Apologies (Ch. 3)	 Apologies (Ch. 3)

 by Aline

  

CHAPTER 3 

I'm working upstairs in Toby's office. I left work early for obvious
reasons and now I'm doing some boring paperwork -it's the only thing Harry
doesn't want to work on, he hates it. So do I and I'm about to take a
break, go downstairs see if Toby's back from work when the door opens...
footsteps, strong hands on my shoulders and Toby's voice in my ear. 

"It's been 20 years today since we first met, Chris." Fuck. I hoped he
would've forgotten. It would've make the whole thing easier. 

"Yeah? So what? 20 fucking years and you think you can enter my office
without knocking first?" 

He snorts, leans against my back, his chin on my skull, his arms around my
shoulders. "Actually, it's my office, Keller," but he doesn't push it, his
mind is on something else completely. "Anyway... I thought maybe we could
have a little... celebration." 

I put down my pen, push away the cheque book. "A celebration," I repeat
blankly. "Yeah. Well just us and the kids and Angus. Bonnie? Angie?" I
give a noncommittal groan. "You'd like that? Really?" "Yes."
 "Ok, got it. What do you want? A ring?" "C'mon, what's wrong with that,
Keller? Got a problem with the fact that we've been together for so long?"
"I've got a problem with the fact that I'm 56, Beecher," I turn to watch
him and sigh, "Look, is it really necessary? I mean, I know a lot of other
ways to celebrate, you know. I could buy some stuff and..." 

He laughs, a real amused laugh and I love to hear him laugh, I hope I will
hear him laugh for at least 20 more years. 

 "Fuck, let me finish. I could buy some stuff and fuck you all night
long." "Keller. Don't! We know it's not just about sex." "Of course it is.
What else could it possibly be about? My moral standards? My stunning IQ?"
I've taken him aback, he circles me, sits on the edge of the desk and
watches me thoughtfully. "You're hopeless."
 "Yeah. I'm gonna show you. Strip," I say, and he frowns incredulously.
"What?" "I said 'strip'. Now. I wanna celebrate our 20 years of sheer
passion." 

He shakes his head incredulously but does as he's told, locks the door,
takes his clothes off while I'm looking for lube, and when he's naked I
push him onto the desk and just fuck him hard and long enough, until he
squeals with pleasure, biting my arm, drawing blood in a frenzy of
pleasure. It takes us some time to recover and just when I finally help
him to his feet I hear a car drive up the alley. 

"Ah, must be Bonnie and her man. Did I tell you, Toby, it's our
anniversary, today, it's been 20 years since that first time in Fred's
house," Toby looks amazed suddenly, his eyes wide in disbelief and I can't
help grinning like an idiot, "so I decided I'd throw a little party. Just
us, the kids, my exes, Angus and his..." 

I can't finish, Toby pounces on me and shoves me against the wall. "I'm
gonna kill you, Keller," he growls, half-smiling already. "Yeah, I can see
the headlines now, 'Tragic anniversary...'" 

He laughs and lets go of me. 

 "I think we should go down," I say, "everything should be ready now, come
on. I was supposed to keep you away from the living room for a while." 

He's about to say something smart but I don't want to spoil the moment so
I throw an arm around his shoulders, "Come on, let's go!" and we walk down
the stairs together. 

Hours later, everybody's gone, the party's over, Toby's asleep in my arms.
Thank God it's over, and if I'm lucky it'll be at least 10 years from now
until I have to go through that again. 

I don't give a damn about any fucking anniversary, I don't like
celebrating anything, don't wanna push our luck, guess I'm a bit
superstitious about our love but Toby... Toby needs to make sure that this
thing between us is real, that it's love, despite the ghosts and the
failures, and I know I'm often hard on him, I've been hard on him since
the beginning mostly because I've always been so afraid of losing him so
if a party can make him laugh and smile and look at me the way he did
tonight and kiss me the way he did and make love to me the way he did, if
dancing some stupid old fashioned dance under the moonlight in the cold
winter night helps... That's OK with me. I can do it. 

My arm aches, Toby's sleeping on me but I don't wanna move, don't wanna
wake him up. I can hear some noise downstairs, probably Holly and Harry
cleaning up and I know I won't get any sleep tonight, so I lie back, close
my eyes and let the memories flow.  

I was 36 when I first met Tobias Beecher and I can't remember how many men
I'd fucked before him. I craved sex with men sometimes, always had, I
craved it when girls didn't give me what I wanted, when I felt so fucking
angry against a woman who'd let me down, angry against all the bitches in
the world, actually, who always wanted me to behave, be nice, buy flowers
for birthdays, not come home late, and get a good job, and... fuck that,
fuck them all! To wash away the anger and the pain I needed guys. But as a
kid I'd heard very nasty things about that, from my father's mouth, my
friends' mouths, terrible words I didn't quite understand at the time, and
I knew I didn't want to be like that, didn't want them to despise me. Even
after so long, 20 years with Toby, I can still hear their voices sometimes
and I'm not sure I'll ever overcome that. Maybe that's why I got married
three times, after all, to shut the voices up, make sure I wasn't
different, that my old man would've had no reason to hate me, despise me
-no other reasons that those he already had. 

So fucking this fine-looking unknown straight guy in the basement of a
house during a party and then stealing this beautiful bike had been really
perfect. A perfect night and after that I didn't expect to see the guy
again. 

But he came to me. God knows how he'd found out where I worked, because he
didn't even know my name, but one afternoon he was standing in front of
me. 

"I want you to bring Fred's bike back. I'll pay for it if you want me to,"
he said grimly. 

I put down the spanner, rested my hands on the hood of the car I was
fixing to look at the man standing in front of me, his well-tailored suit,
his tidy look. 

"Yeah? What makes you think I've got it, huh?" "You were about to steal it
when I saw you. You told me interesting things about that bike. Look, I
know you stole it, don't try to lie to me." 

Arrogant bastard! I stared at him, his upturned nose, his boyish face, his
expressive mouth and a clear blue gaze, let my eyes take as much of him as
the strict suit allowed me to, remembering what was hidden, the softness
of his skin taut over sharp muscles. 

"What's your name?" I asked.
 "My name? Why do you want to know?" 

 I smiled to him, cocked my head on the side. "I want to, that's all.
What's your name?" He looked unsure, suddenly and I thought maybe the
arrogance was only a faade. Finally he said, "Beecher. Tobias Beecher."
"Tobias? I'll make it Toby," I answered. "Make it what you want, I want
the bike." 

I raised a reproving eyebrow. "It doesn't work that way, Mr Beecher.
There's something you're supposed to ask, first." He frowned, obviously
lost... "My name?" I whispered obligingly, listening to his exasperated
sigh. "OK. What's your name?" he asked.
 "Christopher Keller. Make it Chris," I held out my hand cheerfully,
"pleased to meet you, Toby." "OK," he said, a bit annoyed, after shaking
my hand, "so what about the bike?" "Yeah, about the bike. What do you
want?" "Look, Fred told me he would go to the police and press charges..."
"But he doesn't know who stole it, and he won't, Toby. You wouldn't tell
him, would you?" I asked in a light voice, still smiling. He kept looking
at me with wide eyes, glancing around nervously as I circled the car to
come nearer. "Would you?" I asked, touching his hand with mine, feeling it
tremble slightly as I stroked it, not taking my eyes off his face. "No,"
he whispered.
 "Good," I said, letting my fingers snake up under his shirt, running my
thumb across the smooth inner skin of his pulsing wrist, feeling the life
there, "so they won't know. I think I'll keep it. It's a nice bike." 

Raising my eyes I caught a look of the empty office upstairs and realized
we were alone. It was going to be much more fun than I expected, after
all. "But you didn't come for the bike." 

He frowned, looking surprised, watching me, searching for an honest answer
to my question but I didn't give him time to think. 

"You came for more," I whispered, leaning over him, taking his chin in my
fingers, noticing his long lashes and the silkiness of his hair, the way
he kept his lips parted, "you want more." 

No, the office wouldn't do, I thought as I breathed against his mouth, I
needed a more intimate place for my nice uptown boy, and maybe it was
worth waiting a bit more; make things better still. Anticipation is half
the pleasure after all, we all know that. Anticipation, control, power... 

"I'll make you a deal," I began, "You let me fuck you again and I'll bring
the bike back to your friend." 

He glared at me. "This is blackmail," he said with a strange dry laughter,
half a snort, "and I'm not gay, anyway." 

Aw, that was a nice one! There he stood, looking shocked, the man I'd
fucked in a basement on a lousy mattress, and I didn't remember him
putting up any fight. 

"You looked gay enough to me, last week," I said and watched him blush in
embarrassment. "I was stoned. And drunk."
 "Were you? So that's all it takes? You get stoned and drunk and you let
anyone fuck you? Even a man you don't know, a man you think is gonna steal
a bike in front of you? Just some coke and a few drinks? I can give you
that if it's all it takes," I kept my voice low but I wanted every word to
sting. He wouldn't answer, wouldn't look at me and I continued, "or is it
that drug and booze give you a convenient excuse to be what you really
are? So you're not responsible? Is that it, Toby?" 

He stiffened under my touch, his fists clenching and unclenching, desire
and disgust, hunger and shame, arousal and anger tearing him apart. 

"Why is this bike so important to you? Tell me." "It's half mine. We
bought it together but officially it's his. See, it's a little
complicated." 

It didn't look very complicated to me, actually. When you've spent years
conning people, you have a good instinct for such thing. "The little woman
doesn't want you to ride a bike? Thinks you're a big man, now? Or Daddy's
too afraid he could lose his son? Both maybe?" "Well, not quite. Gen -
Gen's my wife- Gen doesn't know about the bike. It's... it's kind of
private." 

The way he was looking at me, his expression so honest, his eyes wide
open, begging me to understand... Aw, I couldn't resist. I took his face
in my hands and kissed him, sweet and slow, tracing his lips with my
tongue, exploring his mouth, feeling him shiver and sag against me in
amazement, his hands coming to rest tentatively on my shoulders as he
kissed me back, until I felt his knees buckle and circled his waist with
my arms, pulling him closer... 

"OK, just tell me where you want me to take it back," I whispered, "and
I'll let you go." "No more fucking?" he asked, frowning, "just like that?"
"Yeah Toby, just like that." 

Jesus fucking Christ, disappointment was written all over his face and he
sighed unconsciously. 

"Just park it where you found it the other day." I nodded and let go of
him, smiling as he straightened his hair, took a step back. "I'll go
then," he said and I nodded. He'd reached the door when I called him back.
"Toby... Maybe the bike's not the right thing to do; maybe you need
something else to make you feel good." He stood there for a second,
frozen, his back to me, and walked away without a word. 

Then what? The next month was a mess. I had a fight with my boss and lost
my fucking job then Bonnie found a new boyfriend so I had to move out.
We'd been divorced for 5 months now but she'd let me stay at her place
because I had nowhere else to go, and Bonnie had always been soft on me,
she was a nice woman, really. Then that little weasel came along and
Bonnie told me I had to move, which meant finding another job in another
lousy garage and starting to live alone -I hated to live alone, I got
bored and began to think, then I ended up doing weird things. 

Men aren't made for living alone, my old man used to say, and he was right
on that at least. Suddenly I took a good look at my sorry life. No wife,
no kids, no family, no job, no money, just an empty useless life. I didn't
like feeling this way, didn't want to so I spent a lot of time in bars,
drinking, cruising, fucking but that didn't work so well either. Maybe 36
is just too old for this particular kind of life, after all. 

I called my old friend Ronnie but he'd left for California 3 weeks before
-far enough to let the cops forget about him. I thought of going back to
ponzis and cons -I'd been pretty good at that before Bonnie, but gave up.
Bonnie would hate that, and even if I wasn't married to her anymore I
didn't want to lose what was left of her affection and since she was
paying the rent for my apartment I felt like I owed her something. Besides
I didn't want to take the risk of being arrested, didn't want the cops to
find out about some things I'd done a month or so ago, things that still
freaked me out. Nobody knew about the guys and I'd done a good job of
covering my tracks, but it was worth staying on the straight and narrow
now, no more trials, no more prisons. 

I thought of hustling, I'd done that, years ago, and it was a good way to
make money, but I was too old for that too. Not too old to find men or
women, it was still easy, I was still hot enough, but too old to put up
with their shit any longer, playing slave boy, trailing after them like
the good guy I wasn't. Maybe I needed to keep some pride, too. So I sat
alone in my apartment, desperately looking for a way out when I remembered
Tobias Beecher. 

I'd kept my promise more than a month ago, leaving the bike in front of
his friend's house, hadn't tried to see him again. But he'd sent me a
message on my cell phone to thank me and I realized I could call him back.
Anything would feel better than staying like this, trapped in this
emptiness that had become my life. 

"Hey, I brought the bike back, I deserve a reward, I was good," I told him
on the phone. 

There was a short silence, I could hear children screaming behind him, he
was probably home and I felt a twinge of something that felt a lot like
jealousy. Why couldn't I have this, well maybe not the kids, I didn't want
any kids but a nice wife, a nice job, a nice house and no trouble? 

"You deserve it," he said after a moment, "what about tomorrow? Lunch?
I'll buy." 

I stiffened. "Who the fuck do you think I am, some rent boy? We'll share,"
I growled, "your company's the only reward I want." 

Do you believe it? I could feel him blush, and he snorted again, a noise I
had begun to find quite hot, before whispering, "OK, just my company and
I'll tell you something: you'd be the first one to call it a reward, Mr
Keller." "Chris."
 He sighed. "Chris." 

I hung up. He'd told me the place and the time and tomorrow felt very far
away, suddenly. 

We had lunch together and then went for a walk through the city, shivering
under the cold winter sun. He wanted to buy some toys for his kids, asked
if I could help him choosing them. I didn't know anything about toys, but
two hours in the biggest store I'd ever seen showed me all I'd missed, and
choosing dolls, teddy bears and other stuff was fun, Toby was cheerful, he
didn't mind being seen in my company, he seemed to enjoy it, listened to
my advice carefully and I felt more than a little dazed. I hadn't even
kissed him again; I didn't want to, I wanted this to last some more, just
get some pleasure from his company, hang out with him, make him laugh -he
looked so hot when he laughed, I loved that. 

Of course, fucking him was still the ultimate goal, but I could wait. I'd
wait because afterwards, there wouldn't be anything left, I would feel
sick and angry with him, wouldn't even be able to bear the simple sight of
him -that's how it always was. When we parted, late that afternoon, he
looked like a kid after his first party, his eyes were shining like
sapphires and he hugged me. On my way home I kept wondering what I'd done
to make him that happy, imagining that maybe his life wasn't so nice,
after all, if he took so much pleasure in such things. 

He called me a week later and I listened to him with growing exasperation.
"A job? You found me a fucking job?"
 I heard a sigh and Toby's quiet voice spoke again. "No, I didn't find you
a job, Chris. It's just that I brought my car to the garage this morning
and Johnny -he's the boss- Johnny told me he had too much work and it I
asked him why he didn't hire someone, because he keeps ranting about it
all the time. He answered that a good mechanic wasn't so easy to find.
That's all. I didn't even mention you." 

I kept silent, half angry, half tempted. "You don't have to do this,
Toby." "I'd do this for any friend. You'd do this for any friend. Don't be
so touchy!" he laughed, "I'm sure you'd do great. You could take care of
my car." "Only your car? I could take care of you, Toby," I whispered, and
heard a sharp intake of breath, "where are you? I don't hear your kids."
"I'm in my office," he answered in a tentative voice. "Oh, so you have the
same navy suit? Like last week?" He laughed softly, "No. No, this one's
black." "Blue shirt?"
 "Yes and before you ask, blue tie."
 I closed my eyes, picturing him, wondering if I'd go on. I'd go on,
playing was fun. "Boxers?"
 "Chris!" he sounded amazed, "I'm not sure..." "OK, OK, just joking," too
soon, it's still too soon, "look, I'll take a chance on the job, but you
don't get to do that again, all right?" 

First time I entered Johnny's garage it smelled of oil and gasoline and a
radio was playing some lousy music, but I saw some exciting cars parked
there, and 3 guys working, talking, joking; I knew the atmosphere, it had
been mine for 2 years now. I asked for the boss, one of the men pointed
wordlessly at the office upstairs. Johnny was about 55, looked tired and
nervous. We talked for a while, he showed me a car, asked me to fix it,
and I did, fast and well. The wage was too low but it would do for a
while, allow me to pay the rent and get rid of Bonnie's guardianship. Of
course she was the first one to learn about the job and sounded relieved. 

"Try not to piss off your boss before the end of the first month." "Yeah.
And try to keep your boyfriend more than two weeks, don't fight with him
over stupid things, OK? Although I'm sure he doesn't deserve you." She
laughed. "I'll try. Good luck. Keep in touch, OK? And take care of you. No
stupid things, no college boys..." "I'm done with that. Don't worry." 

I loved women; I loved their sense of caring, their kindness, their
obsession to make us better. I still do, even now, and Bonnie is one of
the best, so I promised I'd take her to a restaurant as soon as I could,
and she laughed again. I could tell that she didn't believe me, but I
didn't care because frankly I had someone else in mind. 

"Dinner," I'd told him, "and I'll buy." He'd hesitated, argued and
eventually agreed. I'd chosen an Italian restaurant, I knew the man who
ran the place, he owed me for some business and I knew the dinner would be
for free. That night we spent a lot of time talking, actually he talked a
lot, cautiously first, and then more boldly; about his wife, he didn't
sound too enthusiastic about her; about his kids, he seemed to adore them;
about his job, he was a good lawyer, obviously. I watched him drink and
stopped him after a while because I didn't want him drunk. 

"Do you drink a lot?" I asked, looking concerned. He blushed, there was
probably something there, I wasn't the first one to approach the problem.
"No!" he answered, looking annoyed, "no, I mean not every day, not
regularly. I don't need it, I just drink with friends or when I feel
uncomfortable, or when I need some... extra courage." 

I didn't say anything, just watched him realize what he'd just said.
"Shit," he whispered, "I talk too much." 

There was no need to make him feel worse, I just smiled. "I like listening
to you." "Yeah, well... I'm not saying anything that interesting so...
What? What do you want, exactly?" "I think the question is what do you
want? There's not a lot I can give you. Beside the obvious, of course." He
looked stunned. "The obvious? What do you mean?" "The sex... After all,
you let me fuck you in this basement, didn't you?" 

He gave me a wary look. "You intend to talk about that every time we meet,
don't you?" "I have very nice memories of that basement, actually." He
lowered his eyes, caught in the fascinating sight of his lasagnas and
after a moment, I brushed his hand with my fingers. "Was it just because
you were drunk? And stoned? Nothing else?" He shook his head, "I don't
know."
 "Did you like it?"
 "You know I did."
 "Yeah, I know. So why not give it another try? I'll stop whenever you
ask," I promised, although I knew he wouldn't ask, I couldn't remember
anyone asking me to stop, the only words I'd ever heard was "more" or
"don't stop!" and he would do the same. "I... I don't know. I have to
think about it." 

I didn't want him to think, I'd waited too long already so as soon as we
walked out in the chilly winter air, I kissed him. Long enough to steal
his breath, sweetly enough to make a difference with the first time,
holding him against me, my fingers in his hair, an arm around his waist
like they do in movies, romantic stuff and all. "Now, tell me," I asked,
my mouth against his ear, "tell me, do you like it?" 

He rested his cheek against my jaw, nodded, I felt the scrape of stubble
and he moaned. "Let's do it again," I said, taking his mouth again,
feeling his body moving against mine, his tongue battling with mine, his
fingers on my neck, until I had to stop him, until he was ready... 

"Hey, hey, hey... Let's take this somewhere else, OK?" I said, "My place.
We'll take your car but I'll drive." 

We didn't talk much, didn't touch each other during the trip, God, we were
so aroused we could've fucked right there, and when I stopped the car we
rushed out like teenagers. As usual the elevator didn't work, we had to
take the stairs and we kissed again in front of my door as I struggled to
find my keys without letting go of him and I pushed him inside, shoved him
against the door, pressed my body against his, rubbing my crotch against
his. 

"Drug and booze, huh?" I growled, "You bastard, you need this. You do." 

His eyes were cloudy, unfocused as he began to undress me bluntly... Geez,
not again! I closed my fingers around his wrists to keep him still,
slammed his hands against the door above his head. 

"Listen to me, Toby... We're ain't gonna do it that way again. We'll go
slow. I want you to enjoy it." "I enjoyed it last time. Just fuck me, you
motherfucker," he growled. 

OK. That would be fun, real fun. "I'll fuck you. I will, I swear. But you
won't tear my clothes off and you'll calm down. OK? This is not a fight, I
want you to stay lucid so you won't blame it on me or the wine, or
anything. Just you. You do it because you want it." 

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly. I felt like I was holding down some
wild cat, and adrenalin rushed through my whole body like a burning fire;
I knew the sensation, I wanted it again and maybe I'd found a new
enjoyable way to get it without hurting or harming anybody, and I had to
rein in my desire to just throw him on the floor and fuck him senseless. 

I led him gently to the bed across the empty room, and pushed him onto it,
kissing him again and again as we got rid of our clothes, kissing his
whole pale body, his silky hair, his eyes, his lips, the palm of his
hands, being kissed back in return, same kisses, same places; Toby was
learning fast and well and soon we were so aroused we could've come like
teenagers, just rubbing against each other's body but I held back, asked
him what he wanted, asked him if he wanted me inside him and he nodded
again, his eyes clear and shining again like a summer sky and I took my
time, retrieved lube and condoms, prepared him until he writhed under me
like a fish out of the water, moaning, threatening to kill me if I didn't
take him but still I wanted it slow, I wanted it to last, I wanted him to
tremble with desire just like I was trembling, I wanted him to beg for
release just like my own body did and when I was sheathed deep inside him,
I begin to thrust slowly, very slowly, feeling his body arch under me,
trying to take me deeper, urging me to go faster, and I didn't, it was not
what he needed, he needed to learn, he needed to feel every new sensation,
to know how much he wanted it, loved it, needed it. 

When I couldn't hold back anymore I began to thrust faster, purposely
brushing along his prostate, his cock rubbing against my stomach, eyes
locked with his and after a while he couldn't resist any longer and came,
his tight muscles locked tight around my cock, dragging me into pleasure,
holding each other tight, moaning our pleasure in each other's ear, hearts
pounding. Jesus fucking Christ, I thought, that was just perfect, just
what I needed and when I opened my eyes, he was watching me and the only
thing I could read there was delight so I said nothing and we fell asleep
on that. 

He left me before dawn, had to go back to his place with a believable lie
for his wife, slip back into his everyday life, he told me, looking sad,
and I nodded. I didn't expect anything else and it had been months since
I'd woken up with someone else in my bed. He kissed me again, laughing in
my neck, brushing my face with his fingers, biting my earlobe and I
growled, "Hey, Toby you'd better leave right now 'cause I could feel like
fucking you again," rubbing my hard cock against him. 

"I really have to go," he sighed and got up, dressing hastily and walking
towards the door, but I caught him before he reached it, threw him to the
floor, pinned him there... 

"You don't tease me like that and get away with it, you motherfucker," I
panted against his mouth. He didn't look afraid or even surprised, just
laughed and tried to escape as if it was a game and inside me I felt the
hunger grow, felt my mind give in, felt something dark and dangerous
simmering near, so near... He stopped moving suddenly, closed his eyes and
went quiet under my body. I don't know what I would've done if he'd kept
on fighting me, but he didn't, just gave me this open and serious look and
said, "You know, it's not like I was going very far... I can come back if
you want me to." 

His words startled me, damped down my anger or whatever was slowly rising
inside me, tamed me and I let go of him. 

"Whenever you want, Toby. Come back whenever you want," I whispered, not
believing what I was saying, but freeing him. 

Smart move, Christopher Keller, I thought later as I lied on my bed, half
asleep, slowly stroking my body, trying to recapture the sensations;
wasn't it supposed to be one of those one-night stands you're so good at?
How could you be so stupid, is it all it takes, a pair of sky-blue eyes
and a nice smile? 

I sighed as my hand rested on my dick, my fingers grazing my skin like his
had only hours ago... The phone woke me up much later; I heard a rough
voice, a name, Johnny, and words. Garage, job... Today at noon and I said
OK, I'll be there. 

After that my life changed. I mean I was still the same Chris Keller,
still haunted bars and dubious places, seeking pleasure and oblivion in
anonymous arms, noisy music, and sometimes drugs but I had a job again,
which kept me going during the day and I had Toby, or so it seemed. 

We met once a week, more or less; one hour or the whole night, depending
on what kind of lies he'd built for his wife, I knew he did lie, and lied
well, I kept that in mind for later, maybe he would lie to me as well- we
met at my place or anywhere that seemed convenient. 

In the beginning he trailed behind me wherever I went, sometimes it was
fun, sometimes I wanted to get rid of him and sometimes I did, kicking him
out of my life for a day or a week, until he came back. He always did,
like the good addict he already was, yeah, that was easy and so
satisfying. 

I fucked him in back rooms, night clubs, anywhere I felt like it and I
thought someday he'd say, "stop", but he didn't. Sometimes we just spent
the evening or however long we could have together in my empty apartment
and fucked. I fucked him first and sometimes let him fuck me, relaxed
under his touch, let go of who I was, let him... take me. That was really
new, I'd never let anyone fuck me before, I was a top at heart, I was so
sure of that, but Toby... I don't know what it was about him that made me
feel this way. I was laying on the bed, and he would touch me, caress me,
using the skills I'd shown him, careful not to hurt me and I felt like a
wild animal, I knew I could pounce and hurt if he made the wrong move but
the fact is that he didn't. He was so focused on my pleasure that he
nearly forgot his, working his mouth, his hand and his cock on me, around
me, inside me and I felt like purring; I couldn't have enough, so when we
were finished I dragged him to me, both of us naked and sweaty, pushed him
on his back and kissed him until he began moaning, until he was hard
again. I knew what he wanted, knew what he liked, snaked a finger inside
him, then two, searching for the right spot to caress, feeling him arch
under me, my thumb stroking the underside of his cock, my other hand
wrapped around his shaft and the tip of his cock in my mouth, and I was
sucking it and licking it until Toby was making those incoherent noises in
his throat, until I felt him shake from head to toes, his body convulsing.
When he came, in my mouth I tasted him, musky, salty and we collapsed
together on the bed. I couldn't get enough of him. 

But when he was gone I began pacing, wondering again. What the fuck did he
want? He had a good job, a nice wife, fine kids, a beautiful house, money,
what the fuck did he want from me except sex? What more could I possibly
give him? Was it about some wicked thrill, was it about danger or
forbidden fruit, was he just bored? 

I couldn't stop my mind from wondering and the more I thought about it,
the less I understood, so one night I finally asked him and he frowned,
hesitated and said softly, "I think I love you," and I was so stunned that
I didn't answer. 

We were sitting at a table in a gay bar, and I pretended having trouble
hearing him, so I took him to the dance floor, wrapped my arms asked
straight in his ear, "What?"
 "I love you, I love being with you, I love every fucking minute I spend
with you, don't you see?" he answered, and I heard him perfectly. 

I felt panic surge; I could remember my ex-wives, other lovers telling me
that before, but the illusion had never lasted that long, 6 months...
Shit, what had I gotten myself into? 

"Stop selling yourself short," I heard him say, "you deserve much better
than what you have, Chris," he continued as we moved to the music, locked
in each other's embrace. 

I pushed him away, walked back to the table. I could barely breathe, my
chest was crushed and I knew this madness had to stop and stop now, before
it was too fucking late. He followed me, cautious. 

"I don't love you, Toby. I don't... You're fine, you're hot, the sex is
great but I don't love you. We can't go on like this," I said, shaking
him, my heart racing, sweat running down my spine... Panic, sheer panic
attack and I ran out of the bar to find some fresh air, breathe again. I
heard his footsteps behind me, heard his voice saying, "Chris," and cut
him short, walking briskly towards the car across the parking lot. 

"You don't know who I am, or what I've done, what I did before I met you,
how could you love me, you don't even know me? I'll go to hell, Toby, when
I die, I'll go to hell for the things I've done." 

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist, forcing me to turn and face him, rested his
hands on my shoulders, pushed me against the car, running his thumb across
my jaw, soothing me like I was some kid. I threw my head back, unable to
breathe, noticed a full moon, shivered in the icy winter night, saw the
lights of the city tremble around us. 

"I'll take you home, Toby," I said, "and after that, I don't want to see
you again. OK? Never again." 

He looked skeptical. "I frightened you," he whispered, "when I said I
loved you I frightened you. Shit. Don't do that to us, it worked just
fine!" 

Those two words... Big mistake, Toby... They made something snap inside
me. 

"Just fine?" I growled, "How can you say that? You cheat on your wife, lie
to her, spend all your free time with me in these places. Is that 'fine'
to you?" He took a step back, looking worried. "Every time we're together,
I get a glimpse of what I could have and then every time you leave me you
take it away. A night of bliss each and every week, is it what you call
'fine'? This is not a life, Toby, not a life for you, maybe not even a
life for me, or anyone!" I was spitting every word in his face, "You think
you make me happy? Who do you think I am? An animal, a fucking dog you
just let behind when you go back to your everyday life? Is that what you
call "just fine"? You know what "just fine" means to me? It means having a
life like yours, a fucking ordinary life, a family and a nice home,
someone waiting for me when I come back from work, week-ends in bed with
somebody or walking across the park... That is "just fine" to me. What you
have is fine. What I have is," I blinked back a tear of rage or something
else, "what I have is just shit, just nothing. I want more. I know I can't
have it so I'd rather have nothing. Do you hear me?" I was shaking him,
pushing him away, he stumbled, eyes wide and I knew the moment had come
for the death-blow... 

"We're done, Toby, this... this relationship, whatever you thought it was,
it is over, finished. Go back to your fucking fine life and leave me
alone." 

It took him seconds to react, then he gave me a strange look and asked
angrily, "Tell me, Chris, which part of what you said is the truth? Which
part should I believe?" I recognized the lawyer's mind behind the words, I
knew he was going to argue and I was so not in the mood for that. 

"Are you giving me this "all or nothing" shit just to get rid of me,
because it's a kind way to tell me you don't give a damn about me, or," I
braced myself. Fuck, never screw smart guys, I thought as he continued
"or," he said, eyes shining, lips twitched in a mocking smile, "do you
love me and you're too proud or too afraid to admit it? Huh? What's the
truth, Keller? Are you freaking out?" I took a deep breath and gave him my
worst smile, fighting hard not to knock him down right there. 

" Believe what you wanna believe, Toby, I don't care. I'm done with you
anyway." I got inside the car, slammed the door, "And find another garage
for your car, I'm done with that too." 

I left as fast as I could, tyres screaming against the concrete and drove
away, to another bar where I fucked a girl in the toilets and got drunk
before falling asleep inside the car. That morning, I was late to work and
then I didn't hear about Tobias Beecher for a while, which was great. 

But after a week, it wasn't so great, I felt lonely again, and I missed
him like hell, missed his laugh and his voice and his strong arms around
me, and our fights on the floor of my apartment and the sex and every
fucking detail I remembered about him, I missed him and hated him 'cause
he had all that I wanted, all that I could never have for myself, I hated
him for that and at the same time I wanted him so badly I sometimes had to
jerk off in the toilets of the garage just thinking of him, cursing the
day I'd met the guy. 

Guess I wasn't the only one to ache, because after a while he tried again.
Called me on the phone, leaving messages on my cell phone, writing me
notes I didn't read, showing up at the garage or the apartment, seeking me
out in bars, Christ, he couldn't leave me alone. So I returned his
letters, changed my phone numbers, kicked his ass out of my apartment,
insulted him, nearly hit him, wanting to hurt him, discourage him, disgust
him and eventually I thought he had given up. It didn't make me feel
happy. But relieved? Sure. 

Maybe I wouldn't have ever seen him again, after all, but fate is
persistent. I was standing in front of the courthouse several months later
waiting for Bonnie. She'd called in the morning, I was half-stoned, she'd
said she wanted me to sign some papers, I didn't really know what it was
about. Anyway she was late, and I was about to leave; after all she had a
man, she didn't need me anymore and fuck I was going to waste some more
time waiting for her in the middle of this huge hall where I felt like a
stranger in an unknown world among important men dressed in fancy suits. 

I turned to leave and nearly bumped into a man standing in front of me. I
raised a hand to steady him, my eyes caught blue eyes and my breath
stopped for a second. 

"Toby? What the hell... What happened?" Jesus fucking Christ, what had
happened to him? He was so lean I could feel his bones between my fingers;
he looked weary and lost and rested his weight on a cane. A beard partly
hid his face, making him look much older. 

"What the hell happened to you?"
 He gave me an almost shy smile. "I... I went through some bad stuff. I'm
OK now." 

My blood was slowly coming back to my head, my brain working again. "Bad
stuff? What kind of bad stuff?" I asked, nearly shaking him. "I had... I
was hurt in a car crash, spent some weeks in hospital," he said, showing
me the cane, "but I'm OK now. Really." He spoke slowly, his eyes not
leaving my face. "You look good," he said lightly, "Still working at the
garage?" "Yeah. Why didn't you tell me? Fuck, Toby, why didn't you come to
me?" I asked. "Ah, you'd made it quite clear that it was over. I didn't
want you to believe that I was trying to influence you," he began and with
a sigh he added, "and I didn't want you to see me so... miserable. Three
months ago I looked like a living dead." 

I couldn't take my eyes off him. 
 "I can't believe that you shut me out like that, Toby," I whispered,
touching his face with tentative fingers. He didn't try to back off,
closed his eyes for a second. His beard was soft against my fingers. 

"Shut you out?" he snorted, "Chris, you let me down, you kicked my ass out
your apartment, changed your phone number... What the fuck was I supposed
to do?" 

Of course he was right, but I felt hurt all the same. "C'mon, I'll take
you to my place, we can have a drink..." He stopped me, shaking his head.
"No, no. Gen's going to pick me here in 5 minutes." Shit. "OK, let's sit
down then, 5 minutes is enough time to tell me what happened." There was a
wooden bench in a corner of the hall; we sat there side by side. His thigh
was touching mine, hot under the fabric of his suit and I was drinking in
the sight of him, Christ, I could've lost him; I'd let him disappear, I'd
pushed him away and he'd been hurt... I clenched my fists in frustration. 

"What happened, Toby?" I asked, looking at his hands crossed on his laps,
covering them with mine, feeling them tremble slightly. 

"I was drunk, the car skidded on the road, it was raining. I ended in a
wall, I was out for a week. Both legs broken and a concussion. But it
wasn't that bad, I was lucky, doctors said I could've died." "How long
ago?"
 "Nearly 4 months. I was going home. It was my fault. Chris, I was drunk,
I could've killed someone," he explained in a shaky voice, "It was the
third time... They took away my driving license, I had to stop working for
a while... Shit, I made such a mess of everything." 

He'd finished and he rose as a young woman walked toward us, tidy look,
brown hair, beige suit... Pretty. I'd seen a photo of Gen once, taken
after the wedding during their honeymoon, nestled against her young
husband, both of them smiling. There seemed to be nothing left of that
young loving girl and when she talked to him her voice was cold and
exasperated. 

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Tobias... Why are you hiding
there?" Before Toby could answer I'd gotten up and she took one step back,
looking scared. "Who... Who are you?"
 "Your husband's friend, I'd say. Mrs Beecher, I suppose?" I outstretched
my hand, she put her little hand in mine -I noticed the hesitation and the
sideway glance to her husband, "Christopher Keller." "Tobias told me about
you, Mr Keller." 

Toby was pale and avoided her look. Something else had happened, but the
hell if I knew what. "We lost contact some months ago."
 "Really? Lost contact?" She said coldly, raising an eyebrow, glaring at
me. What the hell was going on there, I wondered, slightly worried.
"Then," she added "I guess you won't mind if I tell you that my husband
doesn't need your... friendship." 

Huh-huh. She knew. I couldn't even imagine how, but the bitch knew about
us. 

"Your husband's old enough to speak for himself, don't you think?" 

Toby looked at me, his eyes imploring me. "It's OK, Chris. I have to go.
This is... ancient history, anyway. It was nice to see you again." He
smiled and took his wife's hand. I hated her for the look she gave him
because there was no love there, I saw this, just some strong sense of
possession and Toby was looking so ashamed and tired. They left together,
I watched them until I couldn't see them anymore. I noticed how brisk her
step was, I noticed that Toby limped slightly beside her and that she kept
looking straight ahead. I hated her for making him feel bad. 

I spent the whole night thinking about Toby. Fantasizing about Toby. I'd
been so sure it was over, that I had -well maybe not forgotten but at
least overcome the pain and the memories. But who was I fooling, I could
feel my whole body ache just remembering our little talk, his face, his
hands in mine, his look, his eyes. Before dawn I called his cell phone,
hoping he hadn't changed the number. I intended to leave a message, but he
answered. 

"Toby," I said, and I couldn't find anything else to say, but I guess he
thought I wanted some explanations. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I... talked about
you once. We had a fight, Gen and I, after the accident and I was still
very unbalanced, I told her I'd found someone else. A man. Didn't even
mention a name but I think she guessed when she saw you. You looked too
concerned to be just a friend, and she knows them all anyway." "This fight
you two had... Was it about me?" "No. She thought I was having an affair
with a girl in the office, a secretary." "Was it true?"
 "Yeah, actually it was," he said matter-of-factly, "I don't know how Gen
and I ended up like that. Gen yelled at me, telling me that I made her
feel worthless and abandoned, I told her that I had to go elsewhere to get
what she wasn't giving me. Sex, among other things. Affection, kindness.
She kept saying that I would've fucked any available girl anyway, no
matter how kind she was and that's when I told her about us." 

I'd listened carefully. So he'd been cheating on her after me, and
probably before... I didn't like that, it didn't fit my idea of Toby, but
I had other priorities so I just let it go. 

"Leave her, Toby, she doesn't deserve you," I said. "No. No, we've managed
to build something new between us and there are the kids. I can't leave
her." "Something new? Toby she talks to you like you're some kind of
criminal! That's not love! You can't build anything on that!" "Yeah? Guess
you know a lot about love, don't you?" "Maybe not. But I know what I saw
this afternoon, and that wasn't love." "Fuck you, Chris! Fuck you!" he
snarled back. 

 I knew talking further about it was useless, he wasn't ready to hear me,
he needed time and that's what I would give him. Time. And what Gen didn't
give him. 

 "What are you wearing, Toby?" I asked, afraid he would hung up. "What? Oh
Christ, Chris, not again!" he snorted, half annoyed, half amused, "We're
through, remember?" "C'mon, tell me!"
 "OK. Jeans and a turtleneck. Both black," he said, resignedly. "Boxers?"
 "No underwear. I grabbed what I could, Gen was asleep, I didn't want to
wake her up." 

I closed my eyes, reclining on the bed, trying to imagine him like that.
With this beard. Christ, I was hard already. "Where are you?"
 "In the leaving room on the couch. I couldn't sleep. Want to know the
colour of the couch?" "Dark green. You told me once."
 "Oh! I didn't remember that."
 "Well I did. What are you doing?"
 "Reading. Do you want the title of the book, too?" "Sure! Tell me, Toby!"
Anything to keep him talking. He sighed, I heard him shift. "It's called
`Nils Holgersson's wonderful journey through Sweden'" "Yeah? And what is
it about?"
 "It's the story of a good-for-nothing boy who's changed into some..." 

I cut him short, "I love you, Toby," I said in a breath, as fast as I
could, "I really do, it's just... I'm lousy at relationships." There was a
dreadful silence and I heard him sigh. "Yeah? That's something we have in
common, then." He didn't say anything more but I could hear his voice
shaking. "Do you believe me?" 

"What? That you love me? Maybe. And then what?" "Give me another chance!"
 "You think you deserve it?" he asked incredulously, "You treated me like
shit, Chris, why should I forgive you? Why should I come back to you? How
can I be sure it's not a game you're playing? Maybe you're just bored and
looking for some fun!" "Toby, I've missed you every single fucking day.
I've been thinking of you at home, at work..." "Tell me you've been living
like a monk! No sex?" 

I couldn't say that, I didn't want to lie, he wouldn't believe me. "I've
fucked every single woman or man I could find but they were just holes
where I could stick my dick. You're different. It's not just about sex,
you know that. Come on, what do you want me to tell you? You were right
the last time, I was lying. I was freaking out. I've never been in love
like this before. You've got to believe me, Toby, for Chrissake!" 

There was a very long silence, stretching between us, and I was clutching
the phone so tight my fingers hurt, feeling stupid and desperate. Christ,
he had to take me back, he had to, it was the only thing I could think
about. 

"Please, Toby! You know you still want me. You know you love me." "Chris,
you're such a self confident bastard, sometimes! Trying to get back at me
like that!" "Last time we met you told me I was selling myself short."
"You have a very good memory."
 "Yeah, it can help sometimes. Please, Toby!" 

Five days later we were facing each other in my apartment. He'd shaved, he
looked younger, but so lean and still so weak, watching me cautiously, not
too sure what he was supposed to do. I'd closed the door on him and there
he stood, watching me through his lashes. Gauging me, probably, and I felt
clumsy and embarrassed. I took a step forward, then another, coming close
enough to smell him. He lowered his head like a college girl on a first
date. 

"Hey, Toby, it's only me!" I said softly. "I know. But I'm not sure, not
sure I'm doing the right thing. I shouldn't be here, Chris, I spent so
much time trying to fix things with Gen and my family... Trying to forget
you." I laid a finger on his lips, came closer still, and his hands
brushed against my shoulders, eventually landing there like frightened
birds, tentative and soft. I closed my eyes under the touch, not daring to
move. He kept his head low, I didn't know what to do or say. 

"Look at me, Toby!" 

He raised his eyes and we kept silent until I cupped the back of his head
with my hand, brushed his mouth with my lips and Toby gave in to the
sensation, pressing his own lips against mine. I parted them with my
tongue, he was warm, he smelled good, tasted good, I kissed him deeply,
slowly, circling his waist with my arm, pulling him closer, and his hands
locked behind my neck, his thumbs on my jaw, smoothing my skin. We kissed
for what seemed like hours, and it felt like the very first time, the very
first kiss, I lost myself in the unknown sensation of kissing someone for
the pure pleasure of the kiss, no ulterior motives, no obvious purpose,
just a kiss to taste and enjoy Toby. After that he buried his face in the
crook of my neck, his hand clutching my shoulder and asked, "And now what?
Where do we go from there?" 

And fuck if I knew. But I took him to my bedroom and we made love there.
I'd never felt anything like that before and when dawn came I was sure I'd
do anything to keep him. Anything.  Please send feedback to Aline.