Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2001 16:28:04 +0100 (BST)
From: Benzedrine Bedlam <benzedrine_bedlam@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Photographer

This is the first part of an ongoing story, so this part is
mainly background.  Hope you like.

1. Mike goes to the park

The office was air-conditioner cool, the warm summer air
did not penetrate the sealed cell I worked in.  I returned
my attention to the document I was producing.  Three years
at college, what a waste, I should have done accountancy.
I wouldn't be any less happy, I'm not doing what I want
now, so what difference? I had studied art history and
photography, only to end up in a merchant bank, typing
presentations, not even graphic design, let alone the
dreams I had of working as a freelance photographer.  As I
teased the box I was drawing into shape my attention
wandered again.  What to do this weekend? My flatmate, Sara
would have her boyfriend, Tony round, leaving me feeling
like a lemon if I stayed in day, besides, the summer was
too short to waste.

I got on well with Sara, we'd shared the flat for nearly a
year, her previous flatmate having moved out; I had heard
about the place through a friend of a friend, and desperate
to leave my cramped, expensive bed-sit, had jumped at the
opportunity.  Sara was a party creature, and loved the idea
of me bringing arty friends back to the flat.  But she was
to be disappointed, I had lost touch with my college
friends, and failing to get work as a photographer had left
the scene behind, well I guess it left me behind really.
"Mike, how's that presentation going?"
"Nearly done, be ready in ten minutes." I sighed, and
continued with the document.  Maybe I'll visit the park, I
mused.  I had taken a series of photos of Hyde park over
the winter and into the spring, showing the life of the
park in different seasons, but had been holding off taking
the summer pictures, as I hadn't felt summer had really
arrived yet, it being only early June.  Maybe the sunny
weather will continue over the weekend and I'd be able to
continue the series.  As I left the office, I toyed with
the idea of catching the tube to the station, but as I
passed the entrance to the underground I was  blasted with
hot, stinking air.  I paused, undecided at the top of the
stairs, commuters, irritated at the obstruction, pushed
past me, I turned and walked away.

Saturday dawned bright and warm.  Some hours after dawn I
emerged, yawning.  There was no sign of Sara and Tony, so I
gathered my camera bag and left quietly.  The park was
already busy when I arrived, families with small children
laughing and playing in the sun, joggers, old ladies taking
tea, and lovers kissing under trees.  I basked in the sun
for a while, watching, trying to catch the mood, the
flavour of the day.  I lazily shot a few photos, but
nothing truly inspiring.  I watched the joggers, it was not
a past time I had ever enjoyed, I keep fit, but prefer to
do it indoors, I'm not a gym rat, my workouts are hardly
obsessive, but my 6' body is toned and fit and while I
won't win any modelling contracts I'm not too bad to look
at.

I watched the man jogging towards me, here's one who would
win modelling contracts I thought, a little shorter than
me, maybe 5'10", his body was taut and hard, strong legs
carried him surely and easily towards me, leading up to a
torso hidden by a floppy T-shirt, his face was in repose,
with midnight dark hair, flopping in his eyes, something
about those eyes, I couldn't quite see them from this
distance.  As he drew closer, I could see a glint of green
in his face. His eyes met mine, green, green, the depths of
the sea meeting the cool of the forest, emerald fire
burning into me.  He looked away, I breathed again.  My
head was whirling, I suddenly realised that my mouth was
hanging open, tried to shut it, discovered that it was
already closed, and became hopelessly confused.  I looked
after him, disappearing into the park.  I leaned my head
back against the tree and gathered my wits.  Not since I
first met Sean had I felt so scrambled; and look how that
turned out I thought.

I returned from my reverie and stared across the park,
unseeing, mourning the ashes of my love for Sean.  Then he
was there, standing before me, I was dumbstruck.  He stood,
silhouetted against the late afternoon sun, I squinted up
at him, he looked composed, his face calm, even a little
amused, his green eyes smiling down at me.  Then he turned
and was gone, his lithe body loping away effortlessly.  I
cursed my tied tongue.


2. Mike's dream

The grass was soft and green beneath me, a gentle breeze
carried the green scent of freshly mown grass towards me, I
lay still, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face, on an
impulse,  I looked up.  I saw him, running towards me, in
an instant he was with me, standing before me, dressed only
in shorts, his eyes bore into me, then he was kneeling
before me, moving his face towards me, his mouth on mine,
his tongue delving into my mouth, his hands roaming over my
body.  We were naked, his body hot and firm beneath me, he
leaned back, spreading his body on the grass, I reached for
it, stroking, caressing his velvety skin.  He shuddered and
thrust his hips towards me, indicating his desire.  I
kissed him, deeply, passionately, sucking his tongue into
my mouth.  He ground his hard cock against me, and feeling
his hands on me, pulling me towards him, I held onto his
hips and pushed against him, slowly working my cock into
his tight warm channel, he threw his head back and groaned,
thrusting up against me.  I was fucking him, this beautiful
man, I gasped as his ass muscles squeezed and massaged my
cock, I groaned as I hammered my cock into his willing
body.  We rose together, crying and moaning, his moans
became more frenzied and he lifted up to meet my thrusts,
as his orgasm hit he clamped down onto my cock and I felt
myself crest and plummet over the edge.

I woke late, the sun streaming in through the half open
curtains.  I stretched, and finding the sheets wet and
sticky, gingerly disentangled myself and headed for the
shower.

3. Mike returns to the park

Hyde park is beautiful in the summer -- I'm always surprised
at the sense of peace which comes over me as the noise of
the traffic fades, blocked by the trees.  The park spread
out before me in the morning sun was filled with people,
old couples walking arm in arm by the lake, young lovers
kissing in the grass, and children running everywhere.  I
walked around the park, absently looking for him.  I should
have known I was being ridiculous, how could I expect a man
I had seen twice, and never spoken to, to magically appear
just because I happened to want him to.  I sighed, but
realising it was far too nice a day to waste mooning, took
a brisk walk over to my favourite part of the park.  I love
the middle of Hyde park, where there is a large tract of
land, just empty grass, hardly any trees, just a few paths
crossing it.  I love the feeling of all that space, right
in the middle of one of the busiest and most expensive
cities in the world.

As I paced across the heath my mind returned to Sean, I
still missed him, despite everything.  I had been bowled
over when I met Sean, utterly, head-over-heels in lust, but
our relationship had quickly moved from passionate love to
passionate rows.  I thought back to how good it had been
when we first got together.  We had met in our final year
of university, Sean moved into the house I was sharing as
one of the other guys had dropped out at the last minute.
We hit it off immediately, sharing everything, clothes,
jokes, drugs and before long a bed.  The trouble started in
our final term, I spent time studying, wanting good grades,
Sean didn't seem to care.  Our relationship stumbled
through the finals and through lack of foresight and other
options, we moved in together when we left university.

For a while, with the pressure of exams off we had smoochy
make ups, Sean would be all apologies for his latest strop,
and the make ups were good, no matter how bitter I might
be, I couldn't forget that the sex had been great.  Over
the next year the rows became more frequent and the make
ups became harder for me.  The final blow was over
something so silly, but afterwards I knew I couldn't keep
up the pretence any more.  I had leant Sean one of my
favourite shirts some weeks before, I wanted to wear it out
one evening, but Sean refused to give it to me, I demanded
he return it, he screeched back, we fought like cats, over
a shirt; eventually he dug the thing out and threw it at
me, it was filthy, stained with beer and stinking of sweat
and cologne.  Sean never wore cologne, preferring his
natural scent.  I turned the limp fabric over in my hands,
on the back, written in biro onto the shoulder of the
fabric was a phone number next to the name "Angelo".

I walked, and stared across the barren heath, I was
absently watching a runner a few hundred yards away, his
athletic body had that same easy lope I had noticed in my
green eyed man yesterday.  If only.  He turned a corner and
disappeared from my view.  I approached a bench and sat
down, fiddling with my camera.  As I fixed the wide-angle
lens to the body, I felt a shadow, looking up my eyes
widened, it was my man.

"Mind if I join you?" he said sitting down next to me to
catch his breath.  He panted and dabbed at the sweat on his
brow, I pulled a bottle of water from my bag and offered it
to him.
"a little hot for that isn't it?" I asked him
"thanks" he said taking the water "gotta keep in shape" he
added, answering my question.
There was an awkward, stilted silence.
"you come here often?" He said then cracked up "oh, god I
can't believe I just said that! I might as well have asked
you your star sign" he said, simultaneously cringing and
laughing.
"Libra" I answered grinning at him.  Our eyes met, and he
fell silent.
"I'm Serge" he said putting out his hand.
"Mike" I answered, taking it.  My head was spinning, I
didn't want to let go of his hand, I had to fight a mad
impulse to grab him, kiss him, make love to him right there
on the park bench.  Now he was up close I had my first real
look at his face.  All I had noticed before was his
penetrating green eyes, now I could see the firm line of
his jaw, square, and slightly shadowed with dark hair, his
face would be rough to the touch, I imagined it grazing my
face as he kissed me, a thrill of excitement ran through
me.  His dark hair was worn a little long, strands flopping
across his wide forehead into his eyes.  Those eyes, I was
drowning in green, framed by thick, long lashes, I followed
his gaze - he was looking down at our clasped hands, I
realised I had not yet released his grip.

I smiled and stammered awkwardly, starting to pull my hand
from his, he held on, and turned my hand over, cradling it
in both of his.
"You have lovely hands, such long fingers" he measured them
against his own hand "artist's fingers." he said.  I
watched in wonder as he caressed my fingers, sending
shivers up my arm to flutter up and down my spine.  He
looked up at me "Are you an artist Mike?"
"Well, not really, I take photos.  Not professionally,
can't afford to give up the day job."
"Do you want to take one of me?"  a look of pure mischief
crossed Serge's face.  He leaned back and smiled at me.  I
raised my camera and snapped of half a dozen shots of him.
"I want to see them," he cautioned
"Meet me for lunch tomorrow, I'll have them by then." I
promised rashly.
"Is that a date Mike?"
"Just lunch." damn, don't want to scare him off, am I being
too fast?
"Oh well, if that's all," was he relieved? "then maybe I
won't bother." I looked at Serge, taken aback "I was hoping
for a little more than lunch." he very deliberately looked
me up and down.  Hope, and something else erupted in me.
"Where do you work? In the City?"
"West end, not far from here"
"Meet me in Zola's, it's off Piccadilly, about one, ok?"
"Great."
Serge looked at his watch, "I have to go, Mike.  Tomorrow."
He got up and jogged off.  I closed my eyes and breathed,
his presence lingered in the air.  I moved to where he had
been sitting and inhaled his man-scent, my mind reeling.



Hope you liked this story, please email me at:
benzedrine_bedlam@yahoo.co.uk
and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism
appreciated.
BB