Jake had to get his mind off sex.
He didn’t see Erich the rest of the flight, nor during deplaning and through passport control. Maybe the guy was ashamed, trying to avoid Jake. Their encounter had been sleazy for sure, unsatisfying for Jake no doubt. But it was over, time to move on. Jake had told himself before this trip began that he was over his phase of flings, he needed to concentrate on something more permanent, like a real relationship. Go figure. Did this mean he was growing up? Maybe. But that didn’t stop him from checking out this cute guy at immigration, another bearded guy on the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station, or the sexy guy on the tube with the nice package. Tube indeed.
By the time Jake arrived at his flat, his cock was pressing up against his pants and he thought first thing he would do was relieve the pressure that had built up inside his balls. Several times he thought he should have just taken a cab from Heathrow and paid the outrageous fare, a least he would have been settled already, perhaps enjoying his first lager at the local pub up on the High Street. But no, he was only just this moment trudging his suitcases up the stairs to the second floor of the house on the picturesque, tree-lined Deodar Road. The eye candy he’d observed while traveling into London had only increased his desire to get settled.
He’d taken the Heathrow Express into Paddington Station, which turned out was located nowhere near the quiet neighborhood of Putney—situated on the Southern bank of the river Thames. A cab at that point would have been senseless, since he would have been traveling through the mid-day traffic of Central London. So he hopped the District Line tube, making his way south toward Wimbledon. He got off the train at the aboveground Putney Bridge station and from there his trip had only grown more challenging. Downstairs, through the turnstiles, walking through a narrow mews that on a dark night could seem dangerous, hike up a long, brick-lined staircase to the Putney footbridge, cross the river, go back down the stairs on the other side, walk two blocks to his house. All with luggage. All in surprising 80 degree sunshine.
But now that he’d unlocked his door and entered his home for the next three months, Jake could breathe a contented sigh of relief. The flat was perfect, just like the pictures he’d seen online—nicely appointed, with casual, accessible furniture. A large bedroom, bath, kitchen were all nice, but it was the living room that represented his favorite part. Oddly, it faced the back of the apartment but when he saw why, he completely understood the landlord’s choice of design. A large bay window overlooked a lush garden below and beyond that was a beautiful view of the Thames itself, so lovely it might well have been a postcard. He could easily make out the metal footbridge he’d just crossed to his left, and right now a northbound train was rumbling its way over the accompanying bridge.
Jake placed his heavy luggage in the bedroom. He would unpack later. Right now he was thirsty from the long trip and the idea of his first English ale called to him. A quick check of the fridge produced happy results as several oversize cans of Carling Lager stared back at him, along with a note: WELCOME TO LONDON. MAY THE FIRST FEW BE ON US. STEVEN & JENNIE. They were his landlords, and so far they seemed nice. Jake grabbed the can, popped the top and…ah, a perfect, cold first sip. Satisfied, he now needed to be satiated.
He padded back into the bedroom, where he tossed off his shirt and jeans, followed by his boxers. Dropping to the bed, his fingers wound their way down his chest, brushing at the trail of hair on his belly, finally resting on his growing cock. He stroked it once, twice with one hand while his other grazed against his goatee. He recalled how Erich’s cock had felt bristling against his facial hair, how the fuzzy touch had made him come almost immediately. Jake was feeling the heat swarming all over his body. The room was near stifling, warm from afternoon sun beaming through the windows. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he intensified his stroke. His measured breath became increasingly strained. He teased his nipples, twisted them ever so-slightly, feeling a tingle of pain radiate through his flush body. Erich’s handsome face popped into his mind and he could hear him saying how much he liked Jake’s chest, he preferred his men on the hairier side….just then Jake thought about Nico, the man who had led him down this journey of self-discovery, the way his black-carpeted chest had felt, the way his cock had pierced him that night and the next morning…the slap of his heavy balls against Jake’s tight ass…
“Oooh, shit…ohhh,” Jake said, his body shuddering with the first wave of orgasm.
Then his cock jutted, once, twice, shooting a thick load of white come onto his hand. He leaned forward to watch his climax, as drops slid down his shaft, buried in the deep confines of his thick crop of dark pubes. His head crashed back against the pillow, his breath heavy. After a moment he reached for his beer, downing most of it with one huge gulp. The dizzying feel of alcohol coursed through his veins, again warming his body.
Getting up from the bed, he quickly washed off and then found a pair of gray shorts in his luggage. He made his way back to the living room, opening wide the windows and feeling an instant rush of fresh air break off the river.
“Well, hello!” he heard a voice from below.
“Oh, uh, hi,” Jake said, realizing that two people were sitting in the tiny garden. A man and a woman, presumably the aforementioned Steven and Jennie. And indeed, Jake’s guess was right on the money.
“You must be Jake—a pleasure to meet you,” said the man. Jake estimated he was in his mid-30s, the woman maybe a few years younger. “Steven Pidgeon, this one here is Jennie Barth. Pop on down, join us for a drink.”
“Uh, thanks. Let me get changed…”
“You look fine, it’s warm out,” Steven said. “Not every day in London one gets to work on his tan line.”
Jake shrugged, said he’d be right down.
He wasn’t self conscious about his body, he knew he worked hard to keep it in shape. Flat stomach, strong biceps and muscled legs all added up to a man who knew that as he got older he needed to keep up his physical activity to maintain his appeal It turned out that Steven and Jennie where also dressed for the unseasonable warmth hovering over London. When Jake arrived in the green garden, he noticed Jennie wore a bikini, her generous breasts swelling beneath the thin material. She was pretty, with blonde streaks amidst her dark roots. A warm, welcoming smile drew him in. Steven had on shorts and a tank top, a slight belly protruding. He had a bald head and a few stray whiskers on his chin. Otherwise, he appeared pretty hairless. Not that Steven was gay, but still it helped that Jake did not find the man to be his type. Last thing he needed was to imagine his landlord visiting him for a quickie at night. No complications, no flings, he reminded himself, shutting out all such sexual thoughts as he shook hands with his new acquaintances.
“Grab yourself a beer, Jake. We’ll fatten you but good here in jolly London.”
Jennie waved her boyfriend off. “Don’t listen to him. Nice to see a man who takes care of himself. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on Steven.”
“Doubt that,” Steven said, “haven’t done me sit-ups in a dozen fortnights.”
Jennie rolled her eyes. “He’s speaking that way for your benefit. Putting on airs.”
Jake laughed, drank down some of his beer. “So, did I luck out or what? You guys have a nice set up here. This place is great—I’m really happy with my flat, and with this view of the Thames, guess it’s not so bad being a bit of a distance from Central London.”
“Ugh, we just hate Central London,” Jennie said with obvious disgust. “Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar, Leicester Square—the tourists and terrorists can have it. Stevie and I are quite content here in our quiet enclave. Got our favorite pubs up on the High Street—hey, speaking of, a few friends are gathering a little later for a friend’s birthday. The Railway, just up the road. Meet us why don’t you—unless you have other plans.”
“No plans—actually, I really don’t know anyone here. Kind of an impulse decision.”
Steven raised an eyebrow. “How can a summer-long holiday to London be impulsive? Hmm, I think there’s more to the story here. Who are you running from, Jake? Scorned lover, or maybe some thug you owe money?”
“Ha. Far less dramatic than either scenario. Actually, I’ve come to fall in love.”
His new friends tossed him a querulous look. “Say that again?” Steven asked.
Just then Jake felt embarrassed, his skin turning to instant sunburn. “Well, maybe not love…but, you know…meet new people.”
Jennie popped another beer, handed it to Jake. “You’ll need fortification, then. You’ve got us for starters, and if you join us tonight at the Railway you’ll be sure to meet others. In fact, if love isn’t on the menu, maybe one of our friends will interest you enough to for a little romp in the hay. Kimberly will totally fall for you—she gets one look at your yummy chest, she’ll probably spread ’em right there.” For effect, Jennie reached out and brushed her fingers against the light coating of hair on Jake’s chest. “Ooh, that feels nice, surprisingly soft. Stevie’s as hairy as a Mexican cat.”
Good thing Jake’s face was already red, Jennie admission might have sent him back inside. “Uh, sorry to say but I think Kimberly’s gonna be disappointed…”
“Shit. Gay. Right?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “That a problem?”
“Not for us. But tonight at the pub, don’t tell Kimberly. We’ll have a little fun with her. She thinks she can trap anything with her…well…”
“Beaver,” Steven said with a hearty laugh.
“Pigs, that’s what men are.”
Jake smiled. “Only the straight ones.”
“That leaves off Nevil,” Steven said.
“Who’s Nevil?” Jake asked, alerted to the fact that they suddenly seemed to have a gay friend now that they knew Jake’s own sexual orientation. Wasn’t it always that way with straight people, just because you’re gay and their friend is means by tomorrow morning you’ll be picking out china patterns and booking a B&B wedding in Vermont. Still, Jake wasn’t opposed to meeting someone. Wasn’t that why he was here, start over, start fresh? But a guy named Nevil? Serves Jake right, no one forced him to choose England.
“Nevil Masters is only tonight’s birthday boy. Yeah, he’ll like you…but I think you can do a lot better,” Jennie said with a Queen-like wave. “Actually, you know who Jake would like…and who would like Jake…”
She clammed up the moment Steven shot her a warning look. “Don’t even go there.”
But Jake was interested. “Sounds intriguing.”
“Hunter Abbott is anything but intriguing,” Stevie said, “and besides, I doubt he’ll even show. Mind of his own, that fellow.”
Jennie nodded. “True. Hunter is as reliable as…well, as my Stevie is hairy.”
Jake set down an empty beer can. He’d have to pace himself if he was going to be in any condition for later. “His name’s Hunter? I like him already. If he lives up to his billing, I might just be happy being a gatherer. Count me in for tonight. If your mysterious friend shows, I want to be there. Maybe I’ll take a page from Kimberly’s playbook and drop trou right then and there, let him have his way with me.”
“Christ, you got me all turned on,” Jennie said.
Back at ya, Jake thought, thinking about a guy named Hunter and a guy named Nevil and imaging both of them living up to their names. One was probably wildly sexy, aggressive in bed, while the other no doubt would lay there like a sack of potatoes. Opposites the two of them. Jake Westbury was left feeling torn. He wasn’t here to meet the bad boy. A guy like Nevil, he sounded nice, safe…a guy you could build a relationship around. A guy like Hunter, surely he meant only bad news.
So then why did Jake envision his legs in the air, the bad boy pumping away at him?
* * *
Jake closed up the back window to his flat, again gazing at the languid waters of the Thames. At 6:00 in the evening the tide had come in, the water level lower than he’d noticed earlier. Noticing that his neighbors had cleared out of the garden, Jake decided that before making us way up toward the pub he would take a quick tour of the grounds.
He’d tossed on jeans and a fresh T-shirt, throwing a casual long-sleeve shirt over it. The temperature was still on the warm side, but the BBC had reported a cold front moving in tonight, so the extra shirt would offer him some warmth when needed. A quick check in the mirror, he ran a finger through his hair, smoothed down his goatee. Was he pleased with the result? Yes, but that still didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about meeting the friends of his new friends. Steven and Jennie, they were quite a pair. She was quick with an insult, he seemed unfazed by them. For a second, Jake was jealous of their relationship, the ease with which they kept company. Why was that so difficult for him to find?
As he opened his door, he heard noises coming from the flat directly next to him. Hard, urgent cries, the banging of furniture against a wall. Okay, guess that was the first drawback to the house: thin walls. He’d known them only a few hours, and already Jake was privy to the sounds of their lovemaking. Keep that in mind, he told himself, assuming he had opportunity this summer to give his bed a nice sweaty workout. Just then he thought of the alluring Hunter, imagining a sexy hunk with an impressively hairy chest and a big, thick dick. Fantasy was nice, but he probably looked nothing like that. A pasty Englishman with a beer gut and crooked teeth, that’s the second image that flashed in his mind. Like Steven. Jake’s cock pressed against his pants, even as he tried to quiet his inner urges. The sound of climax coming from next door didn’t help matters.
He made his way outside, following the path that led to the garden. Opening the wooden gate, Jake went past the table and chairs he’d previously sat at, making his way down the water’s edge. All around him, the world moved, modes of transportation surrounding him. A train crossing over the Putney Bridge, boats bobbing in the turgid waters of the Thames, and above him one plane, then another, heading for Heathrow. Obviously this was along their flight path. Still, Jake was pleased to be on solid ground, his feet able to take him where he needed to go. That was the good thing about big cities. You could walk. New York was like that, London too. The differences were minimal between the two cities, but enough divided them to give Jake a sense of renewal.
For a moment he hoped his friends Matt and Freddie were experiencing their own level of romantic bliss. Whether along the Seine or the Tiber, each river was emblematic of their search for something bigger in life, a steady flow toward tomorrow. Whether grand declarations of love or the endless pursuit of the next party, his friends were hopefully enjoying their own summer excursions. So too was Jake determined to indulge his passions. About to depart for the pub, he gazed directly down from the cement wall, noticing a ladder made of rope and at the bottom, which led to a dock and a lone kayak. He guessed Steven liked to glide out on to the waters; perhaps he’d asked to borrow it someday, take his own sojourn along the legendary river.
He recalled Jennie’s directions on how to get to the Railway, but figured he didn’t have to take the most direct route. If they were still fucking upstairs, no telling when they might arrive, and while Jake had no problem having a drink on his own he liked the idea of starting his trip with a night out with newfound friends. So he made his way toward Putney Road, and eventually the High Street. There was a Marks & Spencer where he could stock up on food; an Orange phone store where he could add more money to his temporary mobile; an HMV store attracted his attention. Record stores were dinosaurs in New York City, so he was heartened to see this store, reminding himself a visit would no doubt introduce him to some new music. He passed other pubs, fast food shops, a Boots pharmacy. As he ambled his way up the narrow, busy street, to his left he saw the rumbling of the National Rail train, which Jennie had said was a faster way to Central London than the tube across the bridge. He’d have to check it out and added that to his growing list of things to see and do.
At around 7:15 in the evening he arrived at the Railway Pub, a sign above the door indicating this was a “Weatherspoon’s” establishment. Just have some good cask ales, that’s all Jake cared about. He made his way into the large pub located on the northeast corner of the Putney High Street and Upper Richmond Road. The place was buzzing with a large crowd that wound its way along the long bar, at tables and chairs. Jake detected another large crowd on the second level and was beginning to wonder how he would ever find his new friends amidst the dense crowd, assuming they were even done, dressed, and drinking here.
“Jake, over here!” he suddenly heard, a thin, pale arm waving above a few heads.
It was Jennie, he recognized her voice above the din of the crowd. He pushed his way through mostly thick-bodied men who were knocking back pints of thick, hearty ales and ciders. They parted as best they could, and at last Jake emerged into a tight circle of four people. Along with Steven and Jennie was a tall, striking woman with hair the color of flame, who gazed directly at Jake, a smile breaking across her pretty face. She wore high boots and a low skirt and if Jake had to guess this was the flirty Kimberly. The only other person was a thin man about 5’8”, with wire-rimmed glasses and potent blue eyes enlarged behind them. He was cute, if book-ish, and his cheeks held a ruddy, reddish innocence to them. No way was this guy Hunter, Jake decided.
“Jake Westbury, I’d like you to meet Kimberly Locke and Nevil Masters.”
They all shook hands, with Jake adding a “nice to meet you” and “happy birthday, Nevil.” Steven busied himself by ordering Jake a drink, handing him a pint of Green King Abbot Ale. “No more of that boring Carling for you, that’s like Budweiser swill to you. This will coat your insides.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, taking a healthy gulp, smiling when he set the glass down. “Perfect.”
The small group moved away from the crowded bar, scooping up a newly empty table and chairs. They settled down and raised their glasses in cheer, toasting Nevil’s birthday and welcoming Jake to London. Kimberly, Jake noticed, had moved in close to him, her eyes wandering over his body. Shit, so Jennie hadn’t told her he was gay, she really did want her friend to make a fool of herself. How to avoid embarrassing her—and himself? That’s when he noticed that Nevil was equally attentive toward him, his eyes practically sinking into Jake’s. Out of the corner of his eye Jake could see a smirking Jennie. Steven looked disinterested, happy to just knock back his brew.
“So, Jake, what brings you to London?” Kimberly asked.
“Just a chance to escape my other life in New York—I’m a freelance writer, assignment have dried up in this economy, so I thought maybe I’d write a book. Here I am.”
“How long are you staying?” Nevil asked.
“All summer.”
“Really?” they both said simultaneously.
If Jake was into threesomes—well, threesomes that involved women—they could be at his flat faster than they could get their clothes off. Truth be told, neither was exactly his type. Kimberly for obvious reasons. Nevil…he just seemed a bit too queeny, too much of a twink. What was he, 25?
“I think we need to let Jake settle in, maybe have a second beer,” Steven said, “before the two of you begin stripping for him. Geez, you two are practically creaming your jeans.”
“Steven!” Jennie exclaimed. “Guys, really, sorry…”
“Don’t apologize,” Jake said, not wanting his first night in London to be marred by such juvenile antics.
Still Nevil looked positively chastised and faded into the background by playing with his mobile. Kimberly reacted the opposite, spurred on by Steven’s challenge. “I don’t think Jake minds the attention one bit. A man likes to know when someone finds him attractive, and who better than a vixen like myself to let him know. If two people find each other attractive, why go through some ridiculous dance?”
Jake was spared answering. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of someone new, his shadow arriving first before his body blocked their view of the bar. Kimberly’s mouth quieted as she crossed her arms across her bosom. Nevil gazed up, sneered, then looked back down. As for Jake, he merely stared at the man standing before him, a man whom he could only describe as the perfect specimen. Heat seemed to sizzle off his body, giving rise to the temperature in the crowded bar. Jake felt a sudden tightness in his balls, a slight thickening of his interested cock. My God, he thought, is this guy hot or what? Did he dare think this was the alluded to Hunter? He had to hope so. The guy was about six feet tall, with a strong body evident from the tight T-shirt he wore, the leg-hugging jeans. His forearms were coated with dark brown hair that matched the deliberately-styled messy thatch on his head. Three days of stubble created a roguish quality to his handsome face. What had Steven said earlier, Nevil and Kimberly both might cream their jeans over Jake? Well, now it was Jake’s turn and it was all because of this guy…this hot, yummy, delicious stud before him. Jake could only imagine what Hunter looked like naked.
“Ah, Hunter, you made it,” Steven said.
Bingo. Hunter, who Jake already knew was gay, seemed on the surface exactly the way he had imagined him. He wouldn’t mind one bit seeing his fantasy follow through to fruition. Which meant he wouldn’t mind waking up in this guy’s bed with a sore ass.
Oh, thank the good Lord he was gay.
“Who’s this bloke?” Hunter asked, his direction focused on Jake.
“Oh, a new friend, visiting from the States,” Jennie said. “He’s Stevie’s new tenant. Jake Westbury, meet Hunter Abbott.”
“Pleasure,” Hunter said with a crooked grin, extending his hand.
Jake thrust his hand out, perhaps a bit too eagerly. As their hands connected, Jake could feel the sharp prickle of hair on the back of Hunter’s hand. An electric charge jolted him, causing him to nearly strangle on his greeting. “Hey, uh…Hunter, nice to meet you.” He swallowed, took a breath. “You don’t sound like you’re from these parts.”
“American myself, not that I usually admit to that. Haven’t been home in years.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
Silence hovered around the table before Jennie began to talk. Was something wrong with that question? Hunter held up his hand and silenced his friend.
“This and that,” Hunter said, addressing Jake specifically. He offered nothing further. “Look, sorry gang, I’ve got to run. Shame I can’t share a beer with you all. Nevil…good to see you…a happy one to you. Perhaps I’ll see you Friday night. I’ll have to let you know.” He allowed himself a private laugh. Nevil continued to sneer. “J and S—all the best till again. You too Kims.”
Hunter then gazed about the room once, twice, his eyes darting suspiciously, as though looking for someone. Or perhaps hoping not to see someone. Jake realized he’d been doing that pretty much since Hunter popped up at their table. And now he was gone in a flash, faster than he’d arrived.
“Wow, who was that masked man?” Jake asked.
His Lone Ranger reference was lost on the pile of Brits before him.
“He’s a bore, too full of himself anyway,” Kimberly said.
“You’re just jealous, sweets,” Jennie said, and then looked at Jake. “She hates the gays. They don’t want to date her, and she’s not outrageous enough to do in drag.”
Jake barely heard what she said. He was still looking at the exit door, his attention returned when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to find Nevil right before him. “So, Jake, a few of my real friends are throwing me a birthday party on Friday night—that’s the actual date. Steven and Jennie couldn’t make it, that’s why we’re here tonight. But if you’re free, why not come? In fact, if you’re free beforehand maybe I can show you a bit of London, then we can go to the party.”
Jake said nothing at first, realized they were all waiting for his answer. How could he say no in such a public forum? So he readily agreed, thanking Nevil for his hospitality, all the while thinking of that sexy creature who had just delivered a knockout punch to Jake’s heart. To his crotch, too. He barely heard what was said next.
“Aw, shit, another gay one.”
Kimberly of course said that. Then, with a melodramatic pause, she bellied up to the bar for a fresh round of drinks. Her friends all laughed, except for Jake. He had taken another look at the front door, where he spotted not Hunter but another man. A huge, hulking man wearing nothing but black, unless you counted his sour expression
Why did Jake get the sense that this beast was the man Hunter had been looking for?
And by looking for, meaning trying to avoid.
Just who are you Hunter Abbott? Jake wondered. And what kind of trouble are you in?