Chapter 25
I'LL TRY SOMETHING NEW
MICK
Sebastian’s house was enormous. I knew he was rich–he had a second home for heaven’s sake, not to mention the fanciest motor I’d ever seen up close. This house was something else though.
I’d never been in such a posh bathroom, not even as a mover. All the fittings and fixtures were polished brass, and the tiles were original Victorian ones. I liked to snoop in people’s bathrooms, the nosey bugger that I was, but I was too scared to touch anything in here.
I didn’t need to use the facilities, I’d come in here to splash my face with water and calm down. Whispering sweet nothings into Michael’s ear was supposed to remind him who he belonged to, but it did the job a bit too well and got my motor running, too.
I’d never been a jealous bloke; I’d never been in a relationship long enough. A few of the flings I’d had felt like they were going somewhere, but they all fizzled out before I cared enough to be jealous. Some of them even had wives and that hadn’t bothered me, except I felt bad for the women.
Robert’s arm around Michael’s waist had awakened the green-eyed monster within me. I didn’t think Michael was interested in Robert like that, but it didn’t hurt to remind him whose bed he was going to sleep in. Well, it was his bed, but I’d be in it. Not Robert.
I was more upset about what he’d said about none of them seeing Michael for ages. I felt guilty for taking up all his time, and that’s why I’d insisted we stay. If things with Michael went where I thought they were going, we’d have plenty of time to spend together.
Friends were important, more so than lovers.
Lovers came and went, but friends stuck around.
Not that I had any intention of going anywhere, but I couldn’t read tea leaves.
Who knew what the future held? You needed people in your corner, more than just your partner.
Plus, if we were going to be together, then I ought to get to know his friends.
With that in mind, I headed back into the party. Walking into the large room, I scanned the room for Michael, but Seb got to me first.
“Mick, darling, let me introduce you to some people.” Placing a drink in my hand, he steered me by the elbow to the far side of the room where three men stood having an animated conversation.
When there was a lull, he pushed me forward. “Chaps, this is Michael’s friend, Mick.”
A tall blond stepped forward and looked me up and down. “Fantabulosa! Vader at this dolly dish.”
What the hell did he just say?
A short man whose hair was swept over his skull in a valiant but fruitless attempt to hide his baldness, stepped forward and offered me a pudgy hand.
“Bona to meet a feely cove of Michael’s. Are you a crimper too?”
I shook his hand, but had no idea how to answer him. Was he even speaking English?
“Roger, he doesn’t understand you.” A bloke around my age stepped forward. “He means are you a hairdresser, dear.” He had a kind smile.
“Oh. No. I–”
“Mick… It was Mick, yes?” the young man asked. I nodded. “I’m Dennis, pleased to meet you. They don’t seem to realise that Polari isn’t in anymore. I mean, once the BBC has hold of it, it’s old hat, isn’t it?”
Oh, they were using polari. It all made more sense now.
“The BBC?” I asked.
“Ever heard Round The Horne on the radio?”
I shook my head.
“Well, Kenneth Williams does a bit where he uses Polari and camps it up to amuse middle-class England. That was the death knell for it, if you ask me. But these ageing queens won’t give it up.”
“It’s also frightfully common,” Seb added.
“We are common, dearie. Common as muck. But the upper-class fruits didn’t want to know you, so you’re stuck with the likes of us,” Roger crooned.
He waved his hand at the other men. “If anything comes up that you don’t understand, just ask me. I’m fluent in sad old queen.”
“Less of the old, Dennis, or you’ll be sleeping on the street tonight,” Roger snapped.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Dennis responded.
“Try me,” said Roger.
Their words were cross, but the looks they were giving each other made it seem like flirting.
“Can you two save the foreplay until after the party?” Sebastian said with a laugh in his voice. “I don’t know how you manage to get anything done in that studio of yours, Roger. The two of you are randier than a pair of alley cats.”
“That is why we have two rooms in the studio dear.”
“Studio?” I asked, hoping to get the conversation onto a more normal topic.
“Roger and Dennis are both artists,” Seb told me.
“Oh. That’s nice.” Great. Art. I had nothing of any value to say about that. “Are you all artists?”
“God, no. How naff that would be.” The tall handsome man rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Some of us have real jobs.”
“What do you do…?”
“Archie.” He thrust out his hand which I shook. “I’m a journalist. Current affairs. At the Guardian.”
“Oh. That’s… impressive.” Bloody hell, did all of Michael’s friends have fancy jobs?
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Archie agreed. “I used to work on the glossies—”
“He means magazines,” Dennis explained.
“But I’m much happier working in real journalism.”
“Must we talk about work, dears? This is a party, after all,” Seb chimed in.
“Just because you don’t have a job,” Archie snapped at him. “Not all of us inherited Daddy’s fortune, you know. Some of us work hard for our measures.”
“Measures is money,” Dennis hissed out of the side of his mouth. I was half-grateful, half-embarrassed by his help.
“You’re hardly down the mines, are you, Archie?” Seb retorted.
“What do you do, Mick?” Dennis asked me. He was probably trying to be kind by bringing the conversation back to me, but I wished he hadn’t.
“I’m a mover. Or I was. I’m nothing at the moment.” That sounded sadder than I meant it to.
“What are we cackling about, omis?”
Oh good. Robert joined our conversation, as if things couldn’t get any worse.
“Nothing interesting, dear, please save us.” Sebastian linked his arm through Robert’s drawing him into the group.
“Delighted to. Who’s going to the Riviera this summer? I thought about going somewhere else this year, Paris, maybe, but I’m a creature of habit, so Italy it is. Again.”
Oh that’s much better. I didn’t even own a passport, I could no more talk about Italy than I could the Moon.
Was every one of Michael’s friends posh, rich or both?
It went from bad to worse as everyone started discussing their cars, then their favourite tailors.
I had two bespoke suits, and I’d saved for a year to afford each one.
No, I didn’t I remembered. They’d both been ruined in the rain when I was kicked out of my mum and dad’s house.
What did Michael see in me? His friends were glamorous and successful, and I was the homeless, unemployed, unwanted son of an Irish immigrant. I had nothing to offer him.
Positioning myself so I could see Michael and Damian at the other end of the room, I watched and waited for Michael to finish his drink. As soon as he had, I sped over to him.
“Can we go home?” I hadn’t meant to sound like a bored child, but I was past caring. Michael looked at me, concern in his eyes.
“Are you alright, love?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired. Are you ready to go?”
“Of course. Let me just say my goodbyes.”
Ten minutes later, we were in a taxi on the way back to Michael’s flat, with our luggage between us. The cottage in the Cotswolds felt like it happened last week, not just a few hours ago. I’d been so happy this morning, but now I just felt pathetic and worthless.
When we got back to the flat, I’d lost all interest in sex. I got undressed in the bathroom, wearing the pyjama bottoms I’d borrowed when I first got here.
“Are you alright, love?” Michael asked when I got into bed. I felt awful for not making good on my promise, but I just wasn’t in the mood anymore.
“Yeah, I’m just tired. Mind if we just go to sleep?”
“Of course not. I’m not sure I’d even get it up, I’m that knackered.” He smiled as he got into bed and switched his lamp off. He might have been disappointed, but he wasn’t showing it.
We lay side by side, not touching. It was strange. I’d never shared a bed with a man and not shagged. After a few minutes, I couldn’t take it, and I rolled over to face him and snuggled into his chest. He let out a huge sigh of relief and flung his arm over me, pulling me into him.
“I was worried you were going to sleep on your side of the bed all night.”
“I thought it might be a bit mean to cuddle if we weren't going to, you know. I didn’t want to be a tease.”
His other arm wrapped around me and squeezed me tight.
“Mick, I would never expect anything from you that you weren’t willing to give.
Not in this bed, or any other part of our lives.
Besides, I meant what I said before, I’m not capable.
You are curled around me, muscles and smooth skin on full display, and I’m not hard.
” His words were full of kindness, and I was so grateful for them.
Tilting my head up, I searched for his mouth, and let out an embarrassing moan when he slid his tongue over mine.
It wasn’t demanding in any way, just a perfect display of affection.
Blissed out from just a kiss, I felt sleep start to take me.
Curling further into his body, my thigh brushed his dick, which was distinctly not soft.
“Liar,” I breathed.
“What do you expect after that kiss? I’m tired, I’m not dead.”
“Do you want–”
“Shhhh. Go to sleep. There will be plenty more nights.” He kissed the top of my head, and I fell asleep safe in the knowledge that he was telling the truth.
Despite the way we’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms last night, in the harsh light of day, my mind wandered into dark places. When you were tramping all over London, looking for work, you have plenty of time to think.