On My Knees

By Tristram La Roche

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Published By:

Etopia Press

P.O. Box 66

Medford, OR 97501

http://www.etopiapress.com

On My Knees

Copyright © 2011 by Tristram La Roche

ISBN: 978-1-936751-36-5

Edited by Annie Melton

Cover by Valerie Tibbs

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced

in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case

of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Etopia Press electronic publication: June 2011

http://www.etopia-press.net

~ Acknowledgments ~

I am indebted to Julia Kavan for her constant support,
friendship and encouragement, and for giving up so much
of her time to help make this story what it is. Also to Susan
Roebuck for her detailed comments and suggestions on the
original draft. Last but not least, I have to thank my editor,
Annie Melton, for enlightening me in so many ways and for
sorting the wheat from the chaff.

~ Dedication ~

This book is for all gay men and women who have yet to

find themselves.

ChapterOne

London, May 9

“For Christ’s sake, Diana, will you just stop your

nagging for once?”

I’d barely gotten through the door and we were into the

usual evening bust-up. Simply because I’d stopped by the
wine bar on the way to the station. Just a foursome: Alex, the
guy I shared the office with, and a couple of his mates who’d
come up to town for a night in the West End. And me. I’d
long ago lost any eagerness to get home early.

“You’re drinking too much.” Diana’s voice was hoarse,

her face tight. “How much have you spent? Eh? Show me
the bill?” She lunged at me and tried to dig my wallet from
my jacket pocket.

“Get off,” I said, wrapping my arms around me. Four

grown men after work could drink more than she would
ever forgive. “You treat me like a child.”

“You behave like a child.” The neighbors would be able

to hear her now. She craned forwards into a posture that
would have been threatening if only she’d been nine inches
taller. “You’re just…just…”

I hated that. She did it all the time, start a sentence and

not finish it.

“And what are you? Little Miss Goody Two Shoes?”

“I didn’t marry an alcoholic,” she said.

“And I didn’t marry a nagging bitch.” I regretted it

instantly. “Sorry, sorry. Please can we try to have a normal
conversation?”

I was too late. She grabbed the knife off the kitchen

work top and lashed out with it. I leaped back just in time.

“You’re mad. Like your mother. You’re unhinged.” I

struggled not to let the fear show in my voice.

She lunged at me again, her unruly hair falling across

her face. “Well, if I am, it’s you that’s driven me to it.” She
missed. The knife flashed by my side and I brought my
hand down, knocking the blade to the floor. She squeezed
her wrist with her left hand and cursed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to her. “Here, let me

look.”

She stamped on the floor and turned away. “Don’t you

dare touch me.”

I couldn’t win. I took my chance and bolted out the

door. “And if I’m an alcoholic, you’ve driven me to it.”

“Where are you going?” She’d recovered enough to

pursue me to the top step. “That’s just typical of you. Come
back here and deal with it.”

I had no intention of going back. Not then. I swept

down the stairs two at a time and turned the key in the outer
door.

“You bastard!”

No sooner had I heard the words than pain spread

across my shoulders. I toppled but managed to stay upright.
She hurled books down the stairwell at me. I slipped out into
the street as another volume crashed behind me.

I knew she was in no mood to give up. Once I was in the

car, I locked all the doors with the central locking and put

the key in the ignition. Before I was able to pull out of the
parking space, she was down the stairs and into the street,
running at the car with fists in the air. She grabbed the
driver’s door handle just as I accelerated. I didn’t look at her.
I eased the car out of the space, hoping she would let go.
Half-hoping that the wheel would crush her foot.

“Come back! Come back now!” She beat her fists on the

window.

I wasn’t stopping. She leaped back out of the way as the

engine purred and the car turned. As I went down the hill, I
could see her in the mirror, standing in the middle of the
road with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. Well, at
least she was unhurt.

The only thing now was where to go. All our friends

lived on the other side of town, and considering I’d been
drinking, I didn’t dare drive far. Then I remembered that
my gym bag was in the boot. The gym was no more than a
mile away, and the exercise would help my system break
down the alcohol. And work off the misery of another day in
hell.

* * *

There was a certain point in the gym, about halfway up

the staircase, where the smell of sweat mingled with the
aroma of carrot cake, that allegedly healthy comfort food
that was ubiquitous in London at the time. Why anyone
would locate a café on the same floor as the changing rooms
was beyond me. I glanced at the bar area and saw no one.
Quiet tonight. Even the hum of the treadmills on the floor
above was muted. At least I’d be able to get one without
waiting.

The changing room looked like the zookeeper had taken

the chimpanzees there for a day out—towels strewn
everywhere and empty deodorant cans scattered like pins in
a bowling alley. I cleared a space on one of the benches and
swapped my suit for my gym gear.

I was glad the changing room was empty. This was the

first gym I’d ever been to. The first time since school that I’d
found myself changing with other men. I’d been a bit
surprised how uninhibited most of them were, but I decided
it was just me being weird again. When one of them sat
naked on the steps of the sauna in front of me, an old doubt

resurfaced. I couldn’t take my eyes off his cock as it hung
down and touched the step below. So that’s what they
meant by a baby’s arm. I’d left the sauna with a hard on. It
bothered me. It was no more than a doubt, yet it gnawed at
me constantly, like a hamster chewing on the bars to get
out. Since then, I’d tried to avert my eyes in the locker room.

The walls of the warm-up area were mirrored floor to

ceiling. The floor was covered with rubberized mats, which,
if you got your nose close to them, smelled like what I
imagined fish sweat might be. I set about my stretches with
little enthusiasm, stopping every now and then to look at
myself in the mirror. How did I ever get like this? Three
Prozac a day and as many bottles of wine. I’d read that
New Yorkers took Prozac as a happy pill. If it had any effect
on me, it just stopped me getting even worse. So I drank to
be happy. The oldest cure in the book. It had worked for
Churchill when his ‘black dog’ of depression was at his
heels, had it not?

So why was I so damned miserable? The reasons stared

me in the face.

There was, I had concluded, something terribly wrong

with me.

I used to be handsome, in a boyish sort of way. They

said that being married made you fat, wife’s home cooking
and all that. In my case this was not possible. Diana’s food
wouldn’t entice a starving vagrant to cross the road. My
only hope was to stick to my routine and try to shed some
pounds.

Mirrors. They were on the wall at the end of the exercise

room, too, so that you could watch the contortions on your
face while you pounded away on the treadmills and
elliptical trainers. It also meant that you could watch your
fellow sufferers at the same time. Tonight, there was only
one other person there, four machines to my left and
running at full pelt. He was tall with a square jaw and big
dark eyes. He saw me looking at him and his eyes
brightened. I looked away, pretending I’d not seen him.

The timer on the treadmill saved me, its piercing alarm

announcing that my time was up. I grabbed my towel off
the handrail and proceeded to the weights. Not that I was
there to build muscle, but the guy who did my induction
when I first joined said I needed to tone what I had. Ten
minutes later and I was back in the changing room, peeling
off the sodden shorts and squeezing myself into swimming
trunks.

One good thing about the NW3 Health Club was the

swimming pool. It wasn’t much bigger than the pool we’d
had at home when I was in my teens, but it was stylish and
clean. Above all, it was a great way to relax after the strain
of the machines and weights. When you had it all to
yourself, it could have been the Mediterranean.

I always did twenty lengths. I’d just counted the

seventeenth when I heard the door click. As I swam back
towards the shallow end the figure standing on the steps
became clear. The guy off the treadmill, in up to his waist
and splashing his upper arms and shoulders with water. I
made sure not to look in his direction as I counted eighteen
to myself and turned again. Even if he set off now, we would
only pass each other once, face-to-face as it were, and I
would be able to avoid catching his eye.

Twenty. I mounted the steps with a dual sense of

achievement. I ought really to have taken my towel back to
the changing rooms for a shower at that point, but the
Jacuzzi looked so inviting, bubbling away all to itself in the
corner.

My trunks ballooned with the buffeting of the whirlpool

and fizzed when I squeezed them flat. Steam, heavy with

the scent of menthol and eucalyptus, rose around me and
cleared my head. A few minutes of this and I would be as
right as rain. Might even be able to face Diana. I lay back,
stretched out my legs and closed my eyes. Christ, she could
have injured me—killed me. Was it even safe to go back
there? Well, I had nowhere else to go. Even if I had to go
down on my knees and beg.

“Room in there for another?”

My eyes sprang open. The guy had left the pool and

was coming down the steps into the Jacuzzi, steadying
himself on the tubular handrail. I sat up and contracted
myself into as small a space as possible while he located the
seat beneath the foam and settled down.

“Quiet tonight,” he said.

That accent, what was it? There was a hint of

something. What did they call it? Mid-Atlantic?

“Makes a change,” I said, shifting in my seat.

He smiled. I sort of smiled back.

“I’m Attila, by the way.” He leaned forward and offered

his hand.

“Mark.”

His hand was still cool from the swimming pool, his grip

firm. I now noticed the tattoos on both arms, green and
orange serpents entwined around swords or daggers. They
reminded me of my father’s. How I used to tremble when
those arms came towards me, harbingers of pain. I looked
away. Time to get out.

“Well,” I said, climbing the steps. “Might see you

around.”

He nodded and smiled again. I could feel his eyes on my

back as I took my towel and headed towards the door.

The changing room was still deserted, still in a mess. I

dumped my wet towel in the bin and took a clean one from
the rack, then went into the inner sanctum where the
showers, sauna and steam room were. Since everywhere was
empty, I took advantage of the steam. I sucked in the hot,
moist air a few times to clear my lungs. The only sound in
there was the occasional rasp of the steam outlet and the
steady dripping of the condensation. Through the misted
door I could see that someone else had come through from
the changing room.

ChapterTwo

Attila’s outline was unmistakable as it emerged through

the clouds of steam that gathered and tumbled around the
open door. His broad shoulders almost touched both
doorjambs, and he had to duck to avoid banging his head
on the lintel. Against skin as pale as the mist, the serpents on
his arms seemed real. For a moment, I felt they were coming
to get me, just as I’d felt so many times as a child.

He removed the towel from around his waist and folded

it, then laid it on the mosaic-tiled bench. Confronted with his
buttocks, I bowed my head, but from under my brow, I
couldn’t help but notice how his balls hung and rested on
the towel when he sat down, like a well-stuffed coin pouch. I
knew I shouldn’t be looking.

But I wanted to.

Attila inhaled deeply several times before speaking.

“The steam’s good to get your pores open.”

“I guess so,” I said. A silence followed and I listened to

him and the steam inlet breathing one against the other.

“Do you live around here?” he asked after a few

minutes.

I cleared my throat. I hadn’t intended having a

conversation. “Not far away. Just the other side of the
heath.” I paused. Why not make an effort? “And you?”

“Fitzjohn’s Avenue. Do you know it?”

“Oh, yes. I used to live there. Opposite The Tower. Do

you know it? I think it’s been turned into flats now.”

His face beamed at me through the steam. “That’s

where I live. Right at the top, actually. Small world.”

“Yes, indeed it is.” That tower had been derelict for

years. I’d often thought it would be lovely to buy it and do it
up, but I never had the money.

“So, were you in Agnes Court, the place with the

dome?” He was now leaning towards me, elbows resting on
his knees. His cock had slipped off the towel and dangled in
full view.

“Yes,” I said, squeezing my knees together. I willed my

cock to stay down, hoping it would obey for once. “But it

was years ago, when I was a student.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Architecture. For my sins.”

“So you’re a clever chap. Who do you work for?”

“Myself. I’m kind of unemployable.” It wasn’t a lie.

Even my career was a mistake. I should never have gone
into any kind of business. I’d done it to please my father, as
if that had ever been possible, and was now stuck in a rut as
deep as the Grand Canyon.

“I’d better be off,” I said. “Maybe see you around.” I

blushed as I turned to leave. I’d been with Diana so long I’d
started to talk in platitudes.

* * *

I leaped back from the blast of the shower, the water

scalding my shoulder as the pipes emitted superheated
steam. “Shit.”

“Is it hot?” Attila stood naked to my left, ready to enter

the adjacent shower stall.

“Fucking hot! It’s because there’s no one here. There’s

been no water used for a while. They need to get the
thermostat fixed.”

“It’s ok, it’s coming through,” he said, fiddling with the

faucet.

It was still too hot for me, so I rinsed myself off quickly,

rubbed myself down with my towel and left Attila to cook. I
felt a sense of achievement in that I’d managed to get away
without revealing the semi-erect state of my cock. I thought
about the cancelled contracts, the red reminders, and the
calls from the bank to try to forget it.

It’s a fact that I’m slow at doing certain things. Getting

dressed is one of them. I was always the last to be ready
after games lessons at school. Socks are possessed by
demons, sent by the Devil to make me late. The humidity of
a changing room only makes it worse. By the time I’d got
my shirt on and was about to have a go at threading my
legs into my trousers, Attila had come from the shower,
gotten dressed, and was already tying his shoelaces.

He looked up at me. “I’m popping into the George

Washington for a quickie, if you fancy joining me.”

The effects of the alcohol from the earlier session in the

wine bar had worn off, and maybe it would be better to
delay returning home until Diana was in bed. “Why not?” I
said. A couple of drinks with him couldn’t hurt. Deep inside,
I felt a thrill.

“I’ll wait downstairs for you,” he said, zipping up his

bag. “I just need to have a word with reception.”

When I’d finished dressing, sweat poured out of me like

I’d just got off the treadmill. I wiped my brow on the towel
before tossing it into the laundry bin on the way out, but I
was soaked again when I reached the main lobby. Attila was
standing by the door.

“You’re sweating,” he said.

“I know.”

“Be careful you don’t catch cold.”

We walked in silence all of the three minutes to the pub.

At one moment I wondered what I was doing, going for a
drink with a stranger. I really ought to be at home trying to

sort things out. Then again, the situation with Diana never
changed. Row, followed by short-lived peace, followed by
row. As time went on, the rows bunched up closer together
as the peace got squeezed in between. Home life was an
emotional bar code. I needed to face up to the situation, like
my therapist, Jack, kept telling me.

The din inside the pub rushed out and slapped me

across the face as Attila opened the door. I stepped across the
threshold, and the familiar smell of stale ale, spirits and
bodies brought me to my senses.

“What can I get you?” I asked, jostling towards the bar.

“No, I invited you,” he said, reaching out to try and

grab my arm.

“I beat you to it. What’s it to be?” I held a finger in the

air as if to hold the barman in a trance.

“Pint of lager, then.” Attila shrugged. “The next round

is on me, though.”

“Pint of lager and a pint of bitter, please.” I turned to

Attila. “Do you want to try and find a seat?”

He nodded and squeezed into the mass of revelers. He

He nodded and squeezed into the mass of revelers. He

was handsome, even from behind. And maybe dangerous.

The pub was full. I took the drinks and fought my way

in the direction Attila had gone, drenching my hands as the
beer sloshed over the tops of the glasses while I bounced off
the tightly packed patrons. I was surprised to see him sitting
at a tiny round table near the cigarette machine.

“That was lucky,” I said, letting him take a glass from

me. “Cheers!”

“Cheers! Nice to meet you.”

I sat on the stool and looked away, surveying the crowd

for signs of anyone I might know while wiping my hands on
a tissue. My stomach was as wound up tight as a ball of
string.

“I haven’t seen you at the gym before.” Attila broke yet

another silence. “Have you been a member for long?”

“About three months. Not long.”

“Strange, not to have bumped into each other.”

“Well, I normally go earlier.” I was being awkward

again. I straightened myself up and looked at him. My heart

thumped against my ribs. “If you generally go around this
time, that would explain it.” I smiled and took another gulp
from my glass. My hand shook. “So, what do you do for a
living?” I knew he couldn’t be a clerk, the address was a
giveaway.

“I’m in the car business.”

“Oh?” That was a disappointment. A car salesman.

“How interesting.”

“Well,” he said, draining his glass, “it’s a job. I was in

the States for a while. When I came back it seemed logical to
do the same sort of thing.”

“So that’s your accent.” I’d noticed his velvety voice

earlier.

“What accent?”

“You have an accent. It’s vaguely American. Actually,

you sound a bit like…what’s his name…Lloyd Grossman.” I
smiled.

“Thanks. Not sure how to take that,” he said. “Can’t

say I’m a fan.”

“No, nor me. Sorry, no offence intended, but you do

sound a bit like him.”

There was a frigid pause. I knew I was being a bit stand-

offish, but I couldn’t help it. It was my way of keeping
dangerous situations at bay. This time, though, I wasn’t so
sure I wanted to play safe.

“Let me get you another.” Attila picked up his empty

glass and disappeared into the crowd before I could object.

The pub was clearing out already. The Cartier on my

wrist was in need of a new battery. It had been for months. I
set it each morning and it fell behind as the day wore on. As
soon as I got some money in I’d have to get it done. My eyes
searched in vain for a clock. After this next pint I really
would have to go. It was surely getting on towards eleven.

“There we are,” said Attila, placing a pint of beer in

front of me “It was bitter, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s fine,” I said and took a sip. “I do drink

anything, though.”

“OK. It’s just that sometimes I get things wrong. I’m

always putting my foot in it.”

“Don’t worry. It’s perfect.” So was he, I thought.

“One thing I do appreciate is European beer.” He held

his glass to the light and peered into it. “American stuff is
like fizzy piss.”

“How long were you there?”

“Eight years.”

“Eight years! The way you said a while I thought

maybe a year or two.” I drank more beer. “How did you get
the work permit? I remember all the trouble about the
bloody green card when I wanted to stay in New York.”

“Ah, well, I don’t have a problem. My dad worked for

the American government and all the family got permanent
green cards. Actually, I have a US passport now. And
British, of course.”

He was sounding rather more interesting than your

usual car salesman, and when my beer was nearing its end
and pangs of hunger began to finger my stomach, I had an
idea.

“Dinner waiting for you at home, is it?” I asked. I could

feel the blood rushing to my head. And to my cock. I

feel the blood rushing to my head. And to my cock. I
couldn’t believe I was doing this.

Attila swallowed the last of his beer, shaking his head.

He put his glass down, wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand, and said, “Not at all. Haven’t even thought about it.”

“There’s a good Italian ’round the corner. Stays open

late. I was thinking of popping in, if you fancy joining me?”

His big eyes widened. “Yes, I’d like that.”

We walked side by side, chatting about nothing in

particular. Or, perhaps, I didn’t pay enough attention to
what he was saying. My mind was somewhere between that
place I called home and a place I’d never been before.
Something was going on inside me and I effervesced with
curiosity.

ChapterThree

I’d not seen anyone put food away like Attila. He

appeared to inhale it off his plate rather than eat it. No
sooner was the starter laid before him than it had gone.

“Hungry?” I asked, watching the last ribbon of pasta

levitate from the dish and vanish between his lips.

He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “Starving. I

always seem to be ravenous after the gym.”

“I think the idea is not to pile the calories back on

straight away.” Mind you, he didn’t have a weight problem.
His build seemed perfect for someone six feet or more in
height. I took a sip of the Chianti.

“You into wine?” he asked.

“Too much. I think I spend more on wine in a month

than on the mortgage repayments. I’m always getting
nagged about it.”

“Nagged? Who by?”

“The wife.”

He glanced at the ring on my finger then averted his

eyes. “So,” he said, his voice lower than before. “You

are

married.” He toyed with his glass. “I noticed the ring in the
gym, but you can’t always be sure these days.” His
disappointment aroused me.

“That I am.”

“Happily?”

Happily? What sort of a question was that? An

affirmation was somewhere between my teeth and my
tongue, and that’s where it stayed. No one had asked me
that before. Come to think of it, no one had ever been the
least bit concerned with my happiness as far as I could
remember. A childhood on edge trying to ensure my father
was happy so he wouldn’t fly off the handle. The last few
years of walking on eggshells; Diana was not the easiest of
people to satisfy. Yet I’d assumed I was a happily married
man. Those nagging doubts had all stayed where they
belonged, locked in the bottom drawer of my brain. But
instinct told me to be careful now. Locks could be opened by
someone with the right key.

I swallowed a large gulp of wine. “No.”

There. I’d said it and I felt so light that I held onto the

table to stop myself floating to the ceiling. Attila lifted his
eyes and looked at me again.

“So, why do you stay?” he asked.

“What else would I do?”

“Leave. If you’re not happy, why be miserable?”

“It’s not so easy, you know.” I unwrapped a toothpick

and snapped it in two.

“I was in a depressing relationship in the States. That’s

why I came back.”

I laughed. “I don’t envy you going through an

American divorce. Will you have anything left?”

“We weren’t married. We’d been together six years but

he turned into a control freak. I had to get out.”

So, he was gay. Maybe I had already gone too far. On

the other hand, my curiosity was close to breaking point.
“And that’s why there was no dinner waiting at home,” I

said, snapping another toothpick.

“But why is there no dinner waiting for you?”

“Ah, well. We had a row. Another row, I should say.

Christ, she even came at me with a knife.” I organized the
fragments of toothpick into a neat pile on the table.

“Jesus. I wouldn’t put up with that. Report her or

something.”

“For what?” I shook my head and stuffed my hands

into my pockets. “You’ve been away too long. Do you think
the police give a damn about domestics? If she’d actually
stabbed me, maybe. If I’d stabbed her, surely. But for a
row?”

Attila reached across the table to where my hand had

been. “Not so loud. People are listening.”

“Well, fuck them.”

“You’re drunk. Jesus, we only had one bottle between

us.”

“And the rest!” I could hear my own voice loud and

sloppy above the muted chatter of late diners.

“You’ve been on the booze before you came to the gym.

No way could this hit you like that. Come on.” He pushed
his chair back and called for the bill, then came over and
took me by the arm. “Let’s get you out into the fresh air.”

I stumbled as he guided me through the door and onto

the pavement, plaiting my legs in an attempt to stay upright
as I felt for my car keys. Triumphant, I dangled them in the
air.

“You can’t drive.” His shocked expression almost

knocked me over.

“Why not? I’m perfectly OK.”

“No you’re bloody not.” He locked his arm through

mine and started to walk. Leaning against his solid frame, I
felt so secure. Safe. “We’ll find you a taxi on Haverstock
Hill.”

I had no cash for a taxi. “No, no, not a taxi. Please not a

taxi.”

“Why ever not? You scared of them?”

“No. I’m scared of her. If I turn up in a taxi she’ll know

I’ve been drinking.” Even in my condition, I realized that I
sounded feeble.

Attila’s laugh echoed off the brick façades of the

Edwardian terraced houses. “She won’t need the taxi clue.”

“Why don’t I come and sober up at your place?”

“If you’re sure.” His voice mellowed. He seemed to

welcome the idea.

“Yes. Better late than legless. At least in this case.”

He spun me around and set off walking in the opposite

direction, back towards the gym. “My car is up here,” he
said, dragging me along.

As we rounded the corner into Belsize Park Gardens, a

flash of amber lights and the shrill tone of an alarm awoke a
silver Mercedes coupé among the column of sleeping cars.
Attila opened the passenger door and shoved me in, his
hand on my head like a policeman handling a common
criminal.

“Mind your fingers,” he said, pushing the door closed.

“Nice car,” I said, as he settled himself into the driver’s

seat next to me. “So, you sell Mercs.”

“Not personally. I couldn’t sell water in the desert.”

“But—”

“I’m a manager. My background is in service.” The

engine was barely audible as he swung the car out into the
road and accelerated towards the junction with Belsize Park.
“I guess you’d call it customer service, these days. Keeping
the spoiled bastards happy.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” I said. “I’ve spent my life

keeping other people happy.”

I had the sensation that we were traveling too fast down

Buckland Crescent. The parked cars on either side whizzed
past in a haze. I closed my eyes but my head spun and my
stomach lurched.

“Lemme out.” I got the words out and clamped my jaw

shut.

Attila pulled over by the side of the road as I fumbled

for the door catch. He leaned over and pushed the door
open. I flew out of the car towards an adjacent tree and
ejected my dinner over its ancient bark.

“Sorry,” I said, cleaning myself up with a tissue.

“Stopped just in time.”

“You OK?” He had one hand on the steering wheel and

peered at me across the car’s interior. There was a warmth in
his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. His mouth turned up
slightly at one corner and his brow furrowed. I wanted him
to take me in his arms.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

“It’ll do you good. You’ll feel better in a bit. Come on,

get in. Just don’t mess my car seats up.”

* * *

The Tower loomed up above the tree-lined avenue just

as I remembered it. The impenetrable jungle that had been
the garden was now a neatly manicured affair that softened
parking spaces behind fashionable bamboo and topiary.
Expensive I Guzzini lighting picked out the pathway and
the broad steps up to the front door.

“You’ll be pleased to know that they installed an

elevator when they did the place up,” Attila said, striding
across the hallway towards a silver tube, which rose from
the black and white checkered floor like a giant Parker pen.
“Not a big one, but it makes life bearable.”

“Intimate,” I said as he pressed against me to allow the

lift door to close. I could feel his breath, warm and somehow
soothing against my forehead. His clothes smelled of the
city, but there was a faint trace of Givenchy mingled with
the scent of shower gel from the gym. My stomach turned
over, and I knew it was not entirely a reaction to the vertical
motion of the elevator.

We spilled out into a compact, hexagonal hallway. The

brilliant white décor intensified the colors of the abstract
paintings that hung on the walls.

“Here we are,” he said, opening a solitary door. “Make

yourself at home and I’ll get some coffee on the go.”

For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. The high-

ceilinged gothic architecture contrasted with modern
furniture, sculpture, and paintings perfectly. “Wow.”

“Oh, you like it?”

“Like it? Jesus, it’s fantastic. Who wouldn’t like it?”

Diana, I thought.

“You’d be surprised. Some think you can’t mix

traditional with modern.”

“They’re crazy. I love putting old and new together.” I

circumnavigated the Mies chairs and the Le Corbusier
chaise longue to get a better look at the hundreds of books
stacked as neatly as in any library. “I can see you’re into
design.”

Attila was now in the kitchen and I could hear coffee

beans being ground.

“Smells good,” I said, watching from the doorway. “No

milk for me.”

“Espresso?”

“Perfect.” Indeed, so much was perfect. I couldn’t

remember when I had felt so relaxed. Yet, what I couldn’t
quite come to grips with was what I was doing here in the
first place. I knew, of course, that I was here to sober up
because I’d drunk too much. But had I gone straight home

from the gym, the rest wouldn’t have happened. I would by
now be back in the flat, fully submerged in a blazing row
with Diana. For the first time in my life, I was listening to
what I wanted.

“Sugar?”

“What?” The question dragged me back to the here and

now. “Oh, yes. Two, please.” I watched him place the two
tiny white cups on a tray and stood back to let him pass.

He put the tray down on the corner of a glass dining

table and pulled out two chairs. He sat down, drained his
cup, and smiled. “You look a mess.”

“Do I?” I looked myself up and down, sticking my legs

out in front of me to see my shoes. There was sick in the left
trouser turn up and a stain on my tie. “Sorry,” I said with a
shrug.

“Forget it. Here, drink your coffee.” He slid the cup

towards me and stood up. “I’ll get you a robe. I know you’re
going to love my shower.”

ChapterFour

I followed Attila up a spiral staircase wide enough for

two. My eyes gorged on the high, beamed ceiling and the
cat’s cradle of cables and halogen lights. A bed, big enough
to hold a party in, lay in the middle of the room under a
skylight and faced a full-length window that looked out over
the tops of the trees. The bed head was formed by a low wall
behind which, at some distance, stood a row of doors. Attila
was rattling around in one of these concealed wardrobes.

“Here,” he said, throwing a black bathrobe onto the

bed. “You can wear this while I try to clean up your suit.”

I looked at the robe, not entirely sure what to do.

“Well get on with it. Get out of those clothes and come

here.” He opened another of the doors and vanished out of
sight.

As I tugged at my tie and hopped around the room

trying to rid myself of my trousers, the sound of rushing
water came from the adjacent room. My hands hovered
over the robe but, despite my modesty, it seemed stupid and

ungrateful to risk contaminating it. I would leave it for when
I was clean. I took a deep breath and followed the sounds of
the bathroom.

The shower was almost as big as my entire bathroom

back at home—all enclosed with clear glass, supported by
the most discreet chrome fittings. Water raced out in every
direction from the ceiling and walls, like an explosion in a
waterworks.

“Have a good scrub up. When you’re done just turn

that big knob on the wall.” With that, Attila shut me in the
glass box.

The water cascaded down the inside of the

compartment, but I could make him out as he busied
himself about the bathroom. He removed his clothes and
dropped them into something by the door. His body was so
well toned. That’s how I was going to look after six months
of working out. I pinched at my stomach, flabby with years
of neglect. I wondered what a six-pack felt like and wished I
could reach out and run my hand over Attila’s.

He bent over the basin and started brushing his teeth,

his buttocks pointing towards me like two perfect bubbles
pressed together. Had mine ever looked like that? My

fingers traced his outline in the steam.

“Use the shower gel,” he said, drying his face on a

towel. “There’s plenty. Get that filth off.” He barked the
words like a sergeant major and left me alone.

When I turned to reach for the bottle of Paco Rabanne

gel, I felt the telltale signs of an erection, that familiar and
gentle solidification, and was surprised to find my cock at
half-mast. I covered myself in the luxurious foam, scrubbing
at my face and delving into the crevices around my nose
and ears, concentrating on the cleaning job. I massaged my
scalp with my fingers and worked the shampoo into every
strand of hair.

As the steaming water washed away the bubbles, I

bowed my head so that the full force of the shower beat
against the back of my neck. The creamy torrent gushed
along the channel in the floor like a white gash against the
dark tiles, and gurgled down the drain, taking with it the
last remnants of the day. Yet, it seemed to me at that
moment, that this shower was a kind of rite of passage,
cleansing me of years of unhelpful clutter. I felt happy for
the first time in ages, and when I turned off the faucet, I
knew, deep down and almost subconsciously, that my life

would never be the same again. I was ready to let anything
happen.

* * *

As I emerged from the bathroom to claim the robe,

Attila returned with my clothes on a hanger.

“I’ve cleaned them up as best I can, but you’ll need to

get the suit to the cleaner’s tomorrow.”

“Today.” It was by now half-past one in the morning.

“You’re right. Jesus, I need to get some sleep. I have a

meeting first thing in the morning.” He hung my clothes on
the back of the door and sat on the bed. “What are you
going to do?”

“I suppose I’d better be on my way. Look, thanks for -

well, you know.” I shrugged my shoulders and felt my
cheeks flush.

“Mark, don’t take this the wrong way, but if you prefer

to sleep here it’s fine. As you see, there’s bags of room in the
bed. I’ll just need you out on the dot in the morning.”

I didn’t need to think. To leave this peace behind and

face Diana was something I would have to do eventually,
but it could be postponed. “If you’re sure.”

“It’s fine, but—how can I put this - I need you to

promise that you won’t say anything to your wife about me.
I don’t want to get dragged into your situation.” He lay
back against the pillows and swung his legs onto the bed.

“I won’t say anything, don’t worry.” I walked round to

the other side of the bed, removed my robe, and slipped
under the duvet. “But, I don’t see the problem. How could
you get dragged in?”

Attila shed his robe and pulled the duvet over himself,

then turned onto his side so that he was facing me. Despite
the distance between us, I felt an electric charge surge from
him across the bed. My skin tingled and the top of my head
felt like it was going to explode.

“It’s too easy to get blamed for breaking up a marriage.

I don’t want that, neither the blame nor the responsibility.”

I turned towards him. “What are you talking about? I

don’t see how you could be.”

“Mark, I’m not daft. I know you’re attracted to me—”

“Oh, come off it.” I sat up, shaking my head. Why was

I denying it? I knew it was true. Admitting it would not be
easy, but the time had come to stop living a lie. I was
terrified of taking the step, though take it I must.

“You sure? One hundred percent sure?” He looked at

me as if expecting an answer—that turned up corner of the
mouth and arched eyebrow—but went on without waiting
for it. “I fancied you as soon as I saw you in the gym. You’re
a very handsome man—”

I laughed. “You must be blind.”

“You are.” His eyes softened.

“Diana says I’m big, fat, and ugly.”

“She’s a fool, then.” He propped himself on an elbow.

“When I saw you I felt something stir in me for the first time
since I came back from the States. The thing is, the signals
you gave out convinced me you were gay too.”

I was unable to catch my breath. An iceberg slammed

into me and exploded, showering my mind with shards of
cold, distant memories, things felt but unseen. Or, at least, I
had thought unseen. I cleared my throat. “I’ve never
thought about being gay. It was never an option, not
really.”

“How do you mean?”

“My parents are very narrow-minded. Bigoted. I grew

up in the north, a small town, where—remember I’m
talking about the sixties - things like homosexuality just
weren’t discussed. My life was planned for me. But…”

My mind wandered, raking over the past yet again in

search of clues.

“But?” Attila was now sitting cross-legged, the duvet

drooping between his knees. His broad shoulders looked
strong enough to carry two. His left eyebrow crouched over
his eye and he leaned towards me.

“Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking, even at

primary school some of the kids used to call me ‘puff’. I
didn’t even know what it meant.”

“I’m sorry.” He leaned forwards and reached out to me,

resting his fingers on my arm. “It must have been rough.
And I went rushing in like a commando.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I mean, it’s a bit of

a surprise, but it does make sense.”

“How do you mean?”

“You know, the way you see yourself is not the way

others see you.” I lay back and put my hands under my
head, staring at the skylight to avoid looking him in the
eyes. “I’ve been living a straight life, believing—I mean
really believing—that it was what I wanted, but also
convincing myself that people saw me as I wanted to be
seen. And now, you telling me that I gave off signals to you,
that makes me wonder what exactly others have been
picking up all these years.” The inside of my head was all
messed up.

“It would seem logical, I agree. Has no one ever said

anything, hinted at anything?”

“Nope. Not a soul. And”—I turned onto my elbow to

look at him now— “what I don’t get is that Diana hasn’t
suspected anything.”

“Have you given her cause to?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you keep her happy? In bed?”

“Bah! I don’t think she’d mind if we never had sex.” I

turned the subject over in my mind. “The sex is adequate. I
don’t have any problems keeping it up with her, if that’s
what you’re getting at. But, if you felt my signals—”

“Don’t forget, I know what to look for.” He shuffled

closer. “Have you had any gay experiences, ever?”

“None. Plenty of girlfriends, though.” I laughed and sat

up to face him. “I once got a hard on in the school showers
when I caught the games teacher wanking.”

“Did you? I mean, was he?”

“Yeah. He thought no one could see him. The teachers

had their own shower but the door was open. His cock
looked so big I couldn’t take my eyes off it, white as a candle
with a crimson head.”

“Did he see you?”

“No, thank God. I’d have died of embarrassment. I

often think about it, though, because he left teaching to
become a priest.” I laughed and Attila joined in.

“I’d say, if that gave you a hard on, you ought to have

known.”

“Maybe. But I’ve told you, it just wasn’t…real. I never

even understood what it was all about, gay, homo, whatever
you want to call it.” I rummaged through my head again,
then looked Attila in the eyes. They had narrowed. I could
see that he cared, that he felt my pain. “Thank you.”

His eyebrows arched upwards. “For what?”

“If I hadn’t bumped into you tonight…”

“Now, hang on.” He swung round and got out of the

bed, giving me another view of that firm arse as he walked
over to a cabinet on the far side of the room. “I came after
you and it was a mistake.” He returned with two tumblers
of amber liquid and gave one to me. He was certainly not
lacking in self-confidence, standing there with his cock and
balls in full view. I wanted to reach out and touch them and
I felt myself getting hard.

The whisky burned its way down and I coughed. “More

alcohol? I thought you brought me here to sober up?”

“You’re sober. This will help you sleep and make sure

you don’t have a hangover in the morning.” He drained his
glass, set it on the bedside table, and climbed under the
duvet again.

“Why do you say it was a mistake?” I contemplated the

contents of my glass and felt a melancholy brewing.

“Because you’re not sure. I thought you were. That’s a

big mistake if ever I knew one.” He lay on his back with his
hands under his head, staring at the ceiling.

I finished my whisky in one gulp and shuffled closer to

him. I lay down on my side so that my face was near his
armpit. The faint smell of his skin made the root of my cock
tingle. “I dunno,” I said, my hand hovering over his chest. “I
can feel something and it’s good.” I propped myself on my
left elbow and traced his abdominal muscles with the fingers
of my right hand. They were smooth as silk yet firm, like
river stones toned by the gentle flow of water. “How will I
know if I don’t try?”

Attila didn’t move as my fingers walked down the faint

avenue of hair that ran from his navel under the cover of the
duvet. When my hand found his cock, it was already
swelling and it twitched against my little finger. He closed
his eyes and I threw back the duvet to get a clear view. He
was hard and I encircled his shaft with my hand. I felt
another surge of excitement when the tips of my fingers and
thumb failed to meet around the shaft. I shuffled down the
bed to get a closer look and gently peeled his foreskin back
to reveal a pristine pink head. I stroked it, my touch as light
as feathers, and felt my desire burn like a furnace. When a
pearl of milky fluid appeared at the summit, I opened my
mouth and took him in.

Attila flinched, then took my head in his hands and

lifted me off. “No,” he said. “Stop.” He pushed me to one
side and sat up on the edge of the bed with his back to me.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t get involved with a married man.”

* * *

I didn’t sleep at all that night. I lay in the dark listening

to his noises as he drifted off. Against the light from his

alarm clock, I watched his chest rise and fall until his breaths
were so gentle there was barely a movement. The sight of his
muscular body stirred me like no woman’s had ever done. It
felt so right. So comfortable. Safe. Already I knew that I
wanted him, and I would do whatever it took to get him.

ChapterFive

The early morning was fresh with a gentle breeze. The

walk from Attila’s flat back to my car on the other side of
Belsize Park blew away all remaining cobwebs. Despite the
lack of sleep, I buzzed with excitement and couldn’t wait to
tackle the day. I felt his business card in my pocket and
rubbed it between my fingers. That little piece of card
represented hope. Why would he have given it to me if he
didn’t want to see me again?

I switched on my cell phone. How many times would

Diana have tried to get me? There was a call from Alex at
22.32 the night before. He’d left a voice message, but was
very drunk and his words were inaudible against the
background din. It was the only one. Diana hadn’t even
tried to reach me. The initial relief gave way to concern. She
always pestered me after a row, and despite the lack of love
between us, I worried that she may have done something
foolish. I jumped into the car and headed towards home.

As I approached the flat, I was relieved that the place

was still standing. I’d had visions of a burned out shell with
blue and white police tape strung across the pavement. I

swung the car into the gap where I’d been parked the
evening before and took a deep breath as I strode towards
our door. The books she’d hurled at me lay at the foot of the
stairs, their covers open to reveal bent and torn pages. At
least she hadn’t taken the knife to herself; I could hear her
crashing around in the kitchen.

A mug hissed past my head and smashed into the wall

behind me as I got halfway up the stairs. I automatically
turned to look and saw brown liquid trickle down the wall. I
heard Diana’s footsteps on the tiled floor and made my way
to the top of the stairs before she had chance to rearm.

“We need to talk,” I said, venturing into the kitchen.

“Get out.” She didn’t even turn to look at me. She

leaned on the counter, staring out of the window. “Just get
out and don’t come back.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She’d said it a hundred times in the past. I wondered,

looking at the crumpled back of her blue and white print
frock, if she’d ever find anyone else if I left.

“Don’t you tell me what I mean. Don’t you dare to tell

me anything.” She turned towards me, her hands
trembling.

“I’m going to get changed.” I headed for the door and

made my way to the stair. She was behind me when I
reached the first step, her fists pounding into my back.

“You bastard. Where have you been all night? I’ve been

out of my mind.” She began to sob and the beating stopped.

“Don’t come that.” It was my turn to be angry. I turned

to her and jabbed the air with a finger. “You never even
called.”

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed. “Who is

she?”

“Come again?”

“The woman you’re seeing. Don’t think I don’t know.

I’m not stupid, Mark. Who is she?”

I hadn’t expected that. Perhaps this wasn’t the right

time, after all. “There is no other woman,” I said. “I can
assure you of that.”

* * *

There were two messages on the answering machine,

both from my bank manager imploring me, as he
frequently did, to call him urgently. It was suddenly as if I’d
been visited by Hermes during the night; the events of the
last ten hours had opened my eyes and filled me with
excitement, but now I realized that I still had a sack full of
problems to deal with.

On the fax machine lay a note from a client advising me

that they had no intention of paying my final invoice, and
providing me with the name and address of their lawyers
should I wish to take the matter further. The morning’s mail
brought the usual assortment of bills, reminders, and final
demands, all of which I could identify and quantify without
opening the envelopes. I threw them onto the desk and went
to the kitchenette at the back of the office. I switched on the
coffee machine and took out the half bottle of whisky I kept
in the cupboard. When the office door opened, I was relieved
to hear Alex’s unmistakable huffing and puffing.

“Coffee?” I asked, holding my mug aloft.

“Without a doubt,” he said, hanging his coat on the

stand by the door. He wore his usual Camel jacket with a
checked shirt and mustard wool tie. The cuffs of his gray
trousers pooled on top of his scuffed, brown brogues.

“Standard or special?”

“Oh, I think a special is mandatory, don’t you?” He

swept his hair back off his forehead.

I sloshed some Scotch into a mug of coffee and handed

it to him. “Come and sit down. I need your advice.”

“What’s up?” He took a sip from the mug. “Another

row?”

“I don’t quite know where to start. Are you feeling

robust?”

“Crikey! Don’t know about robust, but going bust,

certainly.” He laughed and I managed a smile.

My hand shook, sending waves across the surface of my

coffee as I lifted the mug to my lips.

“What is it? You OK?” For all his faults, Alex was a

shrewd as a fox.

“I’m leaving Diana.”

Alex sagged in his chair. “Well, I don’t suppose that’s a

bad thing. I mean, I’m sorry it’s turned out like this, if you
know what I mean, but you two are always at loggerheads.
I’ve seen it coming.”

“It’s not so simple, Alex.” I gazed into my empty mug,

hoping to find courage.

“Well, no. It won’t be. I mean, it never is. Things to sort

out.” He took another sip of his fortified coffee. “When Eve
and I divorced it was a nightmare. At least you don’t have
kids, that’s a blessing in disguise, I suppose.”

I shoved my chair backwards and went to the

kitchenette for a refill, this time leaving the coffee out and
adding extra whisky. I swallowed down a mouthful and
turned to Alex, leaning on the door jamb. “Yes, I guess
you’re right. But I mean this is really not simple—”

“Of course it isn’t.” He leaped to his feet and patted me

on the shoulder. “I’m supposing she’s going to want to get
her hands on some of the business?” He didn’t wait for a
reply. “We didn’t have that, you see. We both had jobs so

there wasn’t the complication. Just the house. Oh, crikey!
What are you going to do about the house?”

“She can have it.”

“Ah, well, that’s what I did. I didn’t want the kids to be

without their home.” He shook his head. “In your position,
though, I wouldn’t be too hasty.”

“It’s my fault, Alex. She can have the house, and the

car, and the insurance policies.” I paced up and down,
counting off what few assets I could bring to mind.

“Steady on. It’s no more your fault than hers. It’s never

totally one sided when a relationship breaks down. I mean, I
think I can say that I know her pretty well and she’s not—
and I mean no offense—but she’s not an easy person to get
along with. Is she?” He looked directly at me, his eyes
seeking confirmation of his summary.

“No, she’s not. But aside from that, I’m going to have to

take the flack for this.”

Alex stood back, realization dawning on his face. “Oh,

crikey. Who is she? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it very much.” I poured more whisky into his

mug then drained the remainder into mine.

“So it

is

another woman. That was my downfall, as you

know. I just don’t seem to be able to stick to one. Always
jumping in and out of bed with anything on a pair of long
legs. Not that I’ve had many offers recently. Well, not except
Jane - you remember her, don’t you? The amputee.” A grin
spread across his face. “The things she used to ask me to do
to her. Do you know—”

“Alex, please. Stop blabbering and listen to me.” I raised

my voice for the first time.

“Oh, sorry. There I go again. Always full of my own

stories.”

I put my mug down and kneaded my hands. I could

feel my pulse throbbing against the top of my skull.

“It’s not a woman, it’s a man. I’ve fallen in love with a

man.” I heard my voice waver and my lips were suddenly
full of Novocain.

Alex’s knees crumpled and, as he fell back into his chair,

his face went as colorless as his faded camel jacket.
“Crikey!”

ChapterSix

Alex shifted from one buttock to the other while I told

him about my meeting with Attila the night before. His lip
curled when I gave him all the details of the events that
followed. When I’d finished, he shook his head and got to
his feet.

“You’re out of your mind, Mark,” he said, rubbing the

stubble on his chin. “Since when were you interested in
men?”

“I know how it must sound—”

“You’ve only known this chap a few hours and you’re

talking of throwing everything away. And where does this
come from?”

I shrugged. I knew I’d delivered a bolt out of the blue

and didn’t even truly understand it myself. “It just feels
right, Alex. I know it’s right. All this time I’ve been living a
lie. I want this.”

“Did you tell Diana?”

“No, not yet. I’m going to tell her tonight. She thinks

I’m seeing another woman. I was going to tell her, but she
was in no mood this morning.”

“She’ll be in some bloody mood when you do tell her!”

Alex shook his head again and paced back and forth.
“Christ, man. Stop and think.”

“I don’t need to. I mean, I have thought about it, on and

off, for years. I’ve always dismissed it. Maybe it’s the Prozac
making me see clearly?”

“And what does this chap feel about you?” Alex looked

at me, searching for answers.

I looked at my shoes. “Well, he needs a bit of time,

that’s all.”

“He needs a bit of time?” I thought Alex would explode.

“What the hell does that mean? Have you told him what
you’re planning to do?”

A speck of dried dirt marred the toe of my shoe and I

bent to rub it off.

“You haven’t told him, have you?” He swung round to

face the wall and banged his fists against the plasterwork.

“Jesus, Mark!”

Neither of us spoke. Alex leaned against the wall huffing

and puffing, and I wondered if this would break our
friendship. Of course, I knew what he was saying was all
true when looked at logically, but I had to ask myself, when
was love ever logical? When Attila had cast me aside and
said that he couldn’t get involved with a married man, I
knew what he really meant to say. He meant that he would
want me if only I weren’t married.

Alex turned back towards me. He glanced at his watch.

“Look, it’s just about opening time. Shall we—”

“Absolutely.” I switched on the answering machine and

flicked the sign on the door to ‘closed’.

“Wine bar?”

“Wine bar it is.” I locked the door behind me and fell

into step.

I didn’t so much walk from the office as float. I passed

along the Embankment without even noticing the river.
Reality hit me only when Alex pressed a glass into my hand
and led me to a seat by the window.

There is something about wine before noon that loosens

the tongue and dissolves inhibitions. My head was light
before the first bottle was done. Alex’s cheeks were flushed,
but then again, that was usual for the time of day as the
effects of the evening had still to wear off. He ran his fingers
through his rumpled hair and turned his glass.

“It makes no difference to me, you do understand that,

don’t you?” he said.

“What makes no difference?”

“Well, you know if you are gay. It doesn’t change

anything. Not between us.”

“Thanks, Alex. I do appreciate that. For a moment I

thought…but I would have been a bit surprised if it did.”

“I’m still in shock. How can you change overnight? I

mean, have you ever tried it?”

I knew this would be the big issue, not just for Alex, but

for everyone I knew. Including me.

“No. Never. I’ve wondered, but I always convinced

myself that I was just weird. I’ve lived with the feeling that I

don’t really belong in the world around me for so long. But
now, I know. I really do know, and I feel like a huge weight
has been lifted off me.”

Alex peered into his wine as if he’d found a goldfish.

“Don’t you think you should…erm…” He looked up at me.
“Don’t you think you ought to try it out before you throw
your lot in with this chap? And that’s if he even wants you,
which sounds far from settled to me.” He drained his glass
and went to the bar, leaving me to contemplate his wisdom.

Deep down, I knew he was right, but I hadn’t a clue

how to go about it. In any case, wouldn’t it all just kind of
happen now with Attila? Maybe I should leave Diana and
set up a bachelor pad, let things take their course rather
than rushing. But that didn’t seem right. I hadn’t rushed out
to find Attila; I hadn’t actually gone in search of anyone.
Attila had just jogged into my life. That was how the best
things in life happened, wasn’t it?

* * *

When I finally got home, the kitchen looked like a set

from an apocalyptic movie—cupboards open, spewing their
contents onto the floor. Discarded matches floated in the
puddles of spilled milk and oil on the cooker top, and every
square inch of counter was covered with pans, packets,
unopened mail, and long-opened make-up. It was a scene
that I had grown used to, living with Diana.

I moved a pile of old papers from one of the dining

chairs and sat down. The clock on the cooker said 17.31.
That gave me about thirty minutes before she would be
home. I decided to pack the things I would need if she threw
me straight out onto the street, and went upstairs to the
bedroom. Naturally, the bed was unmade and the floor
awash with clothes, shoes, and various accessories. I scraped
a path clear with my foot and balanced our biggest suitcase
on the scrunched up duvet. I became despondent as my eyes
searched the room for my things. Where would I start?

My best suits were easy, hanging in my wardrobe.

She’d only commandeered part of the hanging space in
there. Locating underwear and socks was more problematic.
No drawer or cupboard was ever reserved for my things
alone, there was always something of Diana’s stuffed or
wedged into any available space.

What is it they say about liars? They have to be really

good or eventually they give themselves away? Well, I think
the same goes for the untidy. If you’re neat and tidy, it’s
quite easy to keep track of things, but if you live in a mess,
you may forget where you have put something.

My arm ventured deep into the cavernous drawer on

Diana’s side of the bed, looking for an elusive box of
cufflinks. The cufflinks weren’t there, of course, but I pulled
out a card from under the tangle of bras and tights. It was a
Valentine’s card. I meant to tear it into pieces, and I don’t
know what stopped me—a twinge of guilt, perhaps—but I
opened it up to read the message that one of us must have
written in happier times.

To D from C. Can’t wait till the next time. Even our

naughty bits love each other.

I had to read it twice before it dawned on me. ‘D’ was

obvious, but who the hell was ‘C’?

I sat on the bed and smiled. Well, well, well. So she was

having an affair. That in itself was enough of a godsend, but
it would be interesting to know who ‘C’ was. The only ‘C’ I
could think of was Charles, her boss. I cringed. Charles was
over sixty years old and looked like he’d borrowed his face

from a Gothic cathedral.

I was turning the card over in my hands, lost in my

thoughts and counting my blessings, when I heard the door
bang downstairs. I jumped to my feet and slid the card
under my clothes at the bottom of the suitcase, then shut the
case and moved it into the spare bedroom. As the stairs
creaked, I began to palpitate. If she had a knife, I was
cornered.

“And what are you doing?” Her tone was

confrontational, but then again, when she talked in her sleep
it sounded like she was about to rip someone’s throat open.

“I was about to get changed.”

“Well don’t. You’re coming with me to the

supermarket. I don’t see why I should do it on my own.”
She pushed by to get into the bedroom where she threw her
shoes off and put on another pair. “Come on, don’t dither.”

I followed her downstairs, all the way out of the flat and

to the car. Why was I doing this? If I was going to get
thrown out it would be better before I fetched and carried.

“You drive,” she said, throwing her car keys at me.

“And don’t go up the hill, turn round first.”

Being in the car with Diana at my side made me wish

for a motorcycle and sidecar. I could feel the hate radiating
from her, and this was before I’d broken my news. Anyway,
why should I worry now? She’d be free to go off with ‘C’
and rub naughty bits together.

“Diana,” I said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Just pull over here.” She grabbed the steering wheel

with one hand and jerked it to the left.

“Don’t do that!” I avoided the cyclist coming down on

my inside. “One day you’ll kill someone.”

“With you at the wheel? Who’d believe you?”

I shook my head and brought the car to rest at the side

of the road.

“I’ll be two minutes,” she said, getting out of the car.

Then she turned back, bobbed her head down to peer at me
and said, “Do

no

t move.”

I watched her little legs scurry towards the pharmacy.

She moved like a beetle who’d sensed the sole of the boot

overhead. I considered doing a runner there and then. I
probably would have, had it not been for my mobile phone
ringing in my pocket. It was Alex.

“Got a pen and paper?” he asked.

“Hang on.” I burrowed through the junk in the armrest

and glove compartment.

“I spoke to my friend Adam. He suggests you give this

place a try. Ready?”

I wrote the address on a scrap of paper retrieved from

the ashtray and put it in my pocket as Diana wrenched
open the passenger door.

ChapterSeven

Diana agreed that I could take the car, but only so that I

could transport my belongings in one go.

“I don’t want you ever to set foot in here again,” she

said when I finally managed to get a word in and tell her
my news. “How could you?”

Her face was red and she shook with rage, but I

wondered how much of it was connected with the fact that I
was involved with a man and not another woman. I’d read
somewhere that women whose husbands left them for men
reacted quite differently to those who lost out to another
woman. Logically, she had no reason to be mad that I was
going. She had her lover waiting in the wings.

I drove to Belsize Park and found a parking space

among the Porsches and BMWs. Attila’s numbers were
already in my phone. The working day was long over and I
tried his home number first. There was no reply, but he
answered straight away when I called his cell. When I
invited him for a drink, I detected a faint annoyance.

“I’m at my mother’s. I may not be back tonight,” he

said.

“Why? Does she live far away?” I regretted the question

before it had travelled across the airwaves.

“Listen.” The background noises had changed and I

guessed he’d stepped outside. “I told you last night, I can’t
get involved. I like you, but this is too complicated for me.”

I felt like I’d been unplugged, all my strength draining

away in one gush.

“I’m fresh out of a relationship. To be honest, I’m kind

of enjoying my freedom. I’m not ready to fall into another
right now.”

“I just wanted to see you.” My voice barely had the

strength to crawl down the phone.

“I guess you’ve had a row?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry.”

They say that at the moment of death all your life

flashes before your eyes. Well, something like that happened
to me, sitting there in my - her - car in Belsize Park. A day
before I’d been miserable, but I had a home and the empty
trappings of a married life. Now I’d lost everything, and my
worldly goods were packed in the trunk behind me. Even
this man whom I had just met and felt such a strong
attraction to, had rejected me, refusing even to see me.

“I’ll call you. OK? If I go back home tonight, I’ll call

you.”

“OK.” I sniffed back the tightness in my throat and

tried to smile. “On the cell phone. I’ll be here.”

* * *

Attila’s rejection had left me so numb that I hadn’t even

noticed the rain that the night dragged in. We’d had an
unusually dry spell, and as I churned through the traffic, I
realized that I couldn’t see through the windscreen. It wasn’t
my eyes, red and swollen from the crying, but tree sap
smeared on the glass. I switched on the wipers, and the red

taillights in front blurred into crimson wraiths. For once, the
washer bottle wasn’t empty and I soon had a clear line of
sight. But to where? I had nowhere to go.

It was then that I remembered the slip of paper in my

pocket. I drove with one hand on the wheel and one eye on
the traffic, and studied the address under the reading light. I
checked the map and set off towards Westminster Bridge. I
didn’t need to go there, of course, but Alex’s advice was
usually sound. And I was curious. In any event, I could
always leave once I’d seen what it was all about. What else
was I going to do while I waited for Attila’s call?

Once south of the Thames I had to stop and check my

route. The South Bank was not my territory, all railways
and fly-overs and bridges it seemed to me. Even in daylight
I saw it as dark but now, after nightfall and in the drizzle,
the blackness seemed pervasive. I found the street and a
parking space not far away. The pavement was slimy as the
rain loosened days of grime, and I picked my way through
the debris of the earlier street market with care.

As I neared my destination, I recognized the scent of

Olbas oil in the air. A torrent of steam billowed into the
night sky, the steel vent sharp against the green moss on the

old engineering bricks. Next to the vent I could see the
railway arch, now filled in with a rudimentary façade of
lavender-painted timber illuminated by overhead lamps.
The obscure glass windows were covered with iron grilles,
softened by the dirt of the city. I took a few steps forward
then waited while a guy in a hoodie rang the bell at the side
of the door. I could hear the buzzing of the entry system
and he pushed the door and stepped inside.

My heart pounded against my ribcage and my head

throbbed as I started again towards the door. I knew this
was the place; the limp rainbow flag over the doorway was a
giveaway, yet I still worried. What if it wasn’t the place?
What if I stepped inside and it was someone’s workshop?

Just before I rang the bell, the door jolted open and a

middle-aged man slipped out, his eyes cast down at the
pavement as he passed me, pulling up his collar, and
hurried down the street. I put my hand out to stop the door
closing, took a deep breath, and went inside.

I found myself in a lobby that two people would have

overcrowded. To my left was a counter topped by a glass
screen, from behind which I was being scrutinized by a tall,
muscular guy. He wore a red gym vest and the overhead

light reflected off his shaved head.

“Hi,” he said, leaning on the counter. His bulging arms

were tattooed from his shoulders down to his wrists. I
thought of gorgonzola. “You been before?”

I shook my head as I tried to find the words. “No.”

“OK,” he said, placing a towel and a key in front of

him. “Can I just be sure that you know this is a gay sauna?”

“Yes.” This was what Alex’s friend had come up with so

that I could

try it out

?

He rattled the computer keyboard. “Can I have your

first name?”

My name? No, certainly not. “John,” I said, sure he’d

disbelieve me.

“That’s twelve pounds, please…John,” he said with a

smile as he typed in the name.

I pushed the money through the gap at the bottom of

the screen and he squeezed the towel through to me.

“Locker 26,” he said. “You’ll find your way about. Just

go through that door.”

“Thanks.” I took the key from him. I heard the latch

buzz and snatched the door open, as eager to escape the
outside world as I was to enter this new one. The door
slammed shut behind me, and all heads turned
momentarily in my direction. I was paralyzed.

The air was stifling - hot and wet. Faithless throbbed out

of the overhead speakers. Everywhere I looked were men.
Men in suits, men in jeans, men in towels, and men in
nothing at all. Old men, young men, and men about my
age.

Locker 26 was at the far end of the room, and I wound

my way through the throng, tripping over discarded towels
and sucking in my stomach to get round locker doors that
hung open. I felt terribly overdressed in my raincoat and all
but ripped off my clothes, threw them in the locker, and
wrapped the towel around my waist.

Men were coming and going through an arched

opening between the last banks of lockers. I fastened the key
band around my wrist and went with the flow. The gloom
concealed a row of showers, laid out along one wall that had
been clad with sheet metal. In fact, the whole place had an

industrial look, from the metal flooring to the bare brick
walls and the exposed service pipes that ran like arteries
overhead. Beyond the showers I could see a wood cabin, the
door of which opened and banged shut with regularity. Past
this structure I could make out a long passageway leading
to some area that cast an insipid light. There was clearly
plenty to explore.

I nipped under a vacant showerhead and rubbed myself

with the gel provided. It was green and smelled cheap. As I
rinsed away the reluctant lather, I felt something on my
right buttock. Without turning, I craned my neck to see
what it was. A man of about sixty-five stood next me, his
hand touching me. I edged away.

“Sexy,” he said. He smiled at me and winked,

beckoning me to follow him.

I fought back the urge to vomit, finished showering,

grabbed my towel, and went in the opposite direction. I
found myself at the foot of a staircase and climbed. At the
top, a room lay directly under the viaduct, surrounded by
small cabins big enough for two or three people and
illuminated by a single red bulb. In the middle, a few larger
cubicles could take maybe eight or ten. Mats covered the

floors, rather like the ones at the gym, and each
compartment came equipped with a waste bin and a box of
tissues.

I joined the promenade around the perimeter. It

reminded me of some sort of market, everyone eyeing
everyone else, walking this way then that. It seemed that
nothing was really happening. Then, as I rounded the corner
at the far end, a group of guys gathered around one of the
central cubicles. I drew up behind them and stood on tiptoe
to see in. I couldn’t count the number taking part in the
orgy, but there were seven or eight for sure. The red light,
blocked by those standing, failed to reach the back of the
space. White towels draped over shoulders hinted at frantic
movement. A flash of an eye and an arm caught in a rare
reflection betrayed a cluster of kneeling figures in the far
corner. I could feel the pressure against my towel.

The guys in front of me blocked the way, so eager to

watch that they blended into one immovable mass. I pushed
and elbowed my way forward, determined to break
through. I was cursed at as I crushed someone’s toe, but it
didn’t stop me. The beat of the music drove me on. My heart
raced and my head reeled. One last push and my skin
slipped between sweaty flesh, and I fell into the cabin.

Immediately, a hand wrapped around my cock.

ChapterEight

I steadied myself against the wall and grabbed at the

hand under my towel. I squeezed the wrist and pushed it
away. Whoever it was, he meant business. One hand tried to
pry my fingers loose while the other strained to recapture
my wilting cock.

“Get off,” I said, shoving him away.

I heard grumbling but he got the message and crawled

back into the tangle of bodies. I hadn’t expected to be
molested. Maybe I’d just leave. I felt my feet slide on the
mat. It was a seedy place.

The cubicle was now packed. There was no way to move

without pressing myself between bodies like a sheet through
a wringer. As I edged my way towards the doorway, I found
myself thrust against a tall, toned body. His hard cock stood
in my way like a railway barrier, reaching halfway across
my hip. I looked up. Christ. Even in the dark I could see he
was handsome. Chiseled features, straight nose, high
cheekbones. A flash of white said he’d smiled at me, and I
felt my cock stirring again. I loved this place! I looked up at

him, searching for his eyes, and felt his tongue part my lips.
He put his arms round me and hard muscles pulled me
close. His taught body against mine made me tremble, and I
felt I would collapse on the floor if he let go. He drove his
tongue deeper, and I put up no resistance. Yes! I wanted
this. The gentle, female kisses of the past were as nothing
compared to this writhing muscle drilling its way towards
my throat. When his stubble scratched against my chin, I
shuddered with delight.

He withdrew his tongue and brushed my ear with his

lips. “Fancy going somewhere quieter?”

The pulsating music reverberated off the brick vaults

and drowned my reply. I cleared my throat. “OK,” I said a
second time.

He slipped his towel round his waist and I felt his hand

grasp mine, firm and sure. He pulled me through the melée
towards the doorway. His frame blocked what light there
was for a moment, and then I saw him as we squeezed into
the passageway. He had Attila’s build but was younger and,
I suppose, handsome in a more classical way. He’d have
graced any runway and my body shook at the thought of
what was going to happen. He looked back at me and

flashed his teeth again, his green eyes egging me on. I could
barely walk.

As he led me down the passageways, head tilted to

avoid the brick vault that swept in sharply, he glanced over
the tops of the doors of the cubicles. I couldn’t see over them
but it was obvious he was checking for one that was vacant.
When he found it, he held the door open and gestured for
me to enter. As I crossed the threshold, I felt drunk with
doubt and excitement. What if he was some kind of lunatic?
A murderer? A modern day Jack the Ripper? My body
would be found lying in a pool of blood, and no one would
know who I was. Then, illogically, I worried that people
would.

He stepped in behind me and locked the door. He shone

like a devil in the red light as he removed his towel and knelt
to lay it out like a blanket. I got down on my knees and did
the same.

“Lie down,” he said. “I want to lick you all over.”

I lowered myself onto the towels and lay on my back,

placing my hands under my head as a pillow, trembling in
anticipation. His shadow fell across me as he reached over
with one hand and supported himself above me. I could feel

his power, hovering just inches above my chest. When I felt
his feet forcing my legs apart, I opened them wide, creating
a space for his knees. He sat back on his heels and looked at
me.

“What do you like?” he asked.

What did I like? What sort of question was that? I didn’t

know what I liked.

“Depends.” It was the only answer I could think of.

“How about this?”

He lowered his head and began licking my neck.

Electricity danced across my skin. I could feel his cock, hard
and wet, rubbing against my thigh. Mine pressed against
him. He moved lower, teasing my nipples with the tip of his
tongue, then followed the trail of hair down the center of my
stomach. His tongue sank into my navel, and he ran it
round in slow circles. I felt my cock pulse and knew that the
first pre-cum had worked its way out. As if he’d seen it, his
head suddenly dipped lower and I drowned under a wave of
ecstasy. My hips began thrusting. As my rhythm increased,
he suddenly sat up and my cock sprang loose, snapping
back onto my stomach.

“Turn over.” He spoke before I had chance to be

disappointed.

The damp towels clung to my skin. I flung them aside

and lay down on the bare plastic mat. I felt him cover me,
his stomach like a board against my back, his mouth on my
neck, his hungry cock probing between my buttocks.

Was this the moment? I felt my erection fading as

doubts ricocheted about my head. Condoms? Disease? How
did I know he wasn’t positive? Pain! I’d never been fucked
like this. Never even probed up there with a finger. He was
big, wide. He’d split me open. And yet, I wanted him so
much that I didn’t resist. I even raised my buttocks against
him as he teased my hole. Then he pulled back from me. I
felt the air rush in between us. He shuffled down, too far
down, and I felt his hands cup my buttocks. He pulled them
apart. It made no sense. Until his tongue entered me.

I was disgusted. But I loved it. My entire body melted.

* * *

“I haven’t seen you before,” he said. We lay resting on

elbows, facing each other. The sweat on our bodies glistened
like fresh blood under the light. “This your first time here?”

I wanted to speak but only nodded.

“You married?”

The question sliced through me. I saw him look at my

left hand.

“The ring. Bit of a giveaway.” He smiled and stroked

my arm. “Does she know?”

I nodded again and cleared my throat. “Yes. She knows

alright.”

“You’re a lucky man.”

“What do you mean?”

“A wife who doesn’t mind—”

“Oh no, it’s not like that.” I shook my head this time.

“She minds.”

“Complicated, eh? Sorry, I mentioned it.”

“It’s fine. It’s just that, well, I just broke the news to

her.”

“Ouch!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here really. Nowhere else to go.”

“She chucked you out?”

I thought of my suitcases in the car boot. In an area like

this they might have been stolen. Even the car might be
gone. “I really ought to be going—”

“No, please. You don’t have to, do you?” He put a hand

on my shoulder to stop me getting up.

“I’m just worried. About my things. My car.”

“It’s quite safe around here, believe me. I know it

doesn’t look much, but it is fine. I’ve never had my car
broken into—not here at any rate.”

I didn’t want to leave. I relaxed again and scrutinized

him. His dark hair was immaculately cut, his fingernails
manicured, his body tanned. And his voice was like an
orchestra.

“What do you do?” I asked.

“Why?”

I felt silly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He laughed. “It’s not a problem. I thought maybe—”

“No reason, really. Forget it. Forget I asked.”

“I’m an actor. Obviously you’re not a soap fan.”

I shook my head again.

“I like that. I liked it that you didn’t know who I was.

Being a household face can be a bit of a drawback.”

“But you’re out, are you?”

“To some. It doesn’t pay to flaunt it. The producer

doesn’t like it, says it can affect the ratings.”

We fell silent. Ultra Naté was reminding us that we

were, after all, free to do what we wanted. I sat up, crossed
my legs, and took hold of his hand. “Do you mind if I ask
how old you are?”

“Twenty nine. You?”

“Almost forty.” I let my fingers wander to his leg and

toy with the hairs. “Why would you want to do anything
with me?”

He laughed and sat up, mirroring my position. “You’re

just my type.”

“Old, fat and ugly?”

He suddenly looked sorrowful and leaned towards me.

“Ugly?” He took me by the shoulders. “You are not ugly.
You’re a really sexy man.”

I looked away from him, at the upturned box of tissues

in the corner.

“Why do you think you’re old and fat and ugly, for

Christ’s sake? You seen some of the dogs in here tonight?”

“She always says I am.”

“Who? Your wife?”

I nodded. His arms wrapped around me as he raised

himself up on his knees.

“You are lovely. There’ll be many a guy in here tonight

would love to go home with you.” He kissed me on the
cheek and stroked away the glum thoughts. “Now, what
you said about your car, your things. You’re stuck for a
place to stay, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m going to a friend’s place.” I reached

for the tissue box. “Any idea of the time?” Oh, shit! The
time. My phone was in the locker. What if Attila had tried to
call? I stumbled to my feet and began to wrap my towel
round my waist.

“What’s the rush?”

“I need to check something.”

“Messages?” He laughed again. “It’s common enough

in here. Parents, wives, boyfriends - even kids.”

“Something like. Look, thanks. It was great.”

“I’m Justin,” he said with a flash of those teeth. He held

out his hand and, even as I shook it, I thought how comical
it was.

“John,” I said. I knew from his expression that he didn’t

buy it. “Mark, actually.”

“I’ll wait here, Mark. In case you want to come back.”

He settled down on the floor mat and draped his towel over
his cock.

* * *

The place was even busier now, and I wondered how

long I’d been locked away with Justin. The staircase had a
column of men going up one side and one going down the
other, all turning sideways to fit at once. When I reached the
locker-room, I had to push and beg my way to number 26. I
found my cell phone and switched it on.

The clock came up on the display first. Eleven. I’d been

there over three hours. I was so sure that Attila would have
called that I started to get dressed, checking for the signal in
between garments. As I removed my trousers from the
hook, the bleep of the voicemail called out. The only
message was from Alex, nothing important. There were no
missed calls.

I switched off the phone, returned my trousers to their

I switched off the phone, returned my trousers to their

hook and ripped off the few clothes I’d put on. Sod him,
then. If he didn’t want me, I was going to have some fun. He
wanted to be free? I was free too. Free, after too many years.

I took the stairs two at a time, upsetting a few people on

the way. I squeezed through the mass of sticky bodies and
worked my way down the passageway towards the cubicle
I’d left ten minutes before. The door was ajar, the light inside
turned off. I peered through the crack. Someone was there
lying on the mat, but I wasn’t sure. Until he spoke.

“For fuck’s sake, Mark. Come in and close the door.”

I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

“Sit down,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting

position. “Now, stop bullshitting me. You’ve nowhere to go,
have you?”

I shook my head. “No. I thought I could sleep here,

actually.”

“You can come with me. This place isn’t fit for a dog to

sleep in.”

“I—”

“It’s no problem. I have plenty of room. Come on,” he

said, getting to his feet, “let’s go. I do have a shoot in the
morning. Can’t have bags under my eyes.”

I suppose the reality of not having a bed to go to hadn’t

sunk in but, as I followed him into the passageway and back
down the stairs, I felt relieved that I wasn’t spending the
night on a floor mat. In fact, I felt quite happy.

Justin’s locker was 572, nowhere near mine, and we

agreed to meet at the main exit. I sat on the steel bench
beneath my locker and bent down to fasten my shoes. A
wave of new arrivals swarmed about trying to match keys
to lockers.

“Sorry,” said a voice. “Can I squeeze in?”

I dropped the end of my shoelace and looked up. “I

thought you were at your mother’s?”

ChapterNine

“I didn’t lie to you, for God’s sake.” Attila stood with

one hand on top of the open locker door, towering over me.

“You said you were at your mother’s and might not be

back,” I said, bending again to tie my shoelace.

“I was at my mother’s.”

I didn’t reply. My eardrums thumped as I strained to tie

the knot. He’d betrayed me. It was the only thought in my
head.

“And anyway, what’s it to you? I don’t need your

permission. I don’t need anyone’s permission. I’ve had
enough of living like that.”

He was right, of course, but it didn’t make me hurt any

less.

“Mark.”

I looked up at him. “Yes?”

“Talk to me.”

I got to my feet and took my coat from the locker. “I

wanted to talk to you, remember? But you said—”

“Ssh. Not so loud.” He held a finger to his lips.

“What else can I do with this sodding music belting

out?”

“Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

“In here? There is nowhere. And anyway, I have to go.”

I put my coat over my arm, retrieved my pound coin from
the lock, and pushed my way through the crowd. I didn’t
want to be angry with him but I couldn’t help it. I wanted
him so badly, but he’d lied, whatever slant he wanted to put
on it.

“Mark, wait!”

I hesitated for a moment then redoubled my efforts to

reach the main entrance.

* * *

Justin was standing in the lobby, back pressed to the

wall to make way for those coming and going. I dropped
my locker key into the box provided and followed him out
into the night.

“Odd,” I said, sniffing the air and slipping my coat on.

“What is?” He linked his arm through mine and leaned

in towards me.

“The smell of Olbas is stronger out here than inside.”

“I think it’s advertising.”

I forced a smile and we crossed the road.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“Just round that corner.” I gestured with my eyes in the

general direction.

“Mine too. Follow me and I’ll show you where you can

park when we get home.”

We rounded the corner and he pointed out his car about

a hundred yards beyond mine. As I stopped to take out my
keys, he gave my arm a squeeze.

“See you in a bit,” he said, and walked on down the

street.

I opened the car door and began to remove my coat.

How pointless, I thought, putting it on in the first place. It
was the stupid kind of thing I did when I was nervous.

“Mark!”

I looked down the street, but Justin’s back was to me.

“Mark!”

The voice came from behind and I turned to see Attila

running towards me.

“Wait, Mark. Don’t go.”

I raised my hands to my head to stop it exploding.

* * *

“I feel like a complete bastard,” I said, taking the glass

of wine.

“He’ll get over it,” said Attila, sitting down on the sofa

beside me.

“That’s not the point.”

“He only wanted one thing. You need to toughen up.”

I took a sip of wine. “Chablis?”

Attila nodded.

“No,” I said. “He wasn’t like that.”

“We’re all like that, Mark.”

“No, you don’t understand. If you’d have let me talk to

you, you would know, but you didn’t want to hear it.”

He sat back and slipped his arm round my shoulders.

“So tell me. I’m all yours.”

I didn’t understand him. He’d been perfectly happy to

lie to me, to go out and be a slut all night, and then, just
because he bumped into me, it all changed. And, what was

worse, I fell for it. Justin had seemed genuinely crushed
when I told him to go. I thought for a moment he was going
to cry. Then he just turned and got into his car. I could still
hear the tires screeching as he sped away.

“Why did you say you were going to stay at your

mother’s?”

Attila jumped to his feet and ran a hand through his

hair. “I didn’t say that. Jesus, is that what this is all about?”

I gave him a blank look.

“I never said I was staying at my mother’s. I said I was

there. I said I might not be back home tonight.”

“Meaning that…”

“Meaning…meaning…OK, meaning I was going to the

sauna.” He shrugged in defeat.

“Oh, well that makes it all OK, does it?” I finished the

glass of wine in one swallow.

“I was going to the sauna…” He seemed to be searching

for the words. “I was going there to try to forget about you.”
He snatched my glass and went to the kitchen.

That was a blow from a double-edged sword. I sat in

silence, trying to digest his words.

“I told my mother about you,” he said, returning with

full glasses.

“Why?”

“It just came up in conversation. Here…” He handed

me my glass.

“I can’t imagine bringing up such a thing with my

mother,” I said.

“She’s not normal. No, I don’t mean she’s mental or

anything. I mean, well, what do I mean? She’s German.”

I laughed. “You saying Germans aren’t normal?”

“No, Christ, of course not. I’m half German, after all.”

He sipped at his wine. “What I mean is, she has a different
way of looking at things. Sex and stuff. She’s not prudish
like English or Americans.”

“Your father?”

“He’s dead. A long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.” I looked at the floor.

“No need. I didn’t have much of a relationship with

him. He was different. English.”

“So?” I peered at him from under my brow.

“So what?” He looked at me as if I’d pulled a rabbit

from a hat.

“You told your mother about me. I’m wondering why,

and where this is all leading.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I mentioned I’d met you. When I told

her you were married, she said I shouldn’t get involved. She
worries about me.” He smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“So, she confirmed your own feelings. I don’t see where

you’re headed. You had no intention of getting involved.
You told me.”

“I know.” He sat down at the side of me again.

“Jesus, it’s like pulling fucking teeth.” I turned to look

him directly in the eyes. “Just tell me.”

He took a long drink of wine. “I know she’s right, to a

degree, but I’ve been thinking about you all day. When she
said to forget about you, I couldn’t come back here and be
all alone. I thought if I went with other men it would get you
out of my head.”

“Does it usually work? I presume it’s not the first time?”

“Yes, it usually does. It’s only sex, in the end.”

I stood and cleared my throat. “Fine. So far. And I can

see that running into me in the locker room was not part of
your plan, but I don’t understand why you came out after
me? Why didn’t you just let me go with Justin?”

He put his glass on the side table and stood up. He drew

close to me and took my hand in his. “I couldn’t. You see, I
realized something as soon as I saw you struggling to tie
your shoelaces.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips against mine. I

opened my mouth and he gave me his Chablis-flavored
tongue. I sucked it in. My tongue against his, rough and wet
and strong. We pulled each other tighter and tighter. I could
feel my cock stiffening. I didn’t want it to end but, after a
few moments, he pulled back and frowned at me.

“But—” He turned and picked his glass from the table.

I felt my life crumbling again.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just curious what you were

doing in the sauna. Last night you were new to this. Tonight
I find you in the sluttiest joint in town.”

“My friend, Alex. Not gay, by the way. When I told

him I’d met you, he felt that I should…ah, try it out a bit.”

Attila almost choked on his wine.

“Oh, he’s quite something,” I said. “He asked a gay

friend of his for suggestions and he recommended I try that

place.”

“I see. And?”

“And what?”

“How did you get on?”

“You saw for yourself.” I pictured Justin’s naked body

and felt myself smile. “He was quite something. Apparently
he’s on TV. He seemed to really like me.”

“You mean he had a nice cock.”

“He did, as it happens, but that’s not what I meant. He

twigged that I had nowhere to go and was kind enough to
offer to put me up.”

Attila shook his head. “Wait. You’ve lost me. What do

you mean you had nowhere to go?”

It dawned on me then that I still hadn’t told him what I

really had to tell him.

“This is where it all started. I told her. I told Diana.”

“Jesus! You did?”

I nodded. “Yep. Told her I’m leaving her.”

“So…this business of having nowhere to stay…she

didn’t…”

“Throw me out? Yes. On the street. My belongings are

in the trunk of the car.”

He flopped down onto the sofa. “Shit.”

“I can stay at the office until I sort it all out. But at least

I’m no longer a

married man

.”

Attila dropped his gaze and let out a sigh.

“What? What is it? You just said you’ve fallen in love

with me.”

“Yes, yes, I have. But, like I said, I’m fresh out of a

relationship.”

“So what?” My world was tumbling again.

“I need space.”

I stood watching as he shook his head from side to side.

Today’s roller coaster ride just didn’t want to let me off.

“Mark, it’s all too quick.”

ChapterTen

Attila agreed that I could stay for a while. Just until I got

something sorted out.

“Thanks,” I said, letting the last of my bags crash onto

the living room floor.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, please.”

“I don’t know how to take it, really. You tell me you

love me, then you say you’re just out of a relationship and
it’s too soon. Then you say I can move in for a bit.” I sighed.

“Well, you can’t sleep at the office.” He came over to me

and crushed me in his arms. “Give me time, will you? Can
we take it a day at a time?”

It seemed as good as it was going to get. “OK,” I said.

He let go and looked at his watch. “It’s late. I’ve got to

be out by six in the morning.” He took a bag in each hand
and headed for the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get some
sleep.”

I did a bit of unpacking while he used the bathroom. It

felt so good to be able to hang my clothes in a wardrobe
where there was enough space. Everything, everywhere,
was so clean and tidy. I loved it. And it was the same in the
bathroom. No dried toothpaste in the basin, no remnants of
makeup, no junk.

By the time I’d used the bathroom, Attila was asleep. I

lay down beside him and tried to drift off. Not a chance. It
was such a disappointment that he wanted to sleep. The
session with Justin had been exciting, but that seemed ages
ago. Here I was, naked in bed with my Attila—yes, I
thought of him as mine — wide-awake while he slept.

I looked up at the sky through the rooflight, a lifeless,

grey slate tinged with orange from the streetlights.
Occasionally a plane on its way to Heathrow would wink at
me with a red eye, as if reading my thoughts.

* * *

I was all alone when I finally awoke at a little after nine

the next morning. I felt like I’d been in hibernation. Attila
had left a note next to the bed, saying that he’d put me a set
of keys on the credenza and that he’d be back around seven
in the evening. His closing remark unsettled me.

Get yourself

sorted

.

The first thing that popped into my head was Diana’s

Valentine’s card, which I’d taken from the bottom of the
drawer. I retrieved it from my jacket. I didn’t look at it,
simply put it safely in the bedside drawer. I was sure it
would come in useful.

Then I called Alex.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” he said. “I

tried calling last night.”

“I saw. Sorry. I was otherwise engaged.”

“I dare say you were. How did she take it?”

“Badly, as you’ll imagine. But no worse than usual.”

“Are you at the office then?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to check if you were going in

today. I have a few things to do and wouldn’t mind taking

the morning off.”

“Of course, no problem. I’m almost there. I’ll open up.

Anything you need me to do?”

“Just be there really, in case anyone calls. Not that they

ever do these days.”

“Righto. I’ll see you anon.”

“Oh, Alex. Thanks for that address.”

“You didn’t!” The surprise in his voice gave way to

curiosity. “Last night?”

“I did. Tell you later.”

I had a smile right across my face as I hung up and

went to shower. It was the best shower I’d ever had.

* * *

My first job was to take the car back to Diana’s. I’d

resolved not to argue about anything. All I wanted was my

freedom. She could have the car, the flat, the insurance
policies. I wanted nothing. The divorce should be easy. If she
wanted to be difficult, I had the card.

The divorce. Yet another failure. While I no longer loved

Diana and hadn’t for some time, I felt a twinge of sadness
for the marriage in some way. Divorce was so final.

I parked the car in the usual spot, did one last check to

make sure I had all I needed and put the keys through the
letterbox. I was taking no chances. Then I took the
underground to town. I would need a lawyer, and someone I
could trust to get the job done as quickly as procedure
would allow. Fortunately, I knew just the man.

I had to change trains at Camden Town, and it made

me think of my doctor. I supposed that I ought to tell him. I
didn’t really know why, except that he was responsible for
diagnosing me with the so-called depression. Since I was so
close, I decided to head up to the surface and pop into the
surgery to make an appointment. No doubt it would be
weeks before I could see him.

“He’s actually free now for ten minutes,” said the

receptionist. “Do you want to go in?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

I walked the corridor to his consulting room like a

condemned man to the gallows. My heart beat faster the
nearer I got to the door. Maybe I’d just not bother.

“Mark, come in.”

Too late. He appeared at the door with his usual benign

expression.

I followed him in and sat in the chair.

“So, how are you getting along?” he asked, looking at

me over the top of his half-moon glasses.

I kneaded my hands and cleared my throat. “Fine. Erm,

I just needed to let you know something.”

My clothes were damp with sweat and I felt myself

shaking. Suddenly, I felt foolish and wished I hadn’t
bothered.

“What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, I guess having come out to

my wife, the next step is to come out to my doctor.” I felt

like I was going to faint and gripped the chair arm.

“I see,” he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling

his fingers. “Well, that’s taken some courage. You’re still
taking the Prozac, I assume?”

I nodded.

“Good. Is there anything you feel you need from me?”

I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to tell you. I don’t

know why.”

“It’s therapeutic. It’ll get easier. If I can give you a bit of

advice…”

“Of course.”

“Don’t take risks. Safe sex, Mark.” He had a

headmaster’s expression on his face and I felt like a little
boy.

I nodded and shifted in my seat. How embarrassing. I

was nearly forty.

“And don’t rush into a relationship, whatever you do.

This is a huge change for you. Take it slowly.”

I worried that my expression would betray me and

looked out of the window at the trees across the car park. All
I could manage was a nod.

“Right, then. Do you need any more pills?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine for now. Actually, I was thinking

about coming off them.”

“No, it’s too soon.”

“But I think I’ll be OK, now.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t allow it. It’s far too

soon. Promise me you’ll keep taking them?”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

He stood up. The appointment was over. He reached out

to shake my hand.

“Erm, Diana…” I couldn’t get the right words.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

I smiled, turned, and opened the door. I was almost out

when he called after me.

“And well done. I’m impressed.”

* * *

I went about my chores as if there was no tomorrow. I

had never been so sure of anything. For once I was able to
see things for what they were. Money worries I’d deal with.
They were not the be all and end all. My relationship with
Attila had begun and I hoped, despite his obvious reticence,
that it would eventually work. He’d never have let me move
in if he had real doubts, would he?

I called Alex to let him know that I’d changed my plans.

I wouldn’t go to the office today. Instead, after visiting my
lawyer, I spent time shopping for food and wine. I’d go back
to the flat and prepare a sumptuous dinner. I suppose that
was one good thing about living with Diana for ten years -
I’d had to learn how to cook.

I splashed out on a taxi to take me back with the

groceries. I sat in the back watching the world go by.
Something was different about it all. That feeling of
detachment that had always been with me, a sense that I
didn’t really belong, had gone. Everything seemed so real,
so vital. I felt as if I could reach out and touch the world. I
resolved then I was going to grab life by the throat and give
it a damned good shaking.

Once in the flat, I put a jug of water in the fridge to chill

while I peeled and cleaned the jumbo prawns ready for the
tempura starter. I’d chosen a bottle of pink Bollinger to go
with it and laid that down in the refrigerated wine cabinet.
In the cupboards, all neatly stocked, I found a food
processor and set about preparing the main course. When
that was simmering away on the stove, I poured myself a
large glass of Chablis and began setting the table. I’d
bought candles—then discovered a stock of them in the
credenza—and white lilies. By the time I’d finished, the table
would have graced any Michelin restaurant. All that was left
to do was for me to change and to make the tempura batter
at the last moment.

Tonight was going to be a night to remember.

ChapterEleven

That gay men have good taste is a bit of a cliché, but

Attila’s flat betrayed his penchant for the exquisite. It was a
stroke of luck as far as I was concerned. I’d been a
minimalist since my first days at architectural school and it
had been a disappointment to find that I couldn’t win Diana
over. Lady Chintz I’d called her once, provoking a row. That
was the day she removed the aluminum Venetian blinds
and replaced them with purple organza drapes.

I chose the chaise longue over the Eames lounge chair

and lay back, enjoying the sound of Gorecki’s third
symphony. I sipped my wine. Attila was a dark horse. These
toys, this flat, were beyond the reach of an administrator in
a car dealership. If that was his job, he had to have private
money. Perhaps his luck would rub off on me. I felt my
wrist. I might finally be able to get the old Cartier working
again.

I drained my glass and swung my legs over, sitting on

the edge of the chaise longue. Time to put the finishing
touches to the dinner.

I was so deep in thought I didn’t hear him come home. I

dropped a half-coated prawn on the floor when he spoke.

“What’s all this?” he said.

I turned to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I thought

I’d make an effort. Our first real night together, so to
speak.”

“What is it?”

“Never you mind. Go and get changed - it’ll be ready

soon.”

“Do I have time to shower?”

“Let’s have one later. Together.” I winked at him and he

smiled as he turned to leave. He turned down the music on
his way. Pressed against the cupboard door, I could feel a
hard-on growing and decided to go easy on the booze.

“If you want some, there’s Chablis open,” I said when

he returned. He looked so horny in the black Armani jeans
and white Ralph Lauren shirt. “But let’s not drink too much,
eh?”

“Have something in mind?”

“Have to make up for lost time.”

He poured a glass of wine. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.” I dropped the first of the prawns into the

oil and watched it bubble. “Can you turn the music up a
bit?”

“OK, but not too loud. Too loud drives me crazy. I just

like to have peace and quiet when I get home.”

“You’re kidding? So why do you have that B & O

system?”

“It came with the flat. I’d never have bought it myself.”

“It came with the flat?”

“Yes, virtually everything you see came with the flat. I

bought it as is.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment. “And there’s me

admiring your good taste.”

“Erm, I do have good taste. I bought it, didn’t I?”

“I guess so. And I’m glad you did. It’s great. It’s just

me.” I arranged the prawns on a plate and reached for my
glass.

“Shit.” I remembered the Bollinger. “Finish that

Chablis. I have something better to go with this.”

I opened the champagne at the table and filled the

flutes. Before I could sit down, Attila grasped my wrist and
pulled me to him. He put one arm around my buttocks and
pulled me tight. “Thanks. I like this.”

I bent to his upturned face and we kissed, a quick touch

of the lips that made me fizz like the wine.

We chinked glasses.

“Saluté!”

* * *

“That’s about it, then,” said Attila, closing the

dishwasher door. “It was great, Mark. Thanks.” He walked
over to me and put his arms round me. I shuddered with

pleasure.

Then he kissed me on the lips. “Still fancy that shower?”

“What a question. I’ve looked forward to it all day.”

He switched off the light and took me by the hand. He

followed me up the stairs, slapping my arse and pinching it.
He pushed me into the bedroom and kissed me again,
harder this time, biting my lip and filling my mouth with
his tongue. He unbuttoned my shirt and flung it onto the
bed, then pushed me onto the mattress and tugged at the
buckle on my belt. My cock was already hard and it leaped
out at him when he pulled my pants down.

“You’ll have someone’s eye out with that.”

We laughed and I reached up, pulling him down on top

of me, tearing at his shirt and throwing it aside. He didn’t
wait for me. He was already unfastening his belt and I saw
the head of his cock peeking over the waistband of his CKs. I
reached down and took it in my hands. It was already wet
and I massaged the pre-cum with my thumb. He shuddered
and pulled away from me.

“God, that’s too good.” He grabbed my hands and

pulled me up. “Come on, race you to the shower.”

We giggled like kids, running to the bathroom and

slapping each other playfully on the buttocks. I loved it. I
hadn’t a care in the world. Why had it taken me so long?

“Here,” he said, “let me scrub your back.”

I faced the wall and placed my palms on the tiles. He

used a sponge with a rough side to it, like a scouring pad,
and massaged the foam into my skin.

“Oh, that’s a firm touch.”

“Comes from being in the army.”

I turned my head and looked at him over my shoulder.

“You were in the army? You never said.”

“Well, you know now.”

I turned to face the wall again. “Use your hands.” The

army explained a few things, including those damned
tattoos. “I want to feel your hands on me. Yes, that’s better.”
I closed my eyes. His fingers kneaded the muscles in my
back. “Oh, that’s nice. That feels so good.”

I didn’t want him to stop. Yet I did. I wanted to do the

same to him. To let my hands explore his body, to feel his
muscles resist my touch. I turned round to face him and
filled my palm with gel. I slapped it onto his chest and
began to move my hands over his flawless skin. I tweaked
his nipple between slimy fingers and he shuddered.

“Mmm,” he said. “I really like that. Do it harder.”

I squeezed his nipple between thumb and forefinger.

His eyes closed and he breathed heavily. His cock was
rising, flicking against me.

“Like that?”

“Even harder.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I like it. Just do it. Hard.”

I couldn’t squeeze any more, not without tearing his

nipple, but I could see he enjoyed it. His cock stood proud,
way above his navel. I reached down and felt its strength. I
had to have it. The water cascaded over me as I got down on
my knees before him. I felt his hands behind my head,
pushing gently, and I opened wide. I took him in as far as I

could, until he touched the back of my throat and made me
gag. I hadn’t much experience doing this and hoped it was
good. I slid him in and out, the only thing I could think to
do, my lips rolling over the sweet head, simulating what I
was familiar with. His cock head was now so swollen my
mouth was wedged wide.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

I had no intention of stopping. I thirsted for his cum. I

was delirious, as if the room had been filled with an exotic
aroma. I kept going until he grunted and I felt the first spurt
hit the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t help it. I touched myself
and shot a load across his legs.

ChapterTwelve

“What are your plans for the day?” Attila asked,

spooning sugar into his morning coffee.

“I’ll get into the office. Need to face up to a few

problems.”

“Serious?”

“Could be. But then again, I’ve survived this far. And

now…” My thoughts drifted. In the last few hours my life
had taken a completely unexpected turn. Or had it? Had I
always known but only now opened the door to my real
feelings?

“Now what?”

“Oh, I don’t know how to explain it really. Things are

all a bit clearer. A lot clearer.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain, I told you. It’s like all my life until

now has been a charade. A play. My life has been like a play

and I’ve been in the auditorium watching it rather than
being in it.”

He shook his head. “You have a funny way with

words.” He bit into a slice of toast.

“Well, it’s true. I know no one will understand me, but I

know what I feel.” I drank my coffee and watched him
plough through his breakfast.

When he’d finished he stood up and looked at me.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” His tone filled me
with dread. He sounded like a judge about to pronounce
sentence.

“Yes?”

“You won’t like it, and I’m sorry.”

I wanted to stand but my legs wouldn’t respond. I held

onto the edge of the table. “Go on.” He was going to ask me
to leave. I knew it.

“I have a little holiday booked, with an old friend.”

“Oh, right. A boy friend?”

“No. Just a friend. I’ve known him for years.”

“Oh.” I felt as if I’d been plunged into a bath of cold

water.

“We leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I know. It’s bad timing. But I can’t cancel, it would

ruin it for him.” He looked at his watch. “I gotta get ready.
Come up.”

I followed him to the bedroom and lay on the bed,

watching him choose a tie.

“It’s only four nights.”

Four nights. It might as well have been four months. We

hadn’t even got to know each other, and he was going
away. With another man.

“And he’s not a boyfriend?”

“No. We did mess about a bit once, a couple of times,

but that’s over fifteen years ago. There’s nothing like that
between us.” He looked at me. “There isn’t.”

“OK, if you say so.”

“I do. And look. You have to trust me. I suffered years

of jealousy in my previous relationship, and I’m not
prepared to put up with it again.” He went to the mirror to
fasten his tie.

Trust him. Right now I’d rather tell Diana I was gay all

over again. “Where are you going?”

“Amsterdam.”

“Amsterdam?” I sat up. “And why, may I ask?” I knew

the answer. He didn’t need to tell me, but I wanted to hear
it.

“I booked it long before I met you.”

“But—”

“I’m going. It’s just a bit of fun. It doesn’t mean

anything.”

“The only reasons anyone goes to Amsterdam are sex

and drugs. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m not denying it. As I’ve said, it’s a bit of fun. A few

saunas, a mess about. That’s all.”

Talk about mixed emotions. I didn’t want to lose him by

over reacting, by pissing him off, but this was unbearable.
My head reeled, my stomach knotted and broken glass
dragged across my heart. I would die, knowing that he was
over there having sex with someone else. Yet I knew I had
no choice, other than to lose him. I was heading for this like I
headed to the dentist, with that sensation of being able to
turn and run away yet not wanting to do so.

“Anyway, it’ll give you some time to take stock of your

situation,” he said, brushing his jacket. “We can talk about
it more tonight.”

I got off the bed and tightened the belt of my robe. He

was ready to leave and I followed him to the door. “Are you
sure you couldn’t cancel it? If you explain—”

“Mark, please. It’s only four nights. It will fly by. Now, I

gotta go.” The door clicked shut and he’d gone.

Fly by for you, maybe. But how will I survive?

* * *

Alex was already at his desk when I got to the office.

“Crikey,” he said, “I was wondering when you’d

surface.”

“Oh, Alex. I’ve been through rather a lot in the last

couple of days.”

“You look well on it.”

“I feel well. No, not well as such. Overall I feel much

better but—” My voice trembled. The swell of emotion took
me by surprise.

“My dear chap,” said Alex, getting to his feet. He pulled

out a chair for me. “Let me stick the kettle on and you can
tell me all about it.”

All about it? Well, not all, perhaps. I went to my own

desk, removing my coat on the way, and switched on the
computer. A queue of urgent emails was piling up on the
screen when Alex set the tea down in front of me.

“So, go on, then,” he said, sipping quickly from his

mug.

I sat back in my chair. “I told her, she threw me out, I

moved in with Attila.”

I ducked to avoid the stream of tea that erupted from his

Alex’s mouth. He almost choked.

“Attila? You’re not serious?”

“It’s a bit unusual. But it makes him exotic, don’t you

think?”

“Sounds dangerous to me, never mind exotic.”

“He’s not dangerous. He’s lovely.”

“I can see you’re smitten.”

“More than smitten. I told you. I really like him.”

“You say Diana threw you out?”

“Doesn’t want me to set foot in the place again.”

“Crikey. Sorry.”

“Suits me, Alex. It’s over. Better this than some long,

drawn out battle.”

“It’s just…odd. I mean, you’ve been with her what, ten

years?”

I nodded.

“You don’t seem too upset.”

“I’m not. I feel guilty—that seems to have been built in

from birth—but I’m not upset. I think I’ve known for so
long that our relationship was over that I’ve already
grieved.”

Alex sat shaking his head. “It will hit you at some point.

It’s bound to.”

“Alex, I don’t care. I’ll get over it. Diana will get over it.

I’m nearly forty. I’ve been given another chance and I’m
taking it.”

“Life begins at forty,” he said, brightening.

A silence fell on us as we finished our tea. The tip of

Alex’s nose twitched, a sign that he was deep in thought.
Finally he said, “And Attila is content for you to live
together? I mean, it seems awfully quick.”

“It is quick. But I know it’ll be fine. Once we get over

the next few days.”

“I think it will be more than a few days—”

“No, not for that reason. I mean…well…he’s going

away tomorrow for a few days. I’ll be all alone.”

“Well, needs must. Business is business.”

“It’s not a business trip, Alex. It’s a holiday. And he’s

going with a friend. A man.”

Alex looked like he’d come face to face with a gunman.

“Ah.”

“Ah, indeed. And that’s not the worst. They’re going to

Amsterdam.”

“Oh, how lovely.”

“Alex. Wake up. Why do people go to Amsterdam?”

“Well, it’s lovely place. And there are some good art

galleries and—”

“And sex. Sex, sex, sex.”

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. You don’t know that’s

why they’re going.”

“I do. He told me.”

“He told you?”

“Yes. He’s very open about it.”

Alex looked like he’d been smacked between the eyes.

“He says it was just a bit of meaningless fun. He’s not

fased by the idea of me sleeping around, either. He calls it
messing about. Says it means nothing.”

“Well, there are lots of open relationships, I suppose. I’m

not against it. If you can cope, though. It takes a certain
strength.”

“I have to cope. I don’t know how, but I have to. It’s just

so different from what I’m used to.”

Alex’s reply was halted by the postman barging into the

office. He dumped a bundle of letters on the corner of the
front desk and left with a casual “Good morning.” I flipped
through the bills and final notices, and pulled out the only

unusual envelope. It bore the mark of a law firm in Camden
Town and I knew instantly what it was.

“Now the fun begins,” I said, slicing the paperknife

through the top. “Let’s see what she’s going to throw at
me.”

“Solicitor, already? She didn’t waste any time.”

“I didn’t expect her to.” I scanned the two-page letter.

“Ah, here we are. She seeks a divorce on the grounds of my
unreasonable behavior.” I looked up and smiled at Alex.

“Oh, well, I suppose sleeping with a man could be

regarded as unreasonable. Don’t you think?” he said.

“Yes, I would certainly have had no problem agreeing

to that as the price of my freedom. But I don’t need to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have ammunition, Alex. She’s been having an affair.”

“No!”

“And I have proof. I think a photocopy of it sent to her

lawyer will do the trick. Don’t you?”

ChapterThirteen

As I watched Attila pack his suitcase that evening, I

wondered if he would come back from his adventure a
different man. Would he still want me? Or would he meet
someone more deserving and return to throw me out? I had
to smile at the thought of being out on the street twice in a
week. In a perverse way, I felt that the tables had been
turned on me. Penance, for what I’d done to Diana.

It was an evening of meaningless chatter, like we were

dancing around each other not wanting to make contact. I
wanted to talk about his trip, this friend he was going with,
what his plans were, but he refused and went in a mood
when I tried. I still wonder that I didn’t leave him then, but
in my heart, I knew that I wanted him.

* * *

When Attila left for the airport in the morning, I felt

almost bereaved. I suppressed the urge to run after him, to
go down on my knees and beg him not go. It made me feel
like a child, and I would never feel like that ever again.

I showered, dressed, and went to the station like a

zombie. As I neared the ticket booth, a tramp, lying on the
ground among newspapers and cardboard, called out to me.

“Cheer up, Guv. Can’t be that bad.”

He was right, of course. It wasn’t that bad. It was worse.

I stared at the blank faces in the elevator. Was the old man
in the homburg in an open relationship? Were he and his
wife members of the Golders Green Swingers group? How
did he cope? It was all far removed from my reality.

* * *

The working day was a write-off. I couldn’t concentrate

on anything and, as usual, ended up in the nearby wine bar
with Alex. It was barely midday. Many people thought Alex
was gay and, in some ways, it was a pity he wasn’t. He was
a good friend—honest, dependable, wise. And he never

judged people harshly.

“You didn’t say anything about…you know…” He

looked around the room and lowered his voice. “That
address I gave you.” He sipped furtively at his wine.

“Amazing place. No one would believe what goes on.”

“So I understand from Adam. You get on OK?”

“I met a very nice guy, in some TV soap. I was going

home with him, actually, when I bumped into Attila.”

“You never said.” Alex emptied his glass and set it down

on the counter. “Must have been awkward.” He refilled his
glass from the bottle.

“Well, I feel bad about dumping the other guy but…he

wasn’t Attila.”

“So, what are you going to do this evening? I don’t

think it’s a good idea to sit alone at home. You need to keep
your mind active.”

“Hadn’t thought about it. You making suggestions?”

Alex shook his head. “No. I have to get back. In fact, I

was going to ask if you could manage to hold the fort and
let me get away early?”

“Considering you’ve covered for me these days, I don’t

see a problem.”

“Thanks ever so. Shall we get another bottle?”

* * *

The office was a tomb once Alex had left. As the evening

drew in, I felt the breath of the old black dog on my heels
once again. What purpose would it serve if I stayed to the
bitter end? Yet, if I went back to the flat, Attila would not be
there and I’d be all alone, surrounded by his things to
remind me of him.

It was only one stop on the train from here to Waterloo.

And the sauna was only five minutes from there. Regardless
of sex, I had enjoyed the place. Once I got over the initial
embarrassment. I loved the music, the smells, the raw thrill.
Never had anything excited me so. All those men driven by
lust. It would pass a couple of hours, if nothing else. Attila

wouldn’t mind. He’d be on his hands and knees in
Amsterdam by now, so why shouldn’t I have a bit of fun? I
pictured him with a Dutch cock in his mouth while some
other guy took him from behind. I was turned on, so I
turned off the heating and lights and locked up.

* * *

The same Faithless track was throbbing against the

arches when I arrived. The place was less busy than the last
time, but it wasn’t quite home-time in the City; apparently
the suits tended to pop in on their way home.

I showered and went upstairs to the cruising area. A

cursory promenade revealed no one remotely interesting. A
silver-haired man who looked as if he’d had rickets licked
his lips and beckoned me to join him. In my haste to escape,
I hurried round the corner of the cubicles and bumped into a
barrel of a guy, so hairy he may have been wearing a fur
coat. The body odor made me retch. I forced my way past. I
remembered there was a rudimentary bar on the ground
floor. I’d sit there for half an hour and see if things

improved.

I found myself a solitary chair in the darkest corner of

the bar. I flinched as my naked back made contact with the
cold plastic. Everything was plastic in there, including the
glasses. If only there had been alcohol to numb the senses. I
sipped my water and watched the miscellany of human
forms pass by. I certainly needn’t worry about getting old,
judging by this lot.

I dare say that it was a direct consequence of staring at

such relics that made the new arrival seem so much better
than he was. About my height, in better shape but with a
hint of a belly, he smiled when he saw me. He leaned
against the bar on his elbow while he finished a small carton
of juice, making sure I knew he was looking at me. When he
made a move, he looked back over his shoulder. I’d been
picked up.

I followed him into a cubicle and locked the door. He

already had my towel off and was tugging at my balls as if
he intended to harvest them. Then his face was against
mine. His mouth opened wide and the halitosis infested my
nostrils. I pulled back and turned my head away.

“Don’t you like to kiss?” he said.

“No.”

“Do you like to fuck? I want you to fuck me.”

“No.” I began to feel queasy.

“So, what do you want to do?” He was trying to salvage

my waning erection in his hands.

“Look, sorry, but I’ve got to go,” I said. I bent down to

get my towel and felt his weight on my back.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“No. Look, get off. I made a mistake, OK? Sorry.” I

forced myself upright and he toppled.

“Tosser,” he said. “Fucking wanker.”

“Sorry.” I raced to the locker room. I had to speak to

Attila.

At least the place was still quiet. I sat on the bench,

leaned against the locker and dialed Attila’s number. It went
to his voicemail. I opened my mouth to leave a message and
then closed it. I had no idea what to say. I had no idea what
I was doing in this place. I didn’t really want to do anything

I was doing in this place. I didn’t really want to do anything
with anyone, except Attila.

I ripped off my towel and got dressed. I’d stop at the

liquor store on the way home and buy something nice to put
me into a coma until tomorrow. I’d pass the next four nights
like that and then he’d be home. It was the best solution.

* * *

The cork came out of the Pouilly Fumé with a satisfying

plop. I poured myself a large glass and turned on the TV.
Anything was better than my own company. It seemed to
be soap time, but I soon found the BBC 24 news channel. I
watched it without paying any real attention, until a face
appeared on the screen that I knew. I stopped drinking and
turned up the volume. It was Justin. An old photo, but him
for sure. I’d missed the start of the report but the gist was
clear enough. He’d been rushed to hospital. He’d been
found just in time. Suspected overdose. His wife was flying
in from Canada.

Poor bastard, I thought, and filled my glass. So he was

married. Of course, they could be separated or anything,
but I still felt lucky that I hadn’t spent the night with him.
My life was complicated enough.

I grabbed my cell phone the instant it rang, hoping it

was Attila. Without checking the screen, I answered.

“I assume you got the letter?” It was Diana. I felt ill.

“I don’t really think now is a good time.”

“Always avoiding the issue. Typical. I want to sort this

now.”

I sighed. There was little point in putting it off. “Fine. Go

on.”

“My lawyer says that if you admit unreasonable

behavior we can have it sorted quickly. Under the
circumstances, I think it’s the least you can do.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Don’t you?” Her voice rose.

“Oh, come on, Diana.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t fuck with me. You haven’t been entirely honest.”

“How dare you? Do you know, you’re just…”

I let her stew while she sought the words. Even she must

have realized her plan was in danger.

“You run off with a man and expect anyone to believe

that I’m at fault?” she asked.

“Well, as you said, under the circumstances.” I poured

another glass of wine. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

“Look. How about if we meet?”

“Meet?” Right then, I would have preferred to stand on

my head in a sewer.

“Look, I just thought,” her voice softened, “that this is

all too quick. Maybe if we talk it over we can find a way.”

“A way to do what?”

“I know there are women who live with gay husbands.

Can’t we at least try?”

“Try what? Are you seriously suggesting that we

somehow stay together in a sham marriage?”

“But if you could, you know, see men as well?”

I collapsed into the chair. Then I stood up and paced the

living room. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to live a lie
anymore. Don’t you understand? And,” I didn’t give her
chance to intervene, “aside from me being gay, I don’t want
to be with you anymore. Don’t you get that? I can’t stand
being with you. I can’t stand your mess and your nagging.
Not for one more day.”

“Why don’t you come round? Maybe if we have the

night together?”

“You have some bloody cheek.”

“What do you mean?” There was curiosity in her voice

now.

“You’re the one who’s been having the affair.”

“Lies.”

“You have. Don’t deny it. At least I remained faithful

until the last.”

She was laughing and crying on the other end of the

phone.

“I wasn’t the first to break my vows, was I?” My throat

ached from shouting.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Who’s lying now, eh?”

“This was a mistake. I’m going.”

“Not before I tell you this. No fault divorce, Diana, or I’ll

be turning the tables. You’ll go down as an adulteress.”

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Can’t I? I have all the proof I need.

From D to C, even

our naughty bits love each other.

Sound at all familiar?”

She hung up.

* * *

It was almost two in the morning. The wine had worked

wonders for a few hours but now it was keeping me awake,
filling my head with thoughts of Amsterdam. What dives
was Attila frequenting and what was he up to right now? I
regretted my vivid imagination. Even plotting my moves on
the divorce front didn’t drive away the sordid images.

I decided to make some chamomile tea. I wrapped

myself in the robe that had become mine and descended the
spiral stair. As I reached the last step, I became aware of the
main door opening. I stopped. The light from the hallway
spilled into the living room and cast a dark shadow on the
floor. I went hot and cold all at the same time. Jesus, did
Attila have a wife, too? Was this her? Or maybe a jealous
lover who would cut me up and put my remains in the
freezer for Attila to find on his return?

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The sound of that voice.

“Attila!”

He switched on the main light, and there he was with

his suitcase, just as he’d left in the morning. He smiled at me
and his eyes glistened.

“Hi.” He put his case on the floor. There was a

crumpled look about him. His shoulders sagged, and his
face reminded me of a bloodhound. He seemed almost shy.

“What are you doing? You’re in Amsterdam.”

He pushed the door shut with his heel. “I got the first

available flight back.”

“But…I don’t understand…” I stood on the bottom step,

unable to move.

“I thought you’d be pleased to see me.”

“I am. I am. Of course I am.” Now I rushed towards

him and he opened his arms.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and he crushed me in

his arms.

“It’s OK. You’re back. But…I still don’t know why.

What happened? You were so determined.”

“It must have hurt like hell. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes, of course. But…what changed?”

“When I left this morning, almost as soon as I’d closed

the door, I wanted to come back to you. I felt bad, leaving
you like that. Oh, Christ, I can’t believe I did that to you.” I
felt him tremble and knew he was crying.

“Please, darling, stop. It’s forgiven.”

“You’re lovely, do you know that?” He wiped his eyes

with one hand and looked at me.

“I don’t know about lovely.”

“You are.” He stroked my cheek. “And I just couldn’t

stop thinking about you. Then I thought about my last
relationship and how it was good in the beginning, but all
the jealousy and the mistrust corroded it, ate it away like
cancer. Then on the flight there I realized that maybe it was
all my fault.”

“What was? What was your fault?” I led him by the

hand to the sofa and we sat side by side on the edge.

“Going with other men. I think that’s the problem, isn’t

it? My previous relationships were shallow, unsatisfying, at
least for me, so I had to go off and find what I needed
elsewhere. What I saw as clinginess was just my boyfriends’

love and their obvious hurt at what I did to them. It wasn’t
them at fault, it was me.”

I followed the argument. It certainly struck a chord with

me, but I wasn’t sure where this was leading.

“And? You’re having regrets?”

“No, not regrets, not like that. I just don’t want it to

happen like that with us. And I realized then that it’s me
who has to change, not you. I have to commit myself to you
for this to work.”

“You would do that, for me?”

He nodded. “I love you. I know that, more than

anything else, I don’t want to push you away. Once I
acknowledged that, I had to come straight back. As soon as
we disembarked, I went straight to the ticket counter to
change my return. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get on an earlier
flight. God, the wait at the airport was interminable.”

“But why didn’t you call?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Is that bad?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m in love with you, Mark. And I know that I only

want to be with you.”

I could hardly believe it. Whether he could actually stick

to it we’d have to see, but the desire was genuine. I was
about to explode with joy. I cupped his face in my hands
and kissed him. “I’m yours, Attila.”

His big, dark eyes looked at me. “And I’m yours. All

yours.”

I lowered my hands and, for the first time in ten years,

slipped the wedding ring off my finger.

~ The End ~

~ About the Author ~

Tristram La Roche was born in London and spent much of
his childhood in Europe. His career has included tourism
and yacht charter, as well as a brief period working as a
freelance journalist. His interests include travel, art, theatre,
cinema, books and current affairs, and he is passionate
about the rights of the GLBT community.

On My Knees

is

his debut romance. Tristram lives in London with his
husband.

Find out more about Tristram here:

Web:

http://tristramlaroche.com

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