Date: Thu, 6 Aug 2009 14:08:37 +0100
From: g d <wheels-on-fire@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Superior Connections - Chapter 2

This is my first story of this genre and context. Please tell me what
you think by sending me your comments, views and general feedback to
wheels-on-fire@hotmail.co.uk. The general disclaimer applies; any
connections to names are purely coincidental. This story is for an adult
audience, so please do not read if you are under the age of 18, or it is
illegal to do so in your county. This story is purely fictional, none of
these events have actually happened.

Superior Connections

Chapter 2

The sensations that met Christian were intense. The City was a place for
power and force. He felt very small. Large trains burdened with an
impossible amount of people deposited their cargo onto the platforms. Waves
of people drowned Christian as they walked to the station central. Cases,
pulled behind, buffeted his ankles, encouraging him to move aside.
Christian felt pushed, claustrophobic, hot, scared, experienced vertigo
looking down onto the tracks. He wasn't used to this. He didn't want to be
here. Against the current moved a man. He had a commanding air about
him. He was Moses; he parted the sea of bodies. His height gave him air
above the current, he surveyed platform five. A grey face looked out, eyes
wide in wonder, looking at everything but not anything particular, lips
slightly parted. He looked small, lost. Christian soon found in a bubble of
space. A bulk stood before him. He blinked, his lenses focused and, for the
first time, Christian saw Jacques in the flesh.

Christian spoke first. "Hello". He was shy. In the space, he felt as though
it was only Jacques and himself in the room. He needed to break the
tension, fill the space. "I got here." A wry smile settled in the corners
of his mouth.

Jacques made contact. He formally extended his hand and shook
Christian's. A true, honest, confident, friendly smile fixed itself to
Jacques face. "Lets get out of here." Jacques said, still grasping
Christian's hand, he pulled him forward. They left Kings Cross station via
the underground. More people, more heat, more claustrophobia. Christian was
introduced to gates which open via cards instead of cranks and concrete
weights on chains. Long escalators which, like roads, has moving traffic on
the left hand side. Then maps which have no correspondence to the land on
the surface. The Ordinance Survey would have a break down; the omission of
rocks, buildings, benches, points of interest, patches of grass, yet
everyone knew were they were going. Trains came constantly, always moving
people around, yet, no matter how often a train would come, they always
seemed to be packed. This would never happen in the country side.

A train pulled up, people got off then people go on and then everything
changed. Nobody spoke. Nobody looked at each other. Everyone had to find a
space on the window of celling in which to look at until the end of their
journey. It was almost instinctive for Christian found that he too would
sit in silence, observing the off white plastic and the etched by E-Duke
diamond rings windows. Each time the train approached the next station, a
formal, female English voice came over the intercom to inform passengers of
the next stop. Six or seven stations passes. After Oxford Circus, the train
population dramatically decreased. The penultimate station was announced
and Jacques nodded and grinned at Christian. They stood in the now almost
empty carriage, Christian made sure to mind the gap, but concluded he would
have to have very small feet in which to find any danger between the
carriage and the platform.

Jacques led the way. His long leg strides meant that Christian struggled to
keep up with him. He was worried that he would be left behind, in this
strange city. He was in an area which he assumed was named after a car
manufacturer. He briefly considered as to why anyone would name an area
after such a business, other then for fantastic promotional value which
would be de-merited through a Google search. His thoughts were brought to a
halt when his ticket would not let him pass the gate. It bleeped red at
him. He panicked, briefly, for the second swipe granted him
access. Increasing his pace, adrenaline tainted with fear pushed through
his blood, he felt shaky as he caught up with Jacque. Jacque led him
through several streets. Christian felt disorientated, very aware that he
would have to rely on this man to help him find the way out of the maze of
streets. They came to a fairly tall brick building. They entered into a
white, brightly lit area, showing off an oversized plant and a poor print,
commonly found in certain Swedish furniture stores. At the back was a set
of double doors which led to an elevator and a fire hazard concrete stair
case.

Jacques lived on the third floor. The elevator announced this through a
very, over pronounced, rolling 'r' "Third Floor". The doors opened and down
a corridor, much like in a hotel were many doors, featuring the same
frontage. Jacques walked past half of the door and turned to the right. Out
of his pocket he produced a ring of keys, Christian noted the lack of key
chain whilst Jacques selected two keys to be used in both locks. The door
opened and a wide, open apartment was laid out. The bed and bathrooms were
off to one side, in their own, white washed cubes, the kitchen was at the
back, a step up, in front of a wide panoramic widow.

"Would you like a drink?" Jaques asked. Christian was exhausted from the
journey he had under took today, both emotionally and
geographically. Christian also had the impression that Jacques was only
just starting and there would be a lot to go through before the next time
he could let down his guard and sleep. He needed something to add a little
bit of life back into him.

"Coffee please, milk and one sugar" Christian said, the preference
Christian assumed was universal throughout. Jacques nodded and walked over
to the kitchen, a spring in his step as he moved up onto the
platform. Christian did not really know what to do with himself. The white
washed walls, black furniture and hardwood floors looked very much in
harmony that he felt very out of place in his trodden jeans and canvas
trainers. After a brief hesitation, he joined Jacques who had just finished
filling the kettle with more water then really was necessary. The slight
rumbling of water started, the kettle clicked a little. Jacques squarely
faced Christian. He crossed into Christian's personal space. Stood almost
too close to comfort. Jacques hand moved with purpose and firmly kneaded
Christian's arse. He moved his leg between Christian's, initiating crotch
to groin contact. Christian tilted his head back, Jacque looked down and
left a gentle kiss on Christian's quivering lips. Jacques was
hard. Christian felt the constricting presence of his jeans on his
erection. Another kiss, longer this time. Christians hands fell by his
side, not knowing what to do with them. Jacque continued the exploration of
Christian's back, feeling for his shoulder blades, the bumps of his spine.
He ran his hands through Christian's hair, thick, dark, soft. He made a
fist and pulled back Christian's head, exposing his neck, his modest adams
apple. Christian gave an uncomfortable gasp. Jacques kissed down his neck.
He let go of his hair and moved back down to his arse. Another sharp
squeeze, a deeper kiss. The kettle was yet to boil but steam had started to
drift from its spout. Jacques did not wish for any interruption. With
little force, he turned Christian around, pushed him forward and marched
him to his bedroom.

Jacques bed was large, built to accommodate a king, Clean white sheets
against a dark leather bedstead. Christian was pushed backwards onto the
bed. He allowed himself to be manipulated. Jacques pulled Christian further
onto the bed. Pulled his torso up by his shirt then proceeded to skin
Christian of his shirt, t-shirt. The belt buckle fell away in his hands, a
zipping sound from the friction of the belt slipping through the belt
hoops. The jeans were opened, buttons popping out, submitting to Jacques
desires. The jeans were pulled down, shoes, although slightly difficult to
remove were thrown on the floor, followed by the jeans. Still Christian lay
on the bed, looking at this man who knew what he was doing. His command of
cotton and denim was unrivalled. Now, all that lay between Jacques and his
naked object of his desire was a pair of tight, turquoise blue boxer
briefs. Jacques wanted to know what lay there, trapped in its cotton and
nylon prison. Savouring the moment Jacques pulled on the hemming, and
slipped the shorts down the bois slim frame. The white flesh made way for a
short, well tended lawn of hair. Christian was no where near to a bear or a
cub, but Jacques made a mental decision that that hair would have to
go. The band of elastic went further down, the root of Christian's erection
was revealed. Slowly, further, this cock seemed to be of a fairly
satisfactory length. Eight inches down the rounded head slipped free and
saluted to its saviour. The boxers once more joined the jeans, Jacques now
had a naked, quivering body beneath him. He had to make this boi his.

Chapter 3 will be published next. Christian will be personally introduced
to Jacque, specifically what Jacque has stowed away.  If you would like to
see what happens next, then send me an email to give me your feedback. I
hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Many Thanks.