1 comments/ 19802 views/ 2 favorites It Was The Summer Of '85 By: Messier82 The following is a tale of actual events which occurred 30 years ago. I hope that the factual nature of my story is adequate compensation for any elements of the tale which may be absent or unsatisfactory. Whilst these events are among the most vivid and memorable of my life, the passage of time inevitably alters the reliability of our recall, especially where ephemera such as thoughts and emotions are concerned. But, to the utmost of my abilities, this is a true story. Up until that point it had been a fairly typical Friday night. It was the summer of 1985 and unemployment was rife in Margaret Thatcher's Britain. Especially in the North. Such things didn't worry the likes of us too much. We were young, we were in a band, we were going places. Back then, a typical Friday night started with a bus into town around 7pm, then a trawl round our favourite bars, catching up with different crowds in each place, then a bus home again after last orders. Rob lived about half a mile from my flat, so we'd get off the bus at the terminus and walk to the junction near the park where we'd go our separate ways. The effects of the beer and a slow bus journey meant we were both bursting for a piss by the time we reached this point, so we headed for a stand of trees just inside the park gates. No doubt at that point we were engrossed in conversation about something, probably girls or music. I couldn't honestly say, because what came next obliterated any details of the hours before. We stood side by side, watering the trees and feeling the welcome release of a long held bladder. Rob started saying something, I'm not sure what, I probably wasn't fully switched on, I certainly wasn't stone cold sober, so I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. "Eh?" I said absently. "No, really, I've thought about it a lot, have you never thought about it?" "About what?" "Have you never wondered what it would be like to suck a cock? I have." "What?" I was waiting for the punchline, I'd obviously missed the beginning of a joke or funny story. I saw Rob look down at what I still held in my hand than back up at me. "Not just anyone though, I'd do it with you, you know, suck your cock." He trailed off at that point, looking a bit nervous I thought. It slowly dawned on me he was being serious. This was the most unusual conversation I'd ever had with a male friend. "Where did this come from?" I asked, puzzled but naturally curious. "I don't know, it's kind of been there for a while, just building up I guess." We shook ourselves off, zipped up and walked back out of the park. I was struggling to process this turn of events, I think the fog of alcohol helped my attempts at nonchalance. This was undoubtedly the most disorienting event I'd ever encountered with a friend. I found it hard to look at Rob so I focussed on where I was putting my feet. "It's alright, I'm not going to try to kiss you. I just want to, you know, try sucking a cock, I mean your cock." He was trying to be rational but just sounded more and more nervous with every word. "I just wanted you to know, that's all." "Oh, yeah, right... Jeez, I had no idea." "You OK? You freaked out now?" "No, I mean, I don't think so. No, I'm OK," in fact I was anything but OK "I just... Fucking hell mate! I dunno what to say." I laughed nervously and we kept on walking. We got to the junction and paused. "Just don't say anything to Jack!" Rob laughed nervously. Jack was the singer in our band. A hot-headed motor-mouth with opinions on everything, he came from a rougher background than we did, where a sensitive response to male emotional crises was unheard of. The only reaction Rob would get from that quarter would be merciless mockery, or worse. It struck me at that point just how much of a risk Rob had taken by opening up to me. Political-correctness, tolerance, and inclusion were soft-southern liberal concepts that had yet to infiltrate the gritty northern mentality. The trust he'd placed in me touched something buried deep inside, because I didn't trust anyone I knew with any secret of mine. Rob said "Look, don't worry about it, I just needed to get it off my chest. So, you know now, I won't mention it again." "It's OK, we're mates, I'm glad you can be honest with me. It's OK, really." And, strangely, I felt it was. We went our separate ways home. Blimey! Band practice on Wednesday night might be bit odd! The intervening days were fairly routine, I went to my part-time job as a painter & decorator, visited various family members, nothing unusual. My state of mind was anything but routine. On Saturday morning I realised that I couldn't write this off as drunken banter, not when I considered the timing of his confession, both of us standing there, cock in hand. My twenty-four year old mind was struggling with the concept of a male friend who had sexual feelings towards me. In truth I was a bit conservative about sex, which was somewhat at odds with my age and being in a rock band. I lived with my long term girlfriend Karen. We'd been dating since we were fifteen, and although we'd had one or two breaks during that time, neither of us had had many sexual partners. Rob had gone through a divorce about a year before, he'd turned up on our doorstep one morning and announced, "Michelle's kicked me out, she says she wants a divorce." So Rob came to stay with Karen and I. It was meant to be only for a few days but it ended up being a few months. He came through it quite well, mostly because Michelle made no attempt to stop him seeing his two young daughters, who became the be-all-and-end-all of his life. That and his guitar. When I was invited to join the band I nearly turned it down because of Rob. He was two years older than me. We'd been at school together but the age difference meant we didn't mix. I was friends with his younger cousin, who was in my class. Rob was seen as a bit of a hard case at that time, a trouble maker. Certainly not someone would ever have imagined being friends with, much less being sexually propositioned by! But, join the band I did, and somehow we'd become close friends. After his divorce Rob became more experimental with his guitar playing and the way he dressed. Ripped jeans were out, and post-punk PVC trousers were in. He'd even taken to wearing eye-liner and other touches of make-up, yet he didn't look effeminate. Probably because of his seemingly permanent stubble, he would have had to shave twice a day if he worked in a bank. If someone pissed him off you'd soon see the old Rob, the hard lad. A bit of a snarl, some harsh words and people would change their approach to him. This was no mean feat for a man wearing make-up who was only 5 foot 6 tall and skinny enough that he could often buy clothes from the children's section of the store. You can see what a strange mix of characteristics made up my friend's personality. I wondered if his interest in me was because of his divorce, though on nights out he still seemed to have plenty of interest in the girls around town. I wondered if living with me and Karen had been a factor. Had I been undressed around the house and had this started him thinking? Before that night I probably wouldn't have thought anything if he'd been in the room while I was in a state of undress. I was quite a bit different in appearance to Rob. Softer features, I looked much younger than my actual age and would still get asked for ID when going into clubs. I certainly didn't have that rough-and-tough look, and I would never have experimented with make up, I was aware I might look a bit too convincing. Karen used to say she'd like to put make-up on me, just for a joke she said, but I never let her. As far as I was concerned I was all-male, all-heterosexual. Of course! Look at my stunning girlfriend, yes I know all the lads were after her back at school, but I was the one who got her, I was her first. And yes, isn't she a deadringer for Kylie Minogue? This thought process made me think about the fancy dress party back in March. It was the birthday of one of our crowd, the guy's dad ran a large pub so it turned into quite big party. The theme was punks and punkettes. So most of the guys did what most British men seem to do when a fancy dress party gives you male and female options, we took the female option and dressed up as girls; leather miniskirts with fishnet tights and Doc Martins, plus badly applied punk make-up in the style of Siouxsie and the Banshees. It's a strange cultural phenomenon and not usually seen as anything more than a bit of a laugh. It's not the done thing to take drunken mates too seriously, but when you get to the third comment such as: "Fuckin' hell Simon! Couple more beers and I'll take you home myself!" you can't help but think your mates are a bit too pissed. For the next few days every time I had a piss and every time I had a shower I found myself paying more than the usual amount of attention to my cock, enjoying the feel of it a bit more than usual, thinking about my cock being sucked, thinking about Rob doing it. Wondering if that was really what he meant to say? As conflicted as I felt, the thought of a blow job was very powerful. Karen was beautiful and sexy, I gave her oral frequently, but blow jobs were just not on the menu as far as she was concerned. Which wasn't unusual for girls in our part of the world at that time, it was still a big deal if any of the guys got a BJ from a girlfriend, and it was virtually unheard of for the girl to swallow. Wednesday band practice arrived. Rob was in good spirits and appeared completely nonchalant, I started to think it had just been a moment of madness. Later, in the pub we mingled with the rest of our usual crowd. As I was standing at the bar Rob came up to talk to me. "I think I was a bit pissed on Friday, hope I didn't make you feel uncomfortable, you're a great mate, I wouldn't want to spoil anything." "No, it's OK, nothing's spoiled." I started to relax a little, maybe I could make sense of this after all, though it surprised me to realise I felt just the tiniest bit of disappointment. "I did mean it you know," I half-turned to look at him, his expression was sincere. I felt a small lurch in my stomach. "Another pint Rob?" The tension of the moment was broken by the barmaid, then there were half-a-dozen other lads at the bar all trying to get her attention. Karen arrived soon after with Jack's girlfriend and I spoke to Rob no more that evening. Friday arrived and with it a significant helping of nervous anticipation. Rob arrived earlier than usual at our flat, Karen was still at home, getting ready to go out with the girls. We walked from my place to the bus terminus. "I'm house-sitting for my Dad's friend Eileen, it's just along here opposite the old church." "Oh yeah, one of those Victorian stone-builds?" "Yeah." After living at our flat Rob moved back to his Dad's house where his younger brother Will lived too. It wasn't ideal but he had little option. The evening was surprisingly normal. Despite the obvious elephant-in-the-room, nothing was said by either of us, not even on the bus home. We'd had our usual decent amount of beers and some larking around by other Friday-night revellers had the whole bus in good spirits. Because Rob was house-sitting, our walk from the bus was longer. Instinct gave the extra distance significance, an awareness that were approaching a metaphorical crossroad. I expected he'd invite me in, people tend to do that when they're in new home, albeit a temporary lodging. It wouldn't have seemed unusual under ordinary conditions but I knew if he did, tonight it would carry meaning, and if I accepted it would almost be an unspoken agreement that something was likely to happen. "Are you coming in for a beer?" "Yeah I've got room for another one" I replied. And just like that we went into the house. Rob appeared from the kitchen with two tinnies, he gave me one and sat down on the two-seater sofa. I knew why I'd come into the house just as I'm sure he knew why he'd invited me in. The sensible option was to sit on the small sofa, open the beer and be honest with each other, I could just sit back, provocatively stroke my crotch and say: "Tell me again what it is you'd like to do?" and let Rob make the first move. Instead I sat on the chair opposite. So for the next half an hour, two close friends hummed and harred awkwardly, both too scared or nervous to admit they were excited about a new sexual experience. I think I had expected, or wanted to... well, I suppose, to be seduced. I think I had instinctively taken the position which, for our culture, was that of the feminine partner. I had been propositioned and now I expected to be persuaded and encouraged to lower my inhibitions, an initial reluctance followed by an inevitable submission to circumstances. Damn it! This was his idea, I'd done my part by coming here, now he should make good on his self-confessed desire to have my prick in his mouth. Nothing happened. Eventually my reticence got the better of me and I said I'd better be heading home. A potential firework had become a damp squib. Rob got up to walk me to the door. He must have understood that he needed to do something more before opportunity literally walked out the door. His bedroom was on the ground floor close to the front door. He paused by the bedroom door and said innocuously, "It's quite a big room," and went in. I followed. A few more banal exchanges passed between us, then he must have found some sort of daring or courage because he said: "Well, if you're going now, I'm getting into bed." And with that he stripped off in front of me surprisingly quickly and got into bed. This was the point of no return. If I turned and left, we could still pass it off as a bit of a joke, with no harm done. But if I got into bed too, everything would change, and there was no way of knowing if this would be something we'd both regret. I don't know how long I paused for, it seemed like a very long time, but without any further discussion I stripped off too and got into bed beside my naked best friend. He lay on his back, I was half-turned towards him, my pulse was racing and a sense of pressure was building up from the pit of my stomach. For a seemingly long time nothing happened. Eventually the mounting tension became more than I could control and something broke through within me. Lost in the moment I discarded all my inhibitions. I swung my right leg over his and pulled myself closer, Rob moved closer too but made no move. Then I did the wildest sexual thing I'd ever done in my twenty-four years. Without hesitation I reached my hand out and grabbed a hold of my friend's cock. The sensation shocked me to my very core, it was nothing like the sensation of playing with my own cock. It was so hot, and felt almost impossibly hard, as if it was carved from a lump of wood. I squeezed it hard around the middle of the shaft. It gave slightly, but not by much. Rob squirmed and let out a small but very satisfied moan, thrusting upwards and towards me. A voice inside my head exclaimed "Fuck me! This feels amazing!" Nothing I had considered in the week leading up to this moment had prepared me for how I felt now, I loved it instantly. I gently pulled back his foreskin and started to slowly and firmly move my hand up and down his shaft, completely lost in the feel of a cock other than my own filling my hand, it felt big. All reservations were gone now and I moved in closer, grinding my own cock into his thigh because he hadn't yet returned the favour by touching me. At this moment I didn't care, it wasn't about scoring points, it was all about this new, indescribable and unexpected pleasure. I pulled back the duvet and looked at what I was doing with my hand. Up and down, seeing the foreskin cover then uncover his glans. I now knew how it felt in my hand, but there was something else I had to know. I moved down the bed and confidently planted my mouth over the head of his penis. I think Rob must have felt it was his birthday, I moved my head up and down his swollen shaft, taking it as deep as I could before licking the tip and the underside of the glans, an area I knew to be incredibly sensitive from my own regular masturbation. I'd been blown away by feel of his dick in my hand, but the feel of it in my mouth sent my brain into sensory overload. There was something so good and right about the way it felt, primordial and natural. I was loving this and wasn't about to stop. I was more concerned about the pleasure I felt at the sensation of that thing sliding in and out of my mouth than I was about how it felt for Rob. His thrusting gyrating hips told me he was loving it too. I thought about Karen's reluctance to suck my cock, I couldn't believe that girls didn't love doing this too. I couldn't help it, I dragged my mouth off his cock and blurted out, "God! That feels so good, I don't know why girls complain about doing it." Rob laughed at that. I thought it was time he reciprocated, so I changed my position until we were in a 69. Rob readily accepted my dick in his mouth. I reached one hand around to grab his firm buttocks, with my other hand I cupped and squeezed his balls in the palm of my hand while circling his shaft with my thumb and forefinger to pull his foreskin back. I had recently discovered during my own masturbation just how sensitive the underside of the glans is near the frenulum, I flicked at this part of Rob's penis with my tongue, I wanted him to get as much pleasure from being sucked as I was getting from sucking him. I didn't say it, it seemed too obvious, but I wanted to make him come, I wanted him to come in my mouth and I was ready to swallow it. I changed tactic and kept my mouth over the head of his cock while I wanked him into my mouth, hoping to take him over the edge. Oddly, I've no recollection about the actual length in inches of Rob's penis, but I remember taking it into my mouth all the way down to the root and feeling my nose buried in his balls, but it didn't make me gag or choke so it was a comfortable size. I felt Rob's hands caressing and kneading my buttocks, I couldn't help but thrust my hips at his face, forcing my cock further into his mouth. On the third thrust I felt him gag and pull back. It must have been too much at that point. He squirmed around until he was kneeling up on the bed. I moved around onto my back, knees up, one leg either side of Rob. I think he liked that better. He shuffled closer until the tops of his thighs were in contact with my hamstrings. Even compared to soixante-neuf this felt extremely sensual and intimate. I looked up to find him grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he reached out to play with my raging hard-on. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to do this, I've fancied you for ages." His hand continued to stroke my shaft up and down, firmly, but in a slow, sensual manner. Rob's confession surprised me a little. I'd expected he'd be thinking more about the sexual aspect because that was how I'd been thinking, I hadn't realized he felt a genuine physical attraction to me. Strange as it was, it felt good to be found attractive by my friend. Even though I didn't feel the same, I didn't say anything, I didn't want to spoil the experience. "All those times I've looked at your arse and thought about getting you naked and into bed, and you had no idea." He was still grinning, I got the feeling it was a relief for him to get it out into the open. I just lay there squirming under his touch, and drew my heels up until they were touching his buttocks as waves of pleasure flowed and ebbed. I felt reckless. A thought occurred to me: How far did Rob want to take things? The position I was in was practically offering my arse to him on a plate. I imagined him moving in closer, rubbing his erect cock up and down in between my butt cheeks, playfully at first, then more insistently, before finding my hole, making gentle probes at the opening before asking, It Was The Summer Of '85 "Do you want to take it further?" There would be no thoughts about condoms, in 1985 we weren't talking about scary new sexual diseases yet, but it was just around the corner. I wondered if it would hurt, but in my current state of mind I would try it regardless. I wondered what we could use for lubrication, there must be something here, we were in a woman's bedroom with all kinds of bottles and jars on the dressing table. I lay there waiting for what I thought might be the inevitable next step, but it didn't come. Rob went down on me and sucked and licked for maybe ten more minutes. I got the feeling that I was sobering up a bit and I think he did too. He lay down on his back and I straddled his chest, lowering my cock into his mouth. I supported my weight with one outstretched arm and wanked my shaft while keeping the head of my penis in Rob's mouth. In the back of my mind I was feeling frustrated that neither of us had come and decided I wanted to. Because I'd wanted him to come in my mouth I thought he'd be up for it too. "Mmmm... That's nice but don't come in my mouth." "Why not? I was going to let you come in my mouth." "I just don't fancy it is all." Rob said honestly. Even though it wasn't likely I would be able to come because of the effects of the alcohol, I was disappointed nonetheless. This had been his idea in the first place. Fair enough he hadn't exactly talked me into it against my will, but I thought he'd appreciate that I was trying it because he wanted it. I'd wanted to give him as much pleasure as I could and thought he'd want the same. I felt like he was changing the game, or the rules or whatever. All of a sudden I didn't know anymore. The euphoria I'd been feeling earlier began to evaporate rapidly and I felt deflated and perhaps a little manipulated. I pulled out of his mouth and lay down on the bed. After a few minutes I said "I'd better be heading home, Karen will be getting worried." I hadn't been concerned about that ten minutes ago, but it was true and in my deflated mood, reality was starting to kick in. We both felt it, the moment was gone and now we had to move past it. I got out of bed and dressed quickly. Rob remained naked but came to the bedroom door to watch me leave. "I hope you don't regret this tomorrow," he'd regained his Cheshire Cat grim "I know I won't." "No, it's OK, I don't thinkI will. I'll See you next week." I let myself out of the house. It wasn't far to my house but I hurried all the way there, now worried about Karen's reaction to my coming home at this hour. Fortunately, she was asleep when I got in. As I got into bed she stirred and in a sleepy murmur asked what time it was and where had I been? I half-turned the clock so it wasn't visible and told her it was an hour earlier than the actual time. "I got talking to Rob, he was a bit down about not seeing the kids at all this week." A lie but a necessary one I felt, and a fairly safe one. Rob sometimes got a bit depressed about the divorce and missed his kids, Karen wouldn't be likely to broach the subject with him, it was old news. I awoke suddenly the next morning, as is often the case when you've had a drink the night before. The clock read 7:30am, early enough for a Saturday morning. As usual Karen had been spooning me during the night, I turned onto my side to look at her. She was stunning by any man's standards. Flawless pale skin, generous lips, a small delicate nose which turned up slightly at the end, topped by pale blue eyes. All framed by long, curly, natural-blonde hair. I'd once or twice overheard less attractive and very jealous girls describe her as a Bimbo, which was unfair. Karen might not have been University-material but she was smart and hard working. After we'd started living together she'd adopted my habit of sleeping naked. I lifted the duvet a little to look at her slim figure, her small but full breasts with wide, slightly convex areolae and dormant nipples which could swell to half-an-inch long with a little attention from me. With one finger I gently circled her right nipple which soon stood erect. I slid down the bed, taking the nipple in my mouth and gently teasing it by flicking with my tongue. Mornings were best for Karen and we often had what we called sleepy-sex; usually I would start foreplay while she slept, the aim being to gently arouse her so was fully-turned on when she woke. Karen stirred, stretching cat-like, her arms above her head. My fingers traced a line between her breasts, pausing on her slightly domed tummy before moving, ever more slowly to build up the tension, down to her nicely trimmed mound of golden pubic hair. Her thighs parted and I brushed her labia as gently as I could. I felt her open like a flower. I coated my fingers in her wetness and lightly circled her clitoris, her favourite erogenous zone. My cock was aching to be inside her, I rolled on top of her and slid in easily. I must have been hornier than I realized because I went from first penetration to full depth on the first stroke. Karen started, her eyes suddenly wide open. She grabbed my hips as if to control my thrusting. She gave me a look that said What's got into you? but the only sound she made was a barely-audible hungry, low moan. I held myself above her with my left arm while my right hand reached around to span her butt cheeks. I continued thrusting into her, harder than I would usually do it, all the while looking down at her gorgeous naked body. Karen angled her hips so my thrusting shaft rubbed against her clit. Sometimes she could come in this position if we got the angle right. I could sense she was staring at me, I looked up. Her face was a beautiful mix of expressions; startled, vulnerable yet eager and increasingly passionate. Normally we made love, but this morning I was fuckingher, and she felt the difference. I thrusted harder and harder, a little faster with each stroke, my balls slapping against her arse as I did. She gave a throaty giggle and pulled me down closer to her. "Ooooohhh... Do it! Do it! Fuck me!" then another unusually animalistic guttural sound escaped her. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face down to hers, kissing me hard, her tongue deep in my mouth. She let go and I felt both her hands grip my buttocks, her nails digging deep as she started to come. That pushed me over the edge and then we did something which had eluded us on so many other occasions, we came together. I collapsed on top of her, our hot perspiring bodies sliding together, it felt as if we were melting into each other. "God! What go into you?" She laughed as she panted. "Me? What about you? Do it, do it, fuck me , you never talk like that ever." She laughed again, this time covering her face with her hands. "I liked it," I said "you can do that more often." "Maybe I will... if you're going to do me like that more often." She removed her hands from her face to look at me, something quizzical in her eyes, almost worried. Emotions surged deep inside and overwhelmed me, my voice almost cracked as I said "You're so beautiful, how did I ever manage to get you? I love you Karen." She smiled, moved in close and turned over – my turn to spoon her. "As I recall, you just wore my resistance down by not taking no for an answer." And it was true. We went back to sleep and woke just before midday. Sex with Karen was only ever once a day at most, she just wasn't made to want it more than that, but I was more than satisfied today. It was obvious to me what had gotten into me. It was part-guilt, part-remorse and a large dose of reclaiming my heterosexuality. I didn't feel bad about the sexual activity with Rob. In my mind it was easy to reduce it to drunken playfulness, I think if one or both of us had ejaculated I would have had to accept it as something more serious. It didn't feel like I'd cheated on Karen, because I wasn't with another girl. After that night Rob and I would occasionally have a quiet private conversation about what had gone on. He never made any overtures to do it again. Whether that night had gotten it out of his system, I don't know. Perhaps he felt guilty in some way because I was with Karen and he cared about her feelings. There were plenty of opportunities for something to happen again but it never did. I recall thinking that even though it wasn't my idea originally, it had been me who'd made the first moves in bed and I think I wanted him to take the lead if we were to do it again. I think perhaps both of us were waiting for the other one to make the first move. Later that summer Rob met Claire and got very serious about her very quickly. I found her to be very manipulative but he was fairly smitten. She ended up dictating when he could go out and where and until what time. I tried to get on with her, but mostly she was too much hard work. She seemed to think that Rob shouldn't spend more time with his friends than he did with her. Karen noticed this too and had taken a dislike to Claire. Naturally, under these circumstances, Rob and I began to drift apart. Four years after that hot summer night, Rob was best man at my wedding to Karen. Claire was history by that point but she'd been replaced by Angie and Rob was again smitten and mostly hung out with her friends now. Rob and I had stuck together when the band split up, but that had run it's course. A few months after my wedding I joined a band with Jack, the singer from our earlier band. We gigged and practised regularly. After that I saw Rob less and less frequently. Karen and I were married for less than two years. My constant gigging gave her too much time on her hands. She and Jack's wife were sleeping with other guys, or as one mutual friend described it, playing away while we were away playing. Over the years I knew her, Karen went from shy high-school virgin, to dutiful girlfriend who quite liked sex sometimes, before peaking as cock-hungry screamer who could have done a successful cameo in a hardcore porn movie. She never did take to blow jobs though, and the one and only time I came in her mouth was on holiday, two weeks before I discovered her secret weekend lifestyle. She spat it out in disgust, really angry that I hadn't pulled out. Our marriage ended but Jack and his wife patched things up and are still together. I haven't see Karen since 1993; she remarried and as far as I know is still with that guy. During the six months after the marriage ended I thought I would die of a broken heart or something more prosaic. I did a lot of very crazy things, many involving my shiny new motorbike. I had a lot of people very concerned about my well-being and I seriously pissed-off quite a number of other people. It's a wonder to me that I lived to tell this tale. Fortunately I got through this self-destructive period, because then came my halcyon days. Over the next two years I had the time of my sexual life, and I discovered there were plenty of girls who were more than happy to give full-on blow jobs, and many more things besides, but that's a whole other set of stories altogether. Those two years are my happy place I revisit in my memories when life gets me down. In my mind I've revisited my male-male encounter with Rob many times, and always fondly. I've never repeated the experience but I have often fantasized about it. In the right circumstances I'd jump at the chance to try it again, and would seriously consider taking it further. I bumped into Rob one evening about ten years ago, on a train, on our respective journeys' home after work. We talked about the things people tend to talk about when they've been out of contact for a long while; where we were working, who did we see from this crowd or that crowd. We were just two guys who used to be good mates. But if I saw him tomorrow, I'd have to ask, "Do you ever think about that night?"