BritDog

Author's note: I'm not a great believer in Author's prefacing a story with a wordy prologue but as it's been so long since I last posted a story I wanted to say a few words. Firstly, thanks are due to all of you who have not only read my previous efforts but actually taken time to contact me with messages of encouragement. Secondly, I would like to thank another Author who's excellent stories have made me realise I can write how I really want to and that sex for it's own sake is not a prerequisite, how ever much fun it may be! The story is more important. The Author I am referring to is Grant, who never ceases to captivate and enthral. If my efforts are half as good as his I will be happy.

So here is something I'm quite proud of. I hope those of you who read it enjoy it, and that you will return for subsequent instalments. 

Phil xx

Wednesday

The shower was warm and comforting after the cool water of the pool. It was the time Tony should be enjoying the most after his evening of weights followed by the running machine and a hundred lengths of the swimming pool, but for reasons he refused to acknowledge he found it hard to relax whenever he used a public shower.

The other men and boys sharing the facilities with him had no hang-ups when it came to removing their swim suits to allow a proper lathering of their cocks, balls and arses. Some were happy to help each other out scrubbing backs and shoulders accompanied by the occasional playful smack on a  tight muscular backside. Tony found it hard to look at the fit bodies around him, knowing that if he did he would invariably get hard. His greatest fear was of what might happen if anyone caught him staring.

The truth was that he refused to acknowledge his reaction to the naked male form; especially a well defined and toned example of the species. He was straight, he absolutely knew he was; he was due to marry his childhood sweetheart in just under three months. Both were twenty three years old and had been a couple for over ten years. Neither had ever kissed, let alone slept with anyone but each other and he never found his gaze travelling across other women.

The thought that he might at some time betray his fiancée never entered his head. Theirs wasn’t a very physical relationship. They had started having sex with each other after their eighteenth birthdays and whilst he enjoyed it, and hoped she did too, it wasn’t the big deal his mates had led him to believe it would be. If he was honest he could take it or leave it. He was very fond of his future wife, he enjoyed her company, they were comfortable and relaxed with one another. They spent a great deal of time together, talking, reading, watching TV – doing the things married couples do.

But Tony was confused.

If he loved his girlfriend so much, if he was happy with everything they had together, including sex, why was he so miserable most of the time? Why was it that the highlight of his week and the times he looked forward to most were the three evenings a week he spent at the sports-club?

He told himself it was because he preferred his own company, and that he enjoyed the hours he spent driving his body to its limits, pushing himself further and harder. He was very aware that he drew looks from others, male and female. He was a good looking guy with a fantastically toned and worked body. He wasn’t bulky like some of his contemporaries in the gym but he was ripped enough for his six pack and well formed chest to be self-evident regardless of what sort of top he wore. His arse filled his jeans and work trousers beautifully with many an individual finding they had to hold themselves in check to prevent their following a natural instinct to either squeeze or fondle his near perfect rear.

His fiancée  was a pretty girl with an a above average figure and intelligence. Other men looked at her when she walked into a room and he took pleasure in it when she was on his arm. They both had good, well paid jobs. Both owned their own cars and between them they earned enough to have been able to secure a mortgage for any potential home they might find.

He should have been over the moon, excited about his upcoming nuptials – so why was he feeling so anxious and depressed about everything?

Except of course for his three evenings a week at the sports-club.

Tony’s introspective musings and conflict had brought all his physical activity to a stop and to anyone looking at him he seemed to be in a trance-like state. His shallow breathing and the pained expression on his immobile face as he stood under the shower, staring into some sort of personal abyss caused a couple of his fellow gym members to exchange worried glances. One of them, a slightly older man with hair greying at the temples reached out to him placing his strong hand on his shoulder.

‘You all right son?’ The voice was distant, disembodied. Tony continued to stare into the distance, oblivious to the concern of the other man.

Why was he so bloody miserable? He had a good job, a nice car, his own flat – rented admittedly, but it was his own, paid for space. His girlfriend was pretty and clever. His mum and dad supported him in everything he did. He had a few really good mates. He knew he looked good to others, without allowing the fact go to his head. So what the fuck was wrong?

‘Son. Are you okay?’ Tony half heard the question this time, then the hand on his shoulder gave him a slight shake designed to bring him out of the dark place he had fallen into as he stood there contemplating past, present and future.

His eyes focused and they settled on the man touching him. He was one of the men he had glimpsed earlier and studiously tried to avoid. He was reaching out to him, concern for his wellbeing clearly visible on his face. Tony felt himself stagger and quickly, instinctively, reached up and grabbed the arm holding his shoulder to stop himself falling over. He couldn’t help but notice the strength the arm conveyed or how the deep blue eyes bored into him. He fought to find his voice – all he could muster was a squeaky ‘I’m fine.’

My God, he thought, I sound like one half of Pinky and Perky! He tried again, relieved that this time his voice was almost normal. ‘I’m good thanks, just drifted off for a minute.’

The concerned stranger smiled with relief, ‘Yes I’d say you did.’ The hand on his shoulder became firmer as the stranger gave it a reaffirming squeeze. ‘You had me worried there for a minute. I couldn’t decide if you were staring at me or if you were having some sort of seizure.’

Tony returned the strangers smile and was about to speak when he realised that the hand on his shoulder felt good. The words died before they were formed. He didn’t want to look away from the stranger’s eyes, the bluest, deepest eyes he had ever connected with. He felt as though he was falling into them and before he knew what was happening his legs buckled under him and he fell to the floor, unable to stop himself succumbing to the feelings of weakness, confusion and nausea that overwhelmed him.

The stranger quickly caught him, preventing him from falling fully prone onto the cold, hard shower floor. ‘Whoa, easy there son.’ Strong arms were wrapped around him as he felt himself being pulled into an embrace that sent his heart racing and his mind reeling. His thought processes stalled as his body reacted positively, longingly to the feeling of a strong, solid male form pressing against him. His breathing quickened as his pulse raced. Without thinking he put his arms around the waist of the stranger and allowed himself to relax into him, his head coming to rest on the man’s firm, wide chest.

Tears welled up in his own eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking as sobs began to wrack his body. The arms around him pulled him tighter into the hard, muscled protection he suddenly knew he craved. His mind in turmoil he fought the instinctive desires raging inside him. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled between sobs. ‘Sorry. This isn’t like me really, I’m just …………’ He tried to push himself away from the body his every instinct was telling him he wanted but his strength failed him and he slumped forward.

‘It’s okay mate.’ The arms around him lifted him effortlessly to his feet and stayed firmly in place as the stranger guided him out of the shower. ‘Come on, let’s get dry and dressed then if you want to we can grab a coffee.’

Tony allowed himself to be led into the locker room. As he walked, he felt some strength and control returning to his legs and arms. His confusion grew as he realised what had just happened, what was still happening. His emotions were like waves beating against him. He was unsure what to do or how to behave. He was a straight man about to marry the girl he had loved since childhood and yet this man holding him, this strong alpha male preventing him from falling over again had his heart and mind racing as never before. How could he like – no, correction - like was the wrong word. How could he enjoy the feelings engendered by the strong, reassuring arms around him. And it wasn’t just the arms, everything about this man seemed to be messing with all that he had thought was true and certain.

He allowed himself to be led into the changing room, telling the stranger the number of his locker. He looked around and was relieved to see there was no one else there – one of the benefits of exercising later in the evening was that fewer patrons used the facilities and the later it got the quieter the club became. He preferred it that way as it meant he didn’t need to interact with anyone.

He sat on the bench and watched the man looking after him open his locker, retrieve his towel and hand it to him. ‘Here you are.’ He took the towel but for some reason couldn’t remember what to do with it so simply sat there with it in his lap. The stranger sat next to him and firmly taking hold of his chin turned his head to face him. There were those eyes again. ‘Are you okay to dry and dress yourself or do I need to call an ambulance?’

He felt overwhelming emotion welling up within him as he allowed himself to acknowledge he liked being looked after by the kind, handsome man holding his face in his hands. The stranger’s actions felt so right, so comfortable. He wanted so much to be looked after, to be protected, coddled – despite all that was crashing through his head the thought of being coddled, like an egg, caused him to smile.

‘That’s better. You’re much better looking when you smile.’ He felt the stranger’s thumb stroking the side of his chin. Instinctively he leaned his head into the strong hand. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his face. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes feeling stress and anger leaving him as he sat there naked, wet and cold, with a man old enough to be his father comforting him. A man he knew nothing about. He could be a serial rapist, or murderer for all he knew. Opening his eyes the first thing he saw was his own very erect penis standing up proud as punch from his trimmed bush. He was so hard his foreskin was over halfway down his shiny helmet. He jumped up, quickly turning away from the older man.

‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry.’ He could feel himself bushing from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. ‘I’ve never…… this has never ……….. I don’t normally do this kind ……..’ He sank back onto the bench, his back to the kind stranger. ‘Oh God. I’m so, so sorry.’ Shame and disgust flooded through him. He wished the ground would swallow him up, that he was anywhere but where he was right now. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

‘It’s alright son, there really is no need to apologise. I’m quite flattered really. It’s been a while since some one as young and attractive as you has …’

‘NO.’ The word flew from his mouth as hard and fast as a bullet leaving a gun. ‘No. You’re wrong. I’m not g…….’ He couldn’t bring himself to even say the word let alone admit that perhaps, just perhaps, he was attracted to men.

‘Okay.’ The hand on his shoulder gripped reassuringly. ‘You’re still an attractive man though, and I am genuinely concerned that you are alright.’ The hand was removed, the connection was broken. The man’s tone of voice was suddenly more business-like, less “coddling”. He felt his towel being draped over and around his torso. ‘Probably best if you get dry before you catch a chill. The stranger stood and walked to his own locker where he began to dry himself, not looking at the young man he had just, however fleetingly, felt such a close connection to.

‘Look, I’m sorry. I was rude just now.’ Tony stood a foot away from the stranger, his towel held shield-like in front of him, hiding his still hard manhood. His eyes travelled over the naked man towelling himself dry. ‘My God,’ he thought, ‘I like him. I really like him.’ Confusion was pouring from him, from the way he stood to how he spoke to the look on his face. The cause of his confusion and agitation stopped drying himself, threw his towel onto the bench beside him and turned to face the obviously scared young man.

‘Fuck me, he’s fucking gorgeous.’ Even as the thought ran through his head Tony could feel a panic allied with excitement coursing through him. He had no idea what to say or do. His would-be protector came to his rescue again.

‘I’m going for a drink. Would you like to join me?’ He held his hands up, palms towards the rabbit caught in his headlights. ‘Just a drink.’

‘A drink can’t hurt can it?’  He thought to himself and before he knew it, he had agreed to go with Graham – they had finally introduced themselves to each other – to a quiet bar across the road from the gym.

* * * *

Donna sat at the kitchen table with her mum, Sylvia. They were looking through fabric swatches. Donna wanted to order her wedding dress, even though she and Tony had yet to set a date. Sylvia had noticed that each time the subject was raised Tony became tense and did all he could to change the subject. Doubt about her daughter’s future with Tony had entered her head some months ago. A mother’s instinct told her all was not well and  it was unlikely that Dennis, her husband and Donna’s doting father, would be walking his “princess” down the aisle any day soon. She was also of the opinion that Donna was more in love with the thought of marriage and a big impressive wedding than she was with the man she expressed undying devotion for. The truth was her daughter was a spoilt, over indulged young lady who had been denied nothing since the day she had arrived blue and shrivelled twenty two years ago. As a result she was not an easy girl to like, being over demanding and sulky when things didn’t go her way. She expected everything to come to her and for her life to be perfect at every turn. Sylvia suspected that much of the attraction that Tony had for her daughter lay in the fact that he was very handsome with a near perfect body and that he had a good job with excellent prospects. Donna was constantly bragging to her friends and family about him. Love was rarely mentioned and the two didn’t seem particularly happy.

As her daughter pushed the scraps of silk and damask around the table Sylvia allowed her mind to wander back to the afternoon she had watched her future son in law at a local football match. She had seen the hunger in his eyes as he followed the muscular, well-toned men running back and forth as they chased the ball around the pitch. She had seen the same look years before in her own brother.

He too had looked longingly but furtively at other boys. She had been the only person he had confided in and she had laughed at him, calling him names. Shortly afterwards she had found him hanging from a beam in a local farmer’s barn, piss and shit running down his legs, his tongue thick and blue in his mouth. Her beautiful young brother transformed into a hideous stinking wreck by a rope around his neck. She believed she had helped put that rope around her brother, had helped it squeeze the gentle, caring life out of him and she had never forgiven herself. She knew she would never be able to forgive or forget the taunts and names she had levelled at him, the hurt in his eyes she had enjoyed seeing as he had backed away from her, pleading with her to tell no one. Well of course she told all her friends that her brother was a “poof” and had watched his ostracization with smug satisfaction. Oh, how she had gloated. But the gloating turned to bitter tears of shame when she saw him hanging there. The memory of finding him was seared into her brain. She still had nightmares about it. She spoke to no one about the trauma and of knowing she was responsible for his tragic, unnecessary death.

As she had watched Tony looking longingly at the men on the pitch she promised herself and God that if, as she believed, he was gay she would do all she could to help and to ensure he did nothing to harm himself.

Donna brought her back to the kitchen table. ‘Mum! Are you listening?’ The petulant whine cut through her thoughts. ‘I said what do you think of this one? I mean I know it’s the most expensive but it is beautiful isn’t it?’

Sylvia looked down at the fabric in her daughter’s hand. It was a thin, translucent silk material. It was at least twice the price of any other sample on the table and the moment she had seen it had known it would be the one chosen. She sighed.

‘Yes darling it’s beautiful. And of course it’s the most expensive. You wouldn’t choose anything less would you?’

Donna preened, the irony of her mother’s statement lost on her.

* * * *

As the bar had a “snacks” menu and neither had eaten since lunchtime they had decided to order sandwiches to go with their drinks. Grahame suggested a platter with assorted fillings to share along with a bowl of freshly cooked chips and Tony had happily agreed, part of him enjoying the way he was being looked after, not having to make decisions for himself.

He found that talking to the older man was comfortable and easy. At first they told each other about their jobs, where they lived, what sort of music they liked – Dvorjak and Vaughn-Williams seemed to help them establish safe, common ground on which to walk as both composers appealed to their romantic sides and allowed them to move on to more revealing, private confidences. Tony was particularly interested in hearing as much as Grahame was prepared to tell him about his early life as a young gay man and how his sexuality had impacted and influenced it.

Grahame had known from an early age that the was slightly different from the other boys at the very exclusive private school his parents had farmed him off to. They were not what could be described as natural parents, both being selfish and totally focused on their careers and each other. Grahame had no ill feeling toward them as he had soon recognised that although he was loved and well provided for, there was no space in his parent’s lives for a child of any age or gender. He got in the way of their socialising and networking. He wasn’t resented or unwanted, he just wasn’t really needed. The easiest solution had been a Nanny who was effectively a surrogate parent to him until he was old enough to go to boarding school. Again, his feelings about school were ambivalent. He hadn’t much enjoyed the early years when older boys took pleasure in bullying the younger ones and he had sworn he would not repeat their example when he was their age. His behaviour towards the younger pupils as he progressed to sixth form singled him out as someone who could be trusted and relied on.

His circle of friends was small and it was the young man he had started school with on the same day, in the same form and with whom he had shared a dormitory for the last three years that he came out to on his eighteenth birthday. It had been an emotional day culminating in a friendship that endured to this day. Most of his friends were accepting of his sexuality as was to be expected at the turn of the millennium by which time being gay in Britain was not something most people needed to be afraid of. He had sown his wild oats, safely of course until he met Gordon, a chef at one of London’s top restaurants. Theirs had been a whirlwind romance with lots of athletic, passionate sex and they had moved in together within three months of meeting. Grahame thought they were a happy couple until half way through their forth year together he had come home unexpectantly to find the love of his life in bed with not one but three other men. He was disappointed to see his supposed partner being used as a cum-dump – a heavily drugged up cum-dump at that.  All Grahame could think of was how long had Gordon been behaving like this and how clean was he? The two of them had tested negative when they first met and had not used condoms with each other since. Grahame had been totally faithful to the man he loved, getting all he needed both physically and emotionally from their relationship.

Days later when Gordon was sober and functioning normally they had sat and talked. Grahame had decided he couldn’t stay with a man he obviously couldn’t trust and had been confirmed in his decision to leave when Gordon had blamed him for his behaviour, accusing him of being boring and predictable.

He set up home on his own and decided he needed to be tested again to find out if Gordon had passed anything on to him. It had been a tense and unsettling few days waiting for his results. In the end it was good news. He was clear. He had since been for a test every year even though it was rare for him to allow himself even casual encounters and when he did he was always very careful.

‘Are you happy?’

The bald question caught Grahame by surprise. He had to think before he answered, which was an answer in itself.

‘No, I don’t think I am actually.’ He took a sip from his glass of wine, rolling the sharp, fruitiness of the New World Chardonnay around his mouth, enjoying the way it cleansed his palette of the oil from the excellent home made chips. Tony sat back and ate another sandwich concious that Grahame hadn’t finished answering his question. ‘My life is comfortable, safe. I have a handful of good friends and I enjoy my job. But when I think about it, no, I am not happy because I have no one to share anything with.’ He paused, taking a chip and dipping it the pot of mayonnaise that had come with their order. He was about to take a bite of it when the realisation that he was lonely took hold of him. He sat and stared at the young man in front of him wondering where this conversation was leading. Certainly not to bed, of that he was sure. But something had happened between them and he wasn’t sure what.

‘I’m lonely too.’ Tony put down what was left of his sandwich and folded his hands in his lap. To Grahame he looked like a lost little boy and he could see he was close to tears again. ‘I shouldn’t marry Donna should I? I’d be lying.’ A single tear fell to his cheek. Without thinking, Grahame reached across their table and wiped it off with his thumb. As he withdrew it, Tony took hold of his hand and held it. He squeezed it tightly, his face knotting as he fought to control himself. Grahame squeezed back, though more gently in what he hoped was a gesture of reassurance.

They sat in silence, their joined hands resting on the table. Only Tony could resolve the battle within him. Grahame was wise enough to know when to remain quiet. He caught the eye of the waiter and ordered tea for the two of them asking that it be served in the lounge area at the back of the bar, away from prying eyes. Still holding Tony’s hand he led him to the calm, quiet precincts of the leather upholstered, over stuffed sofas where the lighting was subdued and the smooth jazz being piped through the speakers was soft and soothing.

Grahame poured the tea. Tony refused to release his hand so it wasn’t the easy process it usually was with only one hand free, but he managed quite well he thought. While pouring Grahame pondered how unpredictable life could be. He had not ever expected that he would be having dinner with a total stranger, helping him come to terms with his homosexuality. He sat back comfortably in the sofa and slowly drank his tea, never for one minute taking his eyes off the tortured soul next to him.

After a while, Tony’s grip on his hand slackened and he felt life returning to his fingers. Tony’s face also relaxed, the look of tortured anguish being replaced with one of resignation and acceptance.

Without looking at Grahame he asked, ‘I’m gay aren’t I?’ Grahame didn’t answer, his silence encouraging Tony to talk.

‘I think I’ve always known you know? Don’t get me wrong, I like girls and sex with Donna is okay, but, well….’ He paused, searching for the right words. He took his cup of tea from the low table and settled back in what he silently accepted was the most comfortable sofa he had ever sat in. He looked up at his new friend and smiled. ‘Do you think they’d mind if I nicked this sofa? It’s so comfy.’

Grahame chuckled in reply, ‘I think they might just notice you struggling out of the door with it. And thinking practically, would you get it in your car?’

The two men laughed quietly, now totally relaxed in each other’s company. After a few minutes quiet Grahame decided to gently prod Tony back to the conversation they had been having before they joked about the sofa. ‘I’ve never had sex with a woman. It’s not been something I ever contemplated.’ He took a sip of tea. ‘I appreciate a pretty face but I know I could never get what I want and need from the opposite sex.’ He smiled, almost to himself, ‘Besides, sex with a man is so much bloody fun.’

‘Is it? Fun I mean?’ Tony sat forward on the edge of the sofa.

‘I’ve always thought so.’

‘What does it feel like? A man’s body on yours?’

Grahame thought before he spoke, something telling him to be careful with the language he used in his answer. ‘I should imagine it’s more physical with a man than with a woman. I like a firm, muscular body on my men.’ He looked Tony directly in the eye, ‘I like my men to be men, not some prissy effeminate little girly-boy. I want a man with hard muscles, a flat stomach and taught, tanned skin to run my hands and mouth over.’ He watched Tony’s pupils dilate and noted the increased pace of his breathing. When he continued, his voice was low and seductive forcing Tony to lean towards him in order to hear what he was saying. ‘I like some hair on my men but smooth is very sexy, especially when it’s natural and young.’ From the shower earlier he knew that Tony’s toned physique was almost hairless and unblemished with just the faintest treasure trail leading from his navel to the trimmed, tidy bush at the top of what he had seen was a reasonably sized, thick uncut cock. ‘I love kissing if he knows how to, and I’m happy to teach him if he doesn’t.’ He dropped his voice lower, almost to a whisper. ‘I adore sucking a cock, especially the first time I sleep with someone. It’s so personal and intimate.’ He saw the questioning look on Tony’s face. ‘So many men link who they are to their cock. They see it as a sign of their manhood, their virility, their strength. So to be allowed to take that precious part into your mouth and to give that unique pleasure only a man knows how to give to another man is special. At times it can be almost spiritual.’ He laughed to himself, ‘Of course at other times it’s just down right horny as the Americans would say, especially if it’s in broad daylight, in a public park, hiding behind a tree. Then it’s just down and dirty sex.’

Tony’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his mouth gaping in fascination and excitement. Grahame smiled cheerfully at him, breaking the spell he had woven around him. ‘You ought to try it sometime Tony. I think that’s the only way you will know if it’s what you want.’

Tony could feel his iron hard cock trying to burst the zip on his flies. He didn’t dare sit back, knowing his erection would be obvious if he did. And yet he felt more excited than embarrassed. His new friend’s honesty didn’t allow him to feel uncomfortable, well, not emotionally. He found himself smiling broadly, the dimples either side of his full lips showing for the first time that evening, causing Grahame to a sharp in-take of breath. He hadn’t quite realised just how stunningly good looking this young man was and his smile quite simply lit up the room. He looked quizzically at Tony who for reasons he would never understand told him the truth.

‘Sorry, Grahame. I was just thinking how I should be embarrassed by what you just told me but I’m actually rock hard at the thought of it.’ On impulse he sat back and spread his legs wide. ‘See!’ He nodded towards his bulging crutch.

Grahame sat back in his sofa, displaying his equally prominent trouser tent. ‘Snap!’

Laughter took them both. Grahame poured the last of the tea. Tony rose from his sofa and moved round the coffee table to sit next to Grahame. Their legs touched. Neither moved away.

‘Is this okay Grahame? I mean, this…’ He pressed his leg firmly against his friend’s.

‘It is.’ Grahame pushed back, his whole body tingling in anticipation. ‘But we are not taking this any further tonight.’ The pressure against his leg relaxed and Tony’s shoulders slumped, the smile leaving his face. Grahame gently put his hand on the hard, muscular thigh of the young man. ‘I’d love to make love to you Tony but I don’t think we should rush into anything. You’re still fighting with yourself and I don’t want to add to your stress and anxiety. Why don’t we do this again in a few days? It’ll give you time to think things over and be absolutely sure that you really want me worshipping your beautiful body and gorgeous cock.’ He smiled warmly as he spoke, a hint of playfulness entering his eyes at his description of Tony’s physical attributes.

Tony put his hand over Grahame’s and taking him by surprise leaned forward and kissed him, his tongue lightly grazing his lips. ‘But I might not want to wait.’ He moved his hand up Grahame’s thigh towards his hidden hardon. ‘I might have actually made my mind up already.’ There was a look of desire and need in his eyes not present previously. Grahame moved his hand to stop Tony’s from reaching it’s goal.

‘Be that as it may young man. I at least would like to wait a few days.’ He saw confusion erupt on Tony’s face. He took his hand in his, raised it to his mouth and tenderly kissed the palm. He saw Tony relax. ‘I honestly do like you Tony, and I will, I know, enjoy taking you to my bed.’ He put a finger to Tony’s lips to prevent him from responding. ‘But, and it’s an important but, I’d be a lot happier knowing you were absolutely, totally committed to the future life that sleeping with me, or any man, will present you with. I don’t think you will find it easy to go back to who you were once you have crossed this particular bridge.’

‘You make it sound like a military operation – like that film, “A Bridge Too Far”.’

Grahame laughed. ‘Well yes, I suppose it is.’ He kissed Tony’s hand again, this time gently tickling the palm with his tongue. Tony closed his eyes and groaned quietly.

‘Fuck. Fuck. What did you just do?’

‘A taste of what might be. Just a small taste.’ Grahame finished his cup of tea. ‘Now, it’s getting late and I have an important meeting at eight tomorrow morning so I need to get home for some sleep. How about we meet at the gym on Friday, workout together, wash each other’s backs in the shower then I’ll take you out to dinner? My treat.’

A broad, happy smile lit up Tony’s face. ‘Then?’

Grahame returned an equally big grin. ‘Then we’ll see where we go from there on Friday. Okay?’ Tony nodded. ‘Good. Shall we say seven o’clock at the gym on Friday then?’

‘Yes, that sounds good.’

Tony paid for their sandwiches and tea insisting that if he was being treated to dinner on Friday he  pay for their meal tonight.

Their cars were parked one behind the other in the street and as they walked to them from the bar Tony carefully and inconspicuously linked his little finger with Grahame’s making the older man smile.

They parted with a prolonged handshake, both men looking forward to their next meeting with a combination of excitement and trepidation.