THE RETURN Chapter 3.

David laid aside Anton's book after reading a couple of chapters. Mrs B was right it was beautifully written, full of unusual insights and he was sure it would sell well. God knows, if the rest of the work came up to the standard of the opening, it could be in line for any of those big literary prizes; but he wanted nothing to do with it. He didn't want to see or think about Anton. He would explain to Harry and let him handle it all. His buzzer went.

"Dame Harriet wants a word."

His most prized historian. Dame Harriet Andrews. He was delighted to be taken away from all thoughts of Anton. "Put her through..... Harriet, my dear, good morning. How are you?"

She was in something of a quandary over her latest work. Could David spare the time and come down to Dorset and go through some things with her. It was impossible to explain over the phone but some documents had just surfaced which appeared to contradict everything that had been accepted about the origins of the Crimean War.

If they proved to be authentic then she really was in a frightful pickle as it would mean changing so much and she had promised him the book for the following Spring but now she would be lucky to finish by next Autumn!

He calmed her down and said of course he could come and stay with her. She was stressing how urgent she felt it was and he suddenly saw that this was fortuitous; for if Harry wanted to see Anton then he could and David would not be here. He assured Dame Harriet that all would be well and he would leave this afternoon and could be with her around six this evening.

David quickly spoke with Harry and sent Anton's book over plus the report and his own commendation. He suggested that if Harry liked it as much as he did then they might get it into their Christmas list but it would mean a lot of rapid decisions and if Harry didn't object he wanted Harry to make them, because, as he explained, he had to dash off to Dorset to look after their highly popular historian who was having problems. Harry laughed and agreed to handle all the Anton business.

David tried to reach Gerry but found he was out of the office so he sent a text message telling him that he would be away for a few days, but not to worry. He hoped to be back by the weekend or certainly early the following week and he promised to ring him when he could. If Gerry really needed to get in touch then Harriet's number was in the address book by the landline. David drove home, quickly packed a suitcase and left for Dorset.

    * * * * *

When Gerry got back from his lunch with Jamie he got David's message and a great wave of disappointment swept over him. He had been hoping that the two of them could have gone somewhere special this evening and then home. He wanted to make love with David to celebrate his special advancement. He knew David had always believed in him and he wanted, by having some wonderful sex with him, to say thanks, to say "I love you", whatever: he wanted David at this moment. He wanted to share his success with David; he wanted to feel David's arms around him and his big hard cock deep inside him. Fuck it he wanted sex, his balls ached, his ass twitched and his cock was half-hard. Why did David have not to be there, why?

Gerry left his desk and shut himself in a cubicle of the men's toilet. He knew he was being absurd and stroked himself into calming down, then stopped. There was no point in cumming alone. He had three days to prepare for his "first client", he would bury himself in the research and produce three or four possible options, all suitable for what the elderly Mr Gould could do with his "limited funds". It wasn't David's fault that Dame H. had hit a snag. David was just doing what any colleague and old friend would do which also happened to be part of his job.

So Gerry would do his job too.

Gerry worked hard that afternoon. By office-closing-going-home-time he had sketched out one option and rough drafted a second and made a note of the possible direction of a third. He was satisfied and seeing it was nearly five o'clock. Took a chance and rang David. After a moment David answered

"Darling boy, hi, I am sorry I had to come down here."

"That's OK. I understand but I miss you."

"Sweet one, I love you. - How can you miss me? You aren't home yet are you?

Gerry giggled. " I thought I might gobble you off in the car when you picked me up from the station."

"Shit, baby, that would have been so special! Look, I've pulled off on to the hard shoulder; I'm still about fifteen minutes from Harriet. I don't know how long I will have to stay with her, but I'll let you know. Probably middle of next week at the latest."

"OK. - Oh, I have news!"


"I have news. I have got my first client. He's all mine. I'll be his financial guru and special adviser."

"Wonderful, baby!! Fuck we'll really celebrate next week."

"I meet up with him in a couple of days."

"You'll be great. You'll charm the pants off him. He'll love you and agree to everything you want him to. Darling boy, must go. Take care and I'll ring soon and let you know what's happening. Love you."

"You too. Bye then."

Gerry heard the connection break. He felt flat. His whole body longed for another, he wanted skin on his skin, lips on his lips, a cock crushing his cock. And the trouble was that the one he most wanted was miles away in rural Dorset.

    * * * * *

Over the next two days Gerry really worked, exploring possibilities, reading statistics examining worst case scenarios. By the time Mr Gould arrived at the reception office and Gerry was buzzed, he was sure that he could make Mr Gould a very contented client. He went down to reception. He was not expecting this Mr Gould.

Anton stood flipping through a glossy prospectus expecting some young city trader, all Essex vowels and Hugo Boss or Versace suiting. Suddenly here before him stood a beautiful young man, straw blond hair, deep blue eyes, approximately 5 foot 10. and 150 pounds. Wide mouth, strong jaw-line, firm handshake.

"Mr Gould?"

Gerry had not expected to be greeting a highly sexy, lightly tanned, 6 foot 2, dark haired, deep brown eyed, perfectly proportioned yet carefully casually dressed, male 'god'.

Who he knew had passed fifty but, fuck, he didn't look it

"Mr Hawthorne forgot to give me your name, but the girl called you Gerry."

"Everybody calls me Gerry, sir. I'm Gerry Turner. Shall we go to lunch so that you can relax and tell me what you require of us and I'll tell you what we can offer you then we can return afterwards and put some action to that."

"That would be delightful., Mr Turner.

"Gerry , please sir."

"Then please, if I am to call you Gerry, call me Anton."

Anton allowed himself to be shepherded out of the office building and down the street to a restaurant where the tables were set at a discreet distance apart and the food and service merited two stars in the gastronomical bible, the red Michelin Guide.

Gerry was glad that due to traffic noise and general bustle around them there was little chance of conversation between them until they reached the restaurant. He was able to suppress a surge of rising hormones and remind himself that this was business not pleasure. It was a cruel irony, to him, that he was about to have lunch with one of the hottest guys he'd ever met while David was away. With luck Mr Anton Gould was not gay; but remembering how the older man's eyes had stripped him as they met, he didn't think he had luck on his side.



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