This story may contain sexual situations between males. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this story. If you are under 18 years of age you are probably not legally allowed to read this story. Join later.
This story is partly a work of fiction. But Marcus is real and is the best author ever!
The Marcus McNally Fan Club
I had come out of the park and was jogging down Gibson Street in a bit of a sweat, heading for the Sports Centre Showers. That's when I saw him. He was sitting in Offshore, at one of these tables beside the window, and he was bent over his laptop, reading not writing. It wasn't the first time I had noticed him. I have a tendency to notice attractive guys. It was, however, the first time I was tempted to do something about it. I don't move in on guys, I let them move in on me. It was what he was reading, you see, that clinched it this time. I had read and reread that story so fucking often that I recognised it straight off.
Love on the Rocks, Chapter 31.
I was in a sweat-stained joggy suit. I probably stank too, just a bit. Manly smells though! But it was too good a chance, maybe the only chance I would ever get. What do the guys say? Carpe Diem? Seize the Day? OK, OK, it wasn?t the day I had a notion of seizing but let?s not go there just yet. I never go straight to sex. (I never go straight sex either, but you'll maybe already have worked that one out.) I always have at least one coffee first. Insisting on dinner, however, is just too, too McNally. I go in.
"Americano, black, extra shot, please."
It was Pablo working the machine. I have a weakness for barista boys and Pablo was one hot barista boy ? dark, mysterious, with a wide smile and low slung pants, so low that on a good day, when he bent over, you could see forever. Pablo however was so straight you could have used him as a billiard cue. You know what it's like guys, all the best ones are either taken or straight. Okay, not all of them. Fleetingly I wondered if McNally was taken.
"And cut us a chunk of the loaf, Pablo."
Offshore always has a fresh baked loaf in a box on the counter. Today's looked as tempting as ever.
"Carrot and Courgette with a handful of raisins," said Pablo as he sliced me off a generous chunk. "Put back the pounds you just jogged off," he added with a malicious grin.
"Thanks, Pablo." He just grinned wider at the sarcasm.
Offshore was, as usual, pretty full but there were a couple of empty tables down near the basement stairs. I headed towards the window tables.
"Hey, you okay if I sit here?"
He looked up and nodded a smile. Then he looked round, saw that there were some empties, and looked straight into my face, puzzled.
"Okay," I shrugged, "you rumbled me. I like this table. I like you. And I just love Marcus McNally."
He looked startled for a second and then his face lit up with the most gorgeous smile I have ever, ever seen.
"Shit, was I that obvious?" he muttered, his smile crumpling into a worried frown. He glanced down at the crotch of his pants as if he expected to see his over-stimulated cock poking through. (Tenting? Is that the in-word?)
"Na! Not that," I laughed, "I recognised the page, straight off. You got to that bit where Ty invites Danny to stay over. Fucking brilliant."
"Man, I just can't wait for the next chapter but he is so slow. So you know what I do ..."
"You do like me and go and start it all again at chapter 1?"
He threw his head back and laughed.
"Hell, what are we like!"
"We're like McNally's biggest ever fans, that's what we are like."
Curiously that was when he closed down his laptop and flipped it shut.
For a moment we stared at one another over the table. Now our expressions were deadly serious as we each scanned the other for clues. His hand crept across the table as if it was seeking the sugar shaker. I did likewise until out fingers touched and something shot through the two of us as if we had touched a live wire in a socket. It was one of those moments when everything reacts. Like in the movies, when suddenly all the dials go haywire, off the scale. My heart seemed to thump too loud, my head seemed to dizzy like too much speed on the waltzer, my stomach lurched like its first vindaloo had hit and Junior sprang into action like an Olympic sprinter out of the blocks.
"I guess we're thinking the same thing ..."
His words hovered somewhere between question and statement.
"I guess so," I responded and I flipped Junior up so that he sat along my tummy, restrained by the waistband of the joggers. I noticed that he did the same. Impressive. Not that I'm sizeist.
We grinned at each other.
"You think we should just get started? Like right away?"
"Hell, yes. No time like the present. I better grab a shower first though ... if you ..."
"Sure. You nipping up the Stevenson ...?"
I nodded.
"Fine, I could use a shower myself."
Again, we grinned at each other like two dirty schoolboys.
"Shower, then to the business then?"
"Deal."
"Deal."
And that was how we came to agree to become the founders of the Marcus McNally Fan Club.
"So. You not eating that, then?"
He eyed the slab of loaf.
"Haffers?"
Together we crumbled off pieces of loaf and watched each other as we ate. He chewed with a suggestive lascivity, knowingly provocative. His jaw moved slowly, deliberately. His mouth opened slightly, just a fraction, as he ate. Somehow it was if he was putting into my head thoughts of him munching on something else entirely, something distinctly less vegetarian. For my part I let the crumbs linger on my lips before sweeping them with my tongue in a way Finnie could not have bettered. And so we made love across a table in a public place. Loaf eaten, coffee drunk, we adjourned to fastly go up to the Centre and thereafter to begin our adventure as founder members of the (see title).
Anyone else interested in joining (no fee) just mail me at marcusmcnallyfanclub@indiatimes.com Or just if you want to know more. That's ok too.