Mike looked up at the block of flats above and as he approached its front door. It was modern with lots of shiny glass. It looked completely in place in this busy part of Kings Cross. He looked down the list of names besides the front door and pressed the one marked Christian. The voice that replied was reserved and cautious.
“Hello, who is there?”
“It’s Mike, we spoke on the telephone.”
“Hi, push the door when you hear the buzz. You can catch the lift if you like, it’s the fourth floor and flat number forty-five. Look forward to seeing you.”
I shiver ran through Mike as he pushed the door to enter. He checked that he’d the mobile phone in his pocket. It was the reason he was here but right now it didn’t seem to be a good enough reason.
“You are a writer, an author so you can treat it as research,” he told himself. “After all a writer needs a wide range of experiences.” But wasn’t working and the thought of a romantic dinner with another man in a strange flat in Kings Cross still made his skin crawl. Yet he was here and the lift was carrying him rapidly upwards. It was no faster than any other lift but it still left his stomach in his shoes. By the time he reached the door of the flat and nervously tapped on it, he was feeling sick with tension.
The face that met him was full of smiles. Of medium height and wearing beige trousers and the blue jumper over a blue shirt, he looked like any other man in his ’30s. Apart from being completely bald, it was his eyes that distinguished him. They were very small, almost piggy, but had a piercing quality that seemed to look right through you.
He held the door open with his left hand and reached out to shake Mike’s with his right. Mike took it and as firm and manly as any other he had ever shaken. Briefly he wondered how many other hands in his lifetime he had shaken of men that unknown to him had been gay.
“Let me take your coat,” said Christian. “Would you like to go through to the lounge? I thought a couple of drinks would be nice before we had dinner.” His voice was not particularly high-pitched. It had a slight camp lilt that Mike guessed that this was probably reserved for special occasions and could be turned off at will. The thought that for Christian this was a special occasion gave him no comfort at all.
“A gin and tonic would be nice,” said Mike, slipping the mobile phone out of his coat pocket so that he could take it into the lounge with him.
“That’s one of those new Internet phones isn’t it,” said Christian, interested.
“It’s one of my favourite toys. You can surf the net, talk with your best friends, and send text messages or emails. It’s a bit of an indulgence and cost a packet, but I like it. A friend of mine has modified it so that all the calls go out over the Internet, encrypted of course, so you can talk to anybody in the world for the cost of a local call through your favourite ISP. I have an unlimited time deal with my ISP for 10 a month so it’s even better.”
“It sounds like the sort of deal I like. You are a writer aren’t you,” said Christian disappearing in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’m glad you didn’t put the word ’struggling’ before ‘writer’,” said Mike, from the lounge “most people do. And usually, they are not far wrong. Writing for many people is a pleasant unpaid past time. To raise it above this level usually takes something very special or a strong dose of fame that will help market the book.”
“And which have you got?” said Christian, bringing the glasses in.
“Neither, actually,” said Mike. “I had the other thing which was good luck. I was at university with somebody who went on to become a publisher. My friend came across a European grant could be used to publish some unknown writers and thought of me. Fortunately, he thought I was good enough to be put at the head of the list.”
“A romantic friend?”
“He was a good friend but I don’t know if he was gay. This is all a bit new to me.”
“Good friends can often be romantic friends but because of the way society is we sometimes never find out.”
Christian raised his glass and touched it to Mike’s.
“Here’s to new doors opening,” he said. His voice was soft and reassuring.
“New doors,” agreed Mike, nervously.
They were both standing at the fireplace with its imitation wooden logs. Mike felt the need to put distance between them and walked over to the window. The early evening traffic was light and occasional passers-by looked tiny and insignificant as they scurried about their lives.
It’s a great view, “said Christian, joining him.
It was a double entendre that Mike thought might partially refer to him. He could feel Christian standing by him, very close.
“You really are right in the centre of things here. Isn’t Kings Cross famous for its street life?”
Christian laughed. “You can buy and sell almost anything down there. Sex drugs rock’n'roll. Sometimes I just stand here watching them, it’s better than television.”
“Have you ever been tempted to participate?”
Christian looked sideways at him. Mike saw out of the corner of his eye his wariness.
“Businesses is business,” he said. “But I prefer to get my pleasures elsewhere. Of course, there’s no harm in watching during an idle moment.”
“I must confess, said Mike, still looking straight ahead, “that it crossed my mind as I was coming here that Kings Cross is a scary place. But I was telling myself that I should welcome new experiences even if they’re scary for the sake of my writing.”
“I hope you’re not doing this just for the experience,” said Christian. “I don’t mind if you are inexperienced, in fact I find it attractive, but I don’t fancy being an experiment for a book.” A slight degree of petulance had crept into his voice.
“It’s not like that at all,” said Mike. “You’ve no idea what it’s like to have something inside you’ve wanted to share for so long that never having the opportunity.”
It was a great line, off the cuff, and Mike felt, momentarily, proud of it. He made a mental note to remember it for a book sometime.
Christian sounded mollified and laid his hand on Mike’s shoulder, turning him round, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth in one easy motion. He stood back holding Mike at arm’s length, watching. Mike managed a sickly smile and Christian seemed satisfied.
“Now, I’ll be off to the kitchen, you go into the dining room and I’ll be in shortly with the food,” he said, brightly and disappeared with short neat strides.
Mike stood there, legs feeling like water. When he was sure that Christian had gone, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and squaring his shoulders went into the dining room. It was beautifully laid out for two with cutlery for starters, main meal and dessert. Two roses sat at the centre of the table in a slim crystal vase. The curtains were drawn here, cutting them off from the world behind a barrier of light green heather and more roses. Just a step away, through an open door, Mike could see the bedroom with its large double bed and soft lights glowing.
He thought, desperately “what on earth am I doing here? This is madness, I don’t want this.”
Aloud, he said, “this is lovely, you have worked hard.”
From the kitchen, Christian replied proudly:
“I like cooking and meeting you was a great opportunity to do something special.
He joined Mike, carrying the starters.
“I hope you like avocado,” he said. “There’s a choice of what to put with it here.” He opened a tureen containing a variety of sauces and with quick hands and an easy strength pulled the cork out of a bottle of French wine.
Mike was hungry and eating was easier than talking so he let Christian lead the conversation and kept his responses to the minimum. Christian was interested in Mike’s hobbies, in particular whether he enjoyed gambling.
“It’s not something I’ve ever really understood,” said Mike. “I’d never even been to a casino.”
“There’s something special about it,” said Christian, dreamily. “It has a special atmosphere. I love the whir of the roulette wheel, the gasps of excitement and the smart clothes. Then there is the heady chance of winning or losing. It’s best when you know you are gambling beyond your means. The build-up and the tension as you wait for the fall of the dice or the turn of the card. Then, for a second, your life is in the balance and you know you are alive. Some people get off on drugs or alcohol. For me it’s the adrenalin rush of chance that spices life.”
Mike finished the last of his main course, spaghetti with a bacon sauce, leaned back sipping slowly at his wine.
“You sounds passionate enough about to it to make it a profession,” he said.
“A lot of business is about risk. It’s always difficult to calculate the risk in any deal. I do both quite well and the success I have in one rubs off into the other.”
“Apartments like this dont come cheap in the centre of London. You must have done extremely well for yourself, whatever the risks,” said Mike.
“I’ve done all right,” Mike detected a reluctance to say more about what he did for a living, “but there’s always tomorrow’s deal and the deals get bigger. One slip and it could all be gone.”
Mike wondered what sort of business had attracted the attention of the people that had sent him there.
“I can offer you a dessert, or perhaps you would prefer cheese and biscuits in the lounge and perhaps a brandy?”
Mike opted for the lounge; it was further away from the bedroom.
They went through, Christian carrying a cheese and biscuits platter and Mike the brandy decanter with two glasses. Christian sat on the couch but Mike put the brandy glasses down on coffee table, remained standing then moved over to the window again.
“Take a drink,” said Christian, holding out a large brandy.
Mike returned to take the glass and then went back to looking out of the window.
“Do you ever go out down there in the evening,” he said, “it must be fascinating. In the suburbs, where I live, you don’t see anything like that.” He pointed down to where a woman was standing wearing a bright mini skirt on the corner.
Christian joined Mike at the window.
“Or that,” he said, pointing to a young boy who was standing at the other end of the street on an equally prominent corner.
“It’s really lovely to be cosseted here, but I keep wondering how nice it would be to go out exploring since you must be such an authority on the neighbourhood,” said Mike. It would also get him out of this flat, he thought to himself.
“You want a guided tour?” said Christian.
“I must admit that the writer in me is tempted,” said Mike.
Christian’s hand reached out and held Mike’s. It felt strange then Mike suddenly realised that his hand was palm forward, the way a woman’s hand would normally be held.
“Isn’t the writer in you more tempted by this new experience,” said Christian, his voice was quiet and low and he turned sideways on and kissed Mike beneath his left ear causing unpleasant tingles to run down Mike spine.
“Both,” said Mike, slowly, but I’m afraid for things to go too fast in here. “After so many years, I find this very difficult. It’s all so strange.”
“But exciting, I hope,” said Christian. He had released Mike’s hand and was now stroking the small of Mike’s back.
“Mmm,” said Mike, non-committally. The woman with the mini skirt, after a brief conversation, was now getting into the back of somebody’s car. Mike was very conscious that Christian’s hand had now moved lower down his back.
“Or on the other hand,” said Mike, “it’s been a lovely evening and perhaps it’s time for me to make tracks for home.”
“But the evening is still young,” said Christian. There was a slight edge in his voice.
“Or perhaps is it just that you are just a teaser, leading a fellow on and then not willing to be generous with your wares.”
“It is not a very romantic to talk about my ‘wares’, especially as I am attracted to you. It’s just that I haven’t done this before.” Mike winced as Christians fingers that were busy massaging his shoulders dug in particularly deeply. Mike’s mind was turmoil. A lifetime’s conditioning urged him to take the initiative, to push Christian away, to assert himself. Normally, if a man became too insistent, they could see who was stronger in a straight fight. But Carolyn’s words came back to him.
“Strength in vulnerability,” she had said was the key when you are not the predator but the prey. The objective was to leave the mobile phone in his flat after Mike had gone. Lashing out at Christian would not achieve that. Slowly Mike reached behind him and around Christians waist. Christian moved forward and pressed himself harder against Mike. His hands slipped from Mike shoulders to the buckle on Mike’s belt, whilst all the time nuzzling Mike’s neck. Mike brought his hands round again to restrain Christians.
“I’ll flip you for it,” he said.
“You’ll flip me for what?” Christians voice was muffled with his lips deep in Mike’s neck.
“Get a coin, flip it … if it’s heads, one thing, if it’s tails, then another. We agree the bet beforehand.”
“Sounds a bit complicated to me,” said Christian, why don’t we just go into the bedroom and have some fun. It sounds like a tease and I told you I don’t like teasers.”
“But you do like a little gamble,” said Mike, “now’s your chance. It’ll make it interesting for you and force me to decide. And to prove that I am not just a tease, I’ll put my mobile phone up for grabs.”
Christian pulled Mike round, kissing him full on the lips and then, pushing him away again to arms length carefully scrutinising Mike’s commitment.
“And you’ll keep the deal?”
Mike nodded, his pulse pounding.
“I’ll get a coin,” Christian said.
There was a two-penny piece on the mantelpiece.
“I’ll toss,” said Mike, “after all it’s my fate.” He held the coin balanced on his thumb.
“Heads I stay, tails I go and you get my mobile telephone as a consolation prize.”
“Not enough … said Christian, eyes firmly focussed on the coin and licking his lips with anticipation. I told you I don’t like teases. So Tails I get your phone and I also get to spank your little virgin tail with a little toy that a friend of mine left behind.”
Mike paused as a thousand emotions ran through him, mostly violent and testosterone induced, then, with a sigh, slowly nodded - he was out of any other ideas - and flipped the coin into the air.
Two hours later, Mike was still feeling grateful that he had learned how to float a coin at school. The coin gave the appearance of spinning but in reality was always going to come up the way he wanted it. If Christian had objected to the way the coin had been flipped, he would still, very reluctantly, have had to settle for a 50:50 chance of escaping Christian’s embraces. But Christian didn’t object and the floated coin had been accepted.
He slipped into Carolyn’s house and met her in the lounge. She stood back from him with a smile on her face. I just wanted to see whether you were walking funny.
“I most probably am,” said Mike, “but not for the reason that you may think. I know that we are not sharing a bedroom but I wondered if you could put some lotion on a part of me that’s not so easy to reach.”
“If you’ve got rid of that mobile phone as planned, I’ll rub it on your butt to if you want me to,” said Carolyn, with a chuckle.
“As a matter of fact, that exactly where I want you to put it - but extremely gently,” said Mike, colouring up.
After Carolyn recovered from her laughter, she went to find some lotion, leaving Mike wondering why it had been so important for Christian to have one of the mobile phones.
