'Ask for Answers' -- Placebo

I know that the sea can't really give me any answers - if only it was that simple, if only by constantly gazing into its murky green depths all the secrets of the universe could be revealed.

Hypnotically I stare out over the bay watching the fog engulf the gate bridge, slowly hiding it from view like a magical fairytale cloud descending.

My relationship with my girlfriend is on the rocks and I'm about to lose the one person that I have ever loved. And it's all through my own stupidity and cowardice.

Beneath me the waves pound against the seawall sending up fountains of spray that fall on my face in a light drizzle. I make no effort to wipe it away or move out of its range. In a strange way it feels good, the moisture on my skin reminds me that I am still capable of feeling some emotion - even if it is only discomfort. I know that I can't stay here forever, sooner or later I'm going to have to go home and face facts, talk to Rachel and try and sort out the mess that has become my life.

Deep down I know that I'm in love with him and I know he feels the same way. I just hope that it's enough.

Guilt weighs me down as I force myself away from the crashing ocean and head back to the house, betrayal carries a heavy price and I am paying dearly - if I'm not careful it going to cost me everything.

The house is empty as I knew it would be but I call out her name anyway as I move through to the kitchen. The words echo off the walls and return to me void.

More through habit than need I go through the motions of filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil.

//This is it Danny, make-your-mind-up time.//

Sitting down I sigh heavily. How did things ever get this complicated? One minute I have all that most people ever dream of. A nice house in the suburbs of San Francisco, a loving partner and my own business, a shop selling and repairing guitars. It didn't make a fortune but with Rachel working as well we had enough to be classed as 'comfortable' plus I was doing something that I enjoyed. When did it all start to go wrong? Well I know the answer to that one at least. The night I let my brother talk me into going to that club.

Six months earlier.

'Dan what are you up to on Friday?' Oliver's voice floats down the telephone line.

'Not much,' I reply, 'I think Rachel's working late.'

'Thought we could go for a few beers and then check out that new club over on 19th...'

'19th? That's down in...'

'Castro,' comes the weary reply, 'Dan get over it. I've heard they've got a great in-house singer and I want to check him out for work.'

Did I mention that my brother is in the music industry, runs a small studio producing local bands, he's always on the look out for fresh talent so to speak.

'Think of it as a professional engagement. I'll need to get a second opinion and there's no one's judgement I trust more than yours. Come on, it'll be fine. I'll protect you.'

While I wouldn't have considered myself a homophobe Oliver was more used to mixing with those sort of people than me, the industry is riddled with them. I still got a bit fazed by the thought of two guys, well you know, making out.

'So you in?' Oliver had turned on his wheedling voice.

'Yeah, guess so.' With Rachel working I had nothing better to do and live music was live music. Who knows, this guy might actually be quite good.

'That's sorted then, I'll swing by for you about 8. See ya bro.' And with a click he was gone. People to meet, deals to do no doubt.


~Chapter Two~

'So what's so great about this guy.' I ask as we make our way through the club to a table.

'Apparently his voice is something else - heard a few people 'round the office talking and they really rate him.'

'Yeah bet it's not for his voice.' I mutter uncharitably under my breath.

'Can I get you guys something?' Right on cue a waiter had appeared.

'Just a coke for me,' Oliver replies. 'Dan?'

'Beer, please.' I tell him and he nods in acknowledgement. 'Could his trousers be any tighter?' I hiss as the waiter departs. Oliver wisely chooses to ignore this last comment and instead directs my attention towards the small stage set up at one end. Its unlit at the moment but I can make out a figure moving about on it, fiddling with a mic stand and the faint twang of a guitar being tuned.

Just as our drinks arrive, the main lights dim and a single spot illuminates the stage. The figure moves into its beam and begins to play. He's dressed much as you would expect in a club like this - black leather trousers and a tight black mesh shirt that clings to his torso like a second skin. His hair, not surprisingly also black, is just long enough to brush the top of his shoulders and frames an almost deathly pale face. Kohl outlines his eyes, his lips glistening with a hint of lip gloss. 'Round his neck, completing the look is a thin studded collar. A regular little goth baby. It all combines to give a strange almost unreal air to his appearance, but his playing isn't bad; in fact, as much as I hate to admit it, he's quite good. The set consists mainly of covers with a few original songs thrown in towards the end. His voice is strong and clear with a breathless quality to it which I guess could be called sexy. Personal feelings aside I think he's got something.

'So what do you think?' Oliver asks as the lights go up again.

'Yeah, good - you gonna try and sign him?'

'Let's find out.' And with that he gets up and goes over, leaving me little choice but to follow.

'Darren Hayes, right?' Oliver says as the guy dismantles the mic stand.

'Yeah, that's me.' And I catch the trace of an accent.

'Oliver Jones,' Oli continues putting his hand out. 

'What can I do for you Mr Jones?' Darren replies shaking the proffered hand.

'It's more a case of what I might be able to do for you.

'Oh yeah?'

'I own a studio here in town and I was wondering whether you had every thought about recording any of your songs.'

His eyes light up at this but he keeps playing it cool. 'What singer hasn't?'

'Well I, er we, like your sound. Sorry this is my brother Daniel,' and he gestures towards me. Wondered when you would remember I was here O.

'Pleased to meet you Daniel.' Darren shakes my hand.

'I think it shows a lot of potential,' the manager in Oliver comes to the fore. 'Here's my card, pop in for a chat sometime. I think you could have a great future ahead of you.'

'Thanks,' he pockets the card, 'I might just do that.'

Looking at his face I know he will, the slow creeping smile says it all. This was why he endured night after night in a smoky club, slowly building up a reputation, hoping someone like Oliver would spot him. Some musicians wait their whole lives for a break like this. I should know, I've worked with enough. Back in my younger days, jeez that makes me sound old and I'm not, I'm only 26. Anyways, back in my early twenties I used to supplement my income playing the odd session for Oliver. I really enjoyed it too, would liked to have done it full-time but then I met Rachel and she wasn't that keen on the whole music scene thing, still isn't, so we compromised, hence the shop. I sometimes wonder why we got together. On the surface we have little in common. Music runs in my veins, always has, grew up with it all around me courtesy of my two older brothers, whereas Rachel is much more of a go-getter. I'm not saying musicians aren't go-getting but for the main they tend to be a pretty laid-back bunch, sleep late, rise late - not the lifestyle that Rachel envisioned for her future husband so I took a step back, brought the shop and now limit my playing to strictly for my own enjoyment. Yes, I miss it but I guess that's just life sometimes.

'You do that,' Oliver encourages and shakes his hand again.

'Nice to meet you Daniel,' Darren turns to me. Close up he really is incredibly stunning. For some reason I notice his eyelashes. They are much longer than most women's I know, long and thick, oh yeah, good choice Oliver.

'Yeah, likewise,' and I wave my hand in parting.

'He'll call.' I tell Oliver as we reach the car park.

'I know.' He replies thoroughly happy with his night's work.


~Chapter Three~

It comes as no great surprise then, when a week or so later I walk into Oliver's office to meet him for lunch and find that the someone he still has with him is the singer from the club.

'Hey Dan,' Oliver beckons me in, 'you remember Darren don't you?'

Darren and I exchange nods. 'Hi ya,' 'Hello again.'

'I've asked Darren to join us for lunch, you don't mind do you?'

'No, I'm cool - whatever.'

'We've just got a little bit of business left to take care of and then we'll be done.'

'I'll wait outside.' I say making to go back out.

'No need,' Oliver tells me, 'we'll only be two minutes.'

I go over and make myself comfortable on the sofa, flicking through one of the magazines Oliver has there. I half start to read an article about Marilyn Manson but find myself stealing glances at Darren. He's dressed a little more conservatively today - still all in black but instead of leather and mesh he's wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T. Gone is the make-up and his hair is tied back up off of his face. As I watch he raises a hand to brush back a stray wisp out of his eyes, an unconscious natural action. Dressed as he is he looks, well, normal. I figure he was obviously just doing the gay club thing for the exposure, though if I know my brother he'll soon have him back in the leather twenty-four seven. Got to have an angle, Oliver keeps telling me and I'm betting with this guy it's gonna be the leather.

'Ok, done. Let's go eat.' Oliver announces, and we all move to leave. Just as we reach the door Oliver's phone goes. 'I don't believe it. What?' He asks abruptly answering it. 'Yeah, yeah, ok put them through. Sorry guys,' he turns to me and Darren, 'call from London, I'd better take it. Look you two go on ahead, I catch you up. Here consolation prize.' And he throws me his car keys. 'I'll get a cab, just don't trash it.' A broad grin crosses my face. 'Would I?' I reply and without waiting for an answer usher Darren from the room. 'Ever been in a Porsche?' I ask still grinning. He shakes his head. 'Come on before big brother changes his mind.'

I'm not huge car fan, as long as mine gets me from A to B I'm not too fussed, but I must admit that driving Oliver's car is something special and not something that he lets me do very often. He must really want Darren to sign. Pulling out of the underground garage I can't resist gunning the engine and once we hit the freeway I give it all it's got, flooring it easily, delighting in the envious looks from the other motorists and praying that there are no traffic cops about. We reach the restaurant in record time and pull up outside with a screech of brakes. Darren is laughing so hard he is having difficulty catching his breath. 'When I make it big time, remind me to get one of these.' He says as I hand the keys to the valet.

'Table for Jones'?' I enquire and the maitre'd shows us to a table over by the window that affords us a good view out over the bay. We order drinks and get down to the serious business of deciding what to have to eat.

'This place is nice.' Darren remarks as the drinks arrive.

'Better get used to it,' I tell him, 'when you're a famous rock star you'll be eating in places like this all the time.'

He laughs again, an easy unforced laugh. 'Yeah maybe.'

'Well, you seem confident enough.'

And he looks at me quizzically.

'Back then when you got out of the car you said when I make it big time not if.'

'After all this time playing clubs and other assorted dives, I reckon I deserve a shot at success.' He explains

'If that's what you want then Oli's the man to get you to it. Big time is what he does best.'

'But not you...?'

'Sorry?' I don't follow.

'Oliver says you used to play, but not anymore.'

'Things change,' I tell him simply. 'I'm happy as I am, I have a shop down on Haight, selling and repairing guitars, that's as close to the business as I'll get.'

'Why?'

'Excuse me?'

'Why, if you're as talented as your brother boasts, why deny the world the pleasure of that talent?'

I'm a bit taken aback at this, I had never considered it that way before.

'Let me see,' I tell him, 'a freelance career in a notoriously fickle industry that requires I spend large amounts of the year on the road, umm, thanks but no thanks.'

Again that quizzical look. I have just described all that he wants and it's clear that he is having difficulty comprehending why I would choose to turn it down.

Fortunately at that moment the waiter arrives to take our order. When he has gone I turn back to Darren, steering the conversation onto lighter topics. 'So where are you from originally? Australia, New Zealand? I can't quite place your accent.'

'Australia,' he replies thickening his speech for emphasis. 'Brisbane to be exact.'

'What made you move to San Francisco then?'

'Dunno, fancied a change, thought I would get further by being over here but couldn't quite bring myself to live in L.A. Besides I like it here, it's laid-back but with a good vibe - you know what I mean.'

Sure I did, there was nowhere else I would ever think of living. Even allowing for the influx of Dotcommers there is still a bohemian, creative feel to the city. I find it suits my temperament perfectly.

'Yeah, I know what you mean.'

'So have you always lived here?'

'More or less, my family moved here from the U.K. when I was little. I don't remember much about England. Cold and wet mainly, I guess I'd class myself as American.'

We get onto the subject of childhoods and I find out; that there is only about 18 months difference in our age, we both hated school and both wanted to do nothing but play music. Just as I fear the conversation is going to get back onto rocky ground our food arrives.

Our food but still no Oliver. 'Excuse me a minute.' I say and picking up my mobile step outside to call him. Julie, his P.A., picks up.

'Dan, I'm sorry but he's still on the phone to London. He looks pretty involved, could be a while.'

'That's ok,' I inform her. 'Just tell him his expense account is gonna suffer for his no show.' I hear her giggle on the other end of the line. 'Will do,' she replies and I ring off.

'Looks like it's just me and you.' I tell Darren when I return to the table, and strangely enough this thought doesn't terrify me as much as I imagined it would. Darren is intelligent and funny, a lazy lunch in his company isn't going to kill me and I signal the waiter for another round of drinks. Oliver's car and his expense account, both in one afternoon. I could see the attraction of the industry.

One very good meal and several drinks later Darren and I are chatting away like old friends. He has an inexhaustible knowledge of music and a fierce belief that he is going to make it. I also notice that while I am taking full advantage of the bar he sticks resolutely to mineral water.

'You're serious about this aren't you?' I say when he declines coffee in favour of a herbal tea. I know enough about singers to know that alcohol and caffeine wreaks havoc on their voices, not that that seemed to deter most of the singers I knew.

'Very.' He replies fixing me in direct eye contact. It's then that I realise just how blue his eyes are, like the sky on a perfect summer's day, clear and sparkling and full of complete determination. 'Its all I've ever wanted to do, to write songs that reach people, make them laugh, make them cry, make them think.' And he means it.

It is getting late when we finally leave the restaurant.

'Can I drop you somewhere?' I ask

'Sure.' And he gives me an address over on the other side of town.

'Well, thanks for lunch,' He says as I pull up in front of his apartment. 'See you around.'

'Hey don't thank me, thank Oliver, gotta spend his 10% somehow.' I tell him, 'Right, guess I had better get this little baby back to Daddy before he starts to worry,' and I pat the Porsche's steering wheel, 'Nice meeting you again Darren.'

Driving back to Oliver's office I realise that for some reason I am in an incredibly good mood. It's not just the after-effects of the meal, it's more than that, but for I'm blowed if I can figure out what.

I guess Darren proved better company than I might have anticipated. Just goes to show how appearances can be deceptive I suppose. We certainly seemed to hit it off. He struck me as the kind of guy I wouldn't mind going out for a few beers with sometime. I figured that if Oliver was serious about signing him I'd see him around soon enough.

What I didn't know was just how soon I was going to see him again or why.


~Chapter Four~

Two days later I'm alone in the shop when I hear the door open. Glancing up from the Gibson that I am in the process of re-stringing, I'm pleasantly surprised to see it's Darren.

'Hello,' he says brightly.

'Hi, what brings you down here.'

'Any excuse to check out a music shop.' He walks around, casually running his fingers over some of the guitars I have on display.

'Good selection you have here, you certainly know your guitars,' he picks up a Fender from its stand and holds it out towards me, 'Play me something.' His tone is wistful almost as if he is worried what my reaction will be.

'Ok.' Why not, it's only Darren. I set down the Gibson and walk 'round the counter to take the Fender from his outstretched hands. 'What do you want me to play?'

He shrugs his shoulders, so I start to pick out the first few bars of 'Come As You Are'. He grimaces.

'Hey, what,' I say with just a hint of amusement, 'any guitarist worth their salt knows that song.' The grimace becomes a smile.

'You ought to have a sign', and he gestures to the wall. 'You know like the one in 'Wayne's World'. No 'Stairway to Heaven' and no 'Come As You Are'.'

'Ok what about this then?' And I hesitantly begin to play the opening chords to one of the songs I had heard him play in the club.

'Wow - you've picked that up quick,'

'Umm, that's about it.' I reply as I falter about 6 bars in.

'Here.' And he takes the guitar back from me. Sitting down on the edge of the display step he balances it across his knee and starts the song again, only this time it is perfect and he starts to hum along. When he reaches the chorus, in a low voice he begins to sing.

So break me shake me hate me take me over

When the madness stops then you will be alone

Just break me shake me hate me take me over

When the madness stops then you will be alone

His voice comes over even clearer than it did mic'd up in the club. He closes his eyes and sways his upper body in time to the music. There is a fluidity to his movements as if the guitar has become an extension of his body. Singer and song merged into one.

'That was fantastic...very deep,' I tell him when the song ends, 'Personal experience?'

'Gotta live it to write it.' He says philosophically, smiling broadly.

'So has that brother of mine got you to sign on the dotted line yet?' I ask with a grin. Oliver is nothing if not persistent, if he sees something he wants he'll go after it. A characteristic I suspect he and Darren have in common.

'Almost,' Darren returns my smile. 'Just got to haggle out the terms...' He hesitates, suddenly looking very bashful under those damn lashes. 'Dan, I...' He starts then stops. Appearing to be weighing something up he hands me back the guitar and continues slowly. 'I em, I thought we could continue our conversation from the other day,' and he moves his hand to rest atop mine, 'over dinner.'

The meaning is implicit and I panic, pulling my hand away from his more roughly than I intend.

'I umm, I, look, I'm sorry but...' I stutter.

'Hey, it's ok,' the disappointment in his voice is all too clear.

'You're a nice guy and all that,' why do I feel such a bastard, 'but...'

'But you're straight...' He finishes my sentence for me.

'And married.' I 'fess up.

His eyes flutter down to my left hand, no ring.

'Well, practically.' I offer in reply to his unspoken question.

'Oh well, these things happens, no problem.'

'I'm sorry.' I repeat feebly.

'No I'm sorry. I mis-read the signals.' He makes to leave the shop, pausing in the doorway, 'I must be losing my touch,' he says giving a soft half-laugh, 'I'm not usually so wrong about people.' And with a wry little smile he is gone.

//Oh great, now he hates me.// I think as I set the Fender back in its cradle. Surely I should be flattered. If it was a woman I would be, but for another guy to find me attractive? My emotions run the gauntlet from annoyance to anger to puzzlement. What if it was me? Something I said, something I did? 'I'm sorry. I mis-read the signals.' What signals? I replay scenes from our lunch together. Did I lead him on, do anything that could have been construed as a come-on? No. I finally conclude. So why do I feel so bad about turning him down?


~Chapter Five~

After that I try and put all thoughts of what has happened out of my head. I throw myself into the shop working longer and longer hours, stocktaking, rearranging the displays, anything to try and distract me but the look of disappointment on that ethereal face and the sadness in his voice as I said 'no' keep springing unbidden into my mind. It's just guilt at hurting another human being, I tell myself and I know that I have hurt him. It must have taken courage for him to approach me and what did I do? I threw it back in his face. Sure, I had finally conceded, it was flattering but this was a guy and I didn't go for guys - not even ones with deep soulful blue eyes. I was engaged for fuck's sake. Ok, Darren was witty, funny and intelligent, yes we had 'clicked' - we shared similar interests but that was it. I decide much to Oliver's puzzlement to avoid going up to the studio for a while. The last thing I want is to risk running into him and being reminded what a shit I am.

I have managed to convince myself that I have it sorted when I go and do the one thing you should never ever do in any relationship. Something that totally shocks me and forces me, whether I like it or not, to reassess my feelings for Darren.

I'm in bed with Rachel and I mean in bed, when...

'Oh baby, oh yeah,' I can hear the blood pounding in my head, pumping through my veins as with one final thrust the world explodes and I come. 'Oh shit! Darren!'

'What!'

Instantly I realise my mistake. Did I really just say what I thought I did?

'What. Did. You. Say?' Rachel says slowly, abruptly pulling away from me.

'Oh darling.' I try for a hasty cover-up, my mind racing. What the fuck made me scream Darren's name as I climaxed? This worries me more than Rachel's reaction She looks at me suspiciously but chooses to buy my half-arsed attempt at a lie.

I'm now more confused than ever, and as I lie there in the darkness I realise that one way or another I have to know. Is what I'm feeling for Darren merely remorse borne out of our burgeoning friendship or is it something more? There is only one way to find out, go back to the club and talk to him.

'Rachel, are you working late again tomorrow night?' I ask the following evening as casually as I can.

'Yeah, looks like it. We're really short-staffed at the moment. You don't mind do you?'

'No, just don't work too hard.' I give a silent sigh of relief.

'Are you ok,' she asks me, still slightly suspicious after my little outburst the night before.

'Yes, fine. Why?'

'It's just that you seem a bit pre-occupied at the moment,' her voice full of concern, 'as if you've got something on your mind.'

Oh yeah, I've definitely got something on my mind. A certain dark-haired, blue-eyed singer to be precise. In fact I'm finding it very hard to think about anything else. That's why I've got to know.


~Chapter Six~

The next twenty-four hours crawl by. I know that there is every chance he will tell me to piss off, after all I was the one who rejected him. So why then does Friday night find me standing in front of my open wardrobe trying to pick out just the right clothes to wear. Black seems a safe bet and I settle on a pair black jeans teaming it up with a dark grey T-shirt, nothing too fancy, after all I'm not out to impress, am I? I find myself taking an age combing my hair and then dithering over which aftershave to wear. I begin to feel like a teenager again. This is ridiculous, all I'm going there to do is talk to him. Giving myself one final stern look in the mirror I pick up my leather jacket and head out.

The club is beginning to fill up with weekend revellers as I find a table and order a drink. I've timed it so that I don't have too long to wait before Darren comes on stage. A short while later and there he is, dressed in his leathers and a deep blue silk shirt. There is certainly something about him that draws the eye. Up on that stage with just a mic and his guitar for company he looks strangely vulnerable but once he starts singing all vulnerability is gone. His clear voice fills the club, strong and confident and I am lost.

As before he plays mainly covers and judging from the applause and wolf whistles at the end of each song he certainly isn't short of admirers.

Not for the first time since entering the club I ask myself what the hell I am doing here. I am engaged to a beautiful woman who I fully intend to marry and, up until a few nights ago, considered myself as straight as they come. I catch myself looking at Darren's leather-clad arse as he wiggles his hips in time to the music, I start wondering what it would be like to feel that arse sans leather, I... Shit, I...I slide my hand discreetly down into my lap and confirm my worse fear, I am getting hard from perving on another guy. What is happening to me?

Just then Darren announces the last song of his set. 'I'd like to finish tonight with one of my own songs. It's called 'This Side of Me'. And with that he looks straight across at me - the first time he has acknowledged me all evening, and winks

My heart skips a beat as he leans in closer to the mic and dropping his voice low, seductively begins to sing.

I want to move in time with you

I want to breathe in rhyme with you

I want to feel the deepest kiss

And I want to know you feel like this

For this one time, one time

Let my body do what it feels

For just this one time, one time

Let this fantasy become real

Because I am not afraid to let you see

This side of me

He's closed his eyes but I get this uncanny feeling that if they were open they would be focused directly on me. He's not just singing at me but to me, I know it, I can feel it, and the warm feeling currently spreading through my groin is testament to the fact that my body if not my mind is responding to him.

I want to feel your hand in mine

And I want to feel that rush in my spine

I want to wear the scent of you

And do all the things you want me to

So baby this one time, one time

Let my body do what it feels

For this one time, one time

Let this fantasy become real

Because I am not afraid to let you see

This side of me

I feel the danger, the separation

I want to take your invitation

This separation, it's all around

I need this side of me

This side of me

Subconsciously my hand moves back to my lap as I continue to watch mesmerised as Darren pours his heart and soul into the song.

I want to move in time with you

I want to breathe in rhyme with you

I want to stitch my clothes in sin

And in the dark, I want to find that door

And go within...

For this one time, one time

Let my body do what it feels

For just this one time, one time

Let this fantasy become real

Because I am not afraid to let you see

This side of me

I am not afraid to let you see

This side of me

Afterwards I can only sit there and try to get my breathing back under control. If I wasn't hard before I certainly would be now. Giving him a few minutes to sort his things out and pack away, I get up and wander over. He smiles in greeting. 'Hi ya Dan.' Good start, at least he's still speaking to me.

'Hi,' I say feebly. 'Want to go get a drink?' It's the best attempt at an apology I can manage.

'Sure, why not.' He shrugs his shoulders and goes over to pick up his jacket. Apology accepted.

He stops to sling his guitar in his car and then together we go out into the starless night.

'So what brings you down here?' He asks.

'Not sure really, Good set by the way.' I tell him, subtly changing the subject, 'Especially that last song.'

'You liked?' He enquires.

'Yes,' I reply simply

'The club's cool like that, providing I play the requisite number of covers they are quite happy for me to put in some of my own stuff.'

He's talking but I'm not listening, all I can think about is what it would be like to kiss him. To feel those full red lips against mine, to slip my tongue into that silky mouth and suddenly I can contain it no longer. Grabbing him by the hand I pull him into the nearest alley.

'What the...' He begins in protest as I slam him up against the wall and grip his face between my hands.

His eyes are wide with surprise as I take a deep breath and quickly before I lose my nerve press my lips to his. I can feel him smiling beneath the pressure, I can feel him slowly part those luscious lips allowing my questioning tongue entry. He meets it with his own, bringing his hands up to the back of my head, holding me fast, not allowing me to escape even if I wanted to.

'Daniel.' He murmurs and I swear a physical chill runs up my spine. I deepen the kiss, somehow kissing a woman was never like this - the duelling of our tongues, equals, both exploring and caressing.

'Need .To. Breathe.' I gasp finally, reluctantly breaking contact. His hands move from my hair to settle on my waist. I leave mine cradling his face, stroking his cheeks in slow lazy circles. Even in the dim half-light of the alleyway he is beautiful.

'So Mr. I'm-straight-and-not-interested-in-guys, what was that in aid of?' He chuckles softly.

'I don't know.' I reply honestly.

'Well, why don't we find out?' Taking my hand he leads me back out onto the main road and without relinquishing his hold hails a cab.


~Chapter Seven~

We travel the short journey back to his apartment in silence. Our hands still entwined, my head on his shoulder, his free hand reassuringly stroking my hair. Then we are there, standing in his living room and I swear that the whole neighbourhood must be able to hear my heart going ten to the dozen.

'Now what about that drink?' He asks walking over to the kitchen area.

Right now a drink seems a very good idea.

'Jack Daniels right?' And he hands me a generous measure. I down it in one. Taking the empty glass from me he sets it on a side table. 'Better?' I nod weakly. Resting his hands on my waist he dips his head, forcing me to look at him. 'I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. Ok? Any time you want to leave, that's fine by me. I'm not into coercion.'

'I want to be here,' I whisper hoarsely looking deep into his eyes, eyes that are so full of tenderness and compassion. 'I want you.' There, I had finally managed to say it. To put into words all that I had been feeling since I walked into the club earlier that evening.

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.' And I move his hands down to the increasing bulge in my jeans.

'Daniel.' Again that voice, so tender yet tinged with such an urgency. How could one simple word, my name, bring forth such a rush of emotions? Slowly he begins stroking his hand up and down over my arousal, the friction against the rough fabric threatening to make me come right there and then.

'Darren.' And I claim his mouth with mine again. My hands move to caress his back. The silk of his shirt making a wonderful rustling sound as I do so. As the kiss deepens I grow a little bolder and slide my hands down. At last I know what it feels like to touch that leather-clad arse. It feels divine. It obviously feels good to him too as he moans in my mouth, his strokes moving out to the insides of my thighs, the lose of pressure where it mattered causing me to moan.

'All in good time my love.' He says, breaking the kiss and leading me into the bedroom.

'Will it hurt?' I ask as he sits me down on the bed, his fingers starting to unbutton my flies.

His smile just melts me. 'A little but I promise I'll be as gentle as I can and besides, who says you have to be the one on the bottom? You and your girlfriend have never...you know, experimented that way?'

I shake my head. Rachel may have her adventurous moments but she would never have let me take her that way.

'Positive you still want to do this?'

'Do you?'

'Since the first moment your brother introduced us at the club.' My flies are undone and his hands are on my waistband waiting for permission to proceed.

In reply I lift my hips allowing him to remove my trousers in one swift movement. Well in theory anyway but they get stuck on my shoes causing us to both burst out laughing. It breaks the tension and as I bend down to remove them, he kicks off his boots and lifts his shirt over his head, buttons and all. I finish taking off my jeans, my boxers along with them, then add my t-shirt to the rapidly growing pile of discarded clothing.

'That's better,' I laugh and I look up to see him staring at me.

'You are so beautiful,' he murmurs and makes to shed his leathers.

'Here let me help you,' I offer reaching for him. Obligingly he takes a step towards me, letting me run my hands over him before unlacing his flies. His hands come round to help me as the too tight material refuses to budge.

'There's an art to it.' He informs me and very shortly he too is naked. I've never seen another man naked before except my brothers and the guys in gym class and I have a feeling that that doesn't count. He is like a statue from ancient Greece. Perfectly formed, muscled in all the right places but not overly so and his skin is so pale, like marble, with just a slight sprinkling of dark hair on his upper body. I hear myself take a sharp inhalation. I know I must touch him, more than that I want to taste him, feel him, feel him inside me. From my sitting position I am eye-level with his cock and hesitantly I put a hand out to touch it. He covers my hand with one of his own and guides me in slowly moving it up and down his shaft. Gently he pushes me back so that I'm lying flat out with my feet hanging over the edge of the bed. Then somehow without removing our hands he is astride me, planting soft damp kisses along my collarbone. Our hands speed up and I return the kisses seeking the warmth of his mouth again. Before I know it I feel a wet substance hit my stomach and I realise that he has come. I, Mr. Daniel Jones who up until tonight had never so much as kissed a man, have just made another guy come. The knowledge overwhelms me.

Darren moves to lie beside me, still breathing heavily. He reaches out a hand and begins to trace lazy patterns on my body where his cum is slowly drying to a damp stickiness. 'Oops, sorry I seemed to have made a bit of a mess,' he smiles wickedly before putting his lips to my chest. 'Here let me.' I gasp as I feel his tongue begin to lick his spilt seed from my body. Starting at my stomach he works upwards, leaving sloppy glistening trails in his wake, over my abdomen up to my nipples where he pauses to draw each one into his mouth in turn, grazing the nubs with his teeth.

'Oh shit.' I never knew pain could be such a turn on. I feel all the blood in my body rush to my cock. There's certainly none left in my brain, I know that much. He feels it too and grinds his hips against me teasingly.

Then he does something that surprises me, as if everything up till now was normal! Capturing my mouth in a kiss that could only be described as demanding, he nudges me with his legs getting me to roll over so that I am above him.

'Right hand drawer.' He pants breathlessly and I watch him fascinated as I lean over and rummage around in the drawer. 'I want you to know that I don't make a habit of this, picking people up in bars I mean,' he continues, 'you're not just another easy fuck, and I'm not playing screw-the-straight-man either.' Something in his tone tells me that it is important to him that I know this.

'I know.' I tell him as I find what I take it I'm supposed to be looking for. It's the same as most people have in their bedside drawers. A pack of condoms and some KY.

Taking the pack from me he unwraps one then sitting up takes me in his hands and starts to roll it onto my now incredibly hard erection. He really is going to let me take him.

'How...what do I do?'

'Sssh,' he silences me with a finger on my lips. 'You're going to need to get off of me for a minute though,' and obediently I scoot to the side. Pulling a pillow from the head of the bed, he places it halfway down the bed then moves round so that he is laying the 'right' way, head at the top, feet at the bottom, with the pillow beneath him elevating his hips. Next he draws his legs up so that they are bent at the knees, his feet flat on the bedcovers.

I become aware that I am still holding the tube of jelly, well this much at least I do know and squirting some into my hand I begin to lube my cock.

'Share,' he commands from his prone position.

'Ah ah,' I wag my finger at him, 'allow me.' And I reach between his legs to place some of the gelatinous substance around his hole. Tentatively I insert a finger into him and am rewarded with a little moan and another one of his stunning smiles.

'Come here,' he wraps an arm around my waist. 'Straddle me and grip the bed head.' He instructs. I do as I am told, taking the opportunity to kiss my way up his abdomen as I do so.

Reaching his face I gaze once again into his amazing blue eyes. The pupils are fully dilated with desire and lust and from his look I know mine display the same.

'Now my beautiful one.' I feel his hands on me guiding me into him. Something within me takes over and I find myself thrusting in further, further into that forbidden place. He gasps but whether from pleasure or pain I don't know. My concern must have shown as he brings one hand up and lovingly strokes my cheek.' Don't worry, I'm not made of china, you won't break me.'

I turn my head and run my tongue along his damp palm, I understand.

'Now will you just fucking get on with it.' He demands savagely.

It's all the encouragement I need. Gripping the iron bed head so hard my knuckles turn white. I give in to my own demands, thrusting in and out of him, causing him to cry out in what I now knew was pleasure. I feel his hands move over my lower back to my arse, encouraging me, driving me deeper in. His legs wrap round me, securing me in his embrace. I close my eyes as my breathing becomes increasing ragged. All I can think of is the exquisite body beneath me and how I am repeatedly penetrating it. Slamming into him over and over again. Darren's cock is trapped between our bodies, I want to reach for it, help him come again it but daren't take my hands from where they are. Then I realise that I don't need to, the movement of our bodies and the pressure of my cock inside him is providing more than enough stimulation. It's the last coherent thought I have. Between us we are making enough noise to wake the dead. Darren's mouth latches onto my chest, alternately sucking and moaning. I throw my head back and scream wild nothings, Darren's muscles contract around my cock, sending waves of pleasure crashing over me. Just as I think I am going to black out my release comes and I cry his name out with as much force as my lungs can manage. 'DARREENNN.' Except this time instead of recriminations I am rewarded with the sound of my name being screamed back at me as moments later he follows over the edge. 'Daniel, oh fuck, DANIEL!'

Exhausted I finally remove my hands and collapse on top of him.

Waiting until the world has stopped spinning, I gently slip out of him and carefully remove the condom. 'Bathroom?' I enquire softly.

'Only room you haven't been in.' He responds contentedly and rolls over onto his side, pulling the duvet over him as he does.

Making my way down the hall I find it easily enough and deposit the used condom in the bin before wetting a corner of a towel and washing his come off of my chest. I catch my refection in the mirror and smile back at it. I have the same look on my face as I did the night back in high school when I managed to lose my virginity at some drunken party. The only difference is that this time I know it meant something.

'Thank you,' I whisper as I slide under the covers next to him

I feel two strong arms come up to embrace me. 'Anytime mate.' He says sleepily, his accent more pronounced with tiredness.

I snuggle closer and within minutes am asleep.