Gay City and Other Stories by Alan Keslian (best non fiction books to read txt) 📕

flesh might be a let down. What if his visitor stole his credit cards and scarpered? If he call the police, word might get out to his family or his colleagues. What if he caught a sexually transmitted disease? Even if the sex was fine, his perception of himself as a good husband and father would surely not be the same afterwards.
In fact that he did not suffered any of the imagined potential disasters. Rather, the relief his sexual encounters brought had made them the high spot of his few days away. They eased the burden of family life. In himself he became generally happier than before, and hence surely a better husband and father. The firmness of a male breast pressed against his, the act of exploring male shoulders and hips with his hands, of closely experiencing the strength and straightness of a fit young man's body, brought him an overwhelming sense of release. He felt as he imagined someone would feel who stepped out into fresh air and sunlight after years of being hemmed in by the walls of an institution - a prison or closed mental asylum. After vigorously embracing and caressing his hired visitor for half an hour, Terry was so sexually aroused that no huge effort was needed for him reach orgasm. He had not felt the need to press on to penetrative sex, though he was curious about it.
Once or twice out of his twenty or more encounters, his visitor had wanted to be brought to orgasm too. This latest occasion was one more of those. Terry happily put his right hand to work, and enjoyed the reward of seeing the contented expression on the face of this latest hired lover as he climaxed. That done they dressed, and on impulse Terry asked if the escort would like to join him for dinner. 'If you're hungry, the hotel restaurant has a reasonable choice, and the food's good.'
'Well, I haven't eaten yet. I can't stay with you for more than an hour and a half though. If you're sure you'll be okay with that…'
This was a first for Terry. Since he would be paying for the meal, he was in a sense still buying the escort's time, but he had enjoyed their session in his hotel room so much he loved the idea of the guy's company over a meal. As they ate their conversation was guarded but friendly, their faces full of smiles.
The next day Terry had another class of students to train, and another night in the hotel. This time, though, he would eat and spend his evening alone. The glow from the previous night's encounter would take days to fade, and part of the thrill of his secret encounters was, he knew, that they were infrequent. Had he chosen his second night away for his visitor, he might have appeared so elated when he returned home that his wife would have been suspicious.
As usual, before leaving the hotel, he pocketed a small unused tablet of soap, one of several left by the chambermaid for his use. He drove back home, arriving just in time for dinner. His wife was cooking in the kitchen. She looked up briefly and asked if the trip had gone all right. The girls were at home, but barely acknowledged his presence. After dinner they put on a nature program, and at first he was relieved, thinking they had settled down to watch something he would like. Unfortunately the programme was about a pack of Hyenas, which he learned were a matriarchal society. He became more and more uncomfortable as it progressed. The dominant females made sure that the males behaviour demonstrated their subservient role. A young hyena was shown approaching another in what looked like a friendly way, but the commentary explained that he was not showing the deference due towards his sister from the same litter. The female bared her teeth, snarled, and snapped at her brother. Cowering and whining he retreated. Terry glanced occasionally at his wife and daughters to see they were absorbed. He was thankful when it was over.
When the girls rose to go up to bed, his wife said, 'Remember we've got something to ask daddy before we go up.'
They wanted new costumes for the ballet classes they were starting next month. He was puzzled that his wife made a point of getting them to ask him themselves. The cost was no greater than other outfits they had needed in the past. Guessing wrongly that his wife did not want the girls automatically to expect to be given everything they wanted, he put on a show of reluctance and asked: 'Won't the modern dance costumes they have do?'
He was nonplussed when she said sharply, 'Don't be silly dear, ballet costumes are completely different. Unless you don't want them to go to ballet classes, they have to have new costumes.'
His elder daughter picked up the dismissive tone and said 'Silly daddy.'
'Silly daddy,' echoed his younger daughter.
He forced a smile: 'Well then, of course you must have new costumes. I'm sure you'll look lovely in them.'
He suspected they had deliberately tripped him up by the way the question had been put, but his sense of well-being was not to be so easily challenged. With his fingers hidden in his left hand pocket he felt the wrapper of the small tablet of soap he had brought with him from the hotel. One of the desk draws in his office was cluttered with similar souvenirs from his business trips, little reminders that he would not have so long to wait before the next one.

Copyright Alan Keslian 2010
gaylesbooks.co.uk Imprint

Publication Date: 07-13-2010

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