The following story is complete and utter fiction. This is a love story between two men of consenting age and contains explicit descriptions of homosexual love making, although not necessarily in this part. If reading this is likely to offend or your reading of this will contravene a local bylaw then you are directed to delete this now.
If you got this far then either your persistent and on your own or this just might be 'right up your street'.
All characters and major locations are fictitious and any resemblance to any characters or locations, existing or not is purely coincidental.
Acknowledgements, critiques, flames or any other email can be written directly to romanticiser@geocities.com.
Sorry I been away from the group for a bit but I'm back now and should hopefully keep the flow better than last time.
To all those who've written, giving praise, criticism or whatever I hope I've replied. There was a problem with my computer, now fixed. After reinstalling windows and Outlook98 I couldn't get this account to work properly. My two mail systems clashed and they cocked up big style. I had missing posts for about 2 weeks before I spotted the error.
If I didn't reply then please re-send and I'll get back to you. Usually within a couple of days.
To all those who sent praise, advice or a plain kick up the butt, I thank you for your words and interest.
For other stories and missing sections visit the study on my web site. www.geocities.com/westhollywood/heights/9953
Mirage Copyright Romanticiser 1998
Part 1 of ?
Chapter 1: 7 years bad luck.
The fact that I am writing this, or that I even have a story to tell, proves that the old wives' tale of seven years bad luck, for a broken mirror, is rubbish, a proverbial myth coached in simple words for simple minds. Gobbledegook of the highest order, is it a fact or is it true because one make it come true or is it false and only one's perception that has altered. I hate these tortuous puzzles, yoga on the mental level.
I've agreed to write this, or at least try to, as my partner, Chris thinks that I'd be a good word smith. He says that I've got a good head on my shoulders and that words rarely fail me. I grinned when he said that, I didn't miss the implied insult. OK I'll admit it, I can go on a bit, it never used to be true. I can't believe how much I have changed since that first day, seven years ago.
I was one of those boring people, I probably still am but back then I knew it. Shy, retiring, wouldn't say boo to a goose. Quiet, I hardly said a word from day to day. I used to meet hundreds of people but I sort of faded into the background, the person never remembered, the one hardly acknowledged, that was me.
I always considered myself to be logical, some would say almost cold. I wasn't intuitive at all, literal to the extreme. I preferred things to happen in a set sequence and could find it upsetting if the pattern was disturbed. I was the quintessential definition of dull.
That is probably pushing it a little too far but looking back that is how I see my life. BC - before Chris, it was fake, black and white in a world of colour. Now things are bright and vivid, the emotions run riot, both joy and sadness. Not everything has been a bed of roses, we've had our troubles - after all, we're only human but we're still together and we still love each other.
Before I start to write about that first day, I think I'd better tell you about myself. My name's Tony, well Anthony really but I always hated the pomposity of the full name. There are some people that can carry the name, I'm just not one of them.
Back then I was 34, overweight, a closet gay, a virgin and alone with no prospects of that ever changing. I lived with my mother, OK, I know what some of you are thinking but it wasn't like that. I suppose I'd better start right at the beginning.
I discovered I was gay back when I was 17, it scared the hell out of me, my whole family was homophobic ( Jesus - so was I! ). My last hope in fooling myself was to get close enough to a girl and prove that what had been going through my mind and dreams was a phase, that I was normal, not gay. Some hope, it didn't work quite the way I wanted.
Don't get me wrong I achieved the aim and things functioned, not quite normally but I did it. All right let's be honest, both she and I knew that it wouldn't ever happen again. A one off, the phase was me pretending to be straight.
My seventeenth was a critical year for me. In April my sister got married and left home, I proved to myself that I was gay in June and then my Dad died in November. That left me to look after my mum and gran, neither had worked and I just couldn't leave them.
It wasn't a conscious decision, not something I set out to do but 17 years later I was still looking after the family. Still gay, still hidden, still a virgin. The thoughts and feelings that had plagued me throughout my teenage years had dwindled and faded to nothing. I didn't dream anymore, didn't wake up with hard-ons, my libido was non-existent.
July 15th 1991, a very important day, a Saturday. That was the day my life started. I can even remember the job I was doing when he walked into the workshop. I'm a glass cutter and fitter by trade, not very awe inspiring I know but we're not all destined for greatness. I work at M.G.S., Manchester Glass Supplies, it's on Greek Street, left past the Odeon, opposite the ballroom dancing hall.
Me and Liam opened the place back when I was nineteen, he's a couple of years older than me. We're partners, he handles all the paperwork and customers and I deal with the suppliers. We both cut and mount the glass but I do all the specialist stuff.
Anyway back to that Saturday morning - 11:20 to be precise...
I was crawling over an eight by eight mirror cutting a full height circular mirror for someone's hall. Using a suction cup to hold the centre and a four foot piece of string as the radius I was guiding the cutter around the last part when I noticed the feet. I didn't look up even though they were right by the mirror I was cutting, I was too busy trying to make sure that the ends of my cut matched. Why did my radial arm cutter have to break today of all days.
I'd got about quarter of a revolution left when a soft spoken voice interrupted my concentration. "Hello, are you Tony?" I didn't reply, just nodded, the sweat dripped off my hair and scattered tiny reflections on the mirrored surface.. "Oh good, the man at the desk said that you could help me."
I was getting close to the edge of the mirror about 24 inches to go. "I need help urgently, I've--um--" The feet moved and blocked my light. The moving image on the mirror distracting me - 16 inches left. I sensed the man crouching down, the mirror surface going dark with the lack of light - 12 inches. "I've broken a mirror at a friends."
I couldn't see my cut line, how the hell was I going to join it now. Once you start a cut you can't stop - shit my hands are getting sweaty and slippery. 8 inches.
Liam's shouted voice saved me. "Move out of his bloody light, can't you see he's trying to cut. The man must have turned the light level increased. There's my cut line - thank God. 4 inches .. 2 .. 1. Done.
I released a pent up breath and tried to relax the death like grip that I had on the cutter. Fingers slow to move suddenly surged with the ache of muscle fatigue, the cutter dropping a couple of inches to the floor by the scribed mirror.
"Sorry - I didn't know I was in your way." The voice was gentle and apologetic. I looked up to see the crouching silhouette of a youngish man, middle twenties.
"I told you not to disturb him." I turned to watch Liam walk into the workshop from the shop front.
"Forget it Liam, no harm done."
"All right, if you're sure.", he looked at the young man again with menace and turned to go back to the front desk. Liam was always telling me that I didn't stand up for myself, he was always trying to protect me.
I stood up and stretched backwards, closing my eyes as I tried to knock the kinks out of my back. "Right, what can I do for you." I turned to face the man and time stood still.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing, This man was gay, I didn't need some hidden sixth sense, known as 'Gaydar' to tell me. It was up front, strong, written in 4 inch high black letters on his white T-shirt.
'Nobody Knows I'm Gay'
I looked up to see his smiling face and I suppose I must have looked shell shocked as my eyes drifted back down to the T-shirt again. How could someone announce it like that? Walk around showing everyone? I hadn't told anyone, nobody, I couldn't even say it and here was someone walking around with 'I'm Gay' plastered on his front.
Since then Chris has told me that he was smiling because I was doing a goldfish impression, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. His voice finally broke me out of my reverie. "If you think that's fun, you should read the back." Then he swivelled around and looked over his shoulder at me.
There was a picture of two fairy cakes at the top with the words 'Nice Buns?' written underneath. I couldn't help it, my eyes dropped down to see the back of slightly distressed tight blue jeans filled to the max with rounded buttocks.
He turned back again, "Do you agree?" and he laughed as I felt myself blush. I looked everywhere but his eyes and although I don't remember staring at anything in particular, I can bring an almost photographic quality picture, of him stood there, to my mind.
At a rough estimate I'd guess his age was about twenty three, brown hair, not dark but not blond either, it was cut with a floppy fringe that threatened to cover one eye. An oval face, with sticky out ears a brighter pink than his face. Thinnish lips on a slightly narrow mouth surrounded by well creased laughter lines. The nose was pert, thin at the top but dropped straight down and then turned up at the end like a little ski ramp. His deep dark brown eyes were highlighted by a pair of specs that had large circular lenses in a metal frame, making him look innocent and vulnerable.
He stands, stood about an inch taller than me at about 5' 11" and seemed to be one of those thin gazelle like shapes, sylph-like, that's the word.
"I--I--I", the speech centre of my brain had closed down in shock, I could feel my blush get brighter.
"Don't get uptight over it, I'm just joshing." He laid a hand on my arm as if to reassure me. It didn't work, I don't know how deep that touch went but I felt it right to the bottom of my being. Electric, spine tingling, mind numbing feelings, scary and enticing.
I pushed all my thoughts of gayness and the incredible feelings to the side and retreated in to the normal world of work. "W--What can I do for you?". Thankful that I could feel the heat on my skin cooling, telling me my blush was fading.
His smile dropped a little but the brown soulful eyes twinkled "I've broken a mirror at a friends and I need it replacing."
Keeping my eyes on his and not moving around took concentration, for some reason my eyes didn't want to look at his face. "That shouldn't be a problem, if you just bring it in, I'm sure I can replace it."
If anything his deep soulful eyes went sadder, hangdog, like a puppies and I knew I was lost to what was coming next. "Is there any chance you can come there, I don't drive and the mirror is too big to walk with."
"What about your friends, don't they drive?"
"Weeeeellllllll" it came out almost like a whine and he rocked from side to side in an embarrassed, coy like way. "They're my problem, they lent me their flat two weeks ago and I've broken this mirror. If I can replace it before they find out. I may just be able to borrow their flat again."
"OK but before I decide, I need to know where. If I can do it I'll come but I'm going to need some help on sizes first. Do you know how big the mirror is."
With a wide smile on his face and eager light shining from his eyes he responded with "The flat is on Hart Street and the mirror is six, two by about 3 foot."
"Hart Street, don't know it. Whereabouts is that?"
"Just off Princess Street, no more than 10 mins by car." His wide smile grew to be filled with brilliant white teeth. He'd got me and he knew it, I can't help it - I'm a sucker for a sob story.
Grabbing my coat and the van keys off their hook, I told Liam I was off out to look at a job. He wasn't happy about me leaving
"How long will you be?"
"I'm not sure, probably about half an hour, any chance of help in loading the van."
Liam walked over to me and started to put on the rough leather gloves "Damn, I was going to go early today. Tina wants to get a family photo with all the kids, we're all due at the Spielman's by one. It's some sort of promotional deal or something."
"Which one, Gorton?"
"No Deansgate and on a Saturday as well, I told her she was out of her mind but you know how she gets when she wants something." We both lifted one mirrored sheet from the stack and side stepped it over to the side frame of the van.
"Yeah! Well you go now and I'll lock up, I've got my keys and I'll be finishing right after this myself anyway."
"You sure?"
"No!" I smiled. "But I'm not getting on the wrong side of Tina, I don't think my ears have recovered from the last time."
Liam laughed and turned pulling his gloves off. "You've got it easy, I'm married to her!" Walking back towards the main doors he said "OK I'm outta here, see you Monday, Toe!"
"Bye!" I finished hooking the last bungee chords on to the frame, holding the mirror firmly in place.
"OK that's it, we ready to go." I unlocked the passenger door and got in to the driver's seat. As the young man got in I told him "We're only going a few feet so I could lock the place up, shouldn't take more than a few seconds."
"That's OK. Umm!" He seemed a bit stuck for words. "What's your name, I mean we can't really call each other 'Hey You'." He offered his hand and said "My name's Chris, Christopher Llewellyn, pleased to meet you."
I returned his firm hand shake and again felt those tingles ride in my skin, a pleasing, constant, static shock. I didn't answer at first, lost in the feelings and watching his soulful eyes. The tilt of his head and a slight drawing of his eyebrows down in question pulled me back from inaction. "Uhm, Tony, Tony Prentice. Pleased to meet you too."
I moved the van out on to the street, leaving the engine running whilst it warmed up. After locking the main doors and the garage entrance I climbed back in and we were off.
Traffic was bad, it always is on a Saturday but today it seemed worse than normal. I got us over to Princess Street, OK so I'll admit it - I went down a couple of one way streets the wrong way, but then everyone does. You'd have to miles out of your way to do it like the designers thought out. Manchester traffic control has been designed for traffic going into or out of the city, they don't seem to have remembered us poor saps who live in the bloody place.
The young man, Chris, I always have trouble trying to hold a name in my head. guided me on to Princess Street and then finally a right turn onto Hart Street. A small or should I say short street, no more than four houses long.
"It's the top flat of number 2, the one with the red door. I can't see any place you can--" His voice trailed off and then I felt his hand touch my arm, a light grazing touch of warm soft skin. "Pull up here, there's a car pulling out over there, you should be able to get in straight away." He pointed to where a fancy silver Merc' was jiggling in a tight space - trying to get out.
A quote from my youth came to mind "Come on Reginald Molehusband." Voiced with just the right amount of disdain. I shouldn't have bothered really - it went right over his, Chris' head (Damn, forgetting the name was beginning to bug me.)
"Huh! Who's Reginald Molehusband?"
"Don't you remember the highway code advert when you were a kid. Reginald Molehusband was a man who went backwards and forwards in the parking place and never got the car parked. Over two years of adverts and he was always failing."
"Nope never heard of him." A sly grin spread across his face and eyes, unable to resist some fiendish reply. "If I ever go home I'll ask my parents if they remember."
"OK, I'm 34, not quite ancient - yet."
By this time the Merc had made it out and was heading up the street. I pulled up to the parking place and jammed the nose of the van in the gap. Some people really have no courtesy. I wait for the gap and this jerk in a BMW thinks he can steal my space. I delighted in his shaking fist and screeching brakes - the space was mine and he could just bugger off.
I decided to leave the glass where it was until after I'd seen what I was replacing. I wasn't going to traipse to the top floor flat of one of these garret blocks without being sure. "Why don't we go see this mirror and then I'll know what tools to get."
"OK." He led me to a small covered doorway and unlocked the entranceway. He waited for me to enter and then pushed against the slow spring to shut the door . "We can't open the inner door if the outer one's open. Somebody's brainstorm of a way to save heating bills - bloody nuisance really, especially after they added this slow spring."
The inner sanctum was tiled in small white and blue tiles in a geometric and symmetrical design. Chris headed for the stairs, up two flights now. "The lift does work but it's just so slow. I'm usually in the flayt before the lift has reached ground floor."
I walked up behind Chris slowly taking two at a time following his fast shoe shuffle up each step.
I don't remember the front door that well, Chris stood in front of the open door gesturing me to enter. What I do remember so vividly was the sight at the end of the small hallway. Two Mirrors, one now broken, They were silhouettes of what I presumed were young men.
What made them more than eye catching was that they were side on silhouettes and they had both been hard when the artist drew the pictures. One was about my size, maybe a little thicker, the other although half of him was missing above the belt line below the belt line they seem to have got the dimensions wrong, Nobody can be like that, nobody!
For comments, constructive criticism and so on you can email me: Romanticiser@geocities.com -- ============================================================== @@@@ @@@ @ @ @@ @@ @ @@@@@ @ @@@ @ @@@@ @@@@ @@@@ @ @ @ @ @@ @@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @@ @ @ @ @@ @ @@@@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @@@ @@@ @ @@ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @@@ @ @ @ @ @ @@ @ @ @@@ @ @@@@ @@@@ @ @ ==============================================================