Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2001 14:40:27 +0000 (GMT) From: Benzedrine Bedlam Subject: The Photographer 4-6 4.Mike and Serge Meet for Lunch I was still in high fidgets, so left work early for lunch, hell they could spare me for a while. They'd have to. The cafe Serge had arranged to meet me in turned out to be a pleasant French-style place, with tables out on the street, as it was located on a back street, it wasn't too noisy, and with trees in the courtyard very continental. I took a seat outside, with a good view of anyone approaching. After a few minutes I saw Serge. His lean, muscular body was enhanced rather than concealed by the sharp suit he wore. The trousers fitted just a bit too well, and I could see the outline of his cock as he walked. He sat down opposite me and stretched. "have you ordered?" I shook my head "I need a drink" he announced, summoning a waiter. Serge glanced at me for approval, and ordered a bottle of wine. The wine arrived, I sipped, Serge took a long drink and sighed. I smiled "bad day?" "Yeah, lets talk about nicer stuff, we are free from the capitalist treadmill, for a whole hour! So, when did you become interested in photography?" "My Grandfather gave me my first camera when I was 8, he was great, into everything, he taught me how to take photos on this ancient Cannon. We used to spend long days at the beach, I remember him taking me there on blustery winter days, taking photos of the same things at different times of the day, to see what the light did to them. Then sitting in a cafe drinking big mugs of cocoa to warm us up." "He sounds great" "He was" I smiled as I thought back to those happy days. Serge was silent for a moment "What about the rest of your family? Do you get along with them?" "Yeah, pretty well, my parents live up in Cheshire, so I don't see that much of them. I moved south to study, and never regretted it, I could never live in a small town again, too claustrophobic" "Mmm, I know what you mean" "Where are you from?" "My family home is in Surrey, not too far I guess. I don't visit very often." Serge looked distant and sad for a moment, then smiled faintly and returned to me. I could see the grief in his eyes. "Problems?" I sympathised, although my family had dealt with the gay issue remarkably well, how many friends did I have who either didn't talk to their families anymore, or were afraid to tell them the truth? "Nicer things." Serge declared "When was the last time you went on holiday? You're as pale as a sheet?" I laughed "I had a week in Italy last year, but it was more sightseeing than sunbathing. I don't tan, I just burn". My pale skin and blonde hair did not lend itself to sun worshipping, and to avoid the lobster look I tended to avoid the sun, and put up with being pale. "Then I will just have to take you somewhere sunny won't I?" The waiter arrived to take our order at this point, leaving Serge's comment hanging in the air. Was this really going to develop into something special. I had been avoiding commitments since Sean and I split. I'd had a couple of casual flings, but had decided not to pursue anything more serious. I was just not ready to get hurt again. Still, my mother always said these things only happen when you're not looking! We had been so engrossed in our conversation we had barely glanced at the menu, Serge ordered, and I simply asked for the first thing my glance fell upon. "Well, where do you like to go on holiday?" I asked Serge "I went to southern France last year, I borrowed a friend's cabin and just chilled for two weeks. It was lovely, no TV, no newspapers, no people almost! Just sun and solitude" "You went alone?" I was surprised, this hunk had no one to take on holiday! "Yeah, I needed some space, and well, it was a good place for it." Serge leaned back in his chair, sipping at the wine, he looked tanned and healthy, I could see the firm build beneath his suit, I imagined how his chest would look, would it be smooth, or furred? The dark hair on his head was thick and shiny, his face was smooth, but I could see a faint darkening at his jaw, hinting of virile hairiness. His chest would be hairy too, I decided, I only hoped I would have the chance to find out soon. I continued my inspection, turning my attention next to his arms, hidden beneath the suit, they gave little away. His hands looked strong and sure, while mine toyed with the napkin, the wineglass, with each other if necessary, never still, Serge seemed at ease, his hands lying calmly on his lap. My gaze travelled up, to his face. Serge had a high, clear forehead, smooth and unlined, his jaw-line was firm, sweeping down into a strong chin. He had full rosy lips, they looked soft, and sensitive, and kissable. His nose was unremarkable, seeming to sit comfortably within his face. I looked then at his eyes, so green, they seemed to reach out to me, I could feel the warmth of their gaze, resting on my face. As I studied him, he smiled, a sad, regretful smile. The waiter arrived then, breaking the tension which had arisen between us. As plates were dispensed and wine topped up we retreated back into our thoughts, allowing the intensity of the past few moments to fade. As Serge ate, he stared at me, licking the sauce from his lips, I closed my eyes briefly, Serge was licking the tip of my cock, gently running his tongue around the head, a drop of precum glistened on the tip, serge lapped it up, long strokes of his tongue stimulating the head of my cock almost unbearably, he kissed his way down my shaft, little, nibbling kisses, down, down to my ball sac. He rolled my balls in his mouth, gently sucking them into his mouth, slicking up my shaved sac with his soft, warm tongue. Serge licked, cat-like, up from my balls, up my throbbing dick, up to the swollen head. Kissing the hot flesh, another drop of cum eased its way out of my piss-slit, he made a satisfied little noise in the back of his throat, and swiped the drop into his mouth. He licked his lips. I opened my eyes. Serge was smiling, almost as if he knew where I had been. "Did you study in London?" Serge asked "No, Guildford. I moved to London after I finished" "Alone?" "No" I thought back to those first few months with Sean, we had built a love nest. Or at least we tried, but our love had gone sour, even then. The night life of London had not taken long to tempt Sean, and I soon realised he was being unfaithful to me. I sighed, at least Serge had not asked me who I moved to London with. Did he deserve to know anyway? I knew I didn't want to get involved in a serious relationship, was it really fair to allow Serge to believe I might be? "Hello, come in Mike" Serge waved his hand in front of my face "you were miles away" "Don't you want to know who I moved with?" "Not if you aren't ready to tell me" Serge smiled at me, his face radiating understanding. "How's your salad?" he asked. "Good." I looked at Serge, the light summer breeze ruffled his hair, his face was calm, but not happy. I suddenly wanted to know why not; could I make him happy, could I make him laugh. I realised I wanted to hear Serge laugh very much, have him laugh and throw his arms around me, oh god, where was I going? "I moved with my boyfriend. We met at college, and moved in together when we graduated. It didn't last the transition." oh god, what a pathetic explanation. So matter of fact, I had not told Serge how much I loved Sean, how we used to snuggle up on the sofa together and watch old movies, munching pop corn until we were fit to burst. I hadn't told Serge about Sean's playthings, or his temper. And I hadn't told him how much Sean had hurt me. "I'm sorry." Serge's voice sounded compassionate, offering a shoulder, yet not demanding further explanation. "He hurt me." I looked away, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, just that simple statement, but it took me right back there, packing my bags and leaving with Sean screaming obscenities at me one last time. I felt Serge's hand cover mine, he squeezed it gently, just once, then withdrew it before anyone could notice. "Breaking up is such a bitch." Serge said in mock-tragic voice. He sounded such a queen, I had to laugh. "Much better, your face really doesn't suit misery Mike, you should avoid it whenever possible." I laughed again "I will certainly try, Serge." "Good. Unfortunately, we should get going," Serge looked at his watch, "it's 2:20" "Damn, I have to get back. When can we meet again?" "I'm leaving for Birmingham tomorrow" "Sounds like fun" "Not really, business." "What do you do?" I asked, I was beginning to realise I did not know nearly enough about Serge. We had not talked of work at all. Serge's frowned slightly. "I'm a lawyer." he said in a tone which did not invite further discussion. We collected the bill, which Serge insisted on settling, "I asked you out, remember?" and left the cafe. As we walked towards the high street, I asked Serge if we could meet again. "Friday?" Serge said I grinned "What time and where?" "Mmm, I should get back around 6 or 7, so shall we meet at 8:30, 9:00?" I indicated my agreement "do you know anywhere?" "Uh, we could meet in the King Richard, do you know it?" The bar I had named was in Soho, and a known gay bar. "Yeah, just off Worship St?" "That's the one, I'll see you there then?" Serge nodded "Have a good time in Birmingham" I said. "I'll try, I doubt if I'll succeed." we had reached the main road, I had to get a bus from here, Serge indicated he was headed in the opposite direction. We parted. 5.Friday night Friday finally came around, after what seemed an eternity, I left work bang on time (no early releases in this lowly profession) and rushed home to change. I had debated endlessly what to wear, and had decided eventually on black jeans and a tight blue T-shirt, which set off my deep blue eyes. It also showed off my well defined shoulders, but this didn't have any influence on my decision (honest!). I showered and dressed quickly, and had to rush to make it to the pub we had agreed on in time. As I entered the dimly lit bar, I looked around for Serge. Serge was sitting alone, at a small table, as I approached him, he looked up, and our eyes met. I smiled, and offered him the envelope I was carrying. "Your photos, Sir." I sat down on a vacant stool. Serge smiled at me, "I hope your week has been better than mine." "Why, what was so bad about it?" "Urggh. I don't even want to talk about it." He opened the photo wallet, a smile spread across his face as he studied the pictures. "I like this one" he said, holding up a photo of him, leaning back on the park bench, wearing a knowing smile. I shivered, and felt a response in my crotch. The photo he had chosen had been the subject of many fantasies throughout the past week. "What are you drinking?" I asked, standing to go up to the bar. Serge named a beer, and I negotiated my way up to the bar to get the drinks. I deposited the drinks on the table and sat down next to Serge. He smiled, "So I guess your week was better than mine, huh?" "I don't know about that." I leaned forward to kiss him gently on the lips, "I thought about you." I whispered. Serge shuddered, and licked his soft, full lips. "I thought about you too." He breathed. "My sidekick spent the trip chasing skirt, leaving a very bored and frustrated Serge sitting alone in an antiseptic hotel." He grinned wryly, "it was hell." "Well, you're back now, and I promise you won't be bored tonight." I licked my lips and slowly, suggestively looked him up and down. We chatted about inconsequential things, my job, his. Serge told me he worked for his uncle's law firm, and had only recently finished his bar exams to qualify. "I'm trapped, Mike, there is no way I walk away from Uncle Philip's firm, I would alienate my whole family, he would also make it very difficult for me to find another job." "Your own uncle would sabotage your career prospects, surely you're being a little paranoid?" "Oh Mike, how can I explain, you just have no idea about my family, they're so, well, they're not very functional." He laughed, turning his mouth down. He looked as if he was trying so hard to be brave. "I don't know what to say Mike, how I can possibly explain them, or justify why I don't just ditch them." He sighed and frowned, then brightened, "Tell me about growing up in rural Cheshire." I smiled, "Well, the village was small, the sort American tourists just love, dahling! The weather was always perfect, long, hot summers, always snowed on Christmas eve, never rained on Bonfire Night." I was grinning at Serge now, and he grinned back. "I know you are making this up, but go on." "I am not." I declared indignantly. "it was the epitome of a perfect English village. And definitely no queers." "Ah, the catch," Serge smiled. "Well, not quite." I smiled back. It was so good to see Serge smiling, so I entertained him. I told him about playing Robin Hood in the forest, about school discos and fumbled girl-kisses, then I told him about my first crush. " perfect, beautiful, and utterly unattainable, therefore totally safe." I said. "he was the much older brother of a not very good friend, chased by every girl in the school. Last I heard about him, he had got one of those girls pregnant, married her, joined the Navy to provide a living for them and they all moved south to Plymouth." Serge laughed. "So tell me about your first lover." He demanded. "Oh god" I bit my lip, and giggled at the memory, "Stephen Hampton. He was the Post Office delivery boy one summer, had come home from university and needed a summer job. I was in sixth form, and horny as hell, and, well along comes this god on a rickety bicycle. I was hooked! We used to sneak off to the fields behind the old church, and umm, well you know." I was blushing, I just knew I was. Serge grinned. "No, I don't know, tell me." He sat back, waiting. "you're blushing you know," he said. Through fits of giggles, I managed to confess that me and Stephen the Post Boy had learnt the gentle art of fellatio on each other, and had very much enjoyed the lessons. "Mike, take me home, I want you to do to me what you did to Stephen the Post Boy ." 6.The Flat The building Serge led me to was a turn of the century mansion block, the name made it sound much grander than it was, there are lots of them in London, built for the urban working classes in the late Victorian era. We went up two flights of stairs to a compact flat. Serge led me into the living room, it was decorated in cool blues and greys with simple, abstract paintings on the walls. A large vase of blue and white flowers gently fragranced the room. "Have a seat, can I get you a drink?" Serge seemed suddenly nervous, his horniness in the cab had evaporated, I decided to take the initiative "Mmm, don't mind if I do" I said, leaning forward and pulling his hips towards me, buried my face in his crotch. Serge gasped and arched his back, pushing himself against me, I nuzzled at his crotch, gently biting it through the cloth, Serge moaned his appreciation. My hands kneaded his firm ass, as I rubbed along the seam of his pants and into the crack of his ass I felt Serge tense, his cock twitched and a wet spot of precum seeped through the fabric. I eased up and we pulled apart, Serge looked down at me, lust shining in his eyes, his tongue flicked across his lips. "What would you like to drink? Coffee, wine, beer?" "Wine" I answered, trying to pull Serge's hips back to my face, but Serge determinedly moved my hands and went to the kitchen for the wine. I took the opportunity to take a closer look at the room. Although small, it did not look overcrowded, furnished in a simple, elegant style. I studied the photos on the mantelpiece, there was a photo of a young woman, she looked rich and dissatisfied, as if bored by the very act of posing, I noticed a resemblance to Serge, and wondered if she was family. "My sister" Serge said returning with two glasses of wine. "I only keep the photo out to remind myself I still have family, even if we don't really want each other" "You don't get along with them?" "Would you get along with a woman like that?" He took the photo and studied the petulant beauty, she stood leaning against a fence, a race course in the background. Serge sighed and returned the photo to its place. "I keep up appearances, visit the family home when necessary, but no more. I have never felt like I belonged there. Or that I was wanted. They would never be able to accept me for who I am, so what's the use of trying?" "They don't know you're gay." it wasn't a question, I was a little surprised, that Serge could keep something so significant from his family. "I hid it, even from myself, for a long time" he looked distant "I guess I'm just not very brave." "It's not a matter of being brave. Families are supposed to support each other in difficult times. I'd say coming out is a pretty difficult time. I know it was for me." "I thought your family were ok about it." "They were, in the end. But it was still hard" I told Serge about my own coming out, wanting him to open up to me, to share his pain, and let me soothe it. When I fell silent, he spoke quietly, telling me of his fears, I could sense he hadn't had anyone to talk to for a long time. I sipped the wine, and listened. "I've been so alone Mike, I don't think I've talked to anyone, really, for years. I don't know what I've been doing with my life" Serge's voice began to quaver, he had his head in his hands, staring at the floor. I reached over and stroked his broad back, Serge leaned to wards me, and I took him in my arms, stroking him gently till the storm had passed. We lay together on the sofa for what seemed like hours, Serge in my arms, his head resting on my chest, I could smell the sweet, fresh scent of his hair, his breathing was slow and even, and I realised he had fallen asleep, a wave of tenderness washed over me as I was hit by a sudden certainty, that I wanted to be with this man until the end of the world. My arms involuntarily tightened around Serge, he stirred, and blinked sleepy eyes at me "Mike, stay with me." he murmured. "Always" I whispered. Hope you like this story so far, I promise the boys will get on with some action in the next part! Please let me know what you think, I live (or at least write) for your comments. benzedrine_bedlam@yahoo.co.uk BB