Read On My Knees Online

Authors: Tristram La Roche

On My Knees (6 page)

BOOK: On My Knees
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Chapter Ten

 

Attila agreed that I could stay for a while. Just until I got something sorted out.

“Thanks,” I said, letting the last of my bags crash onto the living room floor.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, please.”

“I don’t know how to take it, really. You tell me you love me, then you say you’re just out of a relationship and it’s too soon. Then you say I can move in for a bit.” I sighed.

“Well, you can’t sleep at the office.” He came over to me and crushed me in his arms. “Give me time, will you? Can we take it a day at a time?”

It seemed as good as it was going to get. “OK,” I said.

He let go and looked at his watch. “It’s late. I’ve got to be out by six in the morning.” He took a bag in each hand and headed for the bedroom. “Come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

I did a bit of unpacking while he used the bathroom. It felt so good to be able to hang my clothes in a wardrobe where there was enough space. Everything, everywhere, was so clean and tidy. I loved it. And it was the same in the bathroom. No dried toothpaste in the basin, no remnants of makeup, no junk.

By the time I’d used the bathroom, Attila was asleep. I lay down beside him and tried to drift off. Not a chance. It was such a disappointment that he wanted to sleep. The session with Justin had been exciting, but that seemed ages ago. Here I was, naked in bed with my Attila—yes, I thought of him as mine — wide-awake while he slept.

I looked up at the sky through the rooflight, a lifeless, grey slate tinged with orange from the streetlights. Occasionally a plane on its way to Heathrow would wink at me with a red eye, as if reading my thoughts.

 

* * *

 

I was all alone when I finally awoke at a little after nine the next morning. I felt like I’d been in hibernation. Attila had left a note next to the bed, saying that he’d put me a set of keys on the credenza and that he’d be back around seven in the evening. His closing remark unsettled me.
Get yourself sorted
.

The first thing that popped into my head was Diana’s Valentine’s card, which I’d taken from the bottom of the drawer. I retrieved it from my jacket. I didn’t look at it, simply put it safely in the bedside drawer. I was sure it would come in useful.

Then I called Alex.

“I was wondering what happened to you,” he said. “I tried calling last night.”

“I saw. Sorry. I was otherwise engaged.”

“I dare say you were. How did she take it?”

“Badly, as you’ll imagine. But no worse than usual.”

“Are you at the office then?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to check if you were going in today. I have a few things to do and wouldn’t mind taking the morning off.”

“Of course, no problem. I’m almost there. I’ll open up. Anything you need me to do?”

“Just be there really, in case anyone calls. Not that they ever do these days.”

“Righto. I’ll see you anon.”

“Oh, Alex. Thanks for that address.”

“You didn’t!” The surprise in his voice gave way to curiosity. “Last night?”

“I did. Tell you later.”

I had a smile right across my face as I hung up and went to shower. It was the best shower I’d ever had.

 

* * *

 

My first job was to take the car back to Diana’s. I’d resolved not to argue about anything. All I wanted was my freedom. She could have the car, the flat, the insurance policies. I wanted nothing. The divorce should be easy. If she wanted to be difficult, I had the card.

The divorce. Yet another failure. While I no longer loved Diana and hadn’t for some time, I felt a twinge of sadness for the marriage in some way. Divorce was so final.

I parked the car in the usual spot, did one last check to make sure I had all I needed and put the keys through the letterbox. I was taking no chances. Then I took the underground to town. I would need a lawyer, and someone I could trust to get the job done as quickly as procedure would allow. Fortunately, I knew just the man.

I had to change trains at Camden Town, and it made me think of my doctor. I supposed that I ought to tell him. I didn’t really know why, except that he was responsible for diagnosing me with the so-called depression. Since I was so close, I decided to head up to the surface and pop into the surgery to make an appointment. No doubt it would be weeks before I could see him.

“He’s actually free now for ten minutes,” said the receptionist. “Do you want to go in?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

I walked the corridor to his consulting room like a condemned man to the gallows. My heart beat faster the nearer I got to the door. Maybe I’d just not bother.

“Mark, come in.”

Too late. He appeared at the door with his usual benign expression.

I followed him in and sat in the chair.

“So, how are you getting along?” he asked, looking at me over the top of his half-moon glasses.

I kneaded my hands and cleared my throat. “Fine. Erm, I just needed to let you know something.”

My clothes were damp with sweat and I felt myself shaking. Suddenly, I felt foolish and wished I hadn’t bothered.

“What is it?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, I guess having come out to my wife, the next step is to come out to my doctor.” I felt like I was going to faint and gripped the chair arm.

“I see,” he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Well, that’s taken some courage. You’re still taking the Prozac, I assume?”

I nodded.

“Good. Is there anything you feel you need from me?”

I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to tell you. I don’t know why.”

“It’s therapeutic. It’ll get easier. If I can give you a bit of advice…”

“Of course.”

“Don’t take risks. Safe sex, Mark.” He had a headmaster’s expression on his face and I felt like a little boy.

I nodded and shifted in my seat. How embarrassing. I was nearly forty.

“And don’t rush into a relationship, whatever you do. This is a huge change for you. Take it slowly.”

I worried that my expression would betray me and looked out of the window at the trees across the car park. All I could manage was a nod.

“Right, then. Do you need any more pills?”

“No, thanks. I’m fine for now. Actually, I was thinking about coming off them.”

“No, it’s too soon.”

“But I think I’ll be OK, now.”

He shook his head. “No. I won’t allow it. It’s far too soon. Promise me you’ll keep taking them?”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

He stood up. The appointment was over. He reached out to shake my hand.

“Erm, Diana…” I couldn’t get the right words.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

I smiled, turned, and opened the door. I was almost out when he called after me.

“And well done. I’m impressed.”

 

* * *

 

I went about my chores as if there was no tomorrow. I had never been so sure of anything. For once I was able to see things for what they were. Money worries I’d deal with. They were not the be all and end all. My relationship with Attila had begun and I hoped, despite his obvious reticence, that it would eventually work. He’d never have let me move in if he had real doubts, would he?

I called Alex to let him know that I’d changed my plans. I wouldn’t go to the office today. Instead, after visiting my lawyer, I spent time shopping for food and wine. I’d go back to the flat and prepare a sumptuous dinner. I suppose that was one good thing about living with Diana for ten years - I’d had to learn how to cook.

I splashed out on a taxi to take me back with the groceries. I sat in the back watching the world go by. Something was different about it all. That feeling of detachment that had always been with me, a sense that I didn’t really belong, had gone. Everything seemed so real, so vital. I felt as if I could reach out and touch the world. I resolved then I was going to grab life by the throat and give it a damned good shaking.

Once in the flat, I put a jug of water in the fridge to chill while I peeled and cleaned the jumbo prawns ready for the tempura starter. I’d chosen a bottle of pink Bollinger to go with it and laid that down in the refrigerated wine cabinet. In the cupboards, all neatly stocked, I found a food processor and set about preparing the main course. When that was simmering away on the stove, I poured myself a large glass of Chablis and began setting the table. I’d bought candles—then discovered a stock of them in the credenza—and white lilies. By the time I’d finished, the table would have graced any Michelin restaurant. All that was left to do was for me to change and to make the tempura batter at the last moment.

Tonight was going to be a night to remember.

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

That gay men have good taste is a bit of a cliché, but Attila’s flat betrayed his penchant for the exquisite. It was a stroke of luck as far as I was concerned. I’d been a minimalist since my first days at architectural school and it had been a disappointment to find that I couldn’t win Diana over. Lady Chintz I’d called her once, provoking a row. That was the day she removed the aluminum Venetian blinds and replaced them with purple organza drapes.

I chose the chaise longue over the Eames lounge chair and lay back, enjoying the sound of Gorecki’s third symphony. I sipped my wine. Attila was a dark horse. These toys, this flat, were beyond the reach of an administrator in a car dealership. If that was his job, he had to have private money. Perhaps his luck would rub off on me. I felt my wrist. I might finally be able to get the old Cartier working again.

I drained my glass and swung my legs over, sitting on the edge of the chaise longue. Time to put the finishing touches to the dinner.

I was so deep in thought I didn’t hear him come home. I dropped a half-coated prawn on the floor when he spoke.

“What’s all this?” he said.

I turned to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I thought I’d make an effort. Our first real night together, so to speak.”

“What is it?”

“Never you mind. Go and get changed - it’ll be ready soon.”

“Do I have time to shower?”

“Let’s have one later. Together.” I winked at him and he smiled as he turned to leave. He turned down the music on his way. Pressed against the cupboard door, I could feel a hard-on growing and decided to go easy on the booze.

“If you want some, there’s Chablis open,” I said when he returned. He looked so horny in the black Armani jeans and white Ralph Lauren shirt. “But let’s not drink too much, eh?”

“Have something in mind?”

“Have to make up for lost time.”

He poured a glass of wine. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.” I dropped the first of the prawns into the oil and watched it bubble. “Can you turn the music up a bit?”

“OK, but not too loud. Too loud drives me crazy. I just like to have peace and quiet when I get home.”

“You’re kidding? So why do you have that B & O system?”

“It came with the flat. I’d never have bought it myself.”

“It came with the flat?”

“Yes, virtually everything you see came with the flat. I bought it as is.”

I felt a twinge of disappointment. “And there’s me admiring your good taste.”

“Erm, I do have good taste. I bought it, didn’t I?”

“I guess so. And I’m glad you did. It’s great. It’s just me.” I arranged the prawns on a plate and reached for my glass.

“Shit.” I remembered the Bollinger. “Finish that Chablis. I have something better to go with this.”

I opened the champagne at the table and filled the flutes. Before I could sit down, Attila grasped my wrist and pulled me to him. He put one arm around my buttocks and pulled me tight. “Thanks. I like this.”

I bent to his upturned face and we kissed, a quick touch of the lips that made me fizz like the wine.

We chinked glasses.

“Saluté!”

 

* * *

 

“That’s about it, then,” said Attila, closing the dishwasher door. “It was great, Mark. Thanks.” He walked over to me and put his arms round me. I shuddered with pleasure.

Then he kissed me on the lips. “Still fancy that shower?”

“What a question. I’ve looked forward to it all day.”

He switched off the light and took me by the hand. He followed me up the stairs, slapping my arse and pinching it. He pushed me into the bedroom and kissed me again, harder this time, biting my lip and filling my mouth with his tongue. He unbuttoned my shirt and flung it onto the bed, then pushed me onto the mattress and tugged at the buckle on my belt. My cock was already hard and it leaped out at him when he pulled my pants down.

“You’ll have someone’s eye out with that.”

We laughed and I reached up, pulling him down on top of me, tearing at his shirt and throwing it aside. He didn’t wait for me. He was already unfastening his belt and I saw the head of his cock peeking over the waistband of his CKs. I reached down and took it in my hands. It was already wet and I massaged the pre-cum with my thumb. He shuddered and pulled away from me.

“God, that’s too good.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me up. “Come on, race you to the shower.”

We giggled like kids, running to the bathroom and slapping each other playfully on the buttocks. I loved it. I hadn’t a care in the world. Why had it taken me so long?

“Here,” he said, “let me scrub your back.”

I faced the wall and placed my palms on the tiles. He used a sponge with a rough side to it, like a scouring pad, and massaged the foam into my skin.

“Oh, that’s a firm touch.”

“Comes from being in the army.”

I turned my head and looked at him over my shoulder. “You were in the army? You never said.”

“Well, you know now.”

I turned to face the wall again. “Use your hands.” The army explained a few things, including those damned tattoos. “I want to feel your hands on me. Yes, that’s better.” I closed my eyes. His fingers kneaded the muscles in my back. “Oh, that’s nice. That feels so good.”

I didn’t want him to stop. Yet I did. I wanted to do the same to him. To let my hands explore his body, to feel his muscles resist my touch. I turned round to face him and filled my palm with gel. I slapped it onto his chest and began to move my hands over his flawless skin. I tweaked his nipple between slimy fingers and he shuddered.

“Mmm,” he said. “I really like that. Do it harder.”

I squeezed his nipple between thumb and forefinger. His eyes closed and he breathed heavily. His cock was rising, flicking against me.

“Like that?”

“Even harder.”

“It’ll hurt.”

“I like it. Just do it. Hard.”

I couldn’t squeeze any more, not without tearing his nipple, but I could see he enjoyed it. His cock stood proud, way above his navel. I reached down and felt its strength. I had to have it. The water cascaded over me as I got down on my knees before him. I felt his hands behind my head, pushing gently, and I opened wide. I took him in as far as I could, until he touched the back of my throat and made me gag. I hadn’t much experience doing this and hoped it was good. I slid him in and out, the only thing I could think to do, my lips rolling over the sweet head, simulating what I was familiar with. His cock head was now so swollen my mouth was wedged wide.

“Don’t stop,” he said.

I had no intention of stopping. I thirsted for his cum. I was delirious, as if the room had been filled with an exotic aroma. I kept going until he grunted and I felt the first spurt hit the roof of my mouth. I couldn’t help it. I touched myself and shot a load across his legs.

BOOK: On My Knees
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