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A Change of Perspective Ch. 02

By: VCHeysham



August 2009

"What is it you say in English? A watched pot never boils - is that right?"

Maria's laughing at me, so I make a show of turning my back to the clock. "Yeah, that's it. Stop picking on me."

She flicks her bar towel at me. "Okay, Mr Grumpy. I hope he arrives soon, and you won't be so miserable tonight when I have to work with you."

"I hope so too." I've just picked up my beer glass when the front door opens again. I make myself count to three before I look up. To my relief, this time it's finally Simon, flicking his shades up onto his head and blinking at the contrast from outside. He looks a little like a rabbit caught in headlights - a sexy rabbit, in a tee and long shorts. His face lights up when he sees me. I've been worrying that he'll have changed his mind, but he looks pleased to be here.

I slide off my stool and pick up the bag at my feet. "Time to go. I'll see you tonight."

"Have fun." Maria blows me a kiss.

Simon watches me cross the room, shyly holding out my jacket to me. "Here... thanks for lending it to me last night."

"No problem. One second." I chuck it behind the bar, not wanting to stay any longer than we have to. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Sure." He's smiling and I want to kiss him, but he ducks his head and turns away, obviously nervous. That's okay. I can wait a little while longer.

At the far side of the tiny parking lot there's a dirt path leading up towards the forest. It's not hidden but it's not well-used either - I guess the locals have other places to go. Simon puts his sunglasses back down, hiding his eyes, but he follows me into the trees easily enough. It's hot and the trail's steep, and although we're not moving quickly it's not long before we're both breathing hard. I can't stop thinking about what else might make him breathless. My prick twitches and swells in my shorts.

He stops so abruptly that I nearly bump into him. "Isn't that the hotel?" He's looking down at the collection of roofs below us. Voices drift up, the pool's a flash of electric blue. "I thought we'd be staying in the pub. If I'd known you were taking me hiking I'd have let you collect me on the way past." His grin tells me he's teasing.

"And I thought you were supposed to be fit. With legs like yours this must be an easy jog."

He flexes his calves unconsciously, and I suddenly notice that his legs are smooth. Shaved, or does he wax? It's a strange thought.

"I couldn't run a hundred metres if my life depended on it. But I reckon I could cycle up this path, although it wouldn't be much fun."

"Well, that's told me." I'm impressed. Simon's tall but he's not built, and he doesn't look that strong. I'm in good shape, but now I'm feeling a little inadequate.

We start walking again. After a while the climb starts to level out, making it easier to talk. Simon glances sideways at me. "Talking of telling things, where are you taking me?"

"I want to show you something - it's worth the effort, trust me."

"Oh?" He sounds curious rather than nervous.

"It's not much further." His tee's sticking to him and sweat stains his blond hair dark at his hairline. I don't notice I'm staring until he clears his throat and looks away.

The sun gets hotter as the trees start to thin out, and a moment later the path leads us out into a grassy clearing. I hang back, remembering the first time I saw it. I'd been on a run, following the trail on a whim - now it's my regular route, and it never gets boring.

Sure enough, Simon steps forward. "Wow... I didn't expect that."

The far side of the clearing ends abruptly in a vertical drop, giving us a view for miles over the valley below. I can pick out half a dozen towns through the heat haze and in the distance the sun glints on the sea. There's no sound except the cicadas - apart from a cruise ship inching across the horizon we could be the only two people alive.

By the time Simon turns round I've pulled a rug out of my back pack and spread it where we can still see the view, although right now the only thing I want to see is his naked body next to mine.

He looks down at me looking up at him. "That's not the Med, is it?"

"The Adriatic - we're across from Italy. You like it?"

"It's amazing." He sits down next to me, close but not touching. Not close enough. "In England this would be a tourist spot... I think I prefer it deserted."

"I only found it a few weeks ago. I guess the locals must know it, but I've never seen anyone else up here. You're the only person I've shown it to."

"I'm honoured. Seriously." He nods at my bag. "Any more surprises?"

"I came prepared." I'm looking at what I'm doing and don't immediately realise what I've said until he makes a small noise. "I mean..." I pull out a bottle of red wine, warm from the sun, and produce a corkscrew with a flourish from my back pocket.

Simon raises an eyebrow, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Do we swig, or did you bring straws?"

Wordlessly I produce two plastic tumblers and hand them to him. His nose wrinkles, but he's smiling properly now. "I couldn't possibly drink wine out of plastic beakers. What kind of man do you take me for?"

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "A very sexy one." We look at each other for a moment.

"Really?"

"Really." He doesn't stop me when I gently pull his shades off. Green eyes gaze steadily at me. He looks nervous but resolute, and when I lean forward he meets me halfway.

His lips are soft and he tastes a little of salt. He's tentative at first, until his mouth opens and he lets me kiss him properly. His hand's on my arm, his fingers rubbing gently. I don't think he's doing it deliberately, but all the same it makes me think about how his hand on my cock might feel. Suddenly I'm fully hard and gasping for breath.

"Nnnn..." Simon pulls me back close. I don't resist.

I could kiss him all afternoon but eventually he sits back, flushed. When I try to meet his eye he ducks his head. His friend was right - he's a total novice at this, but it doesn't make him any less gorgeous. It just means I can't steam in like I usually would.

I uncork the bottle. "Wine?"

He half-laughs, still embarrassed. "Yes please." I pour generously, and he drinks half of it in one swallow.

It's scorchingly hot even in the shade. I shuck off my tee and lie down, resting an arm over my eyes and fighting the urge to jump him. "So what's the deal with you and Gil? The way he looked after you last night... you're not together?"

"God no, we're just friends. D'you think I'd be here with you now if I had a boyfriend?"

"You could be in an open relationship. I didn't want to make any assumptions, that's all."

"Oh." He sounds unsure. "Is that... I mean, do you..."

I sit up, so that I can look him in the eye. "Is that how I roll, you mean? A guy in every port?" He nods hesitantly. "No. I'm single - I have been for a while. I'm not saying there aren't hook-ups, but if I'm committed, I'm committed."

Relief washes across his face, followed immediately by more uncertainty. "So... is this a hook-up?"

Bless him. If this was a hook-up we'd be fucking by now. I rub my thumb gently over the frown lines between his eyebrows. "You worry too much, baby. Why don't we just take it slow and see what happens?"

"Okay." Simon nods again, as if he's psyching himself up. To my surprise I see the start of a sly grin. "I hope that doesn't mean you're not going to kiss me again?"

"I'll kiss you anytime, baby - I'll do anything you want me to. You looked so good last night I nearly dragged you off to the restroom then and there."

He flushes bright pink and for a moment I'm worried I've pushed too far. Finally he looks up, troubled again. "It's not that I don't want to... it's just that..."

"You've never done this before."

He's very quiet. "No. Sorry."

"Jeez, there's nothing to be sorry about." I drink some wine, thinking. I haven't played the seduction game in a long time, and I don't want to scare him. On the other hand, the thought of him is making me light-headed. I shuffle slightly closer to him. "Can I?" My hand's at the hem of his tee, tugging it upwards. After a second he takes the hint and peels it off, and I get to see him properly for the first time.

His body is much leaner than mine. He must have nearly zero body fat, although he's wiry rather than scrawny. He's got a real farmer tan - dark neck and arms with a pale chest. It should look stupid, but to me he's gorgeous. I want to taste him. I don't remember the last time I wanted someone so badly.

I lean forward slowly. "I'm going to kiss you again. Here..." I kiss the curve of his neck, tasting more salt. "And here..." This time his collar bone. "And here..." Now his chest, pushing gently at him so that he's on his back while I kneel over him. He's silent when I lick at a nipple, but his breath hitches and his abs tense when I move towards his belly button.

I lift my head. "Relax, baby. All you have to do is enjoy good how it feels." I'm unbuttoning his shorts, but I'll wait for his permission again. "Will you let me?"

Simon bites his lip. "Yes."

He kicks off his shoes and I help him out of his shorts, and then finally I can see his cock. It's beautiful - thick and uncut, and mouth-wateringly hard. A bubble of pre-cum oozes slowly and drips onto his taut stomach. I lick it up unthinkingly, only faintly hearing his gasp of surprise. "You taste so sweet, baby..." For a moment more all I do is look, and then I bend down to his prick.

His reaction is electric - he arches beneath me, shouting out incoherently. I meant to take this slowly, for me as much as for him, but he's too eager. His hands fist in my hair, so I open my throat and take him as deep as I can, letting him fuck my face as he moves underneath me. The sun's on my back and his cock's in my mouth, and I can't get enough of it.

"James!" Simon suddenly cries out urgently. "James, I'm... fuck, I'm..." His hips are pushing up at me, telling me what he can't say. I don't know what he expects, but I want him to come in my mouth. When I don't move away his hands grip more tightly, pulling at me frantically. It's only a few seconds more before he comes, not shouting this time but almost sobbing as his body convulses in pleasure.

I swallow everything he gives me, until his fingers finally relax and I can lift my head. His eyes are closed but he's smiling, almost laughing. I sit up and drink some more wine, pleased with myself.

After a long beat of time his eyes flicker open. "Jesus."

"You liked it?"

"Very much. I've never... Well, you know." He's blushing as he sits up and reaches for his glass. "Can I, um... Can I do something for you?"

Hallelujah. "I'm not sure..." I kick off my trainers, pretending to consider. "I mean, you're insanely hot, and I'm so horny I could probably come just looking at you, but maybe we should just talk. Get to know each other."

Simon looks at me in surprise, but shrugs. "Okay, if that's what you want. I'll start. What's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?" He leans behind me, reaching for his shorts.

Oh shit, I fucked that up. "Si..." I sound pathetic. How the fuck am I going to get this back on track?

"Mm?" He moves around behind me, presumably getting dressed. "Is there something wrong?" His mouth is suddenly close to my ear. A tremor runs down my spine, and I can't speak. "Did I say the wrong thing?" He rests his chin on my shoulder. "It's not fair if I'm naked and you're not, is it?"

I open my eyes to see his hands at my belt-buckle. My erection miraculously reappears. "You bastard, I thought you were serious."

He nuzzles into my neck, letting me feel him grinning. "Just because I'm inexperienced doesn't mean I'm stupid, you know. Now show me some respect and take your shorts off."

I do as I'm told. "Yes sir." The combination of wine, sun and relief makes me laugh. Simon laughs with me, like we've known each other for years. When he reaches round to touch my prick it feels right, as if we fit together.

He slips out of his bossy mood. "How do you like it?"

I put my hand over his, showing him. I'm wound up so tight and his fingers feel so good on me... I can barely stay sat upright. Simon shifts behind me, his left arm around my chest and his mouth still close to my ear. "Lean on me. Is this okay?"

"So okay, baby..." I can't think of anything except how horny I am.

"When I first saw you last night I wanted you so badly I couldn't breathe. You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen."

I feel his cock against my back and think of how he'd tasted, and that's enough. "Oh god baby, I'm going t-" My orgasm hits me and the rest of the sentence dissolves as I come, hard, arching my back and spattering both of us.

For a moment we just sit there, me half-lying in Simon's arms and trying to get my breath back. The sun beats down. I don't think I've ever been more content.

Eventually Simon stirs. "I hate to break the mood, but I'm getting pins and needles."

"Shit, sorry." I sit up hurriedly. I packed wet wipes along with the rug and the wine, so I fish out the packet and clean myself up while he stretches his legs.

When I hand Simon a wipe he laughs. "Hey boy scout, got anything else interesting in there?"

"Let's see. Sun lotion, water, condoms, lube, Pringles..." I chuck each item onto the blanket.

Simon pulls his shorts on and sits back down, picking up his glass. "Ugh, warm wine. Nice." He grimaces, but he still drinks it. "Why Pringles?"

I repack the bag, leaving the crisps out. "I'm always hungry after sex. Want to share?"

"Sure."

After a moment of passing the tube back and forth, he takes a deep breath. "James?" He sounds nervous again.

"Simon?"

"Do you mind that we didn't fuck? You obviously thought we would."

"Well, I thought we might... it never hurts to be prepared. I really was a boy scout, once. And no, I don't mind. There's always next time, isn't there? How long are you staying?"

His face falls. "Until about 1am tonight."

I stare at him. "But you've only just arrived. You've not been down to the bar before - I'd have remembered." I'm pleading now, hoping he'll tell me that he's teasing again. "I thought last night was your first night here." My stomach sinks when he shakes his head.

"No, we leave tonight. I don't know why I thought you'd know that..." He looks hopeful. "Maybe I could see you this evening?"

"I'm working tonight. I mean, you're welcome to come join me, but I have to work. I called in favours to get this afternoon off... I'm on from six until two." I look at my watch, forestalling his next question. "It's four now."

"Fuck." He crashes down onto the rug. "Just my fucking luck. I finally meet a guy, and I only get to spend four hours with him before I have to leave the country." I lie down next to him, just as disappointed. After a moment he rolls to face me. "I'm sorry. If we've only got a couple of hours left, I shouldn't waste them being a spoilt brat."

"No..." I sigh in frustration. "So what's so important that you have to leave at 1am?"

"The flights are booked. How much do you know about cycling?"

I think about it. "Um, Lance Armstrong won the tour of France a bunch of times. That's about it."

He laughs. "I wonder if cycling will ever get mainstream like football. There's a bit more to it than that. Next Saturday I'll be racing in Spain for three weeks, which is why I was here on a training camp."

"Can't you stay for just one more day? Does it really make that much difference?"

"Yeah, it really does... my schedule's pretty rammed. From February to October, if my boss tells me to do something, I say 'yes sir'. Unless I want to get dropped from the team and watch the races on telly."

I eat some Pringles absentmindedly. "I haven't had to say 'yes sir' for a while. Not counting earlier, anyway." I can't help grinning at Simon's blush. "Do you enjoy it?"

He smiles unselfconsciously, his face lighting up. "I love it. I don't know what I'd do if I weren't cycling - something really dull in Brussels, probably. How come you don't have to answer to anyone?"

"I'm travelling... I've been away from home nearly a year."

"Non-stop? That's a long time. What did you do before?" He adopts a serious expression. "Tell me about yourself, James."

"You want the full life history? You're going to wish there was more wine - I can't promise it's interesting."

"Go on, I want to know."

He did ask. "So, I'm 26, and I'm from Edmonton in Canada - it's nice enough, but nothing special. I was a civil engineer and I was doing okay at it, but last fall I decided to take some time out. My mum's British and I've got dual nationality, so I figured I'd come over and see what all the fuss was about. I didn't stay long in the UK, I was burning through money too fast. Since then I've been drifting. I find somewhere I like, pick up some work, move on when it feels right. I've been thinking I'll head north at the end of summer - I like my winters cold. Norway maybe, if they'll have me."

"Where have you been?" He sounds genuinely curious.

"Oh, all over. England, Germany for a few weeks, France... I liked France, but I couldn't get work. Then Italy, Austria, Hungary, and now here."

"That's quite a trip. D'you speak all those languages?"

"I wish - but you'd be surprised how easy it is to manage with just English and a bit of French."

"Yeah." Simon's mouth quirks as he tries not to grin.

"What?"

"Um..." Now he's embarrassed. "Most of us can get by in at least three languages... I speak six." He changes the subject, clearly not wanting to crush my ego any more than he already has. "What made you decide to go travelling?"

I reach for what's left of the wine. "You must be bored listening about me. Your turn."

"Are there any more crisps? They're dangerously addictive."

I pass him the tube. "Thanks. Okay, well, I'm 27 next month. I'm from Bruges, in Belgium. I moved to England about five years ago - I've been based in London for the last two. I've been racing my whole life, and I can't imagine doing anything else."

Huh, I'd thought he was British. Now he mentions it I can hear a faint accent, but I wouldn't have guessed. "Do you win?"

To my surprise, he blushes. "This and that - I do alright. Gil's the one who wins things."

Hmm, successful and modest. "If you won't tell me, I'll Google you and find out anyway. There can't be that many Simons in... what's the race called?"

"The Vuelta. Don't you ever wish for the old days when if you wanted to know something you had to get the paper on the right day, or look stuff up at the library? I remember getting so excited as a kid collecting my copy of l'Equipe. Now everything just appears in your email in-box while you're asleep."

I get a split-second image of Simon as a small boy, reaching up to pay for his magazine at the local newsagent. It's unfeasibly cute. "Hell no. I love the internet." A thought strikes me. "Are you set up online? We could Skype, if you like?"

He looks pleased. "You want to stay in touch?"

"Yeah. I thought it might be fun. And I thought maybe I could be in Spain in... what, about four weeks' time? If you wanted me to be?"

There's a long pause while he thinks it over, and then he smiles. "I'd like that. Sure."

"Good." I'm surprised how glad I am that he's said yes. It's way too soon to know how I feel, but I definitely want to see him again. My prick twitches, reminding me that that's not the only thing I want to do again. "You know, we've still got an hour..."

His grin is sinful. "I thought you'd never offer."

~

Simon ends up staying at the bar all evening. It's Saturday and reasonably busy but Maria takes pity on me, letting me spend most of my shift talking to him. We swap contact details during a lull, Simon spelling his surname out carefully and laughing at my pronunciation, promising to email me his itinerary. Everything's very relaxed until around midnight, when the door opens and Gil walks in alone, obviously here to collect his friend. Jealousy stabs at me unexpectedly. Perhaps it's not too soon to know after all.


A Change of Perspective Ch. 02



Gil sits down close to Simon - too close for my liking, even though I know they're not together. He smiles at me as if we're old buddies. "It's good to see you again. Did you have a nice afternoon?"

His friendliness is disarming. "Uh, yeah, thanks. You?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Explaining to anyone who asked that Si was horrendously hungover, fending off all the offers of help, checking occasionally that he hadn't choked to death in his sleep, stopping Mike from going up when Si didn't come down for dinner..." He turns to Simon. "I've a feeling you're in for a bollocking later. Mike was muttering about 'appropriate behaviour'."

Simon grins, unconcerned. "So you thought you'd better come and fetch me. Does Mike know you're here now?"

"Do me a favour, of course not. One of the night porters snuck me out of a back door - as long as we're back by half past we'll be fine."

We all look at the clock and the mood evaporates. Simon stands up, and Gil clears his throat. "I'll wait outside. You've got five minutes before I head up without you." He holds out his hand to me. I shake it, feeling very strongly that he's assessing me. I wonder if I pass muster. For a moment I think he's going to say something, but in the end he just nods at me.

After Gil's gone I lead Simon out to the beer garden. It's cold and dark, but it's quiet and we can say goodbye privately. For all the talk of Spain and Skype, I really don't know if I'll ever see him again.

He takes my hand. "I'll be busy, but I will email you. I promise."

"If you don't, I'm selling my story to the papers."

He laughs, knowing I'm teasing. "It was worth it. Just make sure you tell them how well-hung I am."

I'm laughing too, although it feels perilously close to tears when he kisses me. Finally he steps back and sighs. "I'd best go."

"Yeah." Silently we head back into the pub and I hold the front door open for him. Gil's pacing, but he doesn't hurry us. "It's been fun."

Simon smiles. "Yes, it has. Thanks."

I nod, not sure what else to say, and then he turns to join Gil. I watch them walk away until they vanish into the shadows, and I can't even pretend I can see him any more.



A Change of Perspective Ch. 03



August 2009

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:49:24

Just a quick one to say we made it to the airport okay. And thanks for a great day :-)
Si

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:51:12

My pleasure. What time's your flight?
James x
PS I guess this means I can't sell my story - so much for making a quick buck [sigh]

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:52:58

I didn't think you'd get this til the morning! Flight is 4am. I only have email for another 5 minutes or so, though - I don't have a smartphone...
Si x
PS No you can't!! :-P

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:54:21

Hope this catches you then. Have a good flight - let me know when you're safely back in the UK?
James x
PS I do - I'm emailing from bed :-) You've sent me to sleep with a smile x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:56:02

Last one, logging off now. I'll email when I'm home.
Si x
PS Wish I was there [blushes]

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Testing testing
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 02:57:11

I wish you were too - I'd make you do more than blush ;-)
James x

~

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: [none]
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 04:21:17

I hate the universe sometimes. Here I am in my empty little room, alone and missing you so bad I can't sleep... If someone had said to me a year ago that I'd go travelling and meet the most amazing guy by total chance, and fall for him even though we only spent one day together, I would have said they were nuts. But they would have been right.
J x

~

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: Oops
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 08:38:02

God, that's embarrassing. Put that last email down to me being tired, drunk and stupid - will you forget I sent it? Sorry.
James

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: Nothing to be sorry about
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 09:40:41

I will if you want me to, but I kind of liked it. Even though you're clearly crazy :-)
I got home safe, anyway.
While I remember - you said something yesterday about looking me up online. I don't like the idea much but it's not like I can stop you. Will you promise me that you won't believe everything you read?
Si x
PS And if someone had said to me a year ago that I'd be getting ready to tell my dad that I've met a guy, well...

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: Phew
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 13:25:35

You mean you *didn't* have a threesome with the Olsen twins? Damn, I liked that story ;-)
What will you tell your dad about me? [acts nonchalant]
J x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Phew
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:08:40

Oh, you know, nothing special. Just that meeting you turned my head upside down and made me re-think everything I thought I knew, and that I'll always be grateful that I met you.
Si x
PS Now who's embarrassed?!

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Phew
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:42:33

You made me blush. And I thought you just liked me for my prick ;-)
J x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Phew
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 23:50:51

If you were with me right now I'd be showing you just how much I like it.
Si x

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: Didn't expect that
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 23:54:01

Have you been drinking?! Not that I'm complaining - just making notes for future reference ;-)
How would you show me?
J x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 23:56:32

I've just got back from an awards dinner. There was champagne [hic]
I'd start by doing some of the things I was too chicken to do yesterday... I want to know what you taste like.
Si x

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sat, 22 Aug 2009 23:59:01

Fuck, that's made me hard. What else?

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:01:14

What would you like me to do? I'd like to feel you fucking me. I wish we'd done that...

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:02:58

I like drunk-Simon
I wish we had too. Maybe I should have just bent you over a handy tree-stump and made you take it

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:03:15

now i have to typ one-haned

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:04:32

me too

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:14:54

You still there, baby?
J x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:16:38

Still here. I think I just came my brains out.
Si x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:17:01

sorry if that was tmi

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Didn't expect that
Date: Sun, 23 Aug 2009 00:18:01

Not tmi at all - hot as fuck. In fact, I may have to go again imagining it...
J x

~

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: Vuelta timetable
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 2009 10:15:28
Attachment: [Vuelta schedule.pdf]

I promised you our timetable - feeling sorry for me yet? :-D
Si x

From: [jameshamilton]
To: [simonvermeulen]
Subject: RE Vuelta timetable
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 2009 12:05:53

Is Liege anywhere near Bruges? Will you see your family? What do you do on rest days? Do you really have to cycle 3300km?!?

So many questions... here's another one. Are you sure I should come to Madrid?
J x

From: [simonvermeulen]
To: [jameshamilton]
Subject: RE Vuelta timetable
Date: Tue, 25 Aug 2009 12:35:47

I like you asking questions!

It's about 200km, so my dad and my oldest sister will probably drive over to be at the stage finish. If I'm lucky I may even get to have dinner with them - I've not seen Lotte since Christmas, so that would be nice.

On rest days there's a recovery ride and a massage, and then I'm usually asleep, or in a coach, or in a coach trying to be asleep. I get travel-sick in coaches :-( It's not all yellow jerseys and champagne, you know.

Yes, I really do have to cycle 3300km - that's pretty average for a Grand Tour. At least it means I get to eat Pringles without worrying about getting fat :-)

Please come to Madrid. It'll be crazy, but I want to see you.
Si x



A Change of Perspective Ch. 04



August 2009

James

Once the Vuelta starts, our emailing dries up to once a day, usually in the brief gap between Simon eating and falling asleep. I'm wary of interrupting his focus, so rather than bug him for details I mostly just follow the race on the radio. I pick up an English-speaking channel online and soon I'm learning some of the language - peleton, domestique, GC - even if I don't fully understand the tactics.

That said, I do understand the results page I look up every evening. To my surprise, by the end of stage 9 Simon's in the lead and expected to stay there. From what the commentators have said, he's not so hot at time trials but he's very good in the mountains - and there are several more mountain stages to come.

As the race progresses his lead looks more and more comfortable, which perversely makes following it more and more tense. I'd had no expectations of him doing so well - mainly because he didn't give any impression of having any expectations himself. But now he's leading, I want him to stay there.

I come to understand that the final result will hinge on the penultimate stage - a time trial, which his closest rival is expected to win comfortably. I left the bar and Slovenia a few days ago to make my way west through Italy and France. By the time Simon's due to race I'm on the final train into Madrid, earbuds firmly in place.

// And last to leave the start gate, currently in first place overall, is Vermeulen, riding for the British Virgin team. No British team has ever done this well at the Vuelta.

At any Grand Tour in fact, Chris.

That's right, and what an achievement this is for the young Londoner. Just to recap, if he can finish within 3 minutes and 10 seconds of Valdez, he'll keep the red jersey and stand on top of the podium tomorrow. But it's by no means certain - the Spanish rider has set off at a blistering pace and is already 25 seconds up at the first time check. Vermeulen's at the gate now, waiting for his signal... and he's off.

A very nice start there, Chris. Vermeulen isn't the fastest time trialist, but he's no slouch.

No, Phil, absolutely not. And he'll have been working on this in training - he knows it's his weak spot.

This is a short fast course today, only 17 kilometres, so he's every chance of hanging onto that 3-minute lead over Valdez.

Here we come into the first time check... 4 minutes 12. That puts the Belgian - //

"Sir? Excuse me, sir? El billete, por favor. Your ticket please."

Fuck. I fumble for my tickets, knocking my phone and pulling my earbuds out in the process. The inspector takes an agonisingly long time checking every detail before he finally smiles and moves on, and I'm free to disappear back into the commentary.

// - that's Valdez over the line, setting a very quick time of 15:21 to take provisional first place.

And you'd have to say that Valdez has won the stage - there's no way Vermeulen will beat that time. But has he done enough -

Oh! Sorry Phil - something's happened... Vermeulen's stopped! He's... oh dear, he's not stopped, he's crashed. Here's the replay - yes, he took that corner far too tight, and he's just clipped the barrier. Well, that's a rare display of temper from the young star there as he waits for the team car and a replacement bike, and who can blame him?

Not me, Chris. Now then, he's back up - can he hang onto that margin? He doesn't have to beat Valdez' time, remember, just finish within 3 minutes 10 seconds.

And don't forget the time bonus, Phil. Valdez will pick up 20 seconds for winning today, and that could be critical.

Vermeulen's coming into the final kilometre now - he looks to be in a lot of pain. He hit that barrier very hard.

And the final time on the clock... 18:34. That puts him down in 64th place. He'll be bitterly disappointed with that result.

That's a real shame - by my reckoning he's lost the red jersey by just 23 seconds. But the spectators have gone crazy - a Spaniard winning the Vuelta a Espana by such a tiny margin... you can't blame them.

So Vermeulen will finish the Vuelta in second place - let's not forget that that's a fantastic result for him and for the British team. And a lot of promise for the future, too - you have to say that if he'd not caught that barrier he'd have been on the top step tomorrow.

Well Chris, that's what makes cycling so exciting - //

This time I pull the earbuds out deliberately, not wanting to hear the post-mortem. I'm relieved that Simon's okay, but I'm gutted for him having lost the win so close to the end of the race. Disappointment bites at me, and it must be infinitely worse for Simon. My guess is that he'll be philosophical in public, but I'm sure that privately he can't be. I wonder if he'll show me how he's really feeling.

By the time my train pulls into Madrid several hours later I'm a lot happier. I can't help it - I'm too excited at the thought of seeing Simon tomorrow night. Skype and email is all very well, but it doesn't replace being able to just be next to somebody. And I want to be next to Simon so badly it hurts.

~~x~~

September 2009

Simon

So, second place in the Vuelta. It's not that bad, it's a podium finish - it's better than fourth. But the disappointment sits like lead in my stomach, souring everything. This would have been the biggest win of my career so far - perhaps the biggest win I'll ever have, and I fucked it up. It wasn't a mechanical, it wasn't a puddle or oil on the road - it was me losing my focus. I knew the line I needed to take on that corner and I'd done it perfectly in practice, but when the moment came I second-guessed myself. I suppose at least there's no-one else to blame. That helps, a fraction.

"Cheer up misery-guts - have you forgotten that you're seeing James tonight? I wish there was someone waiting for me... I wonder if any of the podium girls would fancy a tumble." Gil sighs theatrically, light-hearted as usual, refusing to take anything seriously. Of course, he'll never win a GC, so he'll never lose one by 23 seconds either.

If I'm honest, I'm not sure now how I feel about James being in Madrid. Three weeks ago it seemed like a good idea - but three weeks ago I hadn't spent twelve days thinking I might actually win the damn race. All I really want to do is go home and shut the world out until I feel better.

"Si? Earth to Si? Paging Britain's highest ever Grand Tour finisher."

His flattery forces a smile. "I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm not sure I'll be much fun tonight."

"Don't say that!" It's Matteo, drifting over to join us as we pedal sedately to the finish line. "Gil's organised a party. You've got to be there - you know what Gil's parties are like."

I certainly do. I think about James, introducing him to everyone, telling everyone who I am. "Can I see how I feel later?"

Matteo shrugs, casual at 25mph. "Sure, whatever. We'll miss you, but..." He grins. "You always ride your own race, Si. It's cool."

He disappears, moving off to chat with another rider. This final stage is more of a farewell party than a stage - although we all race all year, I won't see some of these guys again until the next Vuelta, and maybe not even then. Cyclists tend to be superstitious about making plans too far in advance - there are too many opportunities for things to go wrong. I suppose I should be grateful that I didn't do any real damage yesterday - a broken collarbone could have kept me off the bike for weeks.

Gil interrupts my gloom, again. "Come on Si, cheer up. Bring James to the party, get drunk, take him back to your room and fuck him stupid. That's what I'd do."

"I know that Gil, but I'm not you, remember? And I'm not sure that I want to out myself in front of everyone at one of your parties. Maybe I'll just take him back to my room instead." I blush at the thought.

Gil grins wickedly. "Hey, d'you think Branson knows there's an actual virgin on his team? Should I tell him?"

"Sod off." I'm laughing now - as usual he's managed to cheer me up.

Another rider appears, slapping me on the shoulder. "Bad luck yesterday, Si. Shit happens, eh?"

I turn to accept his commiserations, and the peleton rolls on.

~

The official end of the race passes in a blur, and largely on auto-pilot. If I look it up online I know I'll see that I smiled when I stepped up onto the podium, and I did my fair share of champagne-showering. There are urine tests and blood tests and television interviews and radio interviews - and somewhere along the way it sinks in that I'm being heralded as a British hero. I'm not British, and I fell off, but apparently that's still good enough.

Finally I'm free, in my room and alone with James at last. Despite the daily email contact, actually seeing him is odd. His eyes are browner than I remember, and his hair's shorter. I stare at him, drinking in the sight of him next to me, hoping he wants to be here as much as I want him to be.

He kisses me gently, a promise of more to come. "I've missed you, baby. I wish I could have been with you yesterday."

I grimace. "It's probably just as well you weren't... I'd have been horrible company."

"Doesn't matter, I still wish I'd been there. I'm so proud of you, you know."

The disappointment's still too raw, making me ungrateful and rude. "Jesus, what is it with everyone congratulating me?"

"You could have won. You came so close - that's what people are celebrating."

"I didn't win though, did I? I crashed and I lost."

James is patient with me. "But you got back on again, and you didn't give up. I saw the pictures last night - if I stacked it like that I'd lie there bawling, not get up and practically bust a lung trying to make up the time. You're amazing."

"I don't feel it right now." I calm down a little, thinking about James on a bike. "Would you bawl, really? A tough guy like you?"

"Oh yeah." He's grinning, deliberately distracting me. "I'm soft." He shifts position slightly. "Well, except for when I'm hard."

The look on his face makes my stomach knot. "And when are you hard, o soft one?"

His voice drops. "Right now, baby. So hard... d'you want to see?"

I swallow, nodding - now I'm hard too. James leans forward, his hand on my arm... and there's a knock at the door.

"Fuck. Talk about timing - give me a sec." He nods and I stand up, hoping my erection isn't showing.

Unsurprisingly, it's Gil at the door. "You ready? We're heading off."

"I can't. James is here."

"So bring him along with you. He's a nice guy, he'll fit in. You've hung on this long, deflowering you can wait another couple of hours, can't it?"

My cheeks flame and I pull the door to behind me. "Leave it, Gil. I meant it when I said I'm not outing myself to everyone tonight. Not on top of everything else."

"It would stop them commiserating with you?" He sounds hopeful, but the more he tries to persuade me, the more I dig my heels in.

"No, leave me be. I'll see you tomorrow."

"It'll be easier than you think, I promise."

"Go away, Gil."

Annoyance flashes across his face, but he merely shrugs. "Okay, suit yourself." He wanders off down the corridor and I want to call him back, to ask him if I'm making a mistake, but instead I turn back to my room.

James has moved from the bed to stand by the window, staring out across the car park. Suddenly worried, I touch his shoulder. "James?"

He doesn't turn around. "I heard."

"Heard what?" He knows I'm a virgin. Surely he didn't mind Gil teasing me about it?

"You can't - won't - be seen with me. What's the matter - do I embarrass you? Are you ashamed?" His voice is quiet, obviously upset. I back away in confusion, sitting down automatically when my legs hit the bed behind me.

"No! I just thought... I thought we could spend some time together, alone. I thought you wanted that?"

He sighs and sits down in the chair opposite me. "I did. I do. But not because you're hiding, Si. If you won't..." He waves his arms in frustration. "What possible future have we got?"

"Don't be like that. You don't understand - cycling is a small community, and -"

"Oh cut the crap." His laidback demeanour has evaporated. "I grew up in a town smaller than your peleton, I know all about small communities. You just have to grow a pair and stand up for yourself - it's not like anyone gives a shit any more." His eyes narrow. "You said you were going to tell your dad about me. You didn't, did you?"

My wretched silence is answer enough in itself. "I meant to... it wasn't the right time. I will, I promise."

He looks away. "Sure you will."

I stare at him, feeling sick as our night together unravels in front of me. "James, please! Let's spend this evening here, just the two of us, and we'll go public next time. I promise."

He stands up, rubbing a hand across his face. "You say that, and then you'll back out... I'm too old for this, Simon. I'm too old and too cynical to fall for someone who's only going to screw me over. I did it once... I can't do it to myself again. I'm sorry."

"James!" I can't think of anything else to say.

He paces for a moment, then to my surprise kneels down in front of me. He looks up at me, pleading. "I like you, Simon. I didn't expect you to be more than a quick fuck in the men's, but you're worth more than that. I want us to be more than that. I want there to be an us. But I need you to stand up for yourself... I don't want to hide how I feel."

"Neither do I." It's a whisper.

"Then take me to the party with you. Or even just to the bar downstairs. You don't have to hold up a sign - holding my hand would be enough."

The panic squirrels around in my brain, and I can't make myself do or say anything.

Finally James stands up. "I guess I'm not worth that much to you, huh?" His sounds sad, all the earlier anger gone, and that makes me feel even worse. He picks up his coat. "Our afternoon together was fun, wasn't it? I'll remember that." He opens the door. I can't look at him. "Take care, Si."

~

I don't move for a long time. At some point I hear people coming back from the party but it all sounds distant, as if I'm at the end of a very long tunnel. Later I suppose I must have gone to sleep, as I wake up fully dressed on top of the bed covers. Later still my phone beeps, telling me I've got a text.

Some time after that someone bangs on my door, and when I don't answer it, I hear a shout. "Si! Rise and shine, sleepy-head."

Knowing I won't get any peace until I do, I make myself move. Gil's grinning from ear to ear. "Well... how'd it go? Are you now wise in the ways of the world?" He tries to lean around me, so I open the door wide to let him into the room. "Where is he? In the shower?"

"He's gone."

Gil frowns. "What do you mean, he's gone? You didn't throw him out without breakfast, did you?"

"No... he left last night, after you'd gone to the party. We had a row and he walked out. He said..." I take a deep breath, hearing my voice shake. "He said that he didn't want to be with someone who was ashamed of him."

"Oh Simon. Mate. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not ashamed of him, Gil, I'm ashamed of me. I'm a fuck-up. I fucked up my Vuelta, and now I've fucked up whatever it might have been with James."

Gil paces agitatedly. "Si, it's not too late. You've got his number - call him. If he means that much to you, say whatever you need to say to get him to stay. I'll talk to him if you think it would help. Come on, where's your phone?"

I don't move. "It is too late. I told you, he's gone. Back to Canada."

He stares at me. "Canada?"

I nod, still numb from the news. "He texted me an hour ago from the plane. I've lost him, Gil."

For the first time since my parents told us mum's cancer was terminal, I start to cry.



A Change of Perspective Ch. 05



December 2009

James

I'm idly browsing online one evening, surfing for something - anything - interesting, when an article from a gay gossip column catches my eye. At first I think I'm imagining it, but no matter how I squint at the screen, the words don't change.

Simon Vermeulen, last seen crashing spectacularly at the Spanish Vuelta (a 3,000km cycling race), has found solace in the arms of a team-mate, my spies tell me. London-based Vermeulen, 27, and his friend were spotted at the stylish Moro restaurant last week, apparently enjoying a cosy meal for two. Which team-mate is it? That would be telling, but at least his Virgin bosses won't have to worry about it being a problem for very much longer.

My best guess is that the team-mate is Gil, although I don't immediately understand the reference to the team bosses. A moment's thought and Google produces the answer.

Mark Gilwood confirmed yesterday that he will be moving to the US Garmin-Slipstream team from 1 January. Gilwood, 26, said in a statement that, "I've enjoyed an incredible three years with British Virgin, and leave with many happy memories. I'll be joining an equally respected team at Garmin and I look forward to winning with them very soon."

Jealousy stabs at me. I hate the thought of Simon with anyone else. Since I got home I've been trying very hard not to think about him, and mostly failing. I've been about as successful at telling myself that I didn't overreact drastically when I left Madrid. I wasted four years mooning over Aaron before I finally figured out that he was never going to come out. I want to think that I was right not to let the same thing happen with Simon, but the knowledge that he's dating publicly gnaws at me. I could have had that, if I'd had some patience and empathy.

Annoyed with myself, I shut my laptop. I'm determined not to feel sorry for myself. I've got friends, family and work, and that will have to be enough.

It's not enough.

It's holiday season, and everywhere I go I'm reminded that I'm not loved-up. Even my gym is getting in on the act, offering a discount to couples who want to get fit together before Christmas. My snort of disgust makes the guy stood next to me laugh.

"You're fed up with all the kissy-kissy shit too, eh?"

"Everyone knows Christmas is a time for getting drunk and fighting with your family, not being happy."

"Amen to that. Luc." He's smiling, holding out his hand.

I shake it. "James. Nice to meet you." He's tall, blond and lean, and my prick does the thinking for me. "Fancy a beer?"

He looks at his watch. "Sure. The bar round the corner, eh? Or... my apartment's only half a block away."

The tacit invitation hangs in the air. If you don't count Simon, I've not gotten laid in months. "Sounds good to me." I pick up my kit bag and Luc leads the way.

His apartment is cluttered and chaotic, the polar opposite to mine. I sold everything before I left and I've not bought much new furniture yet, although I suppose I'll have to at some point. I haven't thought that far ahead.

Luc passes me a beer. "Have a seat." We drink in silence for a moment. "Are you new in town? I've not seen you at the gym before."

I've not seen him either, but then I've not been looking. "Yeah - I only got here a few weeks ago. I'm still just figuring everything out." I don't want to talk about me, I want to fuck him. As if he picks up on the vibe, he grins.

"Well, you got me figured out." He puts his beer down and his hand on my thigh. "What do you say?"

I don't answer, but I put my beer down and lean towards him. He kisses me back hungrily, as if he's as horny as I am. Maybe he is. Without pulling away he unzips my sweater and snakes his hands up under my tee. It feels good but I'm remote, watching it all from somewhere else. It takes me a moment to remember to reciprocate.

Luc's on his feet, pulling me towards the bedroom. He shucks his jeans eagerly and reaches for my belt buckle. "You're freaking hot, James - you know that?"

I kick my trainers off, letting him strip me. My prick's rigid but my brain's not with it. All I can think is that this is what I wanted with Simon. I shake my head, trying to physically shift the memory of him. I'm here to get laid, not pine over a guy I barely knew.

Luc looks at me. "How do you want me? I've got rubbers - you can have me any way you like." My cock twitches at the expression on his face, and finally, mercifully, instinct takes over.

"I want to fuck you. Fast and hard the first time..."

He's visibly turned on at the thought. "And after that?"

I grin. "Well, maybe then I'll have the patience to go easy on you the second time. Maybe." I take his shoulders, spinning him around, and he doesn't stop me.

We spend all afternoon fucking, coming up for air finally when Luc's stomach won't stop grumbling. He sits up and stretches. "I could cook, if you're hungry?"

I shake my head. I'm operating in a fragile bubble of normality, and staying much longer will destroy it. "Thanks, but I should get going. I'm meeting family later." It's a lie, but I don't want to be rude.

To my relief, Luc doesn't push it. "Oh yeah, I know that feeling. Got to keep the parents happy, eh?" He pulls on his jeans while I dress. Back in the living room there's a pause while we look at each other. "It's been fun. Maybe we'll do it again sometime?"

I'm not sure that I want to. But I'm bound to run into him again in the gym, and he seems like a nice guy. I summon up enthusiasm. "Sure, that sounds good. I'll see you around."

I leave the building and walk aimlessly, not sure where I'm headed or caring very much. It's started to snow and I have to move quickly to stay warm. I'm not really dressed for it, but I don't want to go back to my empty, silent apartment until I have to. Fortunately I soon reach a small shopping mall and duck in to get out of the weather.

The smell of hot oil wafts from a tiny food court, reminding me that I've not eaten since breakfast. Hunger makes the offered noodles appetising. I eat greedily, hoping that the food will fill the hollow in my stomach and knowing that it won't. I don't feel guilty at having used Luc - he approached me, after all - but rather than easing the ache of losing Simon, it just seems to have made it worse. I've still got his number in my phone - I know I should delete it, but I can't bring myself to do it. I have a fantasy that I'll call him and he'll be pleased to hear from me, but even if I dared, he's dating Gil now.

I sit in the food court for a long time, staring blankly into space until I realise that I'm looking at a Hallmark. Before I can talk myself out of it I'm in the store, trying to choose a card. Unsurprisingly there's nothing appropriate for what I want to say, but finally I pick one. It takes me ages to compose a two-sentence message, and I address and mail it while I've still got the nerve.

Then I head home, picking up vodka on the way, and get mindlessly drunk.

~

From: [simonvermeulen]

To: [jameshamilton]

Subject: Merry Christmas

Date: Wed, 23 Dec 2009 21:36:45

Hi James

Thanks for your card. I didn't expect to hear from you, so it was a nice surprise. Happy Christmas to you too :-) I guess you've got a proper white Christmas over there, not like London, which is cold and wet as usual. Sometime I wonder exactly why I chose to live here.

I've been enjoying the festive season - the holidays came at exactly the right time for me this year. I've not been on a bike since Spain and I must have put on 5kg, but it'll come off again soon enough. A group of us race around Richmond Park every Boxing Day, and I'll start training again properly after that. In the meantime, I reckon there's time for one more season of Dexter...

How are things with you? It must have been nice to see everyone again after so long away. Did you go back into engineering, or have you decided to try something else?

I'm doing okay. It was hard to hear what you had to say in Madrid, but it needed saying, so thank you. I've been dating - and public - nothing serious but I'm having fun. As predicted, the sky hasn't fallen in. In fact, the comment I got most often was "I've thought you were gay for years, I assumed you were already out". So yeah, spot the idiot :-/

Maybe that's tmi, but I thought you'd like to know that I've finally grown a pair. Gil likes to tell me that they're a very small pre-teen boy pair - but there's no pleasing Gil :-)

Anyway, that's quite enough from me, so I'll leave you in peace. I hope things are good for you, and thanks again for the card. Stay in touch?

Si

From: [jameshamilton]

To: [simonvermeulen]

Subject: RE Merry Christmas

Date: Thu, 31 Dec 2009 12:14:17

Dear Si

I'm glad you got the card okay. I wasn't sure if I should send it, but I still had your address so I thought I'd risk it.

I can just imagine Gil giving you grief over your new balls! You and he make a good couple - he's the impulsive crazy one and you're the brains. You sound happy, and that's a good thing.

Edmonton seems to have shrunk since I've been away. I guess it happens to anyone who goes travelling, but all the 'city' things that used to be so glamorous now just seem dull. Everyone in my old group has gotten married or settled down, and I know I'm boring people with the "when I was in Europe" stories. I'm actually seriously thinking about doing some more travelling, but I'll need to save first. I did go back into engineering, and fortunately I haven't forgotten everything I used to know, so it's not all bad.

Well, you're probably already out celebrating - I hear the Brits like to get started early on NYE ;-)

Happy New Year - I hope 2010 is a good one for you.

James

~

I keep expecting the blues to lift, but they don't. If anything they get worse, and to compensate I throw myself into my work. Back in September I'd tentatively approached the firm I'd worked for before I went travelling, and after a series of interviews I somehow landed a role that's a couple of levels of seniority higher than the one I left. The increased workload and stress turn out to be exactly what I need, keeping me busy and distracted.

After a few months it's as if I've never left. All the same, I'm puzzled when one bleak February afternoon the department head stops by my desk unexpectedly.

"James, we'd like to meet with you. Can you be free for 3pm?"

I can't help immediately wondering what I've screwed up. "Of course. Do I need to prepare?"

"No, we'd just like to discuss your performance. Nothing to worry about." He smiles but he's already walking away, his mind on the next task.

My PA comes over. "What was that about? You in trouble?" She looks concerned.

"I don't know, Brandi. You know Alistair better than I do."

She crosses her arms, looking determined. "Well, if he's got bad things to say then he's wrong. You're the nicest consultant I've worked for, and I'm not afraid to tell him that."

I can't help smiling. Brandi's the scattiest PA I've ever met, and I'm sure she only likes me because I don't bawl her out as often as she deserves. But her kindness makes me feel a little better. "Thanks. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, like he said."

Time crawls until 3pm, but eventually I make my way upstairs to the exec meeting room. Alistair's waiting for me at the door. "James, thanks for coming. Meet Walter and Gordon. Have a seat." I shake hands silently and sit down. Surely letting me go doesn't take three of them?

Alistair smiles reassuringly. "No need to look so worried, son. Like I said, we want to discuss your performance. How are you settling in? Enjoying it here?"

I gather my thoughts. "It's been going pretty well, I think. The MacDonald project is ahead of schedule, and I've already made a start on the application for the Borden hotel."

Gordon nods. "Yes, we've noticed that you get results. But that's not what we're asking. Are you happy?"

What? "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

Alistair leans forward, resting his chin on his elbows. "Really, son? Because you don't seem it. I don't think I've seen you smile since you've been back."

I have no idea what to say, so I just look at them. Can they fire me for being depressed?

Walter pours himself a coffee, stirring creamer thoughtfully. "I did some asking around - people who remembered you from two years ago. They all said the same thing, that you used to be the life and soul of the party. So we got to wondering. What's changed?"

Gordon chips in. "You're doing a great job - very impressive. You've grown up while you were away, that's obvious."

I can't help wincing. If screwing things up with Simon so badly means that I've grown up, I'll take being a teenager. I put on my best bland expression. "Thanks, that's good to hear."

Walter doesn't let it drop. "You're not bored? You've had a taste of Europe - maybe coming home isn't how you imagined it? Maybe you're wondering how soon you can leave again?"

I stare at them, shifting uneasily in my chair and wondering if they've been reading my emails. "It is strange to be back home, I agree. I liked Europe a lot. But that doesn't mean I'm thinking about leaving again. It would wreck my career, for one thing. And I like my job here."

"Hah." Now it's Gordon who leans forward. "So if it didn't wreck your career, you'd consider it?"

I sit up straighter. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to tell me where you're going with this."

All three of them are silent, looking at each other. Finally Alistair speaks. "This is strictly confidential, you understand." I nod. "We're in the final stages of an overseas acquisition - we've been wanting to expand for a while and this ticks all the boxes. But one problem we do have is the current management. They're... resistant, shall we say, to the way we want things done. The obvious answer is to put one of our own people in - but who?"

Walter nods in agreement. "All our more senior consultants are settled here - family, schools, the usual thing. We could relocate someone, but frankly it would cost us more than it's worth. And then Alistair suggested looking at a younger candidate. Someone without ties, someone who's not afraid of being self-sufficient. Someone, perhaps, who's showing a lot of promise, who we think could handle the pressure. Who doesn't seem to have quite settled back into Edmonton life, and might want something more."

Oh. Wow. For the first time since I got back, someone's said something that's genuinely caught my interest. "Are you sure? I've only been at this grade for a few months. I don't know how to run an office."

"We wouldn't leave you out to dry, son. You'd have long-distance support, and one of us would fly out every month or so to see how you're getting on. The office is already established - your job would be as our man on the ground, making sure that things are going the way we want them to. And of course the package would reflect your promotion."

Alistair sits back, and they look at me expectantly. My mouth's dry and my mind's racing. It sounds... fun. It sounds scary, but they clearly want me to say yes, which means they'll help me not to screw up too badly. And they're right - I am bored and fed up here. What's the worst that could happen?

I clear my throat. "Okay, yes, I'd love to. And I'll do my best job for you."

Gordon smiles. "Just make sure that you do, laddie." He glances at his watch, getting ready to leave. "I'll have Human Resources talk to you about relocation support, and we'll get a new agreement drawn up this week. Can you be ready to move by the end of this month?"

That makes me pause - I'd assumed the move wouldn't be for ages yet. But still, it doesn't change my answer. "Of course. I'm on a short lease where I am." And I still haven't got much furniture. "I suppose I should ask, where are you sending me?"

Alistair laughs. "I knew I'd forgotten to mention something. The new office is in London. England. I assume that's not a problem?"

~

I walk along the quiet street, my pace getting slower and slower as I approach the address I want. I've been imagining doing this for weeks now, and I've finally worked up the courage to go through with it. All the same, I feel sick. A short flight of steps leads up to the front door and I pause at the bottom. It's long since dark and the curtains are closed, but I can see that the lights are on and that someone's home. I'm slightly disappointed - if the house had been empty I could have snuck away, pretending I'd never been here. I take a breath, running over my rehearsed speech one last time. Then, hands shaking, I climb the steps and ring the doorbell.

When Simon realises who's stood on his doorstep, he goes very still. I can't take my eyes off him. He looks exactly as good as I've remembered him. If he really did put on 5kg over Christmas, it's not there now.

He stares at me, not saying anything, no doubt wondering why I'm here. What I'd planned to say suddenly seems pathetic and trite, and all I can think is how stupid I must look.

He breaks the silence first. "What are you doing here?" He doesn't sound hostile, just confused.

"Simon, I..." I swallow hard. "I owe you an apology. I should never have said what I did - I've regretted it ever since. It was unfair and unkind..." The memory of his stricken expression flashes into my head. "I'm sorry, for what that's worth. I've missed you."

He doesn't move, his hand still poised to close the door in my face.

Now I've started talking, I can't stop. "There's not been a day that I haven't thought about you. I thought being four thousand miles away would help, but I couldn't get you out of my head. I know you're dating Gil and I'm saying this months too late, but I'm so sorry. Even if you never want to see me again, you should know that."

His arm drops to his side. "I've missed you too. When you left, it was..." His eyes close for a second. "I wish I'd just taken you to that damn party."

"I wish I'd never left. I over-reacted and I was out of line. Can you forgive me?"

"I never blamed you. Didn't you get my email that said you'd done the right thing?"

"You're too generous. I was an asshole to you."

He shakes his head. "You were honest - I was the arse. Why are we even arguing about this, anyway?"

"You're right, I should go. But it was good to see you, Si. Tell Gil I said hello."

He catches my arm as I start to step away. "You don't need to leave. And, um... I'm not dating Gil. Not any more, anyway." He opens his mouth to say something else, just as there's a yell from inside the house.

"Simon, you want to heat the whole of London? Shut the door."

It's a man's voice. The flash of hope fades and dies - I am too late after all. "Shit, I'm sorry, just turning up and spouting off like that... You're busy."

Simon smiles, and opens the door wide. "No, not really. Come in. Meet my dad."

~~x~~

March 2010

Simon

I close the door carefully behind James, still not entirely believing that he's actually here. We've emailed once or twice since Christmas but I never really expected to see him again. And now he's in my home.

Dad stands up as we walk into the living room, clearly surprised to see a visitor. I look at him through James's eyes - a man in his 60s with a full head of white hair, a little shorter than me and a little rounder, but still fit and active. I'm pretty sure I'll look like him as I get older, and I can't help wondering what James might think of that. I push the idea away. It still hurts too much to let myself imagine that he and I could grow old together.

James holds out his hand. "Mr Vermeulen. I'm James Hamilton, a..." He pauses for a second. "A friend of Simon's." He glances over his shoulder at me. "I hope, anyway."

Dad looks at him briefly before returning the handshake. "I don't see all his other friends banging on the door at nine o'clock on a Sunday night, hey?"




A Change of Perspective Ch. 05



His voice is gruff and James takes half a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise Simon had guests. It's okay, I can go..." He looks desperately uncomfortable.

"Dad, be nice. And James, sit down. Do you want a drink? There's beer, wine, whisky..." I think of drinking wine with him in Slovenia and hope my blush isn't showing. James asks for a beer and I leave the room.

When I return they're both sat down, their demeanours quite different. Dad's in his chair with his feet back up on the footstool, whisky tumbler to hand and looking supremely relaxed. By contrast, James is perched on the edge of the cushion at one end of the sofa, fidgeting slightly. He's mid-sentence.

"- in London for about three weeks now. It's going well, I think."

I hand him his beer and curl up at my end of the sofa, content just to look at him. "What is?"

"Your dad said he thought I was supposed to be in Canada. I was explaining that work relocated me here at the beginning of this month." He takes a swallow of beer. "I'm going to be in London for the foreseeable future. I wanted to tell you."

I don't know how to reply to that. London's a huge place - we could both live here for years without bumping into each other. Was the relocation his choice? Does he want to be here? Has he left someone behind in Edmonton? Perhaps he's telling me that although we're in the same city, we're not going to be in touch.

While the questions whir around my brain, Dad has no such concerns. "You couldn't telephone?"

James squirms. "I, uh... well, I owed it to Simon to do it face to face. I needed to apologise to him for something I said to him last year." He looks at me, clearly not sure how much to say.

Dad grunts and changes the subject. "And your new job? You're an engineer, is that right?"

"Yes sir, a civil engineer - a senior consultant. I manage the projects rather than pouring the concrete, although I get to go out on site pretty regularly."

"What's so special about you that Britain has to import engineers? Don't they have their own?"

"Dad! James, I'm sorry. Dad, leave him alone."

Dad glares at me. "Simon, this boy broke your heart. I've been worried about you all winter, and yet you tell me nothing. If it weren't for your little smart-arse friend, I'd still know nothing. So let me do the asking and you do the being quiet. If your Mr Hamilton doesn't like it, he knows where the door is."

My face flames and I sit back, taken aback at his bluntness. He met Gil when I took him home at Christmas, but I hadn't known that they talked about me. What on earth has Gil told him? For a moment I feel real anger at the invasion of my privacy.

I glance at James, who's looking just as embarrassed as I am. Our eyes meet briefly and he gives me a faint smile. He turns to my dad. "I'll answer any questions you have, sir. I'm in London now because my company are worried that the new office wants to keep doing its own thing. I'm the one who's supposed to be keeping them in line."

"Hm. And how do you go from bartender to office manager in six months? Did someone pull strings for you?"

"Uh, no. I worked for the same company before I went travelling. I've been through the same interview process as the other candidates - I've got no especial advantage. They'll get rid of me soon enough if they don't think I'm doing a good job."

The interrogation continues. "And what would you do then? Go back to being a bum?"

James squares his shoulders, polite but standing up for himself. "I was travelling, but I wasn't a bum. I had savings but I worked nearly everywhere I went - the only place I didn't was France, because there weren't enough jobs to go round. I did farm-work, bartending, some office work... I even taught, at a language school in Hungary."

He glances at me again, and it occurs to me that he's only answering Dad's questions for my benefit. If I meant nothing to him, he would surely have made his excuses and left by now. The thought's reassuring, even if I'd much rather that this conversation wasn't happening.

I stand up. "Dad. Seriously, that's enough. I invited James into my home as a guest, not your victim. I know you're looking out for me, but please stop. James, can I get you another beer?"

He hands me his empty bottle. "Sure, thanks."

"Dad? D'you want a top-up?"

He stands up too. "I'll come with you."

In the kitchen we look at each other, until Dad suddenly smiles. "I like your boy. He's not frightened of me, is he?" He's speaking in Dutch and I realise it's out of courtesy - James will surely guess we're discussing him, but he won't know what's being said.

The about-turn stuns me, but I reply in kind. "Um, no, I don't think so. But if you like him, why were you so rude to him?"

Dad sighs. "Maybe one day if you have children you'll understand."

I'm still angry with him. "The chances of me having children seem pretty remote, wouldn't you say? Seeing as I'm not going to have a wife any time soon."

"The last I heard, a wife wasn't obligatory." He smiles, and I wonder again why it took me so long to tell him what he'd long suspected. "Simon, all your mother and I ever wanted for you and your sisters is to love, and to be loved. I couldn't care less whether that's with a girl or a boy or a little green alien - if you're happy, I'm happy. Could this James make you happy?"

"I don't know. I hope so. I think so." The thought makes me giddy.

Dad pulls me into a bear hug. "Then that's really all that matters, isn't it? It broke my heart to see you so sad last year - and don't tell me you got over him, because I saw the way you were looking at him just now. And the way he was looking at you. So forgive me if I want to ask him a few questions."

My eyes prickle with tears. "I know, but go easy on him, will you? I don't want you to scare him off."

He laughs and lets me go. "If he's scared by an old man like me then he's not worth much, is he? Besides, I told you, I like him. Better than the little smart-arse, anyway."

That rankles. "What's wrong with Gil?"

Dad waves his arm dismissively. "Don't get excited, I know he's your best friend. And he's a good friend to you - don't think I don't see that." He turns away and pours his whisky, switching back to English. "You want to spend all night hiding in here?"

Thoroughly exasperated by now, I collect two more bottles of beer from the fridge and we return to the living room. James is looking a little more relaxed, although he accepts the beer gratefully. Thankfully the questioning seems to have come to an end and the conversation flows more normally.

After an hour or so, Dad gets to his feet. "Well, I'm turning in. James, it was good to meet you. I hope this new job works out for you."

James stands up and holds out his hand. "Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure to meet you too."

Dad shakes, his eyes twinkling. "Call me Jaap." He turns to me. "I'll see you in the morning - try not to keep an old man awake, won't you?"

I'm past rising to the bait. "Sure, Dad. Sleep well. Love you."

"You too, son." He disappears, and a moment later we hear him heading upstairs.

James sits down abruptly, as if his knees have given way. "Jeez, that wasn't fun. Did you set him up deliberately?"

"No! I'm really sorry."

He's laughing. "It's okay, I guess my parents would have been just the same. They're just looking out for us." There's an awkward pause. "I should probably get going..."

My stomach drops. "Stay a little longer, if you like? It's good to see you."

James hesitates. "You're sure?"

"Yes. Stay."

He smiles. "I'd like that."

I fetch more beer, trying to keep my own idiot grin off my face. When we're both reinstalled on the sofa, James turns sideways to face me. "Si... About what your dad said..." He fiddles with the bottle's label. "Did I really break your heart?"

I nod silently. I've been drinking steadily all evening and that helps, but it's still an embarrassing admission. "Pretty pathetic, huh? It's not like we'd been together for years or something."

"No."

I'm looking at my hands rather than him, my face hot. "I bet you were much more rational about it. Besides, new job, new opportunities... it sounds like you've got things sorted."

He's very quiet. "Not really, no. Not yet, anyway." He puts the bottle down. "I really am sorry. If I could do it again I -"

"It's okay, you don't have to keep apologising. You didn't do anything terrible, you just said what needed to be said. It's water under the bridge now. You're over it, I'm over it..." My throat closes up and I have to stop. Dad's right, I'm not over him. I want him just as badly as I did in that bar in Slovenia. Right now I don't care if he broke my heart or not - he could smash it into pieces and I'd still want him.

My sight's blurry with tears and it's a second before I realise that he's holding my hands in his, leaning towards me.

"I'm not over it, Si. I've been so unhappy... I think I broke my own heart, too. I mean, I didn't even know that was possible, but I managed it. I read online that you were dating Gil and I didn't want to interfere - it was my own fault that I was in Canada and you were free, so I told myself it was fair. I wouldn't have bothered you again except I got posted here and it was too much that we were in the same city..." He looks up at me. "I want us to try again, Si. I want to make it up to you. Please say yes."

"James..." That's as far as I can get before I'm leaning into him too and then we're kissing, both of us laughing and crying and kissing all at the same time until we can't breathe anymore. James wraps his arms around me and we slide down onto the sofa, ending up with me lying half on top of him. We lie quietly for a long time, holding each other, neither of us moving. I'm vaguely aware that I'm erect, but I don't feel any particular urge to do anything about it. I'm content just to be here like this.

After a while James nuzzles into my neck. "I've missed you so much. I can't believe I was so stupid... We could have been together all this time." His breath tickles, making me shiver. He lifts his head. "Are you cold, baby?"

God, I've missed him calling me that. "Not yet, but we will be soon. The heating will have gone off by now."

He laughs quietly. "Oh no, how can we stay warm? Save me, Si - I'm too young to freeze to death." He wraps his arms around me, his hips pushing up against mine.

"Well, there is one thing that might just work." My hand skims up his thigh, towards the bulge of his erection. "It won't be as hot as Slovenia, but..."

He grins and reaches for my belt buckle. "Want to bet?"



A Change of Perspective Ch. 06



August 2011

"Hey honey, I'm home."

Six months of repetition have got James's routine down pat - the gentle bang of the front door, the double thud as he kicks his boots off, the rustle of fabric when he hangs up his jacket. Then he's padding along the hall, finding me in the kitchen.

I nudge the cutlery drawer shut with my hip and turn to kiss him. He's in jeans and t-shirt today, in deference to having spent the day on site. There's pink cement dust all down one leg and the strap of his hard hat has squashed his hair flat - and to me he's still the sexiest man I've ever seen.

"Hey sweetheart, you're home early. How'd it go?"

He groans and drops his head onto my shoulder. "You'd think a contractor who's been in the game fifteen years would know that concrete is trouble in this weather, but apparently not. It's like he's never seen the sun before. The idiot's set us back at least a week, and I wouldn't mind but -" He breaks off. "Sorry, sorry. I know you've heard it all a million times before."

I pull his head up and kiss him again. "A billion, easily. Thank goodness that I love every minute of my job and never grumble about anything, ever."

His frown dissolves into a grin. "In that case, I must have dreamed your rant last week about interval training."

"Must have." I'm trying for a sulk, but I can't help smiling. "Okay, you got me."

James wraps his arms around me. "I certainly do. Never want to let you go, either."

It's been nearly eighteen months since he turned up on my doorstep unexpectedly, apologising for his behaviour the summer before and asking me to give him a second chance. Eighteen months of getting to know each properly and realising that actually we could fit together long-term, if we wanted to.

I realised that James was serious about us when he took me to Alberta to meet his parents. That scared me more than anything else I've ever done, but I survived - and James assures me I have their seal of approval. Close-mouthed and slightly begrudging approval, but approval, nonetheless.

I realised that I was serious about us in the aftermath of our one truly serious fight, a couple of months after James moved in with me. I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember now what he did that upset me, but at the time I was so pissed off that I didn't speak to him for two days. I might have held out for longer, behaving like a brat and doing our relationship irreparable damage, except that on the second day he didn't come home after work.

He'd been on the Jubilee line during rush hour when it ground to halt, trapping him and two thousand other passengers underground. When I couldn't get through to his phone at first I thought he'd stayed out to punish me - and then, when the first news reports started to trickle through, I got scared that something much worse had happened. I couldn't help remembering the 7/7 bombings, and I'd been frantic with worry long before he finally got home that night. Funnily enough, whatever-it-was I'd been angry about suddenly didn't seem as important as telling him that I loved him.

Compared to that, the rest has been easy. It took a little while before Gil could be happy for us, but I can't blame him for that. Him meeting Leigh definitely helped - as did Rachel, who's been resolutely in our corner since day one. As she says herself, she's a sucker for a happy ending.

James moves against me, nudging me out of my reverie, and sniffs appreciatively. "Something smells good. When's dinner?"

His eager expression makes me smile. "It's in the oven. Not for an hour at least, impatient boy."

"Boy? Such impudence - I'll have you know that I'm all man." He nudges against me again. "Horny man, at that. Something looks good, too."

I take a step back, teasing us both. "You mean the fact that I cleaned up in here? I thought I'd demonstrate that cooking doesn't always have to leave a trail of destruc-"

I've backed myself against the kitchen island, with nowhere to go when James pushes up to me and kisses me into silence. His hands are at my waist, his mouth so close to my ear that it gives me shivers. "I think we should get it good and messy again, baby."

Heat pools in the pit of my stomach and I can only nod agreement. James moves quickly, pushing my jeans down to my ankles and spinning me around so that I'm draped over the work surface. I can feel myself trembling as his hands stroke up my thighs.

"God Si, you look so fucking wanton... like you can't even wait long enough to get upstairs before you let me fuck you." His breath is hot and damp on my skin, moving lower, telling me what he's going to do. He licks gently, his tongue making broad swipes across my buttocks. I rock my hips, trying to direct him, but he moves with me. The torture continues until I whine, which makes him laugh. "Now who's impatient, baby?"

"Me..." I'm breathless, and he's barely touched me. "Do it, James, just do it..."

"You ask so sweetly." For a second I think he's going to carry on teasing, until I feel his mouth on me again. His fingers pull me open and his tongue laps at me, pushes into me, sends me higher and higher with every touch. When he pulls away again I could cry, but he's back almost immediately, pouring something cool and slippery across my skin. I barely have time to wonder what he used before he's working his fingers into to me. He moves faster as I push back against him. "That's right baby, get yourself ready for me..."

James nudges my feet as far apart as my jeans will allow and then he's sliding into me properly, nice and easy after all the practice we've had. My cock nudges against the counter but before I can reach for it James's hand is there, holding me firmly in his slick fist. He pulls me backwards half a step. "Move for me, Si. Show me just how hot and horny you get for me."

I do it, rocking backwards onto his cock and forwards into his hand, hard and fast, not thinking about anything other than how badly I want to get off and how good he makes me feel. Our bodies slap together and the heat rises, and I know James is close too when he groans, our rhythm breaking down as he pushes into me even deeper and his hips stutter. His hands clutch at me wildly and the extra pressure is just enough, just right, and then I'm coming too, in great shuddering bursts as I hang onto the counter so as not to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor.

We lie there for a long time, me clinging to the worktop with stiff fingers and James draped over me, listening to the hum of the oven and the quiet tick of the clock. I could spend the rest of my life like this, with this man.

"Simon?"

"Mmm?" I turn my head, hot cheek resting on cool marble.

"I love you so much."

It's not that James never says it, but he doesn't usually sound quite so heartfelt about it. I twist around to look at him. "I love you too."

"And... we make a good pair, don't we?"

"I think so."

He leans down to kiss me. "The sort of pair who're so good together that maybe they should... make it official. Legally binding official."

My mouth's gone dry, and I have to swallow hard. "James... are you asking...?"

"I want forever, Si." He sounds suddenly nervous, as if I might not feel the same way. "If that's what you want too?"

Marriage... It's funny how one word can encompass such a huge concept. Love. Happiness. Security. All the things I used to believe I'd never have. All the things James already gives me. There's only one possible answer.

"I do."