Date: Thu, 15 Jan 2004 22:54:53 +0000 (GMT)
From: Alex Douglas <alex_d0uglas@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Seven Days to Love

Copyright(c) Alex D, 2002

This story is for my London "connection", you know who you are ;)

Monday morning, 9:05am. I get a chewing for being late. Five minutes for
god's sake! Then again, god has little influence in this office. I AM
an insurance salesman after all.

The usual conversation. Do anything at the weekend? The ever chirpy and
infinitely irritating Maureen, clutching a batch of papers. I sigh.
Och, you know. The usual. I stretch, longing for a cup of strong, black
coffee, preferably with a shot of Bushmills in it. For medicinal
purposes, of course. How else can I get through the day, except to be
full of stimulants? I know, I know, alcohol is a depressant...still,
there's nothing  more depressing then a day at the desk, and that is
where I must be today. I have paperwork to catch up on, so I will have
to endure Maureen sucking up to me most of the day. Oh well, she makes
a decent cup of tea, I suppose. The office gossip is, she's on the
prowl, looking for a man. Mental note: grow a beard. Her ex-husband had
one, and she lost no time telling everyone she dumped him because he
refused to shave it off.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Tuesday, 11pm. Sitting in a meeting with my boss and some
representatives from  the parent company in London. I look industrious,
scribbling frantically. In fact my Bullshit Bingo sheet is almost full,
I'm going to win the $20 this week! The boss is about to wrap up...yes!
" Fault tolerant"...strike! "Basically" and "pro active" in the same
sentence! Bingo! I can barely keep the grin off my face as I look
around the twitching expressions of my colleagues and underlings,
knowing that their money will be taking me out this weekend...well,
it'll pay for my carry out at least! My best mate's coming over from
England for the weekend. Can't wait to see him. Going out just hasn't
been the same since he left, the crazy bastard. We're both incurable
fans of 70's music, so we're going to hit the town on Friday night and
head to a cosy little club imaginatively called "Retro". It would be
great if it wasn't infested with students, but you can't have
everything... We're a bit old to be students, but hey, at least I can
say I am a true child of the seventies, even though I was only seven
when the decade ended.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Wednesday afternoon. A quick stop at the office on my way to flog some
crap car insurance to another gullible old lady...yes! There's an email
from Neil. He says he'll be arriving at 3pm on Friday and can I pick
him up. I check my diary. Hmmm, full...no matter, I feel a mysterious
illness coming on! Rubbing my stomach and whingeing about that dodgy
looking meat in my sandwich, I exit the office laughing, calls of "hope
you feel better tomorrow" ringing in my ears. A nice long weekend
beckons, better go and get the drinks in!

*	*	*	*	*	*

Thursday 13.00. Yet another bloody meeting, this time over lunch. I make
a show of not eating, even though my stomach is roaring its protest and
I'm getting so hungry that the cork table mat is starting to look
tasty. I am sick, I say. Got a Touch of the Trots. People in this
country love to talk about bowel problems, and sure enough my boss
starts telling us about the time he was in India. By the time he has
finished, I am no longer hungry.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Friday!!! At the airport, nervously scanning the crowds. There he is!
I'm SO excited about 70's night that I have come in my dad's old purple
corduroy suit, hugely flared trousers, platform boots. I've lost a bit
of weight, I guess, the jacket fits me now. Going to the gym must be
paying off. I even found a matching purple and orange kipper tie in the
second hand shop, I can't believe I was so lucky! I had considered
putting on my purple afro wig, but I wouldn't want to look stupid.
People are staring at me, but I don't care. They have precious little
to look at, living in drab old Belfast...potential City of Culture, no
less! I am still laughing at the thought when I spy Neil in the
distance. My heart jumps at the sight of him, as always. It's a strange
relationship we have, I'm sure he's gay but he's never told me and
Christ, if he hasn't guessed about me by now, he must have something
wrong with him.

He comes running towards me and we fling our arms around each other,
jumping up and down with excitement, squealing like a couple of girls.
I step back and clear my throat, embarrassed at such an unmanly
outburst. He's wearing a rather subdued black suit, Mr Corporate
Traveller, but his hand luggage is in a lavender basket, and I could
almost kiss him. It looks so ridiculous!

On the drive back to my flat he tells me it's his girlfriend's bag, how
embarrassing and all that. Some last minute accident or other with his
briefcase...yeah right, and...his girlfriend! I'm a bit surprised, and
a whole lot jealous. The bitch! I curse myself for not having made a
move eons ago. Even I have on occasion gone over to the dark side with
girls...after all, at a 70s disco, there ARE only beautiful girls and
gay men! Girls are fun, but nothing beats a tight ass and the delicious
scent of a man....I shake my head. I'm getting ahead of myself. As I
shift gears, my hand brushes against Neil's thigh. He doesn't move
away, instead he looks out of the window. Is he blushing? I do believe
he is! Bodes well for this evening...

We make a brief stop at the off licence, after I inform him there's only
beer in the house. Now he has a taste for red wine. That definitely IS
evidence he's been hanging round with a girl, or some affectation
picked up in London. Blokes from Ireland just don't drink wine unless
they're well and truly under the thumb. I'm silent as we head back to
my place, trying to shrug off this feeling of disappointment. Absence
definitely makes the heart grow fonder, I reflect as I follow him into
the house. He looks cuter than ever, curly black hair that is always a
bit too long and never sits the way he wants, his bright blue eyes, his
hard little body, his peachy arse in those trousers....Sighing, I
resolve to keep my hands off him. Our friendship is too important to
mess up. I ask about the girlfriend, and he tells me she's an English
teacher at some godawful comprehensive school. He met her in a library,
and they've been together 3 months. Her name is Assumpta, originally
from Donegal. Assumpta! What an awful name! How do you keep a straight
face shouting that out during sex, I ask him, but his blush tells me
they haven't had it yet, and my heart leaps. She's  catholic, he
mutters, in explanation. I wink knowingly. Is that right, I say. His
cheeks are going purple, and he takes a gulp of his wine. I'm away to
have a shower, he tells me, and off he goes. I sink back into the sofa,
hugging my knees with delight. He's here, the love of my life! If only
he knew it! Now what to do, what to do!

I chug back a few beers while he's upstairs, dancing round the room to
Barry White's  "You're the first, my last, my everything". Man, what an
intro! His voice gives me chills and this beer's giving me a light
head. Is it just me or is everything just that little bit brighter
today! Neil's bag catches my eye and I wonder if I should bring it out
tonight for a laugh. Then I remember where I am, sadly this isn't the
most progressive place in the world and blokes just don't DO handbags,
unless they're looking for a good kicking by some knuckle dragging
oaf...Not for the first time, I envy Neil. I mean, he lives in London!
He has a fabulous job and...but suddenly I remember all those emails at
the start, when he was lonely and unhappy and I wonder if things have
changed. Sure, he's more settled and likes his job, but has the social
side of things got any better?

The poor thing, all alone and struggling out of the closet...forced to
date a teacher called Assumpta, a wee reminder of home in  a huge
multicultural city. He just needs someone to give him a bit of a push
and...

I'm all tipsy and sympathetic when he comes back downstairs, hair
sparkling with drops of water like glitter, his lithe body still a
little tanned from his recent holiday to Florida.  My cock springs to
attention as  my eyes slide treacherously downwards to the gleaming
white towel he has tied round his waist...I feel I am going to burst
with lust and I cross my legs, my mouth dry. Unfortunately his towel is
a bit too fluffy although I can definitely see a bulge in it...I've
seen him naked so many times, at rugby practice, the times we've
crashed at each other's places...why am I getting so hot and bothered
this time? Maybe because I haven't seen him for SO long, and I know
I've really and genuinely missed him. And I suppose going without sex
for almost six months would be part of it too.

It takes me a second to realise he's speaking to me, he's wanting to
know if I have any spare boxer shorts. Och Neil, I say, sure you know I
never wear such things. He blushes as he remembers I don't possess a
single stitch of underwear. Easy access, I tell him, winking  again
and...sweet! He's blushing again. You're wicked, he says, going back
upstairs.

He's ready soon enough and he's brought something for me, he says. It's
an LP, vinyl of course...Liquid Gold no less, the one I've been wanting
for years! It has Dance Yourself Dizzy, my absolute favourite song! I
hold it almost reverently. Not that it was expensive or anything, but
Neil knows I'm just too lazy to go and look for it. How thoughtful, I
say, gazing adoringly at him (and it). Well stick it on then, he says,
and I dive for the record player. In no time the drink is flowing and
we're dancing away like a pair of disco gods, I only wish I had a hairy
chest so I could go for a few medallions. I mean, how deliciously
tacky! But I've just stuck to the suit I stole from my dad, and I've
dug out the afro wig just in case. It's OK to dress up if you're going
to Retro, even straight blokes do it. I smile as I remember the last
time I went, there were two straight couples all dressed up as ABBA. I
say straight and I have no doubt they were, but "Bjorn" gave me a good
rendition of "Gimme Gimme Gimme" when I fucked him in the toilets later
on ...Was that really six months ago? God! My life has become so dull!

But it's not dull now, my head is spinning and my face is flushed as
Neil and I whirl each other tipsily around the room. All the clattering
we're doing on the floor, the LP jumps and we stop, breathless and
grinning. Better give it a rest for a bit, the neighbours will be
whingeing I say. God, I'm hot he says and we flop down together onto
the sofa. We turn to say something at the same time and suddenly our
faces are inches apart, mouths open...his lips are shiny and dark from
the wine, his breath warm on my face. Again I feel that tingle in my
belly, the sudden stirring in my groin. He faces me a little bit more,
his eyes intense and bright. He doesn't look away. There is electricity
between us. This is one of those Moments you see in soaps, or films. I
wet my lips instinctively, breathless with anticipation. Our lips inch
a little closer, his eyes start to close...when suddenly there's a huge
hammering on the window behind me. We leap up, almost guiltily, and  I
realise it must be Sonia and her mates. I forgot they said they'd come.
Sonia also misses Neil. She says he's the only normal one out of our
lot.

Cursing, I run to the door. Sonia'll be raging when she finds out she
spoiled a potential snog. She's the one who's been pushing me to jump
him all these years. Why was I resisting, I wonder as they all pile in.
There's obviously been plenty of drink taken judging by the volume of
people's voices and the staggering about. The room smells of smoke,
beer, makeup and hairspray by the time we stagger into a taxi, well, a
mini-van, whatever. I sit beside Sonia, hoping to tell her what almost
happened, and also so I can sit opposite Neil. He's been quiet, even
though these are his mates too...second thoughts? I quash the feeling
of worry.  Surely not? His knee is brushing against mine as the driver
seems to find every bump in the road. I almost wish we weren't going
out, that we were still alone on the sofa, inches apart. Then I catch
myself on, here I am surrounded by my best mates on the way to my
favourite nightspot. The man I love is sitting near me, and he will be
staying at my house for another two nights! If anything, my boring,
hateful days at Ripoff and Co merely serve to enhance nights like this.
I intend to savour every minute.

Especially of my seduction of Neil, it's my feeling that he's finally
ready, just like a ripe peach ready to be picked and savoured. And I'm
never wrong when it comes to men. Idly, as we crowd past the bouncers,
I wonder if the ABBA quartet will be there...

*	*	*	*	*	*

Saturday morning, 1am. What a fabulous night! We just danced the night
away, literally. Sonia's friend, Anna I think her name was, won the
"best dressed transvestite" award which was a surprise because I hadn't
realised Anna was a bloke. She's not, Sonia hissed at me as the poor
girl took her prize and flounced outside, weeping inconsolably.

After a whole night of playing it (relatively) straight, making
reasonably polite conversation with some of our less flamboyant
friends, getting completely trolleyed and dancing like a madman, I was
fired up by drink, fab music and good company as I staggered out the
door at the end of the night, hugging everyone. I hate it when I get
leery and lecherous, but I can't help it. It's my dark side I suppose,
in vino veritas and all that. Anyway it's cold outside and Sonia and I
are holding each other up, singing some old Gloria Gaynor song while
Neil rings round for a taxi. I don't know where the others went, but I
whisper my plans to Sonia and she grins. You'd better not blow it, she
says, I tell her I do indeed plan to blow "it" and we're both cackling
like a pair of old hags when Neil grabs us and bundles us into a taxi.
Instantly I snuggle down, my head in Neil's lap... I don't wake up
until I feel a sharp slap round the face. Neil's face swims into view
and I sit up, instantly. Where am I?

We're home he says and he drags me out onto the pavement. The cold air
sobers me up a bit. My ankle hurts, I say, no wonder, he laughs, when
you wear platforms like that. You fell on the dance floor. Oh no! I
groan, fumbling around for my key. I'm so drunk I can't find it so Neil
has to dig into my pockets while he tickles all my erogenous zones and
I giggle and squirm. Enough of this, I think, and I pull him close to
me. I don't care that we are in the middle of the street, practically,
it's dark and everything's orange and shadowy from the streetlights,
it's quiet and I'm so horny I can't think properly or see straight. I
love you, I tell him again and again as he lets me hug him, lets me run
my fingers through his beautiful hair which is damp with sweat from all
the dancing. I can see that, he says, as he manages to extract my key
from my trouser pocket, his fingertips millimetres away from my dick,
which is already swollen and throbbing against my tight trousers.
Earlier, I say, if Sonia and that lot hadn't called round... What, he
says, distracted, swinging the front door open. He drags me across the
threshold and shuts the door behind me, panting with the effort. You're
a heavy bastard he says. Stand up right. Earlier, I repeat, doing as he
says. What would have happened do you think. You and me, on the sofa.

I can't see his face in the dark and I don't want to. I know the answer
already, I could feel it as I snuggled my cheek into his hard crotch in
the taxi, dozing off in dreamy anticipation of what was to come...I can
hear it in his quickened breathing now, smell it in his sweat. Swiftly,
I grab him again and pull him against me. Stop me anytime you want, I
whisper, moving in for the kill, my hand sliding down the zip of his
jeans, my other hand snaking round the back of his head and pulling his
lips onto mine. The kiss is deep and intense, my tongue slightly
tentative about sliding into his mouth at first, but it meets his and I
can taste him, feel the softness of his lips, the fiery wetness of his
mouth. Oh god, I groan aloud as my hand slides into his trousers. The
bristly feel of pubic hair, the dampness of sweat, the heat...he's not
wearing any underwear either. His prick is already rock hard, the skin
velvety soft, the tip already damp with pre cum.

I break the kiss and sink to my knees. The moment I have been waiting
for, dreaming about, fantasizing over for years. I push his shirt up
and yank down his tight trousers, turning him slightly so I can see it
more clearly in the moonlight shining through the frosted glass of my
front door. Magnificent, long and thick, but not pornstar ridiculous.
Just the right size. Almost panting like a dog, I bury my face in his
crotch and fill my nostrils with his intoxicating scent. He gasps as I
start to take his cock into my mouth, my hand fondling his balls and
the other snaking  up his stomach towards his tits, his hot little
nipples. I think to myself, have I died? Am I in heaven? The pain in my
ankle, the stiffness of my knees, the agony of my trapped dick... all
seem insignificant to me now. Further and further his cock slides down
my throat. He knows to his cost (from the drinking competitions of our
youth) that I can down a pint in three seconds. I'm sure he hasn't
realised that I can also swallow his dick as fast, although for once I
am taking my time. His hands begin to clasp my head as I end up where I
began, my nose pressed against his bush, but this time his pulsating
tool halfway down my throat. He cries aloud, an inarticulate sound of
delight, and my heart races. I speed up my action, deepthroating him
for a short while before removing his shining cock from my mouth and
taking it in my hand while my tongue searches for his balls. The juices
are literally flowing from the top of his cock, onto the back of my
hand as it squeezes up and down, his soft moans are getting sharper and
faster and I know that he's going to come soon , so I swallow it again
and again, quickly, while one hand massages the base of his shaft and
the other gives those heavy balls some attention... and then he's away,
he's crying out for god, emptying his load into my throat as I
constrict my muscles around his pulsating tool, milking it of every
drop. When he has finished, his legs are trembling. Christ almighty, he
mutters, his chest heaving as he struggles to get his breath back. They
didn't teach you that at school.

I sigh, running my tongue round my lips, tasting him still. . Neil , I
say, we're getting close to thirty and we've been mates a long time and
I haven't told you I'm gay. Is that right, he says, laughing.  He pulls
me in for another kiss. By this time the desire is coursing through my
veins like liquid fire. My trousers are too bloody tight, that's the
problem. We stagger through the living room door  and still devouring
each others' mouths, we fall in a heap on the sofa, Neil on top of me.
It's just a hot tangle of tongues, arms, fumbling hands, frantic and
needy. In the end I push him off me. I tell him to wait, to let me get
the damn trousers off. That's better, he says when we're both naked and
lying side by side. The kisses get hotter, deeper more urgent and I can
feel him reaching for my cock. Lying on my back, I open my legs to give
him easier access, but I'm so turned on by the idea of him touching me
that it erupts a few seconds later, spewing ropes of cum all over his
hands, and my chest. My hips jerk involuntarily as the tremors overtake
me and my mind is lost.

We lie there, glued together by cum and sweat. It must be the drink but
I am instantly sleepy. I love you, I whisper in the darkness, and he
says it back.

A perfect end to a perfect evening.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Saturday morning, 8am. I wake up alone, disorientated. I can smell bacon
frying and I sigh with contentment. A good old fry up, just the trick
for absorbing all that alcohol. Neil is a treasure. He always remembers
how I like my eggs even though he thinks I'm committing sacrilege by
blobbing tomato sauce all over them. He's always been thoughtful like
that.

I wander naked into the kitchen and lo and behold, he's naked too! He
hasn't heard me coming and I lean against the door frame for a minute
and watch his smooth movements, listen to him whistle and work. I can't
stay away from him, I can hardly keep my hands off him. I sneak up
behind him, snaking my arms round his waist so I can stand with as much
skin contact as possible. He's warm, and I sigh with contentment.
Already I have a boner, and I let it rub against his naked arse cheeks
while I nuzzle his neck.

Oi, he says, don't disturb the chef while he's cooking unless you want
spunk all over your eggs as well as ketchup. Sounds ok to me, I say,
but he's having none of it and makes me sit at the table. When the
food's in front of me, my appetite suddenly kicks in and I wolf it down
while he talks about his work. He's the manager of an Irish pub over
there somewhere, decent enough pay but long hours he says. They're
looking for staff, he says, with a pointed wink in my direction. How's
it going at Ripoff and Co, he asks and with my mouth half full, I
launch into a major whinge about how boring it all is, especially now
I've been top salesman for god knows how long, there's just no
challenge in it anymore. Casually he says, you should come over to
London for a while. If you aren't interested in pulling pints there's
plenty of sales jobs, better pay too.

Aye, you're right, I say, polishing off the rest of the bacon. And say I
was to come over, where would I be staying. I know a nice apartment, he
says, but you'd have to share with someone. I tell him I'll think about
it, but my mind is racing. He's right, what do I have here to stay for?
A crap job, a pokey wee house in a less than desirable area. I
absolutely live for the weekends. Wishing your life away, Sonia always
says. For someone so extrovert, you can be so conservative. Time for a
change of scenery?

We've finished eating and burping after all the lemon Fanta (great for
the morning after I always find). I look at him across the table,
revitalised by all the food, my eyes darkening with lust. Let's get a
shower, I say. It's a bit cramped in there, though. He smiles, and my
heart pounds painfully. Taking me by the hand, he leads me into the
bathroom. I have one of those old houses with the downstairs one, which
is a pain in the arse when you need to pee in the night. The décor is
still brown and orange from the previous occupants, the only room I
haven't tackled yet. Tasteful, he says, stepping into the shower. You
know me, I say, joining him, I never say no to an original 70's colour
scheme.

The water's freezing at first, it makes us both jump, but it soon hots
up...in every way. I squeeze a liberal amount of shower gel into my
hand, loving the feel of the jets of warm water hitting my back.
Slowly, I rub it all over him, his toned chest, his shoulders, making
my way down to his crotch where there's already plenty of activity. He
sighs as I soap his pubic hair, his balls, sliding my hand under and up
his crack. I brush his asshole with my fingertips and he jumps as if
stung. Later, later, I tell myself . Good things come to he who waits
and all that.

Impatiently, I yank the shower head off its perch and hold it close to
his skin, loving the slippery feel of him as I spray the water all over
us both. (and the floor) I've never done this before, and I'm a bit
clumsy, but he's squeaky clean by the time I've finished, standing
there like a Greek god, his body glistening as rivulets of water stream
down his beautifully chiselled body, running off his stiff cock, down
his thighs. The tension is unbearable and desperate to taste him again,
I sit down on the edge of the bath and take his knob into my mouth once
again. He slides his fingers through my soapy hair as I suck and lick
him all over, working my hand in between his ass cheeks to that  hidden
little hole I long for. Delicately, I push my finger right inside,
looking for the magic spot, loving the tight feel of his hot flesh he
throws his head back, crying out as I work it, swallowing his cock at
the same time until his knees shake and he's blowing his load in my
mouth, his hands gripping my shoulders. The taste of him fills my
mouth, and I gulp it down, dreamily.

Panting, he sits beside me, shaking his head. You are incredible, he
gasps. I grin. I aim to please, I say, standing up and quickly soaping
up. It's nice to mess around in the shower but it's just too small and
cramped, and I want him upstairs now, in the freedom of my king size
bed, where I can take my time. Once we're clean and dried off , I drag
him upstairs, and push him onto the white sheets. Right, I growl, now
you're all mine. I fling myself down beside him, grinning like a
Cheshire cat. He's looking at me, all pink and breathless, his mouth
slightly open. Unable to restrain myself I kiss him roughly, almost
devouring him, exploring him with my tongue. When I break the kiss, his
head flops down onto the pillow. Wow, he says, and it's like a red rag
to a bull. His pleasure is everything to me, and I trail my tongue down
under his neck, nibbling and sucking as I go, then to his nipples and
by the time I go down further, his cock is waiting for me again, rock
hard against his stomach. To his disappointment, I have other things on
my mind this time. Positioning myself between his legs, I push them
apart and upwards, chuckling as he is laid open to me. Leaning forward,
I attack his balls with my tongue, sucking one slippery orb into my
mouth, letting it slide out again as I push his arse cheeks apart and
continue my journey, darting the tip of my tongue over the sensitive
skin there until finally I reach his tight little pucker, sliding a
pillow under his hips to give me better access. This is my favourite
part of sex, when I just know someone has given themselves to me, when
I have seen their most intimate region in graphic detail and loved
every centimetre of it with my mouth and fingers. I'm a dreadful
control freak and have rarely allowed anyone to do to me what I'm doing
to Neil right now, even though I know it feels amazing. Neil obviously
agrees, moaning as I begin bathing his hole with soft, slow licks, then
hardening my tongue and poking at the tight little ring of muscle,
trying to force my way in. Once again, I slide a finger in and he loses
control of himself, his head thrashing from side to side, strangled
groans emitting from his throat as I add another finger, sitting up and
watching him writhe and arch his back as I slide them in and out,
smiling in delight as I play his body like my favourite instrument.

My cock is almost painfully swollen by now, and I remove my fingers,
sliding my knees up under his spreadeagled thighs, lifting his ankles
over my shoulders as I place my throbbing tool at his entrance and
reach over to the bedside table for a squeeze of lube. Are you sure
about this, I say to him ,greasing up, grinning at his flushed face,
the wild look in his eyes. Fucking hurry up, he gasps, and I need no
further encouragement. I push slowly into him, expecting resistance,
but once the head has gone in it slides in smoothly, right up to the
hilt. I have to hold it there for a minute as, bizarrely, I suddenly
feel tears in my eyes. When I have control of my emotions again, I give
in to my more basic instincts and begin to thrust in and out, slowly at
first, looking down all the time, loving the sight of my slippery cock
burying itself inside him, the look of pure lust on his face as he
grabs his knob and starts jerking it frantically. Increasing the tempo,
I listen to the sounds, the bed squeaking, his frenzied breathing, the
soft slap of flesh on flesh as I plunge inside him again and again, the
desperate groans I realise are coming from me. His inner muscles are
working like crazy, tightening around me, he's no virgin I realise but
it's too late for thought as I feel the familiar tingle in the pit of
my stomach, in my balls...whimpering, I fuck him harder and harder
until my body cramps up in an almost agonising orgasm, the cum jetting
out of me in tidal waves of unbelievable pleasure, my muscles seizing
as I lose control of myself , crying out his name and  falling forward
onto my hands as the last drops of spunk are drained out of me. Stay
inside me, he whispers, as he arches his back and , his hand moving so
fast it is a blur, blows load after load of watery cum over his chest.
The sweat is dripping off me as I feel the tremors from both our
orgasms subside, and exhausted, I let push his legs off my shoulders
and let my dick slide out of him. Limply, I flop down beside him.

It's a few minutes before I have my breath back sufficiently enough to
speak. You didn't learn that at school, did you I say. He smiles.
Talking of sexuality, he says, which we weren't...but there's something
I should tell you.

You're straight, I say, and we both laugh. He's so beautiful right now,
glowing with love. Unbelievably, I'm overwhelmed and he holds me tight,
stroking my hair. I can't deal with love, my heart is hurting with
happiness. I love you, I tell him over and over. I wasn't just saying
that to get into your pants last night. I know, he says, do you think
I'd have let you into them if you were just another lying bastard who'd
say anything to get laid. Guiltily I think of all the times I've done
just that. I don't deserve Neil, I really don't. This brings on more
tears and he's laughing at me.

Never thought I'd see the day when you were blubbing, he says. Tell
anyone and I might have to go over to London and  do nasty things to
you, I sniffle. Is that a threat or a promise he laughs, and then we
are silent, lying in each others arms.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Sunday evening, 8pm. Sonia's here, to keep me company. I've just left
Neil back to the airport. The control freak, sitting on the sofa
surrounded by tear-soaked hankies, clutching the t-shirt Neil left
behind, the one he was wearing on Friday night which still smells of
him. Sonia is also laughing at me, saying I've got my just desserts.
Lost your heart at last, she says, feeding me biscuits and cups of tea.


What a weekend, Neil and I didn't get out of bed until after 5 on
Sunday, when he finally thought about packing and getting ready to go.
I didn't ask him not to go. What would be the point? I'll see you soon,
I said as we said our goodbyes, hugging him tightly and not caring who
saw.

And I meant it. I tell Sonia about my plans and she's delighted. Go for
it, she says, and you know what, I just will!

*	*	*	*	*	*

Monday morning, 10am. I'm wearing a new Mickey Mouse tie just annoy my
boss We're in the monthly meeting to discuss our targets for the month
ahead. I know he will ignore Mickey because I'm so bloody good at my
job and it pisses him off. How was your weekend, you look different, he
said as we went into the "conference" room. Och you know, the usual, I
say, grinning from ear to ear. He looked at me suspiciously but said no
more.

True to form, the Bullshit Bingo sheets were handed out in secret prior
to the meeting. I have only two squares crossed off, and I'm getting
antsy. The pool is bigger for the monthly meeting, $30 this time. And I
love to win, I'm dreadfully competitive. Oh! He's mentioned "synergy",
another square for me. I lick my lips and look around gleefully at my
colleagues. "Walk the Talk"!!! Incredible! Strike! I've never heard
that one before...another two and I'll have it...

Unfortunately I have to contribute at this point, but I try to keep my
presentation jargon free so as not to give my colleagues an unfair
advantage. It's brief and I sit down again, scrabbling for the sheet as
Sheila  from HR starts going on about some stress management
programme...there it is! "Win-win" and "Out of the Loop!"

"BULLSHIT!" I leap up, waving my bingo page gaily and beaming at the
shocked faces of my colleagues. I am the first to follow all the rules
of the game. Mr Douglas, my boss splutters, what is the meaning of
this. The meaning is, I'm out of here, I say, almost dancing my way up
to his desk with my resignation letter fluttering from my hand. I'm
away to London to become a barman and shack up with my gay lover!

Their jaws drop even further, poor Maureen's face falls and I take a
bow. Thank you everyone, I say graciously as I saunter out the door,
pausing only to grab the framed picture of Barry White off my desk and
the little cactus Sonia had given me for Christmas...Down the lift one
last time, out into the air.

I feel exhilarated, liberated. I will pack a bag and head straight for
the airport.

Towards London, a new job and the love of my life.