Chapter 3 - Train, Shower, Bump & Go-Go #3
He thought about Callum’s hands, those rough trainer’s hands.
He imagined them not on his shoulders, but on his skin, stripping away the Tom Ford suit, the ego and the lies.
Lately, he’d thought of nothing but Callum when he jacked off, and that had been way more than usual.
He thought with a smile that he’d get callused hands like Callum’s, because his fantasies were becoming increasingly vivid, and increasingly desperate.
He’d imagined exploring Callum’s tight body, pinning him against the desk or maybe being pinned against the desk himself.
Now all he could think of was that leather harness, pulling hard on it as he fucked Callum.
The idea was so hot to him. Either that or the fantasy of steaming shower water running over their bodies as they fucked in the corporate showers on the 48th floor of his building…
“Callum, the personal trainer,” he whispered to an empty room.
The name felt like a prayer and a confession. He was thirty-nine years old, and for the first time in his life he didn’t want a merger or a legacy. He wanted this man to look at him and see him, just him, for who he was..
He reached for his phone and found Callum’s contact info.
He wanted to text him, but what would he even say?
They weren’t even friends; it was purely a business relationship.
He stood there in the dark, an imprisoned king in his glass castle terrified of the very thing that could rescue him and set him free.
He released his erection from his pants and closed his eyes. That was all he had to do to see Callum. He wanked as he stood against the dark glass window. No one could see him, but he could see them. However, there was only one face he wanted to see.
***
Across town, the bass at The Vault was a physical weight, vibrating through Callum’s ribcage as he stood on his illuminated podium. To the crowd he was a hot fantasy in leather, a moving sculpture under the strobe lights. But inside his head he was miles away, back on the 50th floor.
He caught the eye of Leo, a fellow trainer who worked at a high-end boutique gym by day and danced on the opposite podium by night. When their sets ended at 2:00 a.m., they huddled in the cramped, sweaty dressing room for a drink.
“You’re quiet tonight, Cal,” Leo said, unbuckling a rubber armlet. “You’re here, but your head is definitely somewhere else. New guy, by chance?”
“Just a client,” Callum said, pulling his trench coat over his harness. “It’s complicated.”
“They’re all complicated. That’s why they pay us,” Leo said, laughing, clapping him on the back. “Come on, a few of the guys are going to that 24-hour diner. Toby and Mark are already there. Let’s get some grease in us.”
The diner was a sanctuary of cracked vinyl booths and harsh fluorescent lighting.
His friends, all hot men with perfect bodies and weary eyes, chattered about gym drama, bad Grindr dates and the rising cost of protein powder.
They were his tribe and he loved them, but tonight his struggle felt heavier than usual.
He looked at his hands, still smelling faintly of the expensive eucalyptus soap from the executive showers.
He thought about the silence of that office, the stillness, the way Julian didn’t have to worry about the subway schedule or whether his radiator would clank all night.
I want that safety and security, Callum realised, a dull ache forming in his chest. Not just the stability of a relationship that feeling that the world actually belongs to you, or that you rightfully belong in it.
He’d had plenty of hookups. Quick, breathless encounters in dimly lit bedrooms that were easily forgotten.
He’d had situationships that lasted a month or two before fizzling out into awkward texts.
But he’d never had a man look at him the way Julian had in the lobby.
It was like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
He so wanted that.
“Earth to Callum,” Toby said, nudging him. “You okay, buddy?”
“Yeah,” Callum lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired, man. Long week.”
As he walked home, the sun was just beginning to grey the horizon. He climbed the stairs, the wood groaning under his feet. His apartment felt smaller than ever, just a collection of mismatched furniture and workout gear.
He stripped off the harness and threw it on a chair. Why had Julian looked so fascinated and so shocked by it?
He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if Julian was currently sleeping in high-thread-count sheets.
What did the Titan sleep in, he wondered…
? Or maybe Julian was still awake, thinking about the harness or about him?
He could only hope. The chances that Julian could be interested in someone like him…
Julian was the most eligible bachelor, likely terrified of the world knowing who he really was. He had an image to maintain. Callum was just an average Joe, happily out to everyone and with zero image to maintain.
How completely opposite they were. It could never work.