Date: Fri, 5 Sep 2014 14:02:15 +0100
From: Secret Writer <secret_writer@outlook.com>
Subject: Cal - 8

/*****

Cal - part 8

Notes from the author:

Hi there, this is my first story for nifty - so please let me know what
you think.  It's weirdly lonely when you have no idea what anyone thinks
of your work.
You can contact me at secret_writer@outlook.com

---

I don't know if this will go anywhere, but I'm considering publishing
this story as an ebook (when it's finished, and after some editing of
course) and wondered what you guys thought?  If I do, I'm going to need
some artwork for the cover, so if you know anyone.....

---

All the usual disclaimers apply, if you shouldn't be reading this then
don't.  And if you don't like this kind of content, well really, WTF are
you doing here?

The previous episodes in this story can be found here:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/beginnings/cal

And don't forget, if you enjoy this story (or even if you don't but have
found some other stuff you like) then think about supporting the site
at http://donate.nifty.org

*****/

----- end of part 7 -----

"You know that you talk too much some times?  And you're totally wrong
about one part - you don't owe me anything."  And with that, Davey kissed
me.  Soft, gentle, warm, with love.  But that quickly went out the
fucking window as we both got pretty heavy into it real quick.  Davey
reached towards my cock and I grabbed his hand to stop him.  He looked a
bit like kicked puppy.



"We are SO going to finish this, but before I get just too fucking horny
for it to mean anything - I love you."



"You do?"



"Ab-so-fucking-lutely.  Now stop you're never-ending talking and fuck
me.  You talk too much you know."



I think my smile was about a foot wide.  And that's what we did.  Fuck.
It was awesome, as it always seemed to be.  But this time, I dunno, there
was something different going on in the background.  You know, maybe a
small choir of angels.  Ha ha ha ha ha.

----- -----

Stuff happened, time passed - whatever, I don?t' really care right now.
It's Monday morning, 9.45am, and I'm walking towards the bar for my
interview at 10.00am.  I feel - and this is no exaggeration - like
I'm fucking perfect.  I know that I look great, my boyfriend loves me,
and I told him I love him too, the sun is shining, the birds are making
bid noises like they do.  In short - I'm fucking awesome.  All that needs
to happen now, is for whoever is doing the interviewing to see what is so
blatantly true, and give me the job.



And of course - that's all bollocks.  Well, no, even that's not true.
All of that stuff is true - but as well as that, I can feel it, there,
inside me.  Fear.  Fucking fear - and all that other crap that comes with
it, you know, the doubt, the insecurity, frankly just plain old terror.
It's there, I know it.  I learnt a long time ago that I can use it - not
in some shitty fucking martial arts movie way, there's no 'wan on, wax
off' moment coming up.  But there's a real massive high in that fear
somewhere, and if I can find it, I can run, fight, escape, lose the
chasers, drive like god, and do whatever it takes to win.  And yet again
- all that stuff that has done me so well for so long - is worth fuck all
right now.  I don't really have the faintest idea how to manage this -
but I guess I'll just have to see what happens.  I only have to do three
things - be nice, be honest, don't be stupid.  Which kind of means there
are some other rules too, but it just sounds way cooler to say there are
three.  Smile, don't swear, and don't be too honest.  I kinda already
knew that not swearing was probably the hardest!  I think actually I
might have toned it down these last few days, but it's not like I'm
keeping count.  You see - usually I would have said the word 'fucking' at
least twice in that sentence.  Fucking awesome.  And no, that doesn't
count.  It was blatantly a new sentence.  Wow - kinda hyper today.



I walked in, the place was quiet - no, actually, empty, other than the
girl behind the bar.  She told me to sit down and wait, which I did -
refusing the offer of tea or coffee.  She was called Becky, and
was pretty, and friendly.  Eeeeew - I thought a girl was pretty - what's
happening to me!?  Ha ha ha.  A few minutes later, an older guy came out
and introduced himself as Frank - he was apparently the owner of the
place, and Becky was the Bar Manager.  In his 50's I guess, probably
loaded, but seemed nice enough.  He was the one who was going to be
interviewing me.



It all started pretty well I think - I managed to stick to my three (OK,
five or six) rules, and I think I managed to be interesting as well.  It
was pretty weird though, talking about myself in an interview.  There
weren't any real questions about the job, which I thought there was going
to be, but loads of stuff about me, what I thought about this or that, it
wasn't what I was expecting, but I think it was going well.  After all -
this is the bit I am good at - making like I'm all sweet and good, being
easy to get on with, easy to trust, easy to talk to.  Have I told you
this before?  I dunno.  But when you're stealing expensive cars - like,
proper expensive cars, there's no point fucking about smashing windows or
'hotwiring' - as if you could.  No, by far the best way to steal a car,
is to get the keys and drive off.  Kinda fucking obvious isn?t it?  And to
get the keys - being nice, and 'trustworthy', and easy to get on with can
get you all the places you need.  It's all social engineering.



Anyway, I think the interview was going well - I hadn't fucked up as far
as I could tell, and besides, how serious was it going to be anyway - I'm
serving drinks.  But then, inevitably, the forms.



"Now it seems that there was something of an error when we went out the
application forms, and you didn't receive the additional forms."  It
sounded like a question, the way his voice changed pitch, but
clearly actually wasn't one.



"I don't imagine there'll be any problems, but I will need you to just
sign these."  He passed me the forms, the first one being the one for any
convictions.  I just sat there for a second, looking at the form.  I
could just lie.  I mean, I could totally fucking do it, he would never
know, and no-one knows me.  I looked at Frank - he was looking at me,
probably expecting me to either say something or sign the form - whish is
pretty reasonable given the circumstances.  I looked away again back to
the form.



"We're probably going to need to talk about this more."  There - I'd said
it, no going back now.  Stupid fuck.



"Oh?"  Well what did I expect him to say?  I dunno.



"There's some stuff I need to write in that box, before I can sign it."



"Well go on then young man, fill it in, and then sign it."



What a weird guy.  Firstly, no-one really talks like that, surely.  Not
for real.  And secondly, why are you making me do this!?  Just tell me to
leave.  I kind of knew it would happen anyway.  I finished detailing my
convictions, and sentence, signed it, and handed it to him.  Taking it
from me, he put it with my application form, and put the whole lot back
in a file.



"Is that it?  Aren't you going to even read it, or ask me about it?"
Fuck.  I'm pretty sure that nearly all of my interview rules broke in one
go.



"Probably, eventually.  But I don't imagine it's terribly important right
now."



I didn't understand - how could it not be?



"Mr Richardson - unless you turn out to be a convicted terrorist, which I
think may preclude you for employment in this country, then it's
generally illegal for me to make a decision about the job based on
whatever you've put on that form.  We ask, because we can, and because
sometimes it's useful to know.  You tell us, well, because you have
to.  That's all."



Wow - I had no idea it was like that.  No-one really goes through stuff
like that, stuff that might actually be helpful to know, when your in
prison.



"Do you specifically want to talk to me about what's on the
form Mr Richardson?"



"No, well, yes, maybe.  I don't know."



"Then I should stick with 'no' if I was you."  Frank smiled, and I filled
in the other couple of forms before shaking his hand and walking out.



That was fucking weird.  Fucking.  Weird.  Frank told me to wait in the
bar - which I did, and he called Becky in to his office where I had just
been.  A couple of minutes later, Becky returned and walked over to me.



"So it seems that you're going to be my new bar staff - if you want it."



Surprised doesn't really cover it.



"What?  I mean, yes, but what?"



"Great, when can you start?  Wednesday would be good for me - we can sort
of your shifts then if that?s OK."



"Yes, sure.  Thank you.  Seriously - thank you!"



I gave her a kiss before pretty much running all the way to Davey's
office.  Vicky was at Reception, as usual.



"Hello Cal - how are you today?"  So nice, all the time.  Is there a
special school you go to you think?



"Hey Vicky.  I.  Am.  Awesome.  Thanks for asking.  Is he free?"



"Yes, I'm sure he is for you.  Go straight up, I'll let him know you're
on your way."



"Thanks."



I got out of the lift on the ninth floor only to be greeted, of course,
by Nihal.  Vicky had obviously not told him I was on my way up - which
made me smile.  He was kind of funny to watch when he was surprised.  I
like her more and more.  I walked over to Davey's office door.



"Is there anything I can help you with Mr Richardson?"



"I really wouldn't think so Nihal - but so sweet of you to ask!"  I think
even a deaf guy could have picked up on the sarcasm.



Closing the door behind me, Davey was already half way towards me.



"So?  It looks like good news - is it?  How did it go?  Have you heard
already?"  I love the way he gets so excited.



"Yeah - of course I fucking got it!"



Davey picked me up and was spinning me round the room like a crazy
fucking freak.  A very happy, proud of his boyfriend, crazy fucking
freak.  And I loved it.  I don't really remember anyone being proud of me
before, and it makes me feel about a thousand times bigger.



"Look, I can't get out of the office right now, but I'll finish early and
we can go out and celebrate."



"Awesome Davey - sounds awesome."



"I don't think I've ever seen you look so happy with your clothes on."



"Yeah - it's pretty fucking cool!"



Annoyingly I had to leave Davey.  As much as I think he would have been
OK with me staying all afternoon, I knew that I would just be a
distraction, so I headed home.  Jen was still there, and was equally - if
not even more happy for me.  But with much less spinning round the
room and kissing.  Ha ha.  Not having loads to do, I took Scarlett out to
the park for a couple of hours.  I didn't realise at the time, but that
was the first time I've voluntarily been alone with her.  And it was
really cool.  I saw a couple of people I had come to recognise - you
know, from the park,  Davey calls them The Walkies People which always
makes me smile - I guess because that's the only time we see them.  He
has a weird sense of humour some times.



I.  Have.  A.  Job.  I kept saying it to myself, well, and to Scarlett
too, but she wasn't ever so talkative.  Even if she does seem to
understand - there's a real limit as to how much I can interpret form the
small range of barks and growly noises.  We headed home, and it wasn't
long before Davey got back too.  He'd already booked my new
favourite restaurant - a little Italian place, not too up it's self, but
also pretty fucking nice, and kinda expensive.  We weren't booked in for
several hours - so Davey got to show me exactly how happy he was.



Ooooooh yeah.  Undressed in record time, Davey was kissing me like crazy
- which I wasn't exactly complaining about!  Kissing my neck and wanking
my already hard cock - yeah, nothing to fucking complain about here.
That would have been totally awesome enough - but Davey was not stopping
there.  Catching me by surprise as he squeezed my balls, be bit my neck.
The fucker bit me!  I'm going to have a hickey!  I was slightly pissed,
but majorly turned on, and that intense moment of realising what he had
done nearly sent me over the edge.  But Davey wasn't having it, he slowed
right down, and then carried on.  Fuck.  Working down my chest, kissing
and feeling over my abs, and yes - oh fucking yeah Davey, sucking my
cock.  I was getting real close again, thanks to my boyfriends amazing
mouth.  I was thinking that I could probably squeeze fifteen or twenty
minutes of ecstasy out of this, but feeling Daveys fingers playing with
my arse pretty much put an end to that plan.  As his fingers pushed in to
me I was gone, and I think he knew it.  Sucking hard, it felt like my
spunk was boiling as I unloaded into Davey's throat.  Damn - that was
short but intense, and I was still hard.  A point not lost on Davey as he
gently pushed my knees up.  Awwwww fuck yeah.  Still coming down from my
post-spunk high, Davey's fingers inside me felt like heaven.  And then
things got a whole world more fucking intense as he started to fuck me.
I was still imagining that this would be a leisurely hour or so of
me getting well and truly fucked - but of course, neither of us were
really in that place.  Getting faster and harder, I could feel myself
getting carried towards the edge again.  Fuck - I really don?t know how he
does it, but he can make me cum so fast.  I can see he is getting close
too, and his hand on my cock is all I need to let go with another fucking
load.  Shooting all over myself, there's cum on my neck, and way past
that I think, and Davey is going just has hard inside me.



We pretty much fell into a heap, Davey half on top of me, and I totally
zoned out for a few minutes.  At least, I thought it was a few minutes,
but an hour later and Davey is having to wake me up so that we can be at
the restaurant in time.  I dunno how long Davey had been up, but I
feel kinda bad for falling asleep.  Having started with hours, now I was
having to rush to get ready.  But was fucking worth it.



The food was awesome, as I thought it would be, and we talked about the
job over dinner.  There wasn't loads to talk about though, as I didn?t know
very much.  But after my first day on Wednesday, I guess things will make
more sense.  Fuck - that's in, like, two days.  Oh fuck.  What am I
doing?  I don't know how to have a job.  I don't know anything about
working in a bar.  They're so gonna see that they've made a mistake -
I'll probably end up with like the shortest career in history.  Do you
think it's possible to get fired before the end of your first day?  I
don't see why not?  Oh god, and then Davey will realise what a fuck I
am.  The guy who can't even keep a lousy bar job.  I suppose that will be
the end of it all then.  I mean - he's not going to hang to hang around
with some freaking loser like me is he?  I guess I could go back to
London.  There'll be no point staying around here, it's not like I really
know anyone.  It was all pretty shit there last time, but it's no worse
than staying here.  I'll have to see if I can find some of the old guys
and get back on the car scene, I bet they'll still be hanging around the
same old places and...



"Cal....Cal...."



I look up, Davey is holding my hands on the table and I'm kind of
surprised to see him.



"Cal, baby, whatever is going on in your head - we can deal with it."



I didn't really know what to say.  Davey passed me a napkin and
I realised that I had a tear running down my cheek.  Fuck.  How
embarrassing is this?  Davey stepped around the table and gave me a
massive hug - which really does help.  One arm wrapping around me as he
strokes my hair with his other hand, pulling my head into him.  As he was
there, hugging me, on his knees since I was still sat down, just for a
second, I wondered if he was going to ask me to marry him.  I know -
right?  One extreme to the other.  He didn't, of course.  I would have
fucking mentioned it before now if he had!  Although I'm not sure what I
would be saying about it.



I returned to the real world, and we finished dinner - which was amazing.
 Davey didn't press too hard on what went on with me when I spaced out,
but I think he has a pretty good idea.  It's hardly like it's the first
time I've been insecure is it?  We went on for a few drinks to Davey's
favourite bar, the expensive place I first stalked him to.  It was pretty
quiet, being a Monday night, so we easily found a table a little out of
the way to enjoy our massively expensive drinks at.  He was asking me
loads of questions about the job and the place, to which I had almost
none of the answers.  But that's cool, it?s fucking awesome that he's so
excited about it.



Out of nowhere, Davey said "Oh god, sorry Cal, I didn't know..."



But before I had chance to work out what the fuck he was going on about,
his friends Mark and Simon appeared next to us.  Don't get me wrong,
they're OK guys - I actually kinda like Simon, he was pretty involved in
me getting together with Davey.  But I was really enjoying our time
together, just me and Davey.  From the brief look he gave me, I think
Davey knew how I felt as Simon gave him a hug.



"Davey - good to see you, and Cal, what are you guys doing out on a
school night?"



Davey was surprisingly short of an answer, and after a couple of seconds
of us just looking at each other, I thought that at least one of us
should say something!



"Actually, we're celebrating."  I said it without thinking, and
immediately regretted it, but too late now.  All I could do was try and
deflect the conversation away form us.  "But how about you two, are you
allowed out on your own without Kati?"



"Yeah, funny - we ARE allowed out without her."  Mark was joking, I
think.



"OK, well, we promise not to tell her."  Davey - thank fuck - was back to
normal.



"So what are you celebrating?"  OK, so it's a pretty normal question to
ask.  But fuck you Simon, why did you have to ask it?



I looked to Davey doing my 'is it OK if I tell them - because if I do
then I'll have to explain a few things to them' face.  He gave me a 'it's
OK with me but it's totally up to you' look.



"What's going on guys?"  Wow, Mark was surprisingly straight to the
point.



"Nothing" I started, "we're celebrating my new job."



"OK, cool, why didn't you say so?  What is it?  A promotion?"  Simon
really is a nice guy.  I've decided.  But damn him some times.



"Actually, no.  I'm working behind the bar at The Park House."



"Oh, OK.  Weren't you in Sales?"



And there it was.  The choice.  I could easily have just said 'yeah,
well, you know how it is...' or some other bullshit line, and the whole
thing would have been over.  But these are Davey's friends, real friends.
 It's not right that he has to lie to them just for me.  So I did it.
 Apparently it was the day for honest but not too honest moments.



"Yeah, well, that's not strictly true.  And by that, I mean not true at
all.  I didn't exactly have a job after coming out of prison."



One.  Two.  Three.  How many seconds, I'm not sure, not many.



"Ha ha ha ha, yeah, nice one Cal, you're funny."  I wasn't sure if Simon
genuinely didn't believe me, or just couldn't quite manage to comprehend.
 He looked to Davey, then to me, then back to Davey.  Davey smiled at
him, as he held my hand reassuringly tightly on the table.  He looked to
Mark for some kind of help I think, but it wasn't there.  Mark had
apparently been thrown into some kind of shock, staring at me, mouth
slightly open.



"Davey?"  I kind of felt sorry for Simon, in his last ditch attempt to
make this normal.  Surely, Davey is going to laugh, or tell him he's a
gullible twat, something, anything.  But of course, that didn?t happen.
 Looking to me for final confirmation before he spoke.



"Yeah, so, there we are.  Apparently you can ask questions now."



"You mean, he's, like seriously?  He's been in prison?"  Simon was still
in disbelief.



"What the hell are you doing Davey?  Fuck - this is crazy.  Do you even
know what he's done?"  Ok then, Mark's not so pleased with the truth.



"OK, how about I go and get more drinks while you three catch up?"  I
went to the bar, taking a few minutes longer than I needed to.  I really
don't know if that was a good thing, or a stupid thing, or both.  Maybe
both.  When I got back, they were all sat at the table, and it looked as
though Davey was having to fend off about a million questions.



I put the drinks on the table and sat down, not knowing what to expect,
prepared to be honest I guess.  But Mark was on his feet immediately,
leaning over me.  Wow - he was pissed off.  Like - seriously angry.



"What the fuck?  Is this all part of your little game?  Just using
people to get whatever you need like the worthless fucking piece of shit
you are?  Huh?  Is it?  How many other people have you done this to?  You
fucking disgust me - why are you even allowed out?  I bet you're Mum's so
fucking ashamed of you!  You're kind should be locked up for ever!  I
knew there was something wrong with you as soon as I saw you.  You should
just fuck off, right now.  What have you got to say? "



Oh gooooood, I so wanted to punch his light out.  What a twat.  Bit I
didn't.  I didn't stand up, pick up a bottle and glass his face.  I sat
there, and tried to be calm.  Concentrate on breathing.



"I got nothing man, I told you because I wanted to be honest, and I don't
want Davey feeling like he has to cover for me.  But I'm not going to
justify my life to you either.  You've got no fucking idea who I am, but
you still think it?s OK to behave like a cunt?"



Yeah, I know.  I shouldn't have pushed it with the 'c' word.  But even
that thought was unfinished when he punched me in the face.  The fucker -
he actually punched me!  And then all kinds of shit went off.  I could
feel blood running down the side of my face, not sure where from.  How
fucking dare he hit me?  Like every other fucking bastard who thinks
they're better than me, like I somehow deserve it?  And truly, for future
reference, don't ever bring my Mum in to this.  I might fucking hate her,
but she's my Mum.  And I could feel it, building almost instantly.  Not
fear, not anger, or adrenaline, or stress, or any of those tings.  This
is rage.  Total fucking rage.  Not logical, you can't reason with it, you
can barely remember what it felt like without it.  I've not felt like
this for a really long time, but how fucking dare you.  Mark was angry,
sure.  But he's clearly never been in a fight.  At least, not one where
he won.  I was easily able to get in a good kidney punch as I was still
sat down, before getting a couple of good hits to his chest and face as I
pushed him backwards toward the wall.  Pinning him by his neck against
the wall - it was Simon who stopped me.  Struggling against me, pulling
me away from him.  I really think I might have killed him.  Then I'd be
fucked.  But I didn't.  Almost as soon as it came, the rage subsides, and
Simon is just holding me tight.



"You see Davey, you can't even control you little fucking criminal."  He
must really hate me.  Maybe someone stole his car once.  Davey is stood
up, looking very pissed off.



"Get out."  It was a pretty clear instruction.  I think a couple of the
staff who were now looking over worried abut what was kicking off made a
move towards the door.



"What?"



"Get out.  Leave.  Go home.  Go anywhere.  Just don't be here."  Mark
looked kinda scared.  Hell, I felt kinda scared.  Davey was clearly
immensely pissed off, and he seemed to have this huge authority when he
spoke to Mark.



"It's OK, we're all OK, and he's leaving."  I looked over, and Davey was
talking to the guy on the door,  who was presumably hoping for his usual
quiet Monday night shift where nothing happens.  Mark stormed off, well,
'stormed' is perhaps over stating it, he was clearly in pain.  Good.  He
was saying something about 'this is all fucked up', but I didn't much
care.  Davey and Simon re-arranged to furniture, and the whole little
incident was almost gone.  I was feeling hugely embarrassed, so went to
the toilets to hide whilst I sorted out my face, wiped off the blood, and
tried to remember how to fucking breath.  The cut was actually pretty
tiny, just above my eyebrow piercing.  But I felt totally ashamed of what
just happened.  And not just the bit where I retaliated.  But those
things he was saying.  It's not like I haven't said them to myself before
now.



When I returned, Davey was hugging immediately, and I was trying to
apologise for hitting his friend.



"It's OK, he's not my friend."  it was nice to hear Davey say that,
although I didn't like he idea that I had made them fall out.



"He's no friend of mine either, he was way out of order talking to you
like that."  Wow, even Simon was on board.  But I just wanted to go
home.