Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2001 16:28:04 +0100 (BST) From: Benzedrine Bedlam 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