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The Impotence of being Earnest.
- Thread starter jobbio
- Start date
Apologies for any errors. It's late and I've not proofed it.
I might actually put my neck on the line and say that this is my favourite chapter yet.
Chapter 10- Bad Timing
I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling like it was my first day of school. To say I was nervous was an understatement; I was fucking petrified. I knew I’d gone from being the laughing stock to the resident office psycho. People were probably expecting me to come in with a knife to exact revenge by removing peoples hearts and then eating them. Still, I knew it wasn’t going to be quite that bad.
Arriving at work, I felt like I was being given a wide berth as I walked through the entrance; some people smiled at me as though I was a child, some said ‘good morning’ in an overly polite way which made me a little bit uncomfortable, some started whispered conversations or exchanged knowing glances as I walked past them and some just didn’t make eye contact at all- Sandra was one of those people.
As I approached the desk, she pretended to be busy sorting some files in the lowest drawer of the cabinet. I stood there for a bit, but when I realised she was going to pretend she’d really not seen me a loudly cleared my throat and she sat up like a shot.
“Good Morning…Oh, it’s you.” She said coldly; maybe she’d not seen me.
“I just wanted to come and apologise to you, I was completely out of order and shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. Especially in front of everyone.”
“It’s me who should be apologising, Ernie,” she seemed a little warmer. “I didn’t mean for it to get out. I had such a good evening with you before ‘it’ happened and I was worried that you were mad at me after you stormed out.”
“I was more mad at myself, actually. I had a perfect evening with you up until then.”
She smiled; she had a good smile.
“Look,” I continued, “shall we just forget all about it? I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m seeing a shrink and it actually seems to be working a little bit. What happened after I lost it with you was some post-trauma thing and the shrink seems to think I needed to release it to get over it.”
“Forget about what?” She smiled again.
I smiled back and headed to my office.
“Ernie,” she called “I’ll pick you up tonight at 8.”
“Oh you will, will you?” I grinned
“Yeah, we’ll have our first date, part two.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll email you a map when I get sorted.”
“Ok,” she was playing with her hair.
I was happy that Sandra was willing to give me another chance. She’d seemed really upset and I suppose I’d done nothing to help the situation by ignoring her texts. I was, once again, looking forward to an evening with her. We both knew what to expect so there would hopefully be no repeat performance of our previous endeavour.
Aside from the odd mood that many of my colleagues adopted around me, it was a pretty good first day back. People would speak to me in cotton-wool voices like my bones were in danger of breaking due the vibrations or they would be sure to be extra touchy-feely with reassuring shoulder pats. The worst, however, was the patronising emails I was getting; all along the lines of “Please can you try and get this sorted…if you feel up to it” or “don’t worry too much if you don’t feel like it today.” It was beginning to fuck me off and, by the end of the day, I was extremely glad to leave.
“How was it?” said Grant as soon as I’d got through the door.
“They all think I’m a fucking loon,” I said sarcastically, “but it wasn’t too bad. Managed to speak to Sandra.”
“And…” he enquired.
“We’re going out for a drink tonight,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.
“Motherfuck, you work quickly, Earnest.”
“Well, she asked me and I do owe her a massive apology, I’ve never gone off on anyone like that before.” It was true, I hadn’t. Some people say that your family are the only people that can make you truly angry, but I’d not even got that far with my folks or siblings.
“Yeah, and she owes you one too, by the sound of it. What time are you going?”
“She’s picking me up at 8.”
“So you’re the bitch tonight, huh?”
“That would be you, faggy. You’ll always be my bitch.” I said, as I got behind him and grabbed him at the hips.
He just laughed and leant forward. “Oh, Ernie!” He screamed in mock-ecstasy, “you’re so big! Do me, big boy! Do me hard!”
Grant fell about laughing as I got up and adjusted my twisted underwear- I started laughing too.
“Are you re-adjusting down there?”
“No…I mean, yeah. But my underwear, not my cock.” I was telling the truth, for the most part.
“Oh, ok.”
“If that hottest bit in my office can’t get me hard, you’ve got no chance!” I teased him.
“Yeah, I suppose,” he laughed “besides, I’ve seen it enough times- it’s nothing to be excited about,” He joked.
“Fuck off- you’d be crying if I put it in you for real.”
“I’d cry if someone shoved a finger up their though- it fucking hurts!”
“Thank fuck I’ll never find out!” I was actually relieved- I remember going for a check-up at the hospital once and the doctor put a finger up there, all I can remember was my body telling me that that hole is an exit only. Motherfuck it hurt.
“Go and get ready, bitch-boy,” he goaded “she’ll be here in a bit, wearing the trousers- no doubt.”
Sandra arrived dead on eight and Stephen let her in having arrived home from post-work drinks with his colleagues. They had this new artist and were apparently in a meeting to work out how best to market her or some shit like that.
When I came down, Stephen had poured her a drink and they were sitting in the lounge talking like they’d known each other for years.
“And then Grant came back just as I was emptying a squeezy bottle of honey down the back of his jeans…” All three of them were laughing at this. If only she could have seen Grant’s original reaction; she definitely wouldn’t have been laughing then.
“You ready?” I said
“I could ask you the same question,” she winked at me, “you take longer getting ready than a woman, Ernie.”
“Well, he is our bitch,” Grant smiled and winked too.
“Come on, let’s go before the fags corrupt you, Sandra.”
“Like we’ve corrupted you?” Stephen called after me.
I flipped him the finger and closed the front door behind me.
“They seem lovely,” she said, a little too enthusiastically. Fuck, she looked even hotter than I’d remembered. She wasn’t showing too much flesh, but what she was wearing hugged her figure so you knew that she had a lovely pair of tits, ample hips and a tiny waist that gave her the figure of a coke bottle. She also had amazing legs, the kind that you could wrap round your neck twice and still have spare.
“Yeah, they’re cool.” I told her how I’d know Grant pretty much all my life and she seemed pleasantly surprised that two of my best mates were gay. She even suggested that they come out with us next time. That made me smile, we were only a few minutes into our date and she was already talking about the next time.
I thought I’d get the awkwardness out of the way so I apologised for all the horrible shit I’d said to her. She was really cool with it; accepted my apology and offered one of her own. She said, that she’d felt shit as soon as she knew everyone was talking about it but there was nothing she could do to stop it and when she saw me collapse she had burst into tears and had to take the rest of the day off. We both agreed that it was all water under the bridge and that we weren’t going to mention any of it again for the rest of the evening and treat the night like our first date.
The rest of the evening went without a hitch, it was even more perfect than the date that didn’t exist. She was charming, intelligent and hot. She was pretty much everything I wanted her to be. We’d connected on a level that made everything else irrelevant. The evening really couldn’t have gone any better.
And then my phone rang.
It was Stephen he sounded like he’d been crying but he also sounded angry. I’d never heard him like this before.
“Ernie, you need to get back here NOW!”
“Steve, I’m out with Sandra, you know that. Can’t it wait?” I’d taken the phone call at the table, with Sandra’s permission, of course, she was furrowing her eyebrows and looking concerned- fuck, she even looked hot doing that.
“No, it can’t fucking wait. You have to get back here now.”
“What’s happened.”
“It’s Matt…” in the background I heard Grant yelling for the first aid kit “It’s in the cupboard by the window!”
“Is he…Is he ok?”
“No, he’s in a bad way, Ernie. I can’t explain now but he’s asking for you and is refusing to listen to either Me or Grant.”
“Why me?”
“I dunno! He might need to go to hospital- but he won’t listen to us.”
“Hospital?” Sandra looked up at me, alarmed. “I’ll be right there!” I said as I hung up.
“I’m so sorry but something’s happened, we need to go.”
She was really understanding about it. I paid and she drove me back to the house. She held my hand the whole way there and I told her about Matt. Missing out some of the more private details, of course.
“Oh shit! Poor kid,” she sounded genuinely concerned.
Grant and Stephen had managed to calm him down by the time I came back and he was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen, holding a bag of frozen peas above his left-eye. His face was covered in bruises down one side and there were band-aids and bandages on his arms. Sandra had followed me in, she’d been hesitant but I told her I wanted her there.
“Y’alright kiddo.”
He attempted to smile but winced in pain.
“Let’s have a look at this,” I took his hand and removed the bag of peas. There was a deep gash about 2 inches long running along his left eyebrow. “That’s going to need stitching,” I said. “We need to get you to the Emergency Room.”
“Can you come with me?” he seemed more like a kid than I’d ever seen him. Despite his huge frame, he seemed lost and scared; in need of someone to look after him.
“Of course,” I half whispered.
“I’ll drive,” said Grant.
“Ernie,” Sandra put her hand on my shoulder, “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
“Shit, Sandra. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said, “your friend needs you.”
I walked her to her car and kissed her by the driver’s door. “You know, one day we might have a successful date.”
She tapped my on the nose, “I think this one was more than successful!” and she kissed me again.
“See you in work tomorrow,” she waved cutely as she reversed out of the drive way.
We drove to the hospital in absolute silence. Luckily, being a Wednesday night, the waiting room was quiet and Matt was seen straight away. As soon as he had gone in to have his wounds stitched and dressed Grant filled me in on what had happened.
The same friends who had given his Dad hell had seen Matt at the grocery store. They’d waited for him on the hood of his car and had started taunting him with the usual repertoire of homophobic slurs. There were four of them so even a guy of Matt’s size didn’t stand a chance. He was vague about the details but can remember that he tried to ignore them and as he’d opened the door and bent down to get in his car, one of the guys had kicked the door closed and trapped his head between the door and the roof- hence the gash over his eye. They’d kicked him as he fell to the floor and then ran off. No one had seen it happen, or no one stopped to help anyway.
“Why didn’t he go home?” I was confused why he’d driven all the way to Grant’s.
“He’s had another row with his Dad. He was just at the grocery store to cool off a bit.”
“Bad timing, eh?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You can say that again.” Grant agreed.
In a new world record for hospitals, Matt was in and out in just over an hour. The nurses had cleaned and sewn him up pretty good, but the bruises on his face looked painful and his left eye was so swollen it might as well have been closed. I couldn’t help but think how delicate he looked, it wasn’t right.
He said very little and by the time we got home he was almost asleep- it was gone 2am, after all.
Without even talking about it, I followed him upstairs and went to the bathroom as he went to my room. When I got back the my room, he was standing in front of the mirror. He’d taken his top off and both his front and back were covered in purply-yellow bruises.
“I look like a fucking dalmation,” he was trying to make a joke of it, but I knew he was hurting both physically and emotionally.
“We can get a pen and play join the dots if you like,” this seemed to lighten his mood a bit.
“Sorry, for ruining your evening, Ernie. Sandra seems nice.”
“She is and she understands. I can always see her again.”
“She's hot, how did you manage that?”
“Natural charm!” I quipped.
“Hmmm…” he winked.
He got in to bed and I pulled on my PJ bottoms. He’d already turned the light off and we were laying there in the dark.
“Matt,” I had to ask him something, “why did you ask for me this evening?”
“Oh…I’m sorry. You were just the first person I thought of. I know Stephen and Grant were here but…but…”
“But?” I was confused.
“But, I feel safe when you’re around. I know it sounds totally gay and shit, but I’ve always been that little bit more comfortable with straight guys because I know they’re not going to just want to screw and then leave me by the wayside. I suppose it’s because I know I’m not going to get my heart or head fucked around by a straight guy cuz I know the boundaries. I thought I could trust my army mates, but that was a catastrophe. My dad is a fucking dick- so you’re the only one I’ve got. Does that make sense?”
“Kinda. I get the general sense of what you’re saying anyway.”
“Thank you, Ernie.”
“It’s no problem, kiddo.”
“Heh…kiddo.” He was laughing to himself.
“Night Matt.”
“Night, Ernie and don’t worry- no rape.”
“Haha! No rape,” I agreed.
He rolled over, his hand brushed mine and his knuckles rested in my palm. I didn’t move my hand away, he needed to know someone was there for him so I squeezed his hand gently; he turned it over and our fingers interlocked. We stayed like that as we both fell asleep.
I might actually put my neck on the line and say that this is my favourite chapter yet.
Chapter 10- Bad Timing
I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling like it was my first day of school. To say I was nervous was an understatement; I was fucking petrified. I knew I’d gone from being the laughing stock to the resident office psycho. People were probably expecting me to come in with a knife to exact revenge by removing peoples hearts and then eating them. Still, I knew it wasn’t going to be quite that bad.
Arriving at work, I felt like I was being given a wide berth as I walked through the entrance; some people smiled at me as though I was a child, some said ‘good morning’ in an overly polite way which made me a little bit uncomfortable, some started whispered conversations or exchanged knowing glances as I walked past them and some just didn’t make eye contact at all- Sandra was one of those people.
As I approached the desk, she pretended to be busy sorting some files in the lowest drawer of the cabinet. I stood there for a bit, but when I realised she was going to pretend she’d really not seen me a loudly cleared my throat and she sat up like a shot.
“Good Morning…Oh, it’s you.” She said coldly; maybe she’d not seen me.
“I just wanted to come and apologise to you, I was completely out of order and shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. Especially in front of everyone.”
“It’s me who should be apologising, Ernie,” she seemed a little warmer. “I didn’t mean for it to get out. I had such a good evening with you before ‘it’ happened and I was worried that you were mad at me after you stormed out.”
“I was more mad at myself, actually. I had a perfect evening with you up until then.”
She smiled; she had a good smile.
“Look,” I continued, “shall we just forget all about it? I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m seeing a shrink and it actually seems to be working a little bit. What happened after I lost it with you was some post-trauma thing and the shrink seems to think I needed to release it to get over it.”
“Forget about what?” She smiled again.
I smiled back and headed to my office.
“Ernie,” she called “I’ll pick you up tonight at 8.”
“Oh you will, will you?” I grinned
“Yeah, we’ll have our first date, part two.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll email you a map when I get sorted.”
“Ok,” she was playing with her hair.
I was happy that Sandra was willing to give me another chance. She’d seemed really upset and I suppose I’d done nothing to help the situation by ignoring her texts. I was, once again, looking forward to an evening with her. We both knew what to expect so there would hopefully be no repeat performance of our previous endeavour.
Aside from the odd mood that many of my colleagues adopted around me, it was a pretty good first day back. People would speak to me in cotton-wool voices like my bones were in danger of breaking due the vibrations or they would be sure to be extra touchy-feely with reassuring shoulder pats. The worst, however, was the patronising emails I was getting; all along the lines of “Please can you try and get this sorted…if you feel up to it” or “don’t worry too much if you don’t feel like it today.” It was beginning to fuck me off and, by the end of the day, I was extremely glad to leave.
“How was it?” said Grant as soon as I’d got through the door.
“They all think I’m a fucking loon,” I said sarcastically, “but it wasn’t too bad. Managed to speak to Sandra.”
“And…” he enquired.
“We’re going out for a drink tonight,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.
“Motherfuck, you work quickly, Earnest.”
“Well, she asked me and I do owe her a massive apology, I’ve never gone off on anyone like that before.” It was true, I hadn’t. Some people say that your family are the only people that can make you truly angry, but I’d not even got that far with my folks or siblings.
“Yeah, and she owes you one too, by the sound of it. What time are you going?”
“She’s picking me up at 8.”
“So you’re the bitch tonight, huh?”
“That would be you, faggy. You’ll always be my bitch.” I said, as I got behind him and grabbed him at the hips.
He just laughed and leant forward. “Oh, Ernie!” He screamed in mock-ecstasy, “you’re so big! Do me, big boy! Do me hard!”
Grant fell about laughing as I got up and adjusted my twisted underwear- I started laughing too.
“Are you re-adjusting down there?”
“No…I mean, yeah. But my underwear, not my cock.” I was telling the truth, for the most part.
“Oh, ok.”
“If that hottest bit in my office can’t get me hard, you’ve got no chance!” I teased him.
“Yeah, I suppose,” he laughed “besides, I’ve seen it enough times- it’s nothing to be excited about,” He joked.
“Fuck off- you’d be crying if I put it in you for real.”
“I’d cry if someone shoved a finger up their though- it fucking hurts!”
“Thank fuck I’ll never find out!” I was actually relieved- I remember going for a check-up at the hospital once and the doctor put a finger up there, all I can remember was my body telling me that that hole is an exit only. Motherfuck it hurt.
“Go and get ready, bitch-boy,” he goaded “she’ll be here in a bit, wearing the trousers- no doubt.”
Sandra arrived dead on eight and Stephen let her in having arrived home from post-work drinks with his colleagues. They had this new artist and were apparently in a meeting to work out how best to market her or some shit like that.
When I came down, Stephen had poured her a drink and they were sitting in the lounge talking like they’d known each other for years.
“And then Grant came back just as I was emptying a squeezy bottle of honey down the back of his jeans…” All three of them were laughing at this. If only she could have seen Grant’s original reaction; she definitely wouldn’t have been laughing then.
“You ready?” I said
“I could ask you the same question,” she winked at me, “you take longer getting ready than a woman, Ernie.”
“Well, he is our bitch,” Grant smiled and winked too.
“Come on, let’s go before the fags corrupt you, Sandra.”
“Like we’ve corrupted you?” Stephen called after me.
I flipped him the finger and closed the front door behind me.
“They seem lovely,” she said, a little too enthusiastically. Fuck, she looked even hotter than I’d remembered. She wasn’t showing too much flesh, but what she was wearing hugged her figure so you knew that she had a lovely pair of tits, ample hips and a tiny waist that gave her the figure of a coke bottle. She also had amazing legs, the kind that you could wrap round your neck twice and still have spare.
“Yeah, they’re cool.” I told her how I’d know Grant pretty much all my life and she seemed pleasantly surprised that two of my best mates were gay. She even suggested that they come out with us next time. That made me smile, we were only a few minutes into our date and she was already talking about the next time.
I thought I’d get the awkwardness out of the way so I apologised for all the horrible shit I’d said to her. She was really cool with it; accepted my apology and offered one of her own. She said, that she’d felt shit as soon as she knew everyone was talking about it but there was nothing she could do to stop it and when she saw me collapse she had burst into tears and had to take the rest of the day off. We both agreed that it was all water under the bridge and that we weren’t going to mention any of it again for the rest of the evening and treat the night like our first date.
The rest of the evening went without a hitch, it was even more perfect than the date that didn’t exist. She was charming, intelligent and hot. She was pretty much everything I wanted her to be. We’d connected on a level that made everything else irrelevant. The evening really couldn’t have gone any better.
And then my phone rang.
It was Stephen he sounded like he’d been crying but he also sounded angry. I’d never heard him like this before.
“Ernie, you need to get back here NOW!”
“Steve, I’m out with Sandra, you know that. Can’t it wait?” I’d taken the phone call at the table, with Sandra’s permission, of course, she was furrowing her eyebrows and looking concerned- fuck, she even looked hot doing that.
“No, it can’t fucking wait. You have to get back here now.”
“What’s happened.”
“It’s Matt…” in the background I heard Grant yelling for the first aid kit “It’s in the cupboard by the window!”
“Is he…Is he ok?”
“No, he’s in a bad way, Ernie. I can’t explain now but he’s asking for you and is refusing to listen to either Me or Grant.”
“Why me?”
“I dunno! He might need to go to hospital- but he won’t listen to us.”
“Hospital?” Sandra looked up at me, alarmed. “I’ll be right there!” I said as I hung up.
“I’m so sorry but something’s happened, we need to go.”
She was really understanding about it. I paid and she drove me back to the house. She held my hand the whole way there and I told her about Matt. Missing out some of the more private details, of course.
“Oh shit! Poor kid,” she sounded genuinely concerned.
Grant and Stephen had managed to calm him down by the time I came back and he was sitting on one of the stools in the kitchen, holding a bag of frozen peas above his left-eye. His face was covered in bruises down one side and there were band-aids and bandages on his arms. Sandra had followed me in, she’d been hesitant but I told her I wanted her there.
“Y’alright kiddo.”
He attempted to smile but winced in pain.
“Let’s have a look at this,” I took his hand and removed the bag of peas. There was a deep gash about 2 inches long running along his left eyebrow. “That’s going to need stitching,” I said. “We need to get you to the Emergency Room.”
“Can you come with me?” he seemed more like a kid than I’d ever seen him. Despite his huge frame, he seemed lost and scared; in need of someone to look after him.
“Of course,” I half whispered.
“I’ll drive,” said Grant.
“Ernie,” Sandra put her hand on my shoulder, “I’ll leave you guys to it.”
“Shit, Sandra. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said, “your friend needs you.”
I walked her to her car and kissed her by the driver’s door. “You know, one day we might have a successful date.”
She tapped my on the nose, “I think this one was more than successful!” and she kissed me again.
“See you in work tomorrow,” she waved cutely as she reversed out of the drive way.
We drove to the hospital in absolute silence. Luckily, being a Wednesday night, the waiting room was quiet and Matt was seen straight away. As soon as he had gone in to have his wounds stitched and dressed Grant filled me in on what had happened.
The same friends who had given his Dad hell had seen Matt at the grocery store. They’d waited for him on the hood of his car and had started taunting him with the usual repertoire of homophobic slurs. There were four of them so even a guy of Matt’s size didn’t stand a chance. He was vague about the details but can remember that he tried to ignore them and as he’d opened the door and bent down to get in his car, one of the guys had kicked the door closed and trapped his head between the door and the roof- hence the gash over his eye. They’d kicked him as he fell to the floor and then ran off. No one had seen it happen, or no one stopped to help anyway.
“Why didn’t he go home?” I was confused why he’d driven all the way to Grant’s.
“He’s had another row with his Dad. He was just at the grocery store to cool off a bit.”
“Bad timing, eh?” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You can say that again.” Grant agreed.
In a new world record for hospitals, Matt was in and out in just over an hour. The nurses had cleaned and sewn him up pretty good, but the bruises on his face looked painful and his left eye was so swollen it might as well have been closed. I couldn’t help but think how delicate he looked, it wasn’t right.
He said very little and by the time we got home he was almost asleep- it was gone 2am, after all.
Without even talking about it, I followed him upstairs and went to the bathroom as he went to my room. When I got back the my room, he was standing in front of the mirror. He’d taken his top off and both his front and back were covered in purply-yellow bruises.
“I look like a fucking dalmation,” he was trying to make a joke of it, but I knew he was hurting both physically and emotionally.
“We can get a pen and play join the dots if you like,” this seemed to lighten his mood a bit.
“Sorry, for ruining your evening, Ernie. Sandra seems nice.”
“She is and she understands. I can always see her again.”
“She's hot, how did you manage that?”
“Natural charm!” I quipped.
“Hmmm…” he winked.
He got in to bed and I pulled on my PJ bottoms. He’d already turned the light off and we were laying there in the dark.
“Matt,” I had to ask him something, “why did you ask for me this evening?”
“Oh…I’m sorry. You were just the first person I thought of. I know Stephen and Grant were here but…but…”
“But?” I was confused.
“But, I feel safe when you’re around. I know it sounds totally gay and shit, but I’ve always been that little bit more comfortable with straight guys because I know they’re not going to just want to screw and then leave me by the wayside. I suppose it’s because I know I’m not going to get my heart or head fucked around by a straight guy cuz I know the boundaries. I thought I could trust my army mates, but that was a catastrophe. My dad is a fucking dick- so you’re the only one I’ve got. Does that make sense?”
“Kinda. I get the general sense of what you’re saying anyway.”
“Thank you, Ernie.”
“It’s no problem, kiddo.”
“Heh…kiddo.” He was laughing to himself.
“Night Matt.”
“Night, Ernie and don’t worry- no rape.”
“Haha! No rape,” I agreed.
He rolled over, his hand brushed mine and his knuckles rested in my palm. I didn’t move my hand away, he needed to know someone was there for him so I squeezed his hand gently; he turned it over and our fingers interlocked. We stayed like that as we both fell asleep.
Jobbio:
Very good chapter. You've hit your stride in this story, and are moving along nicely.
You're getting quite prolific this week. You're going to get us all excited about the pace of the story and then the new term will be here and we'll all go into withdrawal! lol
Thanks for all the effort you're putting into this. You're doing a masterful job, and I don't recall any glaring typo's or foibles in the chapters, so I'd say you're doing an excellent job of nailing the nitty gritty basics, too.
Have a great weekend. Don't spend it all just sitting in front of the computer drafting chapters for us -- get out and enjoy some night life - or at least a pint or two!
Very good chapter. You've hit your stride in this story, and are moving along nicely.
You're getting quite prolific this week. You're going to get us all excited about the pace of the story and then the new term will be here and we'll all go into withdrawal! lol
Thanks for all the effort you're putting into this. You're doing a masterful job, and I don't recall any glaring typo's or foibles in the chapters, so I'd say you're doing an excellent job of nailing the nitty gritty basics, too.
Have a great weekend. Don't spend it all just sitting in front of the computer drafting chapters for us -- get out and enjoy some night life - or at least a pint or two!
belgarion63
On the Prowl
I just wanted to drop in and say that this is a wonderfully written story. The thing I like best about it is that you are taking your time...most of the time, authors just jump right in and the story ends up being a one-shot. I tip my hat to you sir.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Very nice and well written, Jobbio. No need to worry about any errors. I truly am enjoying the way the story is going. I know you said there would be some rough times ahead, but I look forward to them. I also know that they will be resolved at some point. Thanks for continuing an awesome story.
Craiger
Craiger
consult28
On the Prowl
jobboi,
I have really enjoyed this story and I have to agree with you chapter 10 was great. I have a feeling that chpter 11 might be even better.
consult28
I have really enjoyed this story and I have to agree with you chapter 10 was great. I have a feeling that chpter 11 might be even better.
consult28
erasfred
Virgin
Love a story where sex is not the main theme. Very well done. Thank you.
Author's note: I found it very difficult to right Hillard's explanation towards the end of the chapter. I knew what I wanted to say but couldn't quite find the right words to do so. What I've submitted here is the best of numerous attempts. If it's still not too clear please leave a comment or PM me and I'll explain it. I think it makes sense though. Apologies if the phrasing spoils the chapter in any way.
Enjoy though, I think this chapter is possibly the most important yet and blows the whole story wide open.
Comments welcome, as usual.
Thanks,
Nick
Chapter 11- Questions and Unexpected Answers
I awoke with a start. The LCD display of the clock read 4:17am. My left hand was still very much entwined right Matt’s right and, once again, my dick was rock hard. I couldn’t do anything about it; I had a guy next to me in the bed for fuck’s sake- a gay guy at that. I’d have to try and get back to sleep but it was difficult. The temptation to start touching my rock hard prick was immense; it was like a tractor-beam pulling my free hand towards it. A small voice in my head kept on willing me to touch it, stroke it and play with it. I knew it would feel good if I did, but I couldn’t bring my self to do it.
I unclasped my hand from Matt’s and rolled onto my other side and curled my legs up in the hope of relaxing the muscles down below. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, only the third proper erection I’d had in nine years and I was doing everything I could to get rid of it. If this wasn’t a metaphor for how fucked up my life had become, then what was?
Eventually, after thinking some of the most unsexual thought I could bring to my head. The pressure down below started to alleviate slightly. I looked at the clock again- it was now 4:48am. I’d sustained an erection for over half an hour! Fucking hell, I felt like a fucking stallion.
As I was dropping back off to sleep again something dawned on me- and it wasn’t pretty. In the last five nights, I’d had three erections- pretty good going, eh? Anyway, all of those erections had happened when I’d had Matt in bed with me. This freaked me out! It freaked me out so much that I took the spare blanket and my pillows and went down to sleep on the sofa.
I lay on the sofa thinking. This was fucking weird; there was absolutely no way in this world that I could be a faggot. Yes, Matt was a nice guy and probably good-looking, but I didn’t want to fuck him. Did I? No! I fucking didn’t. This had to be something to do with my recent illness, but surely the wires in my brain weren’t so loose that they’d reconnected to make me a fag? It didn’t work like that. Did it?
I snuck back into my room to get my laptop. I was going to email Hillard and see if he could offer any advice. I knew it was around 5am, but I figure he’d pick it up as soon as he got in to his office. I sat on the end of my bed in the dark and quickly typed an explanation of what I’d noticed about the pattern of my erection. I ended the email with the very simple and abrupt question of “I’m not gay, am I?” At this point, I didn’t care if this made me look like a prick.
I closed the laptop and was just sneaking out of the door when Matt suddenly sat up and screamed, “GET OFF ME!” His arms were flailing as if swatting some invisible flies and his breathing was drawn and heavy. He work up, still sitting and saw me staring at him with a shocked look on my face. He started crying and lay back down.
I walked over to the bed. “You ok, kiddo?”
“I had a nightmare, Ernie.” He seemed more scared and helpless now than he had earlier in the evening.
“I know,” I said as he sat up and threw his arms around me. “But you’re gonna be alright though.”
“I know,” he was still somewhere in between sleep and awake. “I know because you’re here, Ernie,” and he squeezed me even tighter.
I didn’t know what to do, I gently lay my arms on his back and held him as if he were a child who’d just cut their knee- firmly yet delicately.
“You get back to sleep, kiddo,” I whispered as I rolled him back on to his pillow.
“You’ll be here though, right?”
“Of course I will.”
I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
***
Sandra came rushing over to me as I got into work the next morning.
“How is he?” She was talking about Matt.
“Pretty bad, had to get stitched up; the bastards kicked a car door closed on his head.”
She gasped in shock.
“He got stitched up at the hospital but he slept really badly last night, kept waking up and having all sorts of nightmares.
“Did he stay at the house?”
“Yeah, he…er…stayed in my bed,” I thought she was going to run a mile.
“Aww…” she gave me a hug “that’s so sweet of you, Ernie. Well, I’m glad he’s not too badly hurt. Give him my love, won’t you?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“We’ll do something later on in the week, ok?”
I smiled and winked at her.
I had my morning coffee and fired up my computer. I went through the usual morning routine of checking my work email (all with the same patronising tone “if you feel strong enough,” etc), then making a few phone calls, before responding to my emails- this usually took a while. During my first coffee break at 11:15, I checked my personal emails, sure enough, Hillard had replied.
“Mr Carmichael,
I read your email with great interest. I’ll be in my office until 6 this evening, perhaps it would be beneficial for us both if you came in to see me.”
He left me his address and signed off, paying no attention to the final, top-priority, question at the end. I replied that I could make it by quarter to six and within minutes he’d sent back “perfect.” I know I could be a man of few words at time, but this guy was the master- and it pissed me off.
The rest of my day passed without note; except that Sandra was finding any excuse to come up to my floor and make small talk while looking really-fucking-hot in a white blouse and high-waisted black skirt.
I arrived at Dr. Hillard’s office just before our scheduled time. I couldn’t help feel nervous, but I don’t know why. I knew I wasn’t a fag so he couldn’t tell me that but, from his reply, he seemed to suggest he’d made another one of his deductions which, based on our first few meetings, would probably be pretty accurate.
I was shown through to his office. It was exactly what I’d expected, a big mahogany desk, dark leather chairs and a long sofa-cum-daybed with a small uncomfortable looking chair next to it. I was relieved when he asked me to take a seat opposite his desk rather than making me lay down and spill my emotions to him.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr Carmichael,” he examined me over the top of his glasses.
“No problem, doc.” I said.
“The events you described in your email interested me a great deal. But first, let ask you a question. You said, very clearly, that you’re not gay. I don’t know you so I can only assume that to be true. However, if you’re not gay, Mr Carmichael, why are you sharing your bed with another man?”
I explained the situation with Matt.
“And this Matt, is he gay?”
“Does that matter?”
“Possibly.”
“Then, yes. He is gay.”
“I see…” he scribbled something onto a blank sheet of paper. “What I’m about to say will probably seem a little odd. But, as the old adage goes; trust me I’m a doctor.” He laughed at his own quip.
I leaned forward attentively.
“My discussions with you have shown me that you’re still a very sexual man but, the negative connotation you attach to women and your own failings prevent you from functioning properly when they’re around. Well if, for a moment, we take women out of the equation then you would begin to function normally again. You wouldn’t know this because, like most heterosexual men, you have to have women around or think about them to start your arousal. I don’t need to tell you, Mr Carmichael, that without women all you have left are men.”
I had no idea where he was going with this.
“I’m still confused, Doc,” and I really was!
“Let me put it another way. You don’t hold the same negative connotations towards men as you do with women. The bed, to anyone, is a sanctuary and you only let in those you trust the most. So, when you have a man in your bed, in your trust, those connotations don’t exist and, because you’re not with or thinking about a woman, your mind relinquishes the grip it has on your penis and allows it to start working properly.”
“So you’re saying that I get hard around men because they’re not women?”
“Yes, at the most basic level.”
“Whoa!” I was shocked, “that’s fucked up.”
He smiled, “the mind works in mysterious ways, Mr Carmichael. It basically boils down to the fact that you’re still a sexual person, your body wants sex- your past is making your brain is saying ‘no’ to women but isn’t passing the message on when it comes to men…”
I felt like we were going round in circles. I got the basic gist of what he saying and, boy, it was mightily fucked up.
“I’m know this isn’t the news your were expecting, it probably feels like we’ve gone one step forward and twenty steps back.”
“Make that thirty back,” I said, shortly. “Is there a way to stop this?” I looked him in the eyes.
“An answer will present itself one day, Mr Carmichael.”
For a split second, I considered getting angry with him. I wanted to punch the fucker in the face and rip up the numerous books in the shelves in his room. I wanted to scream again and throw things, but what would that solve? He’d given me an answer and, as much as I didn’t like what he was saying, it actually made sense. I had no idea where to go next, or what to do. I wanted to tell someone, but no one would understand not even Grant, Stephen or Matt. Matt? Why did I put him in that list? I’d known the kid less than a month.
I wanted to tell someone, but no one would understand not even Grant, Stephen or Sandra. There, that’s better.
I thanked the Doc for his help and drove home. I went straight to my room, shut the door and locked it. Seven times someone knocked, but I just lay there still and silent and pretended to be asleep.
Enjoy though, I think this chapter is possibly the most important yet and blows the whole story wide open.
Comments welcome, as usual.
Thanks,
Nick
Chapter 11- Questions and Unexpected Answers
I awoke with a start. The LCD display of the clock read 4:17am. My left hand was still very much entwined right Matt’s right and, once again, my dick was rock hard. I couldn’t do anything about it; I had a guy next to me in the bed for fuck’s sake- a gay guy at that. I’d have to try and get back to sleep but it was difficult. The temptation to start touching my rock hard prick was immense; it was like a tractor-beam pulling my free hand towards it. A small voice in my head kept on willing me to touch it, stroke it and play with it. I knew it would feel good if I did, but I couldn’t bring my self to do it.
I unclasped my hand from Matt’s and rolled onto my other side and curled my legs up in the hope of relaxing the muscles down below. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, only the third proper erection I’d had in nine years and I was doing everything I could to get rid of it. If this wasn’t a metaphor for how fucked up my life had become, then what was?
Eventually, after thinking some of the most unsexual thought I could bring to my head. The pressure down below started to alleviate slightly. I looked at the clock again- it was now 4:48am. I’d sustained an erection for over half an hour! Fucking hell, I felt like a fucking stallion.
As I was dropping back off to sleep again something dawned on me- and it wasn’t pretty. In the last five nights, I’d had three erections- pretty good going, eh? Anyway, all of those erections had happened when I’d had Matt in bed with me. This freaked me out! It freaked me out so much that I took the spare blanket and my pillows and went down to sleep on the sofa.
I lay on the sofa thinking. This was fucking weird; there was absolutely no way in this world that I could be a faggot. Yes, Matt was a nice guy and probably good-looking, but I didn’t want to fuck him. Did I? No! I fucking didn’t. This had to be something to do with my recent illness, but surely the wires in my brain weren’t so loose that they’d reconnected to make me a fag? It didn’t work like that. Did it?
I snuck back into my room to get my laptop. I was going to email Hillard and see if he could offer any advice. I knew it was around 5am, but I figure he’d pick it up as soon as he got in to his office. I sat on the end of my bed in the dark and quickly typed an explanation of what I’d noticed about the pattern of my erection. I ended the email with the very simple and abrupt question of “I’m not gay, am I?” At this point, I didn’t care if this made me look like a prick.
I closed the laptop and was just sneaking out of the door when Matt suddenly sat up and screamed, “GET OFF ME!” His arms were flailing as if swatting some invisible flies and his breathing was drawn and heavy. He work up, still sitting and saw me staring at him with a shocked look on my face. He started crying and lay back down.
I walked over to the bed. “You ok, kiddo?”
“I had a nightmare, Ernie.” He seemed more scared and helpless now than he had earlier in the evening.
“I know,” I said as he sat up and threw his arms around me. “But you’re gonna be alright though.”
“I know,” he was still somewhere in between sleep and awake. “I know because you’re here, Ernie,” and he squeezed me even tighter.
I didn’t know what to do, I gently lay my arms on his back and held him as if he were a child who’d just cut their knee- firmly yet delicately.
“You get back to sleep, kiddo,” I whispered as I rolled him back on to his pillow.
“You’ll be here though, right?”
“Of course I will.”
I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.
***
Sandra came rushing over to me as I got into work the next morning.
“How is he?” She was talking about Matt.
“Pretty bad, had to get stitched up; the bastards kicked a car door closed on his head.”
She gasped in shock.
“He got stitched up at the hospital but he slept really badly last night, kept waking up and having all sorts of nightmares.
“Did he stay at the house?”
“Yeah, he…er…stayed in my bed,” I thought she was going to run a mile.
“Aww…” she gave me a hug “that’s so sweet of you, Ernie. Well, I’m glad he’s not too badly hurt. Give him my love, won’t you?”
“Yeah, I will.”
“We’ll do something later on in the week, ok?”
I smiled and winked at her.
I had my morning coffee and fired up my computer. I went through the usual morning routine of checking my work email (all with the same patronising tone “if you feel strong enough,” etc), then making a few phone calls, before responding to my emails- this usually took a while. During my first coffee break at 11:15, I checked my personal emails, sure enough, Hillard had replied.
“Mr Carmichael,
I read your email with great interest. I’ll be in my office until 6 this evening, perhaps it would be beneficial for us both if you came in to see me.”
He left me his address and signed off, paying no attention to the final, top-priority, question at the end. I replied that I could make it by quarter to six and within minutes he’d sent back “perfect.” I know I could be a man of few words at time, but this guy was the master- and it pissed me off.
The rest of my day passed without note; except that Sandra was finding any excuse to come up to my floor and make small talk while looking really-fucking-hot in a white blouse and high-waisted black skirt.
I arrived at Dr. Hillard’s office just before our scheduled time. I couldn’t help feel nervous, but I don’t know why. I knew I wasn’t a fag so he couldn’t tell me that but, from his reply, he seemed to suggest he’d made another one of his deductions which, based on our first few meetings, would probably be pretty accurate.
I was shown through to his office. It was exactly what I’d expected, a big mahogany desk, dark leather chairs and a long sofa-cum-daybed with a small uncomfortable looking chair next to it. I was relieved when he asked me to take a seat opposite his desk rather than making me lay down and spill my emotions to him.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr Carmichael,” he examined me over the top of his glasses.
“No problem, doc.” I said.
“The events you described in your email interested me a great deal. But first, let ask you a question. You said, very clearly, that you’re not gay. I don’t know you so I can only assume that to be true. However, if you’re not gay, Mr Carmichael, why are you sharing your bed with another man?”
I explained the situation with Matt.
“And this Matt, is he gay?”
“Does that matter?”
“Possibly.”
“Then, yes. He is gay.”
“I see…” he scribbled something onto a blank sheet of paper. “What I’m about to say will probably seem a little odd. But, as the old adage goes; trust me I’m a doctor.” He laughed at his own quip.
I leaned forward attentively.
“My discussions with you have shown me that you’re still a very sexual man but, the negative connotation you attach to women and your own failings prevent you from functioning properly when they’re around. Well if, for a moment, we take women out of the equation then you would begin to function normally again. You wouldn’t know this because, like most heterosexual men, you have to have women around or think about them to start your arousal. I don’t need to tell you, Mr Carmichael, that without women all you have left are men.”
I had no idea where he was going with this.
“I’m still confused, Doc,” and I really was!
“Let me put it another way. You don’t hold the same negative connotations towards men as you do with women. The bed, to anyone, is a sanctuary and you only let in those you trust the most. So, when you have a man in your bed, in your trust, those connotations don’t exist and, because you’re not with or thinking about a woman, your mind relinquishes the grip it has on your penis and allows it to start working properly.”
“So you’re saying that I get hard around men because they’re not women?”
“Yes, at the most basic level.”
“Whoa!” I was shocked, “that’s fucked up.”
He smiled, “the mind works in mysterious ways, Mr Carmichael. It basically boils down to the fact that you’re still a sexual person, your body wants sex- your past is making your brain is saying ‘no’ to women but isn’t passing the message on when it comes to men…”
I felt like we were going round in circles. I got the basic gist of what he saying and, boy, it was mightily fucked up.
“I’m know this isn’t the news your were expecting, it probably feels like we’ve gone one step forward and twenty steps back.”
“Make that thirty back,” I said, shortly. “Is there a way to stop this?” I looked him in the eyes.
“An answer will present itself one day, Mr Carmichael.”
For a split second, I considered getting angry with him. I wanted to punch the fucker in the face and rip up the numerous books in the shelves in his room. I wanted to scream again and throw things, but what would that solve? He’d given me an answer and, as much as I didn’t like what he was saying, it actually made sense. I had no idea where to go next, or what to do. I wanted to tell someone, but no one would understand not even Grant, Stephen or Matt. Matt? Why did I put him in that list? I’d known the kid less than a month.
I wanted to tell someone, but no one would understand not even Grant, Stephen or Sandra. There, that’s better.
I thanked the Doc for his help and drove home. I went straight to my room, shut the door and locked it. Seven times someone knocked, but I just lay there still and silent and pretended to be asleep.
harry113
JUB Addict
Great chapter. Thanks Jobbio, more please
Harry
Harry
Jobbio,
You're doing a wonderful job with this story. As someone who has selected "Curious" as his descriptor, I find this a most believable tale.
I'm not sure what wellspring of knowledge or experience you are drawing your inspiration from, but it is a fruitful one.
Thanks, again, for taking the time to craft your tale so carefully.
And for being willing to share it with us.
You're doing a wonderful job with this story. As someone who has selected "Curious" as his descriptor, I find this a most believable tale.
I'm not sure what wellspring of knowledge or experience you are drawing your inspiration from, but it is a fruitful one.
Thanks, again, for taking the time to craft your tale so carefully.
And for being willing to share it with us.
littletosay
On the Prowl
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2009
- Posts
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I'm greatly enjoying this story. Thanks, jobbio.
Craiger
JUB Addict
Dr. Hillard's explanation was very clear to me. Ernie must find the right balance before his mental and physical self can function properly. I am worried, though, about Matt. He seems to be having a much more difficult time than even Ernie. Will they pursue his father's friends that cause this last bit of trauma? I certainly have enjoyed your writing. Thank you, Nick.
Craiger
Craiger
therealm1
On the Prowl
I am incredibly surprised to return to this thread and find several chapters complete since you last posted in April. All of them fantastic and gripping!
I can't wait to read more!
I can't wait to read more!
Thanks for all the comments guys. I'm back at work now but my plan is to try and get an installment or two done on the weekends. I'll start on the next chapter later today and hopefully have it to you asap.
Thanks, Jobbio.
Your story is developing nicely, and your skills along with it. Take your time.
Your story is developing nicely, and your skills along with it. Take your time.
Apologies for a bit of a crap chapter guys. Read to the end though, you'll not be disappointed by the last few paragraphs.
Chapter 12- Can’t Think Straight.
I left for work the next morning carefully avoiding Stephen and Grant. I knew I’d tell them if I saw them but I somehow felt that if I didn’t verbalise what Hillard had said, then it hadn’t actually happened. How did it make sense anyway? How could someone not be gay but only get an erection in the presence of men? Obviously, he had no idea what he was talking about. Did he? Shit- he did. Even Sandra’s charms failed to impress me as she flirted outrageously at my desk. She came up several times during the day but I’d be darned if I could tell you more than a few words of what she said. She looked fucking hot, I can remember that much, but my mind was elsewhere- repeating Hillard’s words over-and-over in the futile attempt of finding some flaw in his 24 carat argument. Suffice to say, there were none.
The day passed in a flurry of emails. It was funny how, after two days back, the pretence of compassion was left at the wayside and emails now read, “This must be done within the hour or you’ll lose us the contract.” In a way, I preferred this- I wasn’t the cotton-wool-kid anymore and it meant that people were slowly forgetting what had happened and were starting to see that I could, in fact, cope in a normal working environment as a normal person.
I decided to swing by the gym after work as I’d not been for a few days and I needed to blow of some steam to re-affirm my masculinity to myself. When I arrived, Matt looked up at me from the desk, his face was still covered in bruises but he looked a little more upbeat and a wide smile spread across his face as his eye met mine.
“Ernie!” he sprang from the desk and ran towards me like a best friend he’d not seen in years.
“Hey kiddo,” I smiled back as he pulled me into a huge hug. “How’s things?”
“Good. No, brilliant.” He seemed genuinely happy.
“Oh good, how come?”
“I had a chat with Dad last night. You know, about ‘things.’ He said that he was never going to be 100% cool with it but that I was his only child and that seeing me after what those guys did made him realise how much his cared about me.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I know we’ll never get on well, but to hear him say that meant a lot.”
“Well, I’m glad he did. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He smiled at me again.
“How’s mum?” I asked.
“They’re getting on fine, they haven’t mentioned it so I think they’re trying to put it behind them and move on.”
“That’s great. I’m glad things are working out for you.”
“Well,” he replied abruptly “they’re getting there. Anyway, remember we’ve got our training session on Sunday at 11.”
“Shit, is it that soon?”
“Sure is. Stephen mentioned something about Saturday night. Are you coming?”
“Ummm…possibly, I’m supposed to be seeing Sandra at some point.” As I mentioned Sandra’s name, I’m sure I saw his smile falter slightly.
“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll see you Sunday whatever you get up to.”
“Cool. Right, I’d better get to it. See you later, kiddo.”
“See you, Ernelia!” and, with that I headed to the locker room.
***
I arrived home at about 8 after a fucking intense workout; Grant was sitting in the lounge with his customary one-an-evening beer. He was watching some shit reality TV show which seemed to have his undivided attention so after we’d said “hi” to each other we sat staring at the screen and pretending to care about the ‘crazy’ celebrity family. This suited me just fine, he didn’t bother asking about the night before and I didn’t really want to bring the subject up.
“Well, I’d hate to live in that house,” he sneered as the closing credits rolled.
“You almost do!” I retorted
“Good day?” He asked abruptly.
“Meh, twas ok.”
“You?”
“Same,” there was something up- I could tell by the tone of his voice. After an awkward few moment of silence, I just had to say something.
“You ok, man?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that same question?”
“Meaning?”
“What was that about last night? You know, your over the top, America’s next top model style, don’t talk to me-I’m a diva moment.”
“Funny. Very fucking funny.”
He raised his eyebrow at me and I continued.
“Something has happened. No, something has been happening and I went to talk to Dr Hillard about it.”
“Oh… Shit, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say? Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, in some ways it’s the news I’ve been waiting for for nine years. In other ways it’s an absolute mind fuck.”
“Are you going to stop talking in code and half-facts at any point this evening and tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Umm. I suppose I should. But you can’t tell anyone- it’s really messed up.”
“If it’s that messed up, I don’t wanna know!”
“It’s not, it just feels messed up for me.” So I told him everything that had happened from that first night in bed with Matt, right up until my meeting with Hillard the previous evening.
“Wow,” he said, like it was the only thing that could describe the situation.
“Yeah, wow.”
“That is messed up, but in a way at least it’s an answer.”
“Is it?” I was confused, “it seems more like a another barrier.”
“It depends which way you look at it, I guess. You’ve been craving sex for fucking years, Ernie; it’s obvious by the way you talk about women. Ok, it’s not the perfect solution but at least it’ll give you the release you need.”
“Are you suggesting I go with a guy?” I wanted to leave the room but something forced me to stay.
“I know you’re not gay but if it’s the only way to get what you want…”
“Ok, we’re finishing this conversation now. I’m not going there!”
“Ok- nice weather today, wasn’t it?”
We made idle conversation about nothing and watched another 2 episodes of the ‘crazy’ family until Stephen came home, drunk.
“Hiiiiiiiiii” He screeched, Grant looked like he was about to bleed from the ears.
“Don’t screech.” Grant said sternly, “where have you been?”
“Out with work. I told you it was album launch today.”
“Yep, you also said you’d be home by 10 o’clock.” It was now gone 11.
“Oh shut up, I was working. I invited you but you were being a grumpy bastard- like usual.”
“Could you not have text me?”
“No signal in the club.”
“And there were no doors to go outside?”
“Yes, but I was working. At work. Doing work. Idiot.”
I just sat there, feeling more and more uncomfortable. They often argued like this but usually at the bar where I could just walk away. Stephen was slumped in the doorway, so it was very difficult to get out without making it more awkward.
“Work, was it? So you often get drunk at work?”
“No, just album launches- they’re after hours so we’re allowed to drink. Besides, it was freeeeeeeeeeeeee and our bosses like us to drink to encourage a relaxed atmosphere. Did you hear that? I said RELAXED, a word that doesn’t often find place in YOUR vocabulary.”
I had to interject before they started screaming, “Guys, can you leave it out?”
“You know where the door is, Ernie? Get out the way Stephen.” Grant commanded.
“Certainly Senor Stress.” With that I left the room.
They shouted for the next twenty minutes which stopped my from getting to sleep. Just as I was drifting of the sounds of anger had been replaced with the sickeningly familiar sounds of angry-gay-reconciliation-sex.
***
My chat with Grant the previous evening had done little to alleviate the multiple questions bouncing off the inside of my skull. In fact, if anything, they just made it worse. Work again was a blur and I didn’t manage to speak to Sandra all day so we made no plans and I didn’t have any excuse not to go out with the gays the next evening. I text her but her response of “busy this weekend. See you Monday,” wasn’t exactly leading to the start of Mills and Boon romance. I replied apologising for my aloofness the day before and again a curt reply of “it’s fine, see you Monday,” told me that texting her at the present time was about as useful as making a boat from tissue paper.
Friday slipped uneventfully into Saturday. There was still an air of tension between Grant and Stephen and I didn’t think I was making the situation any easier for them. I was so keen to get started on the renovation of my new place started (and I thought I would try and give them some alone time) that I decided to drive round on Saturday morning just to take a look at the outside and see what needed doing.
There were a few tiles missing from the roof and the garden was more like a nature reserve. Looking through the back window the kitchen was worse than I remembered but I figured it would take a couple of weeks, at most, to rip it out and get a new one installed. When I’d seen the house with the hot black woman, I remember the bedrooms being in pretty good state but they were going to need a good week’s worth of tidying before I could move in. I made a mental note to phone the agent again on Monday to see how the contracts were progressing; I’d heard nothing from them so assumed everything was going as it should be.
Being at the new place allowed me to focus on something else for a while and it was a spectacular feeling. I was able to focus on something that wasn’t just my messed up head and start making plans on how to rebuild my life the way I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I loved staying with the faggots, they were great people to be around but everything about them was just so…gay. I was starting to crave some interaction where I could talk about tits and sport, not having endless conversations about over-synthesised pop stars and the latest fashion.
***
“The guys are coming over at 8,” Stephen said as I got in, “be ready for then.”
“It’s ok, Steve. I’m not coming tonight.”
“Sandra?”
“Nope, just not really feeling it,” I didn’t tell him the bit about me thinking my life had become too gay.
“Oh, ok then. We’ll you can join us for drinks here before we go.”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
The usual bunch arrived at 8; we had a few beers and shot the shit a little. When they went to leave Matt looked a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to join them at the bar. He tried to persuade me but I told him that he didn’t need some old straight guy cramping his style. After they left at around 11, I put on the TV and watched an old Stallone film that was being shown. Mindless violence was just what I needed.
I headed to bed about one and fell quickly into a beer induced sleep only to be woken up about two hours later by a drunken Matt swaying in the doorway.
“Ernie…Oh…Ernie,” he sang.
“What the fuck Matt? It’s gone 3am!”
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch, can I stay here?”
I didn’t think it was a good idea but my years of experience have taught me that it’s absolutely pointless arguing with a drunken person.
“Yeah, sure. Just hurry up and let me sleep.”
In the silhouette of the doorway, with the light behind him, I watched him stumble all over the place as he removed his shoes. He finally worked out the leaning on the doorframe would help him balance as he took of his jeans and t-shirt. In just his boxers and socks, he jumped into bed.
“Shit, you stink of alcohol” I laughed.
“Sorry, heavy night.”
“It’s ok, just get to sleep and don’t wriggle too much- I’m tired. Good night.”
“Night, Ernelialalalala” he said and then he rolled over and kissed me mockingly on the cheek.
We lay there for a few minutes and he broke silence again. “Ernie,” he whispered, “you’ve not read me the rules, does that mean they’re not in play tonight?”
“They’re always in play. I’m going to laminate them and stick them above the bed!”
“You’re cute,” he said as he rolled over and fell asleep. Not long after, I did too.
I awoke soon after and my dick was as hard as a rock. In the hazy half-awake state I was in, I could feel myself stroking it involuntarily. It didn’t feel right though, something about it felt odd and unfamiliar.
I stopped moving my hand yet the motion on my cock continued its steady pace. Slowly sliding up and down the shaft and twisting as it reached the head, I felt tingly all over but couldn’t quite work out what was going on. Suddenly, as if by a delayed reaction the sensation on my dick slowed and then ceased.
“What have you stopped for?” Matt whispered- sounding confused, “I was enjoying that.”
Chapter 12- Can’t Think Straight.
I left for work the next morning carefully avoiding Stephen and Grant. I knew I’d tell them if I saw them but I somehow felt that if I didn’t verbalise what Hillard had said, then it hadn’t actually happened. How did it make sense anyway? How could someone not be gay but only get an erection in the presence of men? Obviously, he had no idea what he was talking about. Did he? Shit- he did. Even Sandra’s charms failed to impress me as she flirted outrageously at my desk. She came up several times during the day but I’d be darned if I could tell you more than a few words of what she said. She looked fucking hot, I can remember that much, but my mind was elsewhere- repeating Hillard’s words over-and-over in the futile attempt of finding some flaw in his 24 carat argument. Suffice to say, there were none.
The day passed in a flurry of emails. It was funny how, after two days back, the pretence of compassion was left at the wayside and emails now read, “This must be done within the hour or you’ll lose us the contract.” In a way, I preferred this- I wasn’t the cotton-wool-kid anymore and it meant that people were slowly forgetting what had happened and were starting to see that I could, in fact, cope in a normal working environment as a normal person.
I decided to swing by the gym after work as I’d not been for a few days and I needed to blow of some steam to re-affirm my masculinity to myself. When I arrived, Matt looked up at me from the desk, his face was still covered in bruises but he looked a little more upbeat and a wide smile spread across his face as his eye met mine.
“Ernie!” he sprang from the desk and ran towards me like a best friend he’d not seen in years.
“Hey kiddo,” I smiled back as he pulled me into a huge hug. “How’s things?”
“Good. No, brilliant.” He seemed genuinely happy.
“Oh good, how come?”
“I had a chat with Dad last night. You know, about ‘things.’ He said that he was never going to be 100% cool with it but that I was his only child and that seeing me after what those guys did made him realise how much his cared about me.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, I know we’ll never get on well, but to hear him say that meant a lot.”
“Well, I’m glad he did. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
He smiled at me again.
“How’s mum?” I asked.
“They’re getting on fine, they haven’t mentioned it so I think they’re trying to put it behind them and move on.”
“That’s great. I’m glad things are working out for you.”
“Well,” he replied abruptly “they’re getting there. Anyway, remember we’ve got our training session on Sunday at 11.”
“Shit, is it that soon?”
“Sure is. Stephen mentioned something about Saturday night. Are you coming?”
“Ummm…possibly, I’m supposed to be seeing Sandra at some point.” As I mentioned Sandra’s name, I’m sure I saw his smile falter slightly.
“Oh, ok. Well, I’ll see you Sunday whatever you get up to.”
“Cool. Right, I’d better get to it. See you later, kiddo.”
“See you, Ernelia!” and, with that I headed to the locker room.
***
I arrived home at about 8 after a fucking intense workout; Grant was sitting in the lounge with his customary one-an-evening beer. He was watching some shit reality TV show which seemed to have his undivided attention so after we’d said “hi” to each other we sat staring at the screen and pretending to care about the ‘crazy’ celebrity family. This suited me just fine, he didn’t bother asking about the night before and I didn’t really want to bring the subject up.
“Well, I’d hate to live in that house,” he sneered as the closing credits rolled.
“You almost do!” I retorted
“Good day?” He asked abruptly.
“Meh, twas ok.”
“You?”
“Same,” there was something up- I could tell by the tone of his voice. After an awkward few moment of silence, I just had to say something.
“You ok, man?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that same question?”
“Meaning?”
“What was that about last night? You know, your over the top, America’s next top model style, don’t talk to me-I’m a diva moment.”
“Funny. Very fucking funny.”
He raised his eyebrow at me and I continued.
“Something has happened. No, something has been happening and I went to talk to Dr Hillard about it.”
“Oh… Shit, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say? Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, in some ways it’s the news I’ve been waiting for for nine years. In other ways it’s an absolute mind fuck.”
“Are you going to stop talking in code and half-facts at any point this evening and tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“Umm. I suppose I should. But you can’t tell anyone- it’s really messed up.”
“If it’s that messed up, I don’t wanna know!”
“It’s not, it just feels messed up for me.” So I told him everything that had happened from that first night in bed with Matt, right up until my meeting with Hillard the previous evening.
“Wow,” he said, like it was the only thing that could describe the situation.
“Yeah, wow.”
“That is messed up, but in a way at least it’s an answer.”
“Is it?” I was confused, “it seems more like a another barrier.”
“It depends which way you look at it, I guess. You’ve been craving sex for fucking years, Ernie; it’s obvious by the way you talk about women. Ok, it’s not the perfect solution but at least it’ll give you the release you need.”
“Are you suggesting I go with a guy?” I wanted to leave the room but something forced me to stay.
“I know you’re not gay but if it’s the only way to get what you want…”
“Ok, we’re finishing this conversation now. I’m not going there!”
“Ok- nice weather today, wasn’t it?”
We made idle conversation about nothing and watched another 2 episodes of the ‘crazy’ family until Stephen came home, drunk.
“Hiiiiiiiiii” He screeched, Grant looked like he was about to bleed from the ears.
“Don’t screech.” Grant said sternly, “where have you been?”
“Out with work. I told you it was album launch today.”
“Yep, you also said you’d be home by 10 o’clock.” It was now gone 11.
“Oh shut up, I was working. I invited you but you were being a grumpy bastard- like usual.”
“Could you not have text me?”
“No signal in the club.”
“And there were no doors to go outside?”
“Yes, but I was working. At work. Doing work. Idiot.”
I just sat there, feeling more and more uncomfortable. They often argued like this but usually at the bar where I could just walk away. Stephen was slumped in the doorway, so it was very difficult to get out without making it more awkward.
“Work, was it? So you often get drunk at work?”
“No, just album launches- they’re after hours so we’re allowed to drink. Besides, it was freeeeeeeeeeeeee and our bosses like us to drink to encourage a relaxed atmosphere. Did you hear that? I said RELAXED, a word that doesn’t often find place in YOUR vocabulary.”
I had to interject before they started screaming, “Guys, can you leave it out?”
“You know where the door is, Ernie? Get out the way Stephen.” Grant commanded.
“Certainly Senor Stress.” With that I left the room.
They shouted for the next twenty minutes which stopped my from getting to sleep. Just as I was drifting of the sounds of anger had been replaced with the sickeningly familiar sounds of angry-gay-reconciliation-sex.
***
My chat with Grant the previous evening had done little to alleviate the multiple questions bouncing off the inside of my skull. In fact, if anything, they just made it worse. Work again was a blur and I didn’t manage to speak to Sandra all day so we made no plans and I didn’t have any excuse not to go out with the gays the next evening. I text her but her response of “busy this weekend. See you Monday,” wasn’t exactly leading to the start of Mills and Boon romance. I replied apologising for my aloofness the day before and again a curt reply of “it’s fine, see you Monday,” told me that texting her at the present time was about as useful as making a boat from tissue paper.
Friday slipped uneventfully into Saturday. There was still an air of tension between Grant and Stephen and I didn’t think I was making the situation any easier for them. I was so keen to get started on the renovation of my new place started (and I thought I would try and give them some alone time) that I decided to drive round on Saturday morning just to take a look at the outside and see what needed doing.
There were a few tiles missing from the roof and the garden was more like a nature reserve. Looking through the back window the kitchen was worse than I remembered but I figured it would take a couple of weeks, at most, to rip it out and get a new one installed. When I’d seen the house with the hot black woman, I remember the bedrooms being in pretty good state but they were going to need a good week’s worth of tidying before I could move in. I made a mental note to phone the agent again on Monday to see how the contracts were progressing; I’d heard nothing from them so assumed everything was going as it should be.
Being at the new place allowed me to focus on something else for a while and it was a spectacular feeling. I was able to focus on something that wasn’t just my messed up head and start making plans on how to rebuild my life the way I wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I loved staying with the faggots, they were great people to be around but everything about them was just so…gay. I was starting to crave some interaction where I could talk about tits and sport, not having endless conversations about over-synthesised pop stars and the latest fashion.
***
“The guys are coming over at 8,” Stephen said as I got in, “be ready for then.”
“It’s ok, Steve. I’m not coming tonight.”
“Sandra?”
“Nope, just not really feeling it,” I didn’t tell him the bit about me thinking my life had become too gay.
“Oh, ok then. We’ll you can join us for drinks here before we go.”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
The usual bunch arrived at 8; we had a few beers and shot the shit a little. When they went to leave Matt looked a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to join them at the bar. He tried to persuade me but I told him that he didn’t need some old straight guy cramping his style. After they left at around 11, I put on the TV and watched an old Stallone film that was being shown. Mindless violence was just what I needed.
I headed to bed about one and fell quickly into a beer induced sleep only to be woken up about two hours later by a drunken Matt swaying in the doorway.
“Ernie…Oh…Ernie,” he sang.
“What the fuck Matt? It’s gone 3am!”
“I don’t want to sleep on the couch, can I stay here?”
I didn’t think it was a good idea but my years of experience have taught me that it’s absolutely pointless arguing with a drunken person.
“Yeah, sure. Just hurry up and let me sleep.”
In the silhouette of the doorway, with the light behind him, I watched him stumble all over the place as he removed his shoes. He finally worked out the leaning on the doorframe would help him balance as he took of his jeans and t-shirt. In just his boxers and socks, he jumped into bed.
“Shit, you stink of alcohol” I laughed.
“Sorry, heavy night.”
“It’s ok, just get to sleep and don’t wriggle too much- I’m tired. Good night.”
“Night, Ernelialalalala” he said and then he rolled over and kissed me mockingly on the cheek.
We lay there for a few minutes and he broke silence again. “Ernie,” he whispered, “you’ve not read me the rules, does that mean they’re not in play tonight?”
“They’re always in play. I’m going to laminate them and stick them above the bed!”
“You’re cute,” he said as he rolled over and fell asleep. Not long after, I did too.
I awoke soon after and my dick was as hard as a rock. In the hazy half-awake state I was in, I could feel myself stroking it involuntarily. It didn’t feel right though, something about it felt odd and unfamiliar.
I stopped moving my hand yet the motion on my cock continued its steady pace. Slowly sliding up and down the shaft and twisting as it reached the head, I felt tingly all over but couldn’t quite work out what was going on. Suddenly, as if by a delayed reaction the sensation on my dick slowed and then ceased.
“What have you stopped for?” Matt whispered- sounding confused, “I was enjoying that.”
erasfred
Virgin
Ah Where was his hand. Brilliant writing. Love the story.
harry113
JUB Addict
Ha ha ha!!
Wonderful, Thanks
More please
Harry
Wonderful, Thanks
More please
Harry
Dear Nick, aka Jobbio,
I don't know why you berate yourself so. This wasn't a shit chapter at all.
Lots of life happens between the hot moments or the active action.
This was a pretty busy with life chapter -- and full of all of the angst our poor Ernesto is feeling about his new diagnosis of sorts.
And THEN, the quite interesting ending sentences. My my my. Whatever could be happening. It definitely brings to mind a song from a Rock Opera of my generation by The Who.
[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_Qbidac8J8[/ame]
The chapter was quite well done. You've nothing to apologize for.
Fellow Readers- If you haven't yet, please take a moment to RATE THIS THREAD!
At the top of the page on the right. Let others know by the star rating how you feel about the story our good Jobbio is crafting for us!
I don't know why you berate yourself so. This wasn't a shit chapter at all.
Lots of life happens between the hot moments or the active action.
This was a pretty busy with life chapter -- and full of all of the angst our poor Ernesto is feeling about his new diagnosis of sorts.
And THEN, the quite interesting ending sentences. My my my. Whatever could be happening. It definitely brings to mind a song from a Rock Opera of my generation by The Who.
[ame]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-_Qbidac8J8[/ame]
The chapter was quite well done. You've nothing to apologize for.
Fellow Readers- If you haven't yet, please take a moment to RATE THIS THREAD!
At the top of the page on the right. Let others know by the star rating how you feel about the story our good Jobbio is crafting for us!
oldbigballs
Virgin
really liking this story, can't wait for the sex!!!!!!!!!
