A Fairy Tale

Aiden strolled into the small park that was near his home. It had a playground for children, tennis courts, a little league baseball field, all separated from the heavily wooded section by a small ornamental pond. He ambled past the playground, taking the path that led around the pond and to the trails that meandered through the woods. He saw several people walking their dogs, heading the same way and he felt the pang of loss from no longer having Winston, his Border Collie. The little dog, right at the bottom of the breed’s weight scale, had been a hand full at first, so energetic he worried it had been a mistake to get him. But Winston had settled down, and became a loyal companion, one constantly looking for a job to do. The hikes in the mountains, or along a beach, and the frequent walks in the neighborhoods he had lived in, or the parks that afforded walks among so many other people and their dogs. It had been only a month since losing Winston and he kept telling himself to wait. There was no need to rush, and there was his current deadline looming in front of him.

Aiden made his way around the pond to his favorite bench. It sat under a dogwood tree right at the edge of the woods facing the pond. Backpack set on the bench, he sat next to it and fished out his laptop. It was fully charged but by day’s end the battery would be low, if not dead. His deadline had him feeling rushed, and he needed to knock out ten thousand words, or more, if he could do it. He reached into the backpack again, searching for the bag of trail mix he had made that morning. He was prone to wanting something to nibble on while he typed, and he needed no excuses to stop. His hand landed on his water bottle, his notebook, and a book that he carried around to remind himself of what he could do when he put his mind to it. He pulled it out and lay it on the bench.

The cover showed a barn with grain silos in the background. The title “Of the Land” at the top, and below it, the subheading: “Stories of Gay Men from Rural America.” Below that his name: Aiden R. Cameron. It had not been his favorite title, but his editor assured him it was good and created an image the reader would take note. Aiden agreed to the title, and over the last twenty months, sales had been good for the book. Good enough the publisher agreed to another, if he could get it done in time for a fall release before the holidays.

The new book would be different, more fantastical, with stories in the science fiction and fantasy genres. He had a few stories typed up, and more than he needed outlined to some degree. He had started the current story last night, typing up enough of the beginning to get the feel of it, establish the settings, and get a sense of how to develop the story as he typed it up. It was based on a fairy tale, an old one, that had many iterations. He had been intrigued by the idea of creating his own, one that would speak to gay and bisexual men, and with the way things were changing, maybe even a female reader. It was happening in other parts of the world, women not only reading stories of a love between men, but many the authors of such stories.

Laptop opened to the story, he checked the settings again, then began to type.

Simon listened to his stepsisters talk of the upcoming ball, and how the prince was to greet all suitors. He listened to their descriptions of the prince, letting the image form in his mind. Tall, muscular, with black, wavy hair and the darkest brown eyes. He was so mysterious Fiona squealed, and Simon wondered if the mystery could conceal something good, like the prince was looking for a suitor of the type, his stepsisters could never be.

“Hurry up, we need our dresses ready for tonight,” Fiona uttered in her curt screeching voice bringing Simon out of his daydream.

“Yes Fiona,” he replied as he refocused on sewing the lace back in place on her red dress. Simon wondered about the unfairness of it all, as he carefully sewed another section in place. His own mother had died when he was only ten. The plague had taken her, leaving him the only child with a father who worked on ships that traveled to some new world. One he sometimes wished to go and never return.

Ashley came into the room and stood over Simon for the longest time. It was intimidating, they way she would stand over him for the longest time before saying what she had come to say. It rattled him, and she knew it.

“How long before you’re done with Fiona’s dress?” Ashley asked, her voice revealing her impatience.

“Not long,” Simon replied, giving her his best smile, one he had learned to create at a moment’s notice, no matter how angry or upset one of them made him. And no one could upset him like Mavis, his stepmother. He had grown to despise the woman, and the way she manipulated his father.

“I need you to go into the village and get me another pair of gloves, so hurry up,” Ashley barked.

“Does Mavis know you’re asking me to go?” Simon asked.

“Yes,” Ashley barked, holding out precious coins for the gloves, more than he was ever given. “And mother said to be back in time to get dinner prepared,” she added, then turned and strolled out of the room.

Simon walked to the village that sat outside the walls of the old castle, the river circling the castle keeping its moat full, then meandering around the east side of the village. He came to the lone bridge over the river and entered the bustling village. He had to watch for men on horseback, for they could be upon him before he knew it. He could have walked along the side of the lane, but the hawkers and sellers were such a torment, he preferred the threat of being run down by a horse.

Simon moved up the hill, getting closer to the castle, for the finest shops they could afford were near the base of it. The very finest shops were inside the castle, but those were far too expensive. He walked as fast as he could keeping his eyes straight ahead, both to avoid the sellers but also any of the thieves scouting for a victim. He came to the steps at the archery shop, and climbed them two at a time, his long legs making easy work of them. He came to the top and looked both ways, trying to remember which way to go. To his left, almost out of sight by the curving lane, he saw the sign of Nedra’s Finery and headed that way.

Simon neared the door when someone yelled out.

“Outta of the way, outta of the way,” and Simon jumped to the side just in time to avoid being run down by a young man on a white horse. He stood up from behind the toppled over baskets of vegetables to see the man pull the reigns hard, bringing the horse to a stop. Then the man jumped down and led the horse back up the narrow lane.

“Are you alright,” the man asked as he moved up close to where Simon now stood? Simon nodded his head while trying not to stare.

“I’m afraid I got a bit carried away, trying to elude father’s men. They are so determined to have me try on all these clothes for tomorrow’s dreadful ball,” the man said, then moved closer to Simon, eyes looking him up and down. “Are you coming to the ball?” he asked Simon. This time Simon shook his head in reply. “Too bad,” the man replied. “Forgive my manners, I’m Prince Charles, the king’s son. You know, the one they’re trying to marry off to some wench,” he joked.

Simon stood awed at being in the presence of royalty. “You’re the…” he began to ask when men yelling from somewhere up the lane could be heard.

“Oh no, those bastards are coming. Here, take my horse and ride him on down the lane out of sight. I’ll hide in here,” the prince said, pointing to Nedra’s Finery.

“But I don’t know how to ride,” Simon began to protest as the prince shoved the reigns into his hands.

“Oh, there’s nothing to it,” the prince replied, “Pegasus knows this village better than any man; just hold tight,” as he pushed Simon to climb into the saddle. A slap on the rear and Pegasus took off, Simon holding on for dear life.

Aiden lifted his fingers from the keyboard, wondering how much detail was needed in setting up Simon to be at the ball. Would he have him a guest? No, no, that wouldn’t work. He’d make him a server, something the prince could easily arrange. A way to repay his assistance from the day before, and as a poor peasant, a means of earning some of the king’s coin.

Aiden pictured it, how Simon would arrive at the kitchen, ready to serve the king, and the prince. He lowered his fingers to begin typing.

“Cordelia! Cordelia! Stop!” someone yelled from somewhere behind Aiden, and he looked to his side in time to see a large hound bounce around the bench and come to where he sat. It nudged his hand causing him to pet it, then scratch behind one floppy ear.

“I’m so sorry,” a guy came around the bench and took the hound by the collar. “She surprised me and slipped from my grasp.”

Aiden looked at the young man before him. Ten years younger than his forty, at least, he thought as he took measure of him. Tall, lean build with wavy black hair. When they met eye to eye, Aiden saw the dark brown eyes, so dark they looked black. Then the dog nudged his hand again bringing him out of his trance.

“Oh, it is alright. I love dogs, had one for fifteen years.”

“Wow, that is a long time. I hope to have Cordelia that long. What kind of dog was it if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Border Collie.”

“Nice.”

“Your dog, her name, it’s interesting.”

“Cordelia? One of King’s Lear’s daughters.”

“Yes, I know that character.”

“Again, I’m sorry she disturbed you.”

“Oh, don’t be. I was struggling with a section of the story I’m writing anyway.”

“Oh, you’re an author?”

“I…well, yes, but not anything you have probably read.”

“Try me.”

Aiden slid his first novel across the bench, rotating it so the man could see it right side up.

“Of the Land…Stories of Gay Men…” the man read, his voice trailing off. “Sounds interesting. I see it is fiction, but is it based on any real characters?”

Aiden was surprised the man wanted to know more about his book, and he suppressed a smile.

“No, not anyone in particular.”

“I’m Charlie by the way. Charlie Prince.”

Aiden sat at his desk in his study and brought up his laptop. He had just finished breakfast and wanted to make some progress on the story he was creating. He had it up to the night of the ball, and Simon was dressed in the garments of a servant. He scanned his notes, put his fingers on the keyboard, and began typing.

The prince came into the room, walking down the center of it with his mother, the Queen. The suitors lined each side of the room, creating an aisle just wide enough for them to move along. Near the end of the aisle of women suitors, the prince looked around the room and spotted Simon to one side of it. Simon was behind the crowd holding a tray, while watching the prince approach the raised platform where the King waited. The prince smiled at him, then turned to his mother to say something.

Simon felt breathless, looking at the prince in his finest attire. An amulet hung around his neck, the emerald reflecting the candlelight in startling ways. Simon turned away from the prince, for he knew otherwise he would continue to stare. The prince made him feel desires he could not stop to consider. Moving among the guest, he served them until his tray was empty and he headed to the kitchen.

Simon went out of the main residence of the royal family, across the yard with its herb and vegetable gardens, into the kitchen. It was stifling hot with the fires of the ovens. Food was being staged for pickup, cooking in ovens or on top of wood stoves sizzling with the heat, and it was laid out, with salt and herbs ready to cook. He circled the room, dropping the tray dirtied with spilled food at the washing station, and went to pick up another tray already laden with food.

Simon entered the back door into the large foyer where drinks were being poured for serving, heading toward the ballroom door. It swung open and the prince entered the room blocking his way.

“Give the tray to someone else. I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” said Prince Charles.

“Sir?”

“You…take this tray into the ballroom,” Prince Charles exclaimed to the nearest servant, then he turned back to Simon. “Follow me.”

Simon followed Prince Charles to the hall that led deeper into the residence while trying to ignore the looks from the others. He cut his eyes left and right, then hung his head down and followed the prince down the hall. They passed several doors before the prince led him through double doors that Simon soon saw was a library. Leather volumes lined one wall, more than Simon could imagine one person ever having possession. On another series of shelves, he saw ancient scrolls and two thick leather-bound books sitting on their own podiums. Of all the things he had seen that day that spoke of the King’s wealth, this room surpassed everything. He was envious of the book collection, thinking he would never leave the room if it were to belong to him.

“Simon, I’m glad you came. I’m sorry you have to be a servant to be here, but…”

“Oh, my lord, it is no problem.”

“Please Simon, dispense with the formalities. Call me Charles.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Simon?” Charles admonished.

“Charles,” Simon uttered, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.

“I hope this soiree will be over before too long, but I fear mother will drag it out all night.”

“It is your night.”

“But it is one where they are trying to find me a wife. I don’t want a wife,” said Charles, stepping closer to Simon.

Simon swallowed hard, sure Charles could not mean what it seemed, for that would be too hopeful. The one thing Simon knew was not to be hopeful when one’s lot in life was a peasant in the King’s territory.

“Will you be here when this is finally over?” asked Charles.

“If that is what you ask of me,” Simon replied.

“Simon, please don’t respond like a servant. I want you to be here but only if you want to be.”

Simon felt the heat of his face as he turned away. “I do,” he whispered just loud enough for Charles to hear.

The ball finally over, the last of the guest making their way out

The small bar indicating his place flashed as he stared at the screen. Aiden was stuck, not sure how to proceed. He glanced at his watch and saw it was nearly eleven and he had been making slow progress, his mind drifting off on his own predicament of still being single and alone. He closed the laptop, slipped it into his satchel, and headed to the kitchen to get his keys and wallet. He would go into town to Mabelle’s, the bistro and coffee shop in the North District. It would soon be busy, but the noise could be calming to him. A white noise that didn’t allow for him to become constantly distracted by his own thoughts.

Keys in hand, Aiden strolled out to the garage, heading to the door that concealed his Ford, the car he used on a regular basis when he reconsidered. The sky was clear blue, not a cloud in sight. He hit the code for the other garage door and waited on it to roll up. The back of the old car came into view, and it made him smile as it did every time, he saw it.

It had been such a guilty pleasure purchasing the car three years ago, but he had always wanted one ever since seeing one at Amelia Island, cruising down the main street of the small downtown. He had seen them in magazines and books but never in person until that day. As it had cruised by, he had determined one day he would have one.

Easing along the side of the convertible, the red body reflecting the light, Aiden swung the driver’s door open and eased down into Alfa Romeo 2600. It was a 1964 model, lovingly restored by the previous owner, who finally gave it up to acquire another Alfa, one older and rarer. It had cost a fortune, one that made him feel foolish to have spent so much on a car that was over fifty-five years old. As the inline six with its dual overhead cams came to life, then settled to an idle, Aiden glanced over at his laptop, wondering how he would continue his latest story. Maybe a chariot ride, one out into the country, or maybe just horseback riding.

Aiden had gotten lucky, finding a place to park right across the street from Maybelle’s. He strolled across the street and into the bistro with its eclectic décor and bold artwork by a couple of local artists. He ordered the turkey on croissant and a glass of red wine, then settled at a table outside on the side patio positioned in the shade of a maple tree.

Laptop opened to his story, he stared at the screen, reading the last incomplete sentence over and over. Then he hit on a way to continue, and he set to typing. A paragraph, then another, and he soon knocked out two more pages. He had Simon and Charles agree to meet the next day for a ride. Simon was to sneak out early, dressed in his best clothes, and get to the place where the old stone bridge crossed the river where he sit under a tree and wait.

…Simon watched the waters of the river swirl and eddy over rock as it made its way down to Crystal River, the largest in the region, and one that flowed all the way to the sea. He wondered if the prince would have any trouble getting away, or if he could be late. He had seen the night before how the prince was in constant demand, someone always coming up to him to inquire about something or request his presence. He was so nervous and anxious, he wondered if it would not be best for the prince to get called away and not show up. He knew it would be devastating to him in ways he couldn’t begin to give thought.

The warmth of the day and a lack of sleep made Simon suddenly sleepy. He struggled to keep his eyes open. He tilted back, he closed his eyes and slipped into a deep sleep.

“Simon. Simon, wake up.”

Simon opened his eyes to see Charles standing over him. He was dressed casually, shirt open at the neck revealing the upper chest. Simon struggles not to look at he exposed skin.

“Are you ready to go riding?” asked Charles, helping Simon to his feet.

Charles holds the reigns to two horses. One is Pegasus, his white horse, the other is white with brown spots, and both are majestic compared to the old nag his family had for pulling the cart.

“I thought we could ride down to the Crystal River.”

“That will take half a day just to get there.”

“That is why I brought blankets and some gear. We can camp on the bank of the river and return tomorrow. Will your parents be okay if you’re gone until tomorrow?”

“I think so,” Simon replied, sounding a lot more assured than he felt, knowing his stepmother would raise the roof if he is not there to do all the chores.

Charles held out the reigns to the white horse. “Take Pegasus. He knows you, and I’ll take Jocosa. He can be a handful at times.”

Simon climbed into the saddle in the most ungraceful manner, eliciting a laugh from Charles. Embarrassed, he looked over to see Charles expertly climb into the saddle and soon have control of Jocosa.

“Let’s get going,” said Charles and he turned Jocosa toward the road.

They rode out to the road and turned away from the village, heading south. The sound of a horse fast approaching came up from behind and they turned in time to see one of the soldiers pulling up next to them.

“Sire, the king requests your presence,” the soldier uttered breathlessly.

“But I informed the king…”

“I’m sorry my lord, but something has come up about the Royse territory.”

Simon saw Charles frown and knew it was something important.

“My lord, you should go. I have chores that need attending,” said Simon as he climbed off Pegasus and held the reigns out to Charles.

Aiden sat back, empty plate pushed to one side, wine glass just refilled, and he scanned what he had just typed. He wondered how long to play this cat and mouse game. To drag it out for several pages or to bring a quick end to it. He opened his notes on all the stories he had outlined, looking at the page counts for those finished. Thirty-two for the first one, twenty-one for the second, twenty-six for the third and for the one in progress, an estimated forty-plus pages. After looking at the page counts, he knew he should speed it up, not slow it down.

“Would you like some dessert?” the waiter asked as he came up to take his plate.

“No…wait, yes, I think I will have something. Do you have that blackberry cobbler?”

“Yes.”

“Bring me that,” Aiden replied.

The patio area remained busy, with the drone of voices mixed with the sounds of the city just behind the fence. Aiden sat back and thought about what it would mean to keep running into someone, but never able to make a hard connection. The fragile nature of life, those moments in time when choices or simple chance or coincidence would lead to an outcome not desired. Moments in time that slip through the fingers like sand.

“Aiden? Aiden, right?”

Aiden turned to see Charlie coming his way. He’s wearing a white diner jacket over a steel grey t-shirt and jeans. Aiden looked at the fit of the jeans, form fitting, with straight legs, each tucked into black boots. Then he looked up into the face. It was so friendly, the features soft and gentle, he found himself staring.

“Aiden?”

“Oh, yes, Charlie, it is nice to run into you again. Are you here for lunch?”

“Yes. I had a conference call that lasted far too long, and now I need food,” said Charlie.

“Well, I’ve finished, I’m sorry to say, but if you would like to sit, I’d be honored to have the company.”

“I’d like that,” Charlie replied, reaching out to the other chair to pull it out.

“Charlie! Charlie Prince!”

Aiden and Charlie turned to see two women crossing the patio behind the hostess. For a split-second Charlie appeared to frown, then the smile returned, and he turned to greet them.

“Sharon, Mary, how are you?”

“We’re good. You hear for lunch too? Come, join us,” said Sharon.

“Yes, Charlie, please sit with us,” Mary added, faking a pout.

Aiden is amused at their openly flirtatious manner, but he is also disappointed, for he sees the chair pushed back in place.

“Hey, Aiden, maybe some other time. Sharon and Mary and I work together, and I do need to go over a proposal due tomorrow.”

“Go, go, I understand. I’m trying to finish up a story, so I should get back to it,” Aiden replied in a cheery tone, almost too cheery, for he can hear it himself, the forced nature of it.

“Maybe we could…”

“Charlie, come on, we got a table,” said Mary.

“Go on, Charlie, don’t keep the ladies waiting,” said Aiden, thinking Mary was anything but.

Aiden watched Charlie join the two women, and for a few minutes he watched them fawn over him, each one taking every opportunity to touch him in some manner. A hand on his hand. A straightening of the jacket collar, despite not needing it. A light touch of fingers on a thigh. Contact between fingers as Charlie handed one the salt, then pepper.

Aiden wondered why he let it get to him. Charlie was attractive, young, and obviously settled into a decent job. And he seemed to have many suitors, so what could a man nearly ten years older have to offer. He finished the cobbler and raised his hand to the waiter, indicating he wanted his check.

Saturday morning arrived with bright sunshine filtering through the sheer white curtains. It gave Aiden’s house a warm soft glow. He rolled out of bed and opened the windows in the bedrooms, then moved to the living room, swinging open the French doors to the terrace along the back of his home. The curtains blew inward, like clouds, white and impossibly light. He tightened the belt of his robe and went to make coffee. He had no plans for the day and knew the pleasantness of the morning would not last. At some point in the day, a front would move across the region, bringing rain and a drop in temperature.

Coffee in hand, he ambled down to his office, the room originally a porch, then a sunroom, he had reconstructed it into a writer’s room, with windows set at desk height. They were still continuous all the way around the three exterior walls, but with the landscaping outside, and the raised sill, the room took on a more intimate feel. As if tucked down into the garden, not sitting beside it. The terra cotta flooring and salvaged wood siding of the interior added to the effect. The room always seemed to be the coolest in the house, and he could spend hours in it, music playing softly as he typed out words, making sentences, until paragraphs formed on the screen. The words, the sentences, the paragraphs, all connected to tell a story. Part imagination, part life’s experiences, his and others, all reimagined into something new.

Aiden lost track of time, as he often did in his office. He picked up his coffee cup and found it empty, remembering this was the third time he had done so. His stomach growled making him realize it was nearly one o’clock. As he stood up, he heard it, a change outside. The wind picked up rustling the trees and causing the azaleas to brush the side of the house. It was the rain, and he raced through the house closing doors and windows. In his bedroom, the last room with windows open, he got to them just as it began to rain, the wind blowing drops onto the sill.

In the kitchen, Aiden pulled out a salad and roasted chicken from the night before. He had made enough for lunch for the next two days. He pulled out bread from Hearthstone Bakery, with its crunchy crust and soft interior and cut two slices from it to make a sandwich.

A small salad and his sandwich on a tray, Aiden headed back to his office. He reread what he had typed that morning as he ate, stopping at times to make edits. A change in a sentence, or a deletion of a section, whereupon he laid down his fork and retyped it in a new way. Once finished with lunch, he sat up, put his fingers to the keyboard and began to type, taking his story forward.

Simon fed the hogs, then the chickens. He checked for eggs, finding a few more since that morning’s raid of the nests. He went into the garden and hoed along the rows, dragging the metal blade across the surface of the ground to cut the weeds off. He worked with a steady, slow rhythm to avoid cutting the precious vegetable plants. Down one row, then back up the next. The sun began its descent in the sky, hovering just above the trees in the west, when he stopped to fetch water from the well. He was sweating and dehydrated and knew if he hadn’t stopped, he would have gotten sick.

Sitting on the stone wall of the well, sipping the cool water, he saw someone come into view from the woodland to the north. He quickly realized they were riding a white horse. It was Prince Charles, despite telling himself it wasn’t possible, then thinking the prince must be passing through.

Prince Charles slowed Pegasus to a slow trot, looking around at the small village. It consisted of nine dwellings, with a few small barns and the blacksmith’s canopy to the east. Most had wood framed walls, but a few had stone walls that dated back generations, including the one Simon lived in with his family. All had thatched roofs and dirt or stone floors. None were fit for a prince, and Simon worried Charles would see him and the poverty he and his family lived in. But he also hoped Charles did see him and would stop to say hello.

Simon watched Charles ride Pegasus up to the lane that crossed the main road and split their tiny village in half. Charles turned onto it, heading his way. He felt his heart racing at the approach of the prince. He heard his stepsisters come out, talking animatedly about the prince being in their village. They would spoil everything, Simon thought as Charles disappeared behind the Geoffrey house, then came back in view once past it. He stood up and almost waved, then dropped his hand afraid any gesture would be too revealing. Charles looked his way and waved.

“Simon, I finally found you,” said Charles.

“My lord…Charles…why do you search for me?”

Simon’s stepsisters ran up and pushed Simon to one side as they took a place in front of the prince.

“My lord, how can we serve you?” they asked in unison.

“Ladies, I’m here to see Simon. I need him to help me with an errand. Could you let your parents know?”

“It is just mother. Father is away,” said Fiona.

“Very well. Could you let her know?”

“Yes, my lord,” Fiona replied, and it was evident in her tone she was confused as to why the prince would want Simon.

Simon watched them trudge back to their home, then he turned to Charles.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing really. I lied to them so you could leave. Come on, ride with me,” said Charles, holding out his right hand.

Simon took the hand and with a simple step, a small leap, and pull by Charles, he found himself on Pegasus behind him. He tried to sit back from him, keep some distance, but Charles reached back and took him by the arms and pulled him close.

“Hold on tight,” said Charles, and he gave the reigns a light tug and Pegasus turned around and headed toward the main road.

Simon felt the body against his own, sensing how it was about the same size as his own, but it didn’t look it. Charles always seemed more muscular, more mature, taller even. Sitting against his back, he realized the error of his judgement.

They rode south, further away from the castle and the villages that surrounded it. They crossed Thornberry and rode down into the woodland along the river. When they came out at a clearing along the river, Charles pulled the reigns slightly bringing Pegasus to a stop.

“Let’s stop here,” said Charles climbing down, then helping Simon. Simon landed in front of Charles so close he stumbled trying to step back too quickly.

“Simon, relax. Don’t think of me as a prince. I don’t think of you as a peasant.”

Aiden smiled, for he was ready to bring in the erotica nature of the story, having Charles seduce Simon on the bank of the river. He sat back, wondering how it should play out. The more aggressive Charles would obviously lead the way, but how would Simon react once past his status in life and found himself in Charles’ arms. He imagined scenarios, some that made sense, and some that made him chuckle at the ridiculous nature of his imaginings.

“Silly fool” Aiden uttered to himself.

He looked out the window and saw the rain was really coming down. The wind had stopped, and the rain was falling straight down and so heavily everything was washed out of color. He had planned on going out for dinner, maybe calling Ted or Rick, but as he watched it rain, he began to think of what was in the frig he could prepare. There was still salad and chicken left over and he could do some vegetables tossed with pasta and olive oil, or maybe some brown rice.

Then Aiden returned to his story, with Simon and Charles on the bank of the river away from prying eyes. He imaged the way Charles would seduce Simon, bringing him out.

The doorbell rang, startling Aiden from his imaginings. He went through his home until at the front door, seeing a blurred image of someone at the door through the side lite. He swung the door open and froze.

“Hey, Aiden, I…huh…well, I confess to searching for you. It seems when we last met, we were interrupted and…can I get a towel?” Charles stammered.

Aiden saw the wet body before him, barely registering the bicycle leaned on the porch rail. A white tank top and bike shorts wet and clinging tight to the body, revealing much about what lurk within. He struggled with this vision of masculinity, its presence on his porch unfathomable. And it was dripping wet, the black hair hanging down so seductively, he struggled to breathe.

“Aiden?”

“Oh, yes; a towel. Come on in.”

“But I’m dripping wet.”

“It’s okay, just come on into foyer where it is tiled. I’ll get you a towel.”

Charles stepped into the dark foyer and Aiden couldn’t stop himself. He looked at the round ass, its form perfectly visible within the wet shorts. He imagined it moving up and down, pumping cock into…

“Aiden? You okay?” Charles asked, smiling as if he knew the truth.

“Yes, yes, let me get that towel, and something for you to put on. I think my clothes will work, although I’m sure they will be a bit too large.”

Aiden looked into the drawer at the array of shorts, tempted to pull out the most skimpy, flimsy shorts he possessed. But he pulled out a pair of cargo shorts, then a t-shirt. In the bathroom, he took out a towel, then headed back to the foyer.

“Here you go. Dry off some, then go on back to the bathroom and you can change. It’s the second door down the hall…on the right.”

“Thanks,” Charles replied, taking the towel, and drying off the worst of the water.

“It’s close to time for dinner. I was going to throw something together. Would you care to stay and join me?”

“That would be nice, Aiden. I hope I’ve not come at a bad time.”

“No, no, I already stopped for the day. I was typed out. Get into dry clothes and you can tell me what brings you out in this miserable weather.”

“I like riding in the rain, and I…” Charles hesitated, looked at Aiden mischievously, and as he walked by on the way to the bathroom, finally added, “wanted to see you.”

Aiden moved around the kitchen like a trapped animal. He pulled out the chicken and salad, glad to have made so much, then he pulled down his rice cooker and the bin with brown rice. Everything laid out, he paced back and forth, wondering if Charles was teasing him, and if so, why? He turned on some music, ambient electronic music he played when he needed background noise but nothing too distracting. Then he paced back and forth. He went to the frig and pulled out beer, put it back, thinking wine would be better, then thought of how it would look with leftovers, and pulled the beer back out. Then he paced back and forth.

He sensed Charles coming into the room and turned to see him at the doorway, toweling drying his hair, bare chested with the cargo shorts hanging so low on the waist, he didn’t know how they stayed up. It was obvious they were too large, gapped around the waist in a manner that was tempting. If Charles stood close, he knew he could look down within them. He also knew how easily his hand could slip down within them.

“I left that t-shirt in the bathroom. No need to mess it up. That okay, or should I put it on?”

“No, no, its fine…your fine…I mean it is fine for you to go without it.”

Charles smiled, then let the towel drape over the left shoulder as he came into the kitchen.

“Are you sure it’s okay I stay for dinner?”

“Yes, of course. There’s plenty.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“I got it. I’m just warming up this chicken and making some rice. There’s salad ready to go, so we just have to wait for the rice to cook. Just sit at the island and we can talk while we wait. Would you like a beer? They are from that microbrewer on North Middleton.”

“I’ve been to it. Their beers are good.”

Aiden opened one bottle, set it in front of Charles, then opened another, taking a long drink from it.

Plates prepared, they went into the dining area, Aiden in front of Charles. He sat on the far side, expecting Charles to sit in front of him, but as he sat down, Charles came around and took the chair next to him, sliding up to the table so close their elbows nearly touched.

“How long have you lived here?” Aiden asked as he ran his fork through the rice.

“About six months. I moved here from Boston. I wanted a change, both in jobs and scenery. My first job had over promised and under delivered, so I gave them my notice, packed up and moved.”

“Did you know anyone here?”

“One of my college roommates, who hooked me up with someone at this engineering firm. Only took me three weeks to get settled into a job and my own place.”

“That’s incredible, although I hear a lot of businesses are busy and desperate for people.”

“Yes, but the housing situation here is insane. I found this one bedroom in Dover, and it is fourteen hundred a month, and that wasn’t the most expensive. But it is cheaper than Boston.”

“But that is more than my mortgage,” Aiden replied, shaking his head.

“What about you?”

“Me? I moved here back in 08. I was twenty-eight, found a job here teaching English at the university and haven’t left.”

“Has there been anyone in your life?” Charles asked, his tone lowered, more serious than before.

“Yes, a few over the years. The last one was for four years, then they had an opportunity for a job overseas and within a month, they were gone.”

“When was that?”

“Last winter.”

“You’ve not gone out with anyone since?”

“There’s been a dinner and a movie, that sort of thing, but nothing serious. I had a dog up till a month ago who kept me busy. He kept the silence at bay, was willing to go with me anywhere I went.”

“Yeah, dogs are great. I love Cordelia. I got her four years ago. Can’t imagine not having her around.”

“Charles?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here?”

Charles smiled, nodding his head. He forked the last of the salad and put it his mouth while Aiden waited on a response.

“Well, I must confess, I saw you before we met at the park. You were at that fundraiser downtown, about two weeks ago. I wanted to speak to you then, but you were with a group of guys, and I didn’t know if one of them would be your partner.”

Aiden realized Charles left no doubt to being gay, and knowing he was as well.

“So, the chance meeting at the park wasn’t no coincidence?”

Charles chuckled. “No. I had Cordelia go to you, then followed. I pretended she got away from me. I had no idea you had recently lost a dog, or I wouldn’t have done that, but…”

“But you wanted a ruse to meet me?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Charles, I’m forty and you’re what? Late twenties?”

“I’m thirty, will be thirty-one next month. So, see, not that much difference in our age.”

“And you want to get to know me?”

“Yes. Do you think you could want to get to know me?”

It was Aiden’s turn to laugh. He nodded his head, and looked away, wondering how red in the face he had gotten at his thoughts to that last question.

“Well?” asked Charles.

“Yes, I think you are very attractive, you are able to hold a conversation and…you like dogs.”

They laughed, loudly, then settled down slowly, until the only sound was the music playing softly.

“Aiden?”

“Yes?”

“Can I stay…tonight?”

Aiden lay back on the bed, eyes focused on the masculine body moving onto the bed over him. Charles crawled over him and leaned down, kissing him as he reached up and touched the warm skin then moved his hands over the body feeling every aspect of it. The firm skin and the muscular form beneath it. He raked one hand down the chest feeling the nipples, the center protruding outward, hard, and Charles moaned into the side of his neck then continued kissing him, moving from one sensitive spot to the next.

Aiden felt cock rub up his abdomen and he reached down and took it, feeling it fill his hand. He stroked it until Charles was pumping it through his fist.

“Charles,” Aiden uttered as he felt his hand become slick.

Charles moved suddenly, down his body and between his legs. Arms went beneath the knees, then Charles was moving back over him, lifting his legs, then pushing them over. He felt his ass lift and spread open. He felt Charles rake hard cock along it, then press against his hole. He grabbed at the bed, clutching it as if his life depended on it, and pushed upward. Charles pushed harder and he cried out at the stretch of his opening, then the slow penetration. Charles pushed down, sinking inch after inch into his hole until abdomen pressed against his ass.

“Fuck…fuck me,” Aiden whispered.

Charles rose over him and began to fuck. He moved in a steady rhythm, sinking cock into Aiden’s depths. He moved with a fluid motion, showing the strength of his body. He fucked for a long time, his pace increasing, then slowing, showing his stamina and his control.

Aiden lay back and took every thrust, relishing the moment. This intercourse between two men. He felt the fullness of every penetrating push. Charles’ cock seemed to bore into the center of his being. They held hands, Charles pushing his down against the bed while continuing to pump cock into his depths.

“Harder. Fuck me harder,” Aiden uttered.

Aiden tilted his head back and moaned as the pace of their fuck increased. Charles kissed and nipped at his neck while hammering his insides, plunging into his depths until the smack of flesh against flesh echoed in the room. It drowned out the sound of the bed protesting beneath them. The bed rocked and squeaked in rhythm to Charles pace, until he finally slowed, pushing inward all the way, grinding his hips against Aiden’s upturned ass.

“Will you sit on me?” asked Charles.

“Yes,” Aiden replied breathlessly.

Charles was on his back watching Aiden lower himself onto his cock. It disappeared so easily, just slipped through the loosened opening.

Aiden eased down until he felt the fullness of the penetration, then he began to fuck. Up, down, over and over, he moved on Charles. His pace increased, getting faster as his arousal increased. His own cock flopped around, smacking wetly at his thighs. A hand took him, and he looked down to see Charles stroke it as he kept fucking himself.

“I’m going to cum,” Charles uttered.

Aiden saw it, Charles’ imminent release. His torso tightened, with every muscle visible through the sweaty skin. He was breathing hard, and Aiden felt the grip on his ankles tighten.

“Fuck…do it…come for me,” Aiden exclaimed as he felt his own release.

Aiden moved faster, so physical he bounced on Charles’ hips and made the bed protest louder than before. The surge of release staggered him, caused him to jerk and shake. Then he came, cum spurting from his cock raining down on Charles.

Charles felt the hot cum land on his body and it pushed him over the edge. He tightened his grip on Aiden’s ankles and shoved upward. Shaking with each ejaculation, Charles came hard, trying to jam his cock deeper into Aiden.

They laid intertwined for a long time. Their bodies settled down, both appearing ready to drift off asleep, but Aiden felt a renewed sense of arousal. He moved against Charles, undulating his hips, pressing his entire length against him. Charles stirred, raked hands over his body, then took his cock, stroking it to full hardness.

“Fuck me,” Charles uttered, then rolled to his stomach.

Aiden moved over him, worked his cock along the crevice of the ass cheeks. Charles reached back and spread them and Aiden could see his target, the wrinkled opening, and he rubbed his cock over it. Up and down, he dragged his sensitive cock along that ass and over the tight opening. It made Charles moan and push upward.

“Stop teasing me,” Charles whispered.

Aiden pressed against the tight opening until Charles stretched open. He sank his cock into him, inch after inch, until his hips were pressed tightly against the ass.

“Fuck,” Aiden whispered.

“Yes,” Charles whispered, undulating beneath him.

Aiden fucked slowly, savoring the feel of every inch as he pushed and tugged it through the tight opening, until it loosened to his manipulation. Charles clutched at the bed and moved with the primitive urges that drove Aiden to increase his pace. Faster and faster, until the sound of their fuck echoed in the room. There were moans and grunts and the smell of sweaty bodies in full exertion.

Aiden felt his sac bounce off Charles’ ass, then it tightened as he grew more aroused, pushed to the point of no return. He bearhugged Charles, one arm tight around the neck holding on for dear life as he hammered cock into the depths of Charles’ body.

Then Aiden was coming, hips smacking down on the round ass trying to jam cock deeper. He thrust inward with every ejaculation until finally spent, then collapsed on Charles, heaving for breath. After a few seconds he slipped over the wet body to the side and guided Charles to roll over, thinking he would suck him to release.

Charles rolled to his back, grinning. Aiden slid a hand down the chest and stomach until he felt the wet flaccid cock. He looked at Charles in surprise.

“You fucked it out of me,” Charles uttered.

14 Months Later

Aiden rolled to his back and despite keeping his eyes closed, knew it was morning. The light penetrated his eye lids, the skin too thin to block it out. He also knew it was mid-morning and that he had slept in longer than usual. He was working on a novel, and had gotten into a groove, working late into the night typing out over ten thousand words.

Aiden reached over blindly and felt the cool linen and knew he had been alone for some time. He stretched, then dropped his arms back on the bed and lay there telling himself to get up.

There was the pad of feet across the floor, then the bed rocked. Aiden smiled, then laughed when a wet nose touched his cheek, then a tongue licked in the face.

“Cordelia! I’m up, I’m up,” exclaimed Aiden sitting up and hugging the big hound as she piled up on his lap. “You silly dog,” Aiden whispered as he rubbed her belly.

Cordelia jumped down and walked out of the bedroom. Aiden smiled, glad to have a dog back in the house. He climbed out of bed, slipped on his robe, and followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee coming from the kitchen.