating energy of ‘The Queen’s Shilling.’ “Never expected to bump into you here Frazer.”

“Guys are mostly not my thing,” came the airy reply.

“I Know what you mean,” the astonished John Poole heard himself say, to a raised eyebrow and a rueful grin from Frazer.

“Whatever you say sunshine.”

“It’s the nearest night spot to my little place on Chapel Street.” That at least had the merit of being true.

“I know Chapel Street and expect to know it better, quite soon.” replied Frazer honestly, though not wanting to tease John too much.

Poor John in an attempt to gather his thoughts and to urge the ground to open up beneath him attempted to speak, but could find no words.

“I’m here as a First Aider.” By way of helpful illustration, Frazer patted his shoulder bag. “plasters, condoms, sanitary towels, aspirins, lube, bottled water, useful information. You name it. It’s all in here.”

“I’ve got a ticket for the cage. I really didn’t want it.”

The words sort of tumbled out of John’s mouth unbidden. There came no looked of judgement from Frazer. Instead, they both looked upwards to see two youngish women embracing fondly. John sighed. Whatever he might be doing and with whom before the night was out, it would not be with Frazer.

“What with part owning this place and owning the abattoir down Orbiston Parva way, Billy Pearce has quite a lot of sway over the Eastamptonshire meat market.” So saying, Frazer looked carefully at John.

“You don’t have to go through with the cage thing, you know. You’ve not snorted anything, or taken an ‘E’ or a pill of some kind?”

“Heck no. I’m too much of a coward for any of that stuff.”

“No need to feel abashed at admitting to being a coward.” He lifted each of John’s eyelids. The too, too brief warmth of Frazer’s breath on his cheeks caused John to sigh involuntarily.

“I’m going ahead with cage thing,” announced John enjoying the moment of intimacy Frazer’s examination was giving him.

“Well I think I have some good news for you then. One of my good friends is the sister of the stunner you will be sharing your 15 minutes with. He is a lecturer at the university in English Jurisprudence. So you should have a lot to discuss.”

John’s cock rose in admiration. Frazer was so utterly cool, so laid back. He wanted to hold him close and kiss those sweet lips.

“Things to do,” said Frazer as a colleague First Aider caught his attention.

“Please don’t watch when I am up there in the cage, Frazer.”
Frazer paused. “I Was not going to Sunshine. But as you do not want me to, that will be my reason for not doing so. Chow.”

At 1:15 am John was in the cage. Naked. To his right the occupants of the Balcony Bar were suddenly giving their close attention. The frantic sounds from the dance floor below were less loud. The lighting was definitely a little dimmer than it had been all night. Before him stood the equally naked lecturer in Jurisprudence, as anticipated by Frazer.

Harmar Wills was certainty the best looking, though not perhaps the brightest barrister practicing on the Midlands Circuit,- despite his post at Eastampton University. After their initial surprise at meeting in the cage of ‘The Queen’s Shilling,’ the long acquainted pair took stock.

Observing the nervousness of the younger man before him, Harmer looked on hungrily  and  mentally ticked  the name, ‘John Poole’ on his extensive, ‘to be had before I die’ list. That John looked suddenly vulnerable only added to Harmer’s sense of anticipation. He was only mildly put out that John’s rampant cock was clearly a little larger than his own.

“Well, we’ve only got 15 minutes to put on some kind of show for the gawping peasants, and I don’t suppose selected readings from The All England Law Reports 1981 (Volume 1), will cut the mustard.”

“No, probably not,” John agreed, laughing despite never particularly liking either the Wills sense of humour, or his attitude towards others.

“Well in that case I have the sudden notion,-bizarre as I think it is, that I could do with being fucked.”

The little shelf in the corner of the cage held a plentiful supply of condoms, poppers and lubricants. John selected his poppers and inhaled deeply. It was not that Harmer Wills was physically unattractive, it was rather that he really was personally and professionally an arrogant bully. As the poppers hit John Poole he felt unusually transformed and purposive.

“Right then you fucking toad brain, time to fuck you into next week I think.” Whatever doubts John had about his capacities in this regard, the look of shock and surprise on the Will’s face at being spoken to like this were priceless. He grinned mirthlessly and walked around Harmer Wills as one examining his prey. A few “OOs” and “ahhs” from the patrons of the balcony Bar and restaurant indicated that what was happening in the cage had their interest. The night was winding down anyway and some on the dance floor looked up.

John flicked Harmer’s cock, enjoyed the wincing response and did it again. Harmer opened his mouth to remonstrate and perhaps assert what he thought his innate superiority. Instead a volley of spit landed in his mouth.

“Swallow it,” came John’s command, and that is what Harmer did.

John’s palm’s crashed against what was, when all was said and done, a very sexy arse. The sound   reverberated through ‘The Queen’s Shilling,’ seeming to lower the lights and the music in its wake.  Warming to his task, John struck again and was not alone in appreciating the effect it had on the Will’s cock as much as his own.

He roughly parted Harmer’s arse cheeks.

“Look at that fuck hole, ladies and gentlemen.” He turned Harmer like the prize exhibit he was, for all to see. Harmer drew breath, perhaps to object, but the slap across his face and the earnest kiss following it, but paid to that.

“I bet you weren’t expecting that, Harmer,” whispered  John with a wink. “To be honest with you, nor was I.”

Ripples of further appreciation reach the cage. What John did not hear were the comments from friends and acquaintances marvelling at this side of an often shay and diffident John, that they had not seen before this evening.

John breathed in more poppers and thoughtfully waited a moment whilst Harmer did the same.

John strode around the cage showing off his muscles, that few would have called excessive; and displaying his arse and his cock, thought by many to be very nice indeed and some,-particularly after this show, said were utterly ravishing.

“Give him one!,” called an admirer, by way of encouragement. John flourished a bow in the general direction of the admirer.

With another gesture he wordlessly ordered Harmer to his knees, glad for them both of the thick mattress covering the cage floor. It was only that moment,- as Harmer Wills deep throated his cock with such evident skill that John really began to fancy the older man.

In his uncharacteristic state of both confidence and dominance, how Harmer was to be fucked was John’s decision to make, and he knew it. But it was only with considerable reluctance that he entirely gave up face fucking Harmer.

“You give great head” he whispered, almost his diffident self.

The club fell  nearly silent. Most the lighting was now completely off or dimmed, save for a light bathing the cage.

“On your fucking knees Wills,” everyone heard John say. They heard him admire Harmer’s back and shoulders. They saw him linger in prolonged appreciation as he kissed and licked and bit his way- sometimes gently, sometimes not,- down Harmer’s back and on to his arse. Some observers particularly relished Harmer’s enthusiastic responses.
One rather ungenerous soul who had known Harmer Wills all of his life averred that Harmer had never sounded so kind, but then, he was being kind to himself.

John parted Harmer’s firm and slightly hairy arse. There was no doubting its deliciousness as his tongue entered cautiously at first, before rimming Harmer with an intensity the surprised older man hoped would not end.  Precum oozed and John became aware that Harmer was slowly, rhythmically, wanking.

Quickly and reluctantly, John covered his straining 8 inch man rod with a condom. Careful he applied just the right amount of Swiss Navy lube to his cock and to Harmer’s hole. Without ceremony, he thrust his cock into the panting Harmer. It clearly hurt. But John recalled what a basically unpleasant man Harmer was and pressed harder. He was in and Harmer’s pain gave place to satisfaction and indeed joy, as John doggie pounded him, with every fibre of John’s being contributing to what in Harmer’s mind was intended entirely Harmer’s satisfaction. A bit of John’s mind meanwhile wished that he actually liked Harmer as he lay across Harmer’s back and fucked him harder than the fuckee had experienced for some while. As his climax drew nearer and nearer John heard and felt Harmer convulsing in a prolonged orgasm beneath him.

He pushed Harmer on to his front and drove his cock into Harmer, his seed shooting into the condom as he gasped for breath.
“Thanks  Harmer,” he said quietly as a pleasing ripple of applause made itself heard.

John stood and repeated his thanks to those in Balcony Restaurant and to the dance floor below. When John turned, he found that Harmer was gone.

For a moment or two, John stood alone in the cage. He felt happier, more self-assured than he could remember ever feeling before. This is what 15 minutes of fame feels like is it? Suddenly aware of his nakedness he dressed. How he wondered had Harmer disappeared?, as the cage slowly descended taking him to the dance floor.

“Fuck off,” hissed Frazer Shaw to an approaching member of the door security staff. “The greedy bastard and his minions can’t hustle everyone out quickly enough now the show is over.”

The dark fair hair and grey-blue eyes shone to illuminate that laid back smile. The instant pleasure at seeing Frazer again, Red Cross shoulder bag and all, deflated the self confidence that had filled John only minutes ago. It was gone. He wanted to ask what Frazer was doing, apparently waiting for him like this. Instead he  accidentally voiced what he really feared.
“You didn’t watch my..my err performance with Harmer Wills did you? I am not…”

“I promised you I wouldn’t sunshine; so I didn’t,” replied Frazer easily. He tugged at John’s sleeve. “The greedy bastard has apparently taken the unlucky Harmer Wills to the inner sanctum and his personal shower facilities, so I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t use the staff shower.”

Frazer stood discretely out of view as John showered, and began gathering up John’s clothes and placing them in a plastic bag.

“I don’t know if you realised it John, but the show you put on with Harmer went on for well over the allotted 15 minutes,- 30 in fact.”

“Oh..No.” I had not realised that,” John spluttered, now more embarrassed than ever, at what he had done. Frazer’s hand appeared holding a massive and clearly top of the market towel robe and matching slippers.

“Let’s just say I liberated them,” said Frazer, appearing as John cocooned himself and luxuriated in the feel of whatever the expensive material was.

“I can offer you a lift home handsome, or you can walk in that admittedly impressive rig. Anyway as of this afternoon we are almost are near neighbours, I think.”

“But..But, this robe and slippers, they are not mine Frazer.”

The protesting John was led to the exit. ‘The Queen’s Shilling’  now stood empty, but for Frazer, John and the looming figure  between them and the door.

“Your fancy boy is wearing Mr. Pearce’s robe and slippers,” was the looming figure’s insightful observation.

“If he were,-my fancy boy I mean,- I should be so lucky. As to Billy Pearce, he is in his private chambers, with, to borrow your unlovely  phrase, an admittedly ageing ‘fancy boy.’ I doubt that this robe and these slippers are the ones uppermost in his mind just now. Do you?”

The looming figure stood aside.

Shepherding John into the night of early morning, Frazer turned back to face the now not so looming figure.

“Please tell Mr. Pearce that Helen, Alexandra and I are no longer his volunteer First Aiders.

“OOO, Yes. I almost forgot. After your boss and Mr Wills have breakfasted, you might wish to inform him that at about 11 am, everything that is electrically powered in ‘The Queen’s Shilling’, will shut down for approximately one hour.”

“Bloody hell,” exclaimed John, as they walked rather briskly to Frazer’s motor car. “ Is that true?”

“It certainly is,” said Frazer, happily contemplating his skills as an electrician as he did so.

They drew up to John’s two up two down little house on Chapel Street. In a matter of months all 80 identical houses on Chapel Street, Lane, Road and Row, would become The Chapel Housing Co-operative.

“I am moving into 5, Chapel Street next week.”

“I’m glad’, replied John, making every effort to sound not too overawed. He looked at his so cool friend and again  succumbed to what, a kind of mania? Again he heard himself say, “Of course, I am not gay.”

“Of course you are not sunshine,” agreed  Frazer gently, his sexy lips sending pulses of desire through John as he spoke.

“Listen a minute.” A hand on John’s arm halted what was about to become his speedy and embarrassed exit from the car. “You are whatever you say you are. But it might help you to know that in as much as percentages have any meaning at all I am mostly straight; a bit bi on the side and a little bit gay too. I don’t suppose that is really helpful, now I hear myself saying it out loud and I wouldn’t have high hopes of me, If I were you. But I really would like us to be friends.”

I’ll settle for that! I’ll settle for that!, the voice in John’s head almost screamed.

“I’d like that too,” he managed to agree, without sounding at all disappointed.

To be continued.