Date: Sat, 15 Dec 2001 15:33:18 -0000
From: Nick <nakednick2@btinternet.com>
Subject: Across the road - Part 4

Across the Road

This is the fourth part of a true story about the gay relationship between a
small group of consenting adult males - only their names have been changed -
in England.  If this kind of material offends you, if you are under the age
of consent or if such activities are illegal in your country, please close
the file and leave now.  Otherwise, read on and enjoy, but heed the warning
it contains!


Chapter 4 - Monday at Work and After

Well, when I got to work on Monday morning, Tom and Jacques were there with
two of our other colleagues but it had been pretty quiet for the hour or so
they had been in the office before I got there.  The Monday after Easter is
a Public Holiday in Britain, though many of our customers were working more
or less normally, such was the way of modern international commerce.
According to the log, it had apparently been a fairly hectic night, during
which the duty manager had considered calling me in.  I must remember to
continue to divert my home phone to the mobile if I planned on 'playing
away'!

Tom came into my office about something and we chatted briefly.  I asked
about Claire; he said she was fine, but he noticed up my raised eyebrow and
quickly added that they were still practising! He offered to work late that
evening on overtime to cover a gap in the roster and I agreed.  He left my
office and I got on with some routine stuff for an hour or so before going
out for a pee and getting a coffee from the free vending machine on the way
back.  I stopped to speak to Ron and Jeff who had been off duty since
Wednesday.  They were both married men in their thirties, a couple of kids
each and lived in the same road about two miles from the office; they were
always good for a call-out if things got too busy.  The two men had been
away with their families for the weekend; their wives and kids got on well
together apparently.  I idly wondered how well the two men got on, away from
the office.

As I went back to my office, I spoke to Jacques briefly and to Julie, the
team secretary.  She was married to one of our installation managers and was
due to begin her maternity leave in three weeks or so.

Soon after midday, Jacques came into my office and suggested that he should
go out for a pizza lunch for everyone.  I agreed but added, 'No sausages
today' and he gave me a knowing look! He quickly collected orders around the
office and phoned them to the pizza shop; the manager there offered free
delivery, a new service apparently.

Fifteen minutes or so later, I was walking across the office when the door
buzzer went, I answered it and thought I vaguely recognised the voice that
said 'Pizza delivery' but pressed the release button without any further
thought.  I was rooted to the spot when George walked in, again wearing his
white chinos, in distinct contrast to his coal-black face and bare arms.  He
was clearly surprised to see me and greeted me by name.  I returned to my
office as he distributed the orders around the main office, then came in
with mine and to collect the cash.

As I counted out the money, I could not resist asking him if he was wearing
any underwear today - he said he wasn't.  I asked him if we were part of his
regular delivery area - we were; must bear that in mind.  I said that we
usually ordered food in for lunch on weekends and holidays but that the
night shift staff usually brought their own.  As he left, I said that I
would see him soon, he replied that he hoped so and that was that.

I took my food out into the main office and chatted with the staff while we
ate.  I noticed that Jacques had ordered sausages but with Julie around was
eating them normally - apart from the last one that was; he made sure he
caught my eye and then sucked it straight into his mouth without a word.
The action was not lost on Tom, who clearly considered a ribald reply but
was inhibited from doing so with Julie around.

* * * *

The afternoon wore on, it was pretty uneventful.  At four o'clock, Ron and
Jeff were replaced by Henry and Barry.  At five, Jacques, Tom and I were
relieved by Tony, my second assistant manager, who would look after the
night shift and John, who had only recently joined us from the local office
of a big national telecommunications company.  My company operates a very
complex shift system to ensure that there was always overlapping cover and
that everyone worked the same total day, night and weekend hours over an
eight-week period.  Although this means there is constant coming and going
it worked very well.  The guys love it as it gives them plenty of time off
with their families and of course, pays well above the usual day rate for
their grade.  I officially work a standard nine to five, five day week but
am usually in the office soon after eight and often late in leaving.  I like
to do an occasional evening or weekend shift to help me understand the
workload and sometimes cover an odd shift if someone is sick or on leave.

Anyway, today had been pretty slow; I had got on well with my admin work so
I decided to leave pretty much on time.  Just after five, I gathered up my
paperwork and put it away, locked my office and walked downstairs with Julie
and Jacques.  We said 'goodnight' to Julie and then he paused as we got to
our cars and asked if I had seen Stewart last night.  What could I tell him
but the truth? He gave me a knowing look but did not peruse my answer.  He
got into his car and I got into mine.  I would have to be careful what I got
up to at work in future and what I told my colleagues.

* * * *

When I got home, I noticed, maybe I was disappointed, that Stewart's car was
not in their drive.  I knew he had the day off work but for some reason
expected him to be at home.  Anyway, I paid little heed, parked my car on
our drive planning to put it away later, unlocked the front door, turned off
the alarm and went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.  I checked the
phone, no calls; being a holiday, there was no post but just then the local
evening paper came through the letter-box.  I picked it up, there were the
usual sensational headlines, no news of substance and by the time the kettle
had boiled, I had finished with it.

I made some tea and wondered what I would eat.  Despite my protestations
that I could manage, my wife had left far too much food in the fridge and
freezer.  She had been away more than forty-eight hours and I had barely
touched it.  I wasn't very hungry after the pizza and decided on a single
portion cottage pie she had made and quickly got out some frozen peas and
carrots to accompany it.

It was a warm evening and whilst the meal was cooking, I went to the bedroom
and got rid of my clothes.  I had just returned to the kitchen when my son,
Bill called.  I stood there, stark naked, chatting to him for a while before
he suggested that he, Charlotte and I went out for a drink in an hour or so.
I quickly ate my meal, washed up, had a quick wash and brush up, got dressed
and went out.  Stewart's car was still not outside their house.

We arrived at the pub almost at the same time, parked our cars and went in.
The very first people I spotted at the bar were Eric and Keith; I was
wondering how I could possibly introduce them when Stewart came from the
direction of the Gents' toilets.  Bill noticed him and spoke first; Stewart
introduced 'his friends, Eric and Keith' and that was that.

We collected the drinks I had ordered, found a table and sat down; by sheer
chance, I was facing the bar and able to keep an eye on the other three.
They sat enjoying their drinks; we talked and enjoyed ours.  Bill bought
another round and as he was collecting them, he spoke briefly to Stewart,
Eric and Keith who were just leaving.  I noticed two cars leave the car
park.

Two pints is my normal limit; Bill said he had to be up fairly early next
day as he was working out of town, so we also left about nine o'clock.
There was still no car across the road when I got home.  I had closed the
curtains, had a pee, put the milk bottles out (another quaint English custom
I'll tell you about some other time!) and done one or two other minor
chores, when there was a furious ringing on my doorbell.  I looked through
the spy hole - it was Stewart.  I quickly released the night bolts and
opened the door - it was a very frightened, breathless Stewart without his
shirt, looking rather dirty and dishevelled.  I let him in before seeking or
expecting any explanation.

As he recovered his breath, he told me that the three of them had left the
pub and, it being a nice mild evening, had gone to a local wood for some
open-air fun.  In the darkness, they had not noticed four or five other
youths, evidently lying in wait at this seemingly well known (not to me!)
cruising spot, intent on a bit of gay-bashing.  The three had escaped in
Eric's car, pursued by the youths in theirs, but Stewart had had to leave
his car in the adjacent lay-by.  In hindsight, I was a bit foolish in
agreeing to take him back to collect it.  I loaned him a sweatshirt; we got
in my car and drove three miles or so along a country road out of town.

I had often used the road as a short cut and had noticed that there were
often three or four empty cars parked alongside the wood but had thought no
more of it.  When we got there, Stewart's car was there, at the very far
end, with a small van just inside the lay-by, facing us.  I fancied I saw
two heads duck down as they were caught in my lights but wasn't going to
investigate! Stewart had his keys ready, I had agreed to stop alongside,
wait for him to get in, start the engine and drive off in front of me.  I
hadn't done the local police defensive driving course a year or two ago for
nothing!

The plan worked and, as arranged, we stopped at a petrol station a mile or
so away to make sure the coast was clear; it was.  The last thing we wanted
was to be followed home by the yobbos.  Stewart was still frightened and we
chatted for a few minutes before getting into our cars.  We stopped again in
the car park of my gym; the coast was still clear.  By this time, we both
needed another drink, so we went in, sat at the bar and I ordered two beers.
He calmed down a little as we drank them, but as we were taking a leak
afterwards, I made no comment when he said he was still frightened about
spending the night alone.

Stewart parked his car on the drive; I put mine in the garage and noticed
that he was walking across the road.  He had decided he was staying with me
that night.  As soon as he got in the house, he headed for the bathroom,
stripped off and before I could lock up, he was in the shower.  I took a
clean towel from the airing cupboard and went through the open door into the
bathroom.  I stripped off my now sweat soaked shirt and was brushing my
teeth when he emerged from the shower.  I could not help but notice the
bruises on his back and thighs and what was surely a shallow knife wound
across his buttocks.

He had not even realised that he was wounded until the hot water caused the
cut to sting.  We looked at the black jeans he had been wearing, there was a
clear knife cut across the seat.  I put some antiseptic on his buttocks,
little more than a scratch really, how lucky he had been.  He jumped as the
cold liquid caused more stinging but when I had finished he grabbed me in a
tight embrace, more relieved to be safe, than anything else.

I pointed him towards our bedroom, as I did so, remembering that my wife had
told me to change the sheets on Wednesday.  Just at that moment the phone
rang, it was her; had I forgotten to ring? No, I had been busy (true) but
was just going to, now that I thought she would have finished dinner
(feasible).  We chatted for a few minutes, I told her I had been out for a
drink with Bill and Charlotte (true), I said I was tired (true), that I
loved her (true) and was missing her (also true).  Naturally, I said nothing
of my part in Stewart's escapade, even less was I likely to mention that he
was now lying naked in our marital bed!

Then I broke the news that I had been given earlier in the evening; we were
to become grandparents in November! She was overjoyed and began all kinds of
plans; it took ages to calm her down again, but eventually I persuaded her
that it was now gone ten o'clock and she really didn't need to call
Charlotte until the morning.

By the time I had had a very quick shower, put out the lights, checked the
doors were locked and got to the bedroom, Stewart was sound asleep.  I
slipped into the bed, put out the light and snuggled in behind him,
spoon-wise.  He stirred just slightly as I put my arms around him, but
quickly settled down again.

I lay there for a long time, my flaccid tool neatly slotted into his ass
crack, thinking about the events of this evening, about the risks that these
young lads had taken, but more seriously about whether or not Stewart and
his friends should go to the police.  After all, we could easily have been
talking about a very serious injury or even worse.

Eventually, I must have drifted off to sleep.

* * * *

When I awoke it was light outside; I rolled over, the clock said 7.20 am and
whose black jeans were those hanging over the foot of the bed? Just as I was
remembering the events of the previous evening, the naked Stewart came in
with two cups of tea.  He put them down on the night stand, got into bed
with me and burst into a flood of tears.  I was ashamed that I was having
lustful thoughts about him as he sought comfort in my arms, accidentally
catching my half hard dick between his legs as he embraced me tightly.

By the time I had managed to console Stewart, the tea was cold, his eyes
were red rimmed and the pillow was wet with his tears.  We drank the tea
anyway and I got up to make some more.  By the time I got back, Stewart had
washed his face, combed his dishevelled hair and was back in bed.  I put the
tea down and got in beside him, even though it was now after eight o'clock.

Stewart had been due back at work but while I had been making the tea, he
had called in sick.  I called in, checked that there was nothing serious
going on, then said I had decided to take a day off in lieu of extra time.
Fortunately, it was the unsuspecting Ron who took my call.

We sat up in bed and sipped our tea.  Well, now or never.  Was Stewart going
to the police? He looked shocked at the suggestion.  I reminded him of the
wound he had received, how nearly it might have been much more serious.  He
thought deeply for a few minutes and without a word, picked up the
telephone.  Keith answered, Stewart told him where he was and made the
proposition, there was some argument, then Eric was on the phone.  The
conversation was repeated, there was more debate.  Stewart looked at me,
said he was sure that was alright and put the phone down.  I didn't bother
to comment on the fact that Eric and Keith were together.

Then he asked me.  Would I go with them to the police? What could I say? I
agreed, I could play the part of Stewart's Good Samaritan neighbour.  Eric,
Keith and Stewart would tell the truth, why they had been in the wood, how
they had been attacked, that they could describe the yobbos' car and even
what the attackers had been wearing.  Bravely, they recognised the truth,
that they could have been killed last night, and what they had to do.


To be continued; if you liked my story so far, let me know, tell me what it
is doing for you; if you didn't like it, tell me that as well, polite
criticism is equally welcome - mailto:nakednick2@btinternet.com