I wrote a couple of short original stories to get me going. This was my first ever story.
The Other
Man
I’d been the
other man for twenty years. Always alone at Christmas and New Year, although
that wasn’t quite the truth; I wasn’t really alone, I just wasn’t with him.
Sometimes, if there wasn’t a family crisis, I got a birthday treat and we spent
it together. Occasionally, we’d even gone out together, to a restaurant, if he
was in Leeds and didn’t need to worry who might see him. We’d make love all
night in an anonymous hotel room, lying between Egyptian cotton sheets, and I’d
allow myself to pretend that we were together for real. I’d scream out his name
just because I could, for he was mine for now, not theirs.
People knew
I was gay. My family knew, my friends knew, and my work colleagues knew. I
didn’t hide it; I just hid him, because that’s what he wanted. Today though,
everything was different: I hoped it was the start of something new, and that
I’d made the right decision. I starred at the only photograph we’d had taken
together and thought back to the moment we’d met.
It was Fresher’s
Week at a red brick university in the north of England, 1992. I’d been sent to
the bar by the lads from my house. There were five of them, definitely a mixed
bunch, and we’d decided to come out to the university bar to see what it was
like. It felt strange being away from home for the first time. I was eighteen
and gay, facing a whole new world of possibilities. As I tried to balance five
lagers on a tray, my elbow was knocked from the side and I nearly dropped them
all.
“For fuck’s
sake, watch what you’re doing,” I’d said. Then I turned and found I was looking
into pale green eyes; I wasn’t even sure that eyes could be that colour. The
face was freckled and the hair the brightest red I’d ever seen.
“Sorry,” the
redhead replied in a broad Scottish accent. He said something else as well but
I hadn’t managed to understand any of it.
“That’s
alright,” I shouted. “No harm done. I’d better get these back to the others
before they send out a search party. Is it always this crowded in here?”
“No idea,
this is the first time I’ve been in. My girlfriend said that we needed to
mingle, and it’s cheaper in here than the pub.”
I remember
that I’d sighed to myself. He was straight, obviously. But I couldn’t work out
why I was disappointed, because there was no way this bloke could be considered
to be my type. I preferred them to be tall, dark and handsome, but I’d been
known to settle for short, blonde and presentable, but ginger, no, I’d never
been there. So why was I wondering if this boy’s cock was surrounded by hair
the same colour as that upon his head?
“My name’s Lewis,”
I said. “I’m sharing a house with those four over there, just off campus. I’m
doing English and Drama. What are you doing?” This all came out in a rush.
“Mechanical
engineering, and I’m Hamish, by the way.” He was shouting over the noise in the
bar. “We’d better get away from here. I think we’re blocking access. I’ll make
a path for you to follow.”
I grabbed
the tray and followed. Hamish was about my height, but stockier. I tried to get
a look at his arse, but we were so close I couldn’t. We reached a clearing and
parted company. I went back to the others. Every so often I saw him again
through the crowds. The girl he was with was short and dainty, with blonde hair
cut into a fashionable, and probably very expensive, style. She looked as if
she’d never eaten anything that contained more than a few calories in her life,
and as if she should have a designer dog tucked into her oversized handbag.
Once or twice our eyes met across the room and I realised that Hamish must have
been staring at me first. I smiled at him, and he turned away.
It was a big
campus, and there was no reason we should meet again. The Arts building was at
the opposite end of the campus from engineering, and yet there I was, sitting
on a bench outside the union building, eating a pasty, when I saw him again a
few days later.
“Hi! Getting
some lunch then?” Hamish said. He was on his own.
“Sorry, I
didn’t get all of that. Your accent; it’s a bit broad. Where are you from?” I
replied.
“Small town
called Oban, on the North West coast. I’ll try and speak slowly. Mind you,
you’ve got a bit of an accent yourself.”
I suppose I
was a bit ooh ar. “I’m from a small town too, small town Somerset, in south-west
England, a place called Cannington.” I explained.
We sat and
talked until Hamish had to get to a lecture. I watched him leave, and decided
that he did indeed have a nice arse.
Somehow, we
began to meet regularly from then onwards. If Hamish was alone, we’d get a
coffee and something to eat before either of us had to go to a tutorial or
lecture. If Hamish had Chloe with him, he’d just smile and walk past, and I’d
watch him go and wonder why he never introduced me. Only a few weeks later, I
found out why.
“Chloe’s
gone home for the weekend,” Hamish said a month into the term. We were in the Refectory,
as was usual for a Friday. “D’you fancy seeing “Reservoir Dogs”?” he’d asked. It
wasn’t the type of film I usually bothered to watch, but this way I could kill
two birds with one stone, do a review for my course, and get to spend time
alone in the dark with Hamish.
“Yeah, why
not?” I replied casually.
We met outside
the cinema. I enjoyed the film, despite the fact that I’d never really been a fan
of violence. Afterwards, we went back to the flat Hamish shared with Chloe,
buying fish and chips on the way. Somehow, I knew what would happen, so when
Hamish kissed me I kissed him back. Clothes were removed at record speed, and I
discovered pretty quickly that the red hair extended everywhere. He pushed face
me down on to the bed and I let him. I wanted this as much as he appeared to
do.
“God, you’re
gorgeous,” he said into my ear. “I want to fuck you.” I managed to turn my head
and say, “Please, just get on with it”. I felt Hamish kiss down my spine and
then into my crack. My cheeks were parted and I felt his tongue heading towards
my hole. I know I shivered in anticipation. Hamish delved further. I remember
that I tried to regain a level of calm, but failed miserably as he continued to
probe. Instead I whimpered, actually whimpered, which was something I rarely
did.
“Like that.
do you?” Hamish had asked.
“Uh-huh,” I
managed to say. I heard a drawer open and then a cap. Suddenly a finger was
pushing inside me. I pushed back to meet it, desperate to feel more. Another
finger followed and then a third. It burned a bit but, as Hamish found that
bundle of nerves inside me, I cried out. All at once the fingers were replaced
by a cock. It was glorious, feeling so full, feeling the weight of someone on
top of me. Hamish spoke constantly, telling me how good this was, how tight my
arse was, and how he was going to make me come. I raised myself up so I could
pump my own cock. We quickly developed a rhythm until I found myself spilling
all over my hand and the bed. Hamish made a whooping noise as he came inside me.
He stayed there for a little while as we both tried to regain our composure, then
I heard him cross the room and turned to look where he’d gone. When he returned
with the wet wipes he began to clean up immediately, in silence. I wondered
what to say; what was going on here? Was Chloe really his girlfriend? Did she
know that Hamish was bisexual? Was I going to have to put this down to
experience? And the biggest question of all I found myself thinking was, what were these feelings my brain was shouting
at me about, because I remember it seemed to be telling me that this wasn’t
just about the sex, good though it was. There was more to this; I knew then and
there that I wanted more, much more. I wondered if we were going to sleep
together after this, or if he’d expect me to go. In the end we stayed in all
the next day and I discovered that Hamish had some imagination. He was
obviously a binge eater when it came to sex, which is why I was completely flummoxed,
when at ten the following night, Hamish asked me to leave.
“It’s dark
now so you can get out without anyone seeing. Chloe will be back tomorrow, and
I need time to clear up,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“Remove the
evidence, you mean?” I replied tersely.
“Look, I
didn’t promise you anything,” Hamish retorted.
“No, you
didn’t, that’s true.” I turned round to face him. “What the hell is going on
here, Hamish? You and Chloe? Does she know that you fancy men? Or is this some
deep dark secret?”
“I’m not gay,
if that’s what you think! I love Chloe, and we’re going to get married. This is
just something I have to do every so often when I’ve an itch to scratch.”
So that’s
all I was, and it’s who I became. I let it happen. We’d meet and have incredible
sex whenever we could. Occasionally, this was at their flat or, more accurately,
Chloe’s flat. Her parents had bought it so their daughter didn’t have to slum
it. Sometimes I’d get a text and we’d have a frantic fumble in some pub toilet.
We also used the bathrooms at the union building. We’d hire one each and then
share, checking no-one saw us. He’d take me over the bath and then we’d get in
the tub together. I suppose I knew it killed two birds, because he wouldn’t go
back to her smelling of me. For a while it was rather exciting. I know I should
have found someone else, but I was an addict; I needed him. In between the sex,
I told myself I could live without him; I managed to put him off for six months
when I hit thirty. I told myself I needed a life without him. I even had sex
with other people occasionally, but when he called, I came running. Any name anyone
could call me, I’d called myself, hundreds of times, believe me.
After
university I got a job teaching in the same area. Hamish married Chloe and they
had two beautiful children, Alexander and Eleanor, twins. He worked all over
the country, taking over his father-in-law’s firm and so I saw him every so
often, and I became the other man. If I’d been female I’d have been the ‘mistress’,
I suppose, but there’s no name for me. I was hardly ‘the master’, like
something out of “Doctor Who”.
And that
brings me to today, when he knocked my door unexpectedly and informed me that
Chloe had been killed in an accident three weeks before. He cried himself to
sleep in my arms. Today is my fortieth birthday. When I hadn’t heard from him
for over a month, I’d come to yet another decision. There was a new man at
work. He was there on long term supply. He was tall, dark and handsome, and
he’d invited me out to dinner. He’d been good company and I was interested, so
I’d decided that twenty years was enough, but now, as he lay in my arms in the
early morning light, I knew that any resolution to leave him was never going to
stick. I couldn’t abandon him, not when he needed me. I watched him until he
woke up. He smiled and my heart skipped a beat. Even after twenty years his
smile could still do that to me. I
stroked his forehead. His hair wasn’t as red anymore, but his eyes were still
that strange pale green colour. Over the years his accent had softened, but I
still loved the burr at the back of those words; the way he rolled the letter R
every time he spoke.
“I told the
kids about you,” he said quietly. My reaction was so sudden I nearly fell out
of bed.
“What!
Everything?” I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing. “Why? Why the hell
would you do that to them, while they’re grieving for their mother?”
“Because
they asked. It seems that Chloe knew; that she’d always known about you. She
didn’t die right away, and she told them to tell me it was alright to see you.
She told them not to hate me, that I’d never betrayed them, or her. She’d had a
great life, and they were wonderful children. I think Ellie will be alright;
Alex might take a bit longer. So what d’you think? I’m going to sell the house.
The kids are off to university when they’ve done their Highers. They’re off to
At Andrew’s, and I’ve bought them a house already. I don’t want to rattle
around there. And I love you, Lewis; I’ve always loved you, from the first
moment I saw you, when I knew that my carefully constructed life was never
going to be the same.”
I’d waited
twenty years for this moment. It was the first time he’d said that he loved me.
He was giving me a choice, and a chance to change my whole life. Could we do
it? Could we be together? I had no idea, but when I looked at him, I knew with
all my heart that I wanted to try.
