Date: Sat, 26 Feb 2005 10:24:29 -0000
From: Mike Arram <marram@wanadoo.co.uk>
Subject: the-decent-inn-2

'Matt, if I was ever going to go gay with anyone, it'd be with you.'  The
words cut through the fog of the beer, as also did the sharp look that went
with them.
   Steve stared into Matt's eyes and then looked away.  Both boys knew that
he had meant more than the words said, and Matt was more than slightly
panicked by them.  This was finally it.  Matt had been propositioned by
someone he could possibly tolerate the idea of sex with, as opposed to the
insinuating men on buses and in parks who had occasionally attempted to
move on him since he was fourteen.  Steve was a sort of mate of Leo's, they
had been in the same accommodation block as freshers.  But he was one of
the sporty crowd, big and fit, over a head taller than Matt.
 'Jesus,' thought Matt muzzily, 'It's a pass.  He's making a pass at me.  I
am not ready for this.  Does he mean what I think he means?'
   Matt was naturally intimidated more than a little by Steve.  When Steve
asked him to join him for a couple of pints, he of course agreed.  Steve
was big and confident among the lads.  He was everything that Matt was not,
and everything that Matt half hated himself for looking up to.
  But he had increasingly sensed Steve's interest in him.  On more than one
occasion previously he had found himself in created conversations with
Steve and trying to work out just how he'd got in them, struggling hard to
find things to say.  Just before the gay remark, Steve had been
complimenting him on his choice of jacket, and the lustre and brownness of
his eyes; softening him up by pretty crude flattery.  Was it calculation?
Was he less drunk than he seemed?  Fear paralysed his tongue.
   Matt was suddenly annoyed.  He didn't need this.  He was being
propositioned by a boy of his own age. Fine, but Matt hadn't thought
seriously of himself sexually involved with Steve.  He did not appreciate
the ambush.  But he froze.
  In fact they both froze.  Matt managed an, 'Uhhhh', which made the mutual
embarrassment all the more acute; his inconvenient gift for fantasy
suddenly presented him with a vision of himself engaged in sex with a man.
Only it didn't need to be fantasy; it might be real in as little as ten
minutes.  His cock betrayed him.  It swelled and stiffened against his leg,
painfully caught in his underpants, hidden under his jacket.  Steve for his
part suddenly appeared to panic and lurched into reverse.  He temporised,
'Get you a drink, Matt?'
  'Uh, sure.'  Steve leaned around to the bar and got two more pints.  Matt
thought of running for it, and joining some other mates he could just see
in the lounge.  But Steve was back.  Matt felt himself getting red, and
couldn't think of any way to carry on the conversation.  Steve too was
quiet.
  'Nice pint.'
  'Yeah, really OK' There was a long pause and the beer had its effect;
Matt's bladder - already anxious - began to cry out to be emptied.  'Need
to go to the bog, man.'  He hurried off out of the bar and into the scruffy
corridor outside.  He pushed into the small men's toilet, the concrete
floor wet with urine and overflowing water, the smell pungent with
disinfectant.  He unzipped and hauled out his penis, enlarged for more than
one reason.  Thank God the loo was empty.  He leaned his forehead against
the wall and pissed copiously against the stained porcelain.  He felt his
penis subside a little.
  But the door banged and Steve was suddenly alongside him, hauling out his
own sizeable member.  Matt couldn't resist looking, and saw unmistakeable
signs of Steve's arousal, and saw that Steve saw his stare.  He looked
away.  Steve finished his pee, and he began manipulating and flapping his
cock, the way that some men do afterwards.  Matt knew it was not to empty
the last drop, because Steve was taking his time.  Matt was still
finishing.
  For a moment both men stood still.  Then Steve reached out and folded his
hand around Matt's as it rested on his cock.  It was the point of no
return.  Steve's fingers pushed Matt's aside, gripped his penis and began
slowly stroking its length.  There was an explosion in the region of Matt's
groin, his penis bucked in Steve's hand.  He was torn between panic and
lust, his heart hammering hard inside his chest.  But there were voices in
the corridor.  Steve recoiled quickly as the door was pushed open and two
other students squeezed in talking loudly.  Matt zipped up with some
difficulty and shuffled out quickly.
  'We'll go to my place ... if you want' Steve whispered in the corridor
outside.
  'Look Steve.  No.  I don't want this.'  Matt stuttered in reply.  Steve
looked narrowly at him.  'Don't tell me you're not interested, your little
friend says different.'  Matt changed gear rapidly.
  'Why did you think I might be ... y'know?'
  'Just a feeling.  The other guys all reckon you're gay.'
  'Why?'
  'Dunno, they just do.'  I'll bet, thought Matt.  The dumb sods reckon
anyone who doesn't get hammered and play soccer and talk loudly about women
must be gay.  He was really annoyed that the thick idiots just happened to
be right in his case.  Steve loomed closer, a little threateningly, though
it was probably not his intention.
  'Come on Matt, you can do it, I know you'll like it,' he grinned
suggestively, if a bit prematurely, 'I'll be gentle with you.'
  Matt's stubbornness took over.  'So do they know you're gay too?'
  'I'm not.'
  Matt was stunned.  'Scuse me, but you just made a homosexual assault on
me.  What the hell else does that make you?'
  'I'm bisexual.  Swing either way.  Doesn't make me gay.'
  Matt's grasp on Steve's logic was beginning to crumble.  'What do your
mates think about it.'
  'They don't know.'  Steve looked coolly at him.  'And they're not going
to find out, are they?'
  Matt let the threat pass, not that he had much of a choice.  Steve could
very easily pick him up with one arm, he guessed.  Then another reason to
panic surfaced.  Steve had slept with other men, he'd said as much, and
Matt knew all too well about infections that passed round.  Do I want to
risk that, he asked himself.  It now also occurred to him that Steve was
deliberately targetted fringe characters to his circle, so that his hearty
friends never got to hear of his adventuring.  He resented it.
  A group of students shouldered past them with curious stares.  Steve got
impatient.
  'Well?' he demanded.
  Matt squared his shoulders.  'No chance.  I don't want you up my arse, I
don't know where your dick's been,' said Matt with a certain amount of
bravery - as well as coarseness - although he was defying what half of his
mind was telling him.  Suddenly, and to his surprise, Steve looked shocked
and dejected rather than angry.  Had he expected to score more easily?  Did
Steve actually seriously fancy him, was it more than just a casual
proposition?  He almost softened.  He was experiencing the power of saying
no for the first time in his life.  Also, he was learning that it didn't
come without regrets.
  Steve continued to plead, although with an edge of desperation in his
voice.  'It won't be like that, Matt, honest.  It'll be fun, maybe a
revelation.  Please ...'
  'Please comes rather late in your chatup line, dunnit Steve?'
  Steve took a shuddering breath and glowered at him, 'Fine.  Your choice.
Your loss.  Don't be sure I'll ask again.'
  Matt was now amused.  Steve had suddenly transformed into a little kid
whose friends wouldn't play.  He stopped seeming threatening.  They went
back to the bar and finished their drinks quickly.  Steve gave him a curt
goodbye and stumbled off, although not without one backward glance as he
reached the pub door.  Matt shrugged.  He wouldn't be seeing Steve again in
a hurry.  Steve took Politics and Strategic Studies, and their paths didn't
normally cross on campus.
  Matt wandered home.  Before he got to the end of the road he was
whistling to himself.  He suddenly realised that his big secret was out;
not far out, but out.  He had talked with someone who knew about his
sexuality, his desires, and acknowledged them openly.  He felt freer than
he had for years.  It was weird.  He'd always thought that exposure would
bring humiliation.  In fact he felt liberated.  It was as if he had finally
made a move towards becoming himself.  'Don't know where your dick's been.'
Had he really said that?  It was a bit gross, but cool too.  Matthew the
cocky gay warrior; he played with the image before dumping it in the bin
with the rest of his fantasies.  That wasn't him either.
  Home was a terraced house not far from campus that his father had bought
at the start of the second year.  It would be an investment and would save
Matt paying rent, Dad had decided.  He had got it at a cheap price because
the previous owner had let it get run down, and because it was between two
other student houses.  Matt had been supposed to get other students to
share.  But by the time his father had got round to things, everyone was
sorted.  He had put up a notice in the Union but there were no takers.
  Dad was a builder, unfortunately.  So the house was full of half-finished
projects.  The kitchen had loose grey cables worming out of the walls for
fixtures that had not been bought, let alone installed.  The kitchen floor
was still awaiting tiles.  The bathroom shower was plumbed in, but it
leaked.  The rest of the furniture was taken over from the previous
resident, who was now in an old people's home.  The curling lino, walnut
veneer, faded plush chairs and formica tops were unique period pieces from
the sixties.  The smell of damp, dust and drying plaster was his constant
companion, and it had got into his clothes.
  He checked his mobile.  There were no texts or voicemail.  He went into
the lounge and turned on his telly, the same that he had for his fourteenth
birthday when an integral video player was new technology.  He felt
suddenly very sorry for himself.  It was a measure of his loneliness that
he consoled himself that his old telly was still his friend.  He almost
patted it.  He watched cartoons and soaps and was in bed by nine thirty.
But his libido did not let him lie quietly.  Although he had turned down
the chance for a sexual adventure, his mind stubbornly retained the memory
of a strong male hand caressing his most intimate parts, and taunted him
with it.  Although he had sent Steve on his way, he had a disturbing memory
of his frustrated and longing face as he left the pub.  This mingled with a
memory from last year of Steve's well- developed naked torso, which he had
seen quite often enough exposed in Leo's flat.
  Matt suddenly sat up in bed.  Well-developed naked torso.  What if the
parading round half-naked was the way Steve had scouted for likely targets?
The bastard.  And he certainly had not been able to stop himself checking
out Steve on every possible occasion.  So that was how he had been noticed.
He suddenly lost all vestigial guilt about disappointing Steve.  He hated
it when people exploited and manipulated him.  In the end, Matt took his
usual route to relief.  He wiped up, pulled his underpants back up from his
knees and eventually fell asleep.  He dreamt of a blond young man who was
shouting soundlessly in his ear.