‘Twas the Night Before Christmas…
Henry Ryan Randolph sat in his cubicle working on a preliminary site plan for another apartment complex proposed in the city. Since starting with the firm back in June after graduating from college, it was the tenth site plan he had worked on, not counting the revisions to site plans already drawn and going through zoning approvals. He enjoyed working on a site and wanted to do more. But he was an intern, the youngest in the firm and knew he had things to learn before getting into the full engineering for a site.
He glanced at the calendar pinned to his cubicle wall showing deadlines, and for this day, how it was Christmas Eve. The firm was swamped with work, so some were to take their time around New Year’s Eve, which was predominantly those that lived in the city or, like him, had no seniority. Having to work over the Christmas holidays, only getting Christmas day off, made him feel lonely. He knew it was a temporary thing. He had yet to really get out but he was still getting settled in the city and paying off the expense of moving. His finances were tight with college loans and his intern pay. Since June he had focused on work and went out very little. The guys around him were all straight, so when he was invited to hang out with them, it was at some sports bar or restaurant, with them bringing wives or girlfriends. He hadn’t told them he was gay and wasn’t sure when he would do it. There were times it felt like he could tell them and everything would be okay, but there were times when someone would make a joke or some comment that made him wonder. It was his first job, one that was the beginning of his career, and he didn’t want to fuck it up.
“Henry, it’s four o’clock. Why don’t you save where you’re at and get out of here,” said Mike Stephens, his manager.
“Okay,” said Henry.
“You got plans for tomorrow? I know your family is in Knoxville.”
“I’ll just hang out at my apartment and call everyone before lunch. I’m all set to fly back on the thirtieth.”
“If you want to come for dinner, Kate and I would be glad to have you over.”
“Thanks, but I do have some things around the apartment I’ve been putting off, so I’ll just get it done.”
Mike smiled and nodded his head. “You still have boxes sitting around.”
Henry smiled back. “Yep.”
“Well, go on and get out of here,” said Mike. “And Henry, Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” Henry replied. He watched Mike shut off the light in his office and head toward the door, putting on his coat. Henry sighed, stretched, then turned back to the site plan to add a few more notes before saving it and leaving.
Henry drove out of the business district, turning into the Southend neighborhood to cut through it. He saw the nearly empty streets and even more empty sidewalks making him feel left behind in some manner. As if everyone got to go home to be with family except him. But there were a few people out, some going into some restaurant or bar still open for a little longer, before closing for the holiday.
He turned on Graham Street, heading north. He would cut through the edge of downtown then go west to the Wedgewood neighborhood, one of the last to have renovations and new development. It made living close to downtown affordable for those willing to live in a place not yet given the improvements that would allow the speculators to rake in a few bucks and drive up the rental rates.
He thought about his nearly six months in the city, and how quick the end of the year was upon him. It seemed the last few months just slipped through his fingers. There were a few hook-ups but no serious dates. He was making friends at work with others about his age, but none were gay, as far as he knew, so he lacked a social life where he could be himself.
He felt lonely. A strange sensation, one he had not felt since his high school years in the private school. Although his parents were not particularly religious, they thought the private school would be better than the public school despite its religious foundation. Henry often thought they were wrong, for it had been miserable. Now it was just being stuck in the city over the holidays and not yet settled in. He knew next year would be better, and the year after that more so.
He drove into Wedgewood, past the old mill that was being converted into apartments, and through the two short blocks of the old business district that had served the mill village. There were signs of change. Two art galleries opened into two storefronts last summer and a used bookstore and another storefront was papered over to conceal the renovations taking place inside. Change was coming. Henry didn’t know if he welcomed it or not. It would bring some life to the area, but it could also bring higher rents. If things happened too fast, he would have to move, fearing it would mean a move outside the city to one of the surrounding communities.
As he passed through the second block of the business district, he saw the old stone and timber front of the bar that seemed to be an old anchor to the area. A place that some said had been there since the district’s initial construction. Others said it was there long before then. As he drove by, he looked at the front of it again, and how after dark it looked mysterious, a place with secrets. An older couple slipped through the heavy wood door, one that was wide, nearly four feet, which made it look short, although it had to be six foot eight. The door was set back in the stone wall and over to the side of it a window that was narrow, barely eighteen inches and about thirty-six inches tall, and it was set back so far in the stone wall, you only saw the light coming through the stained glass when standing right in front of it. Above the stone, there was a heavy timber roof, the eaves overhanging the sidewalk over three feet with a dark tile roof.
Henry looked at the old wood painted sign hanging out over the sidewalk, unable to read it in the dark, but he knew what was on it. The Three Sisters Tavern. He wondered if three sisters had opened the tavern, or if the original owner had some historical or mythical reference in mind.
The idea of a drink before going home seemed to be in order. It would let him kill some time before going home to his empty apartment. It was also an excuse to check out the bar. He flipped on his right turn signal and turned, to park on the side street.
Henry pulled the metal handle of the old wood door, surprised by how easily it swung open. He expected it to squeak on its hinges or be hard to open. The interior appeared darker than the sidewalk but once he stepped inside there was the warm glow of old lanterns on the wall and candles on the bar and tables. The place even felt warm and comfortable, and he unzipped his jacket as he took in the interior. There was a sitting area along the front wall and opposite, a heavy timber made up the bar, spanning between two stone columns with a dark red wall behind it. The bartender looked small behind it. It had to be an illusion, some distortion from the way the heavy timber framed the space between the stone columns. The couple he had seen come in were at one of the tables and at the bar were three men, two on the left end in deep conversation, and one alone on the right end, sitting upright, sipping some amber cocktail.
Henry moved to the stool between them, leaving two between him and the two men and only one between him and the lone man. As he sat down the bartender came to stand in front of him and he realized the man was a person of short stature. The bartender saw his surprised expression and smiled, leaning over the bar.
“The floor is raised for me,” said the bartender.
“Oh, I see.”
“I’m Bernard.”
“Henry. Henry Randolph.”
“Well, what can I get you to drink?”
“I…I don’t know. I’ll take…” Henry drew a blank, couldn’t think of any the cocktail drink names he liked.
“How about something to warm the soul?”
“Okay, what do you recommend?”
“An Old Fashion.”
“I agree,” said the man to Henry’s right. “Bernard makes a fabulous Old Fashion. You should try one.”
“Thanks,” said Henry to the man, then he turned to Bernard. “Okay; an Old Fashion.”
Henry sipped the Old Fashion savoring the warmth it created down his throat and in his stomach. A comforting warmth that took away some of the chill of the evening.
“I take it you were unable to get away for the holidays,” said the man.
“You’d be correct. I had to work because the firm is slammed with projects. And you? You’re not going to visit family?”
“I’m afraid I too have to work; in fact, I’m flying out this evening.”
Henry finally looked at the man, using the mirror to conceal his stare. At first, he had assumed the man was older due to the almost white hair, but the face showed a man younger, much younger, one in his late forties or early fifties. The cheeks and forehead were smooth, the skin clear. A healthy specimen, one he found attractive. Then he noticed how the jacket fit, revealing the muscular form within.
“That sucks.”
“Not really. I enjoy my job and without any immediate family, it…shall we say share in the joy of others. I’m Christopher; Christopher Klaus.”
“Henry Randolph.”
“Henry, tell me about yourself.”
Henry was hesitant at first, wondering what one tells a stranger. There were the usual details, the town he was from, how he was the youngest son with an older brother and sister, and how he graduated from college back in June and was just getting started in his career. Then there were the more intimate details, those someone wouldn’t share with anyone but the most trusted family and friends. He was gay, he was still unsure of himself about some things, including the initial intimacy with another guy, always worrying he would want something they didn’t want to do. He was naturally a bit shy, hesitant to take the lead in anything, from the baseball he played in high school, to class projects in high school and college, or in being the one to throw a party. As he talked of himself, it felt as if Christopher sensed it, knew what he was skirting while he told the mundane details of his life.
Eventually he was talking about the holidays again, and he felt a bit lonely.
“Forgive me for being so forward, but time is short. Henry, you seem to desire some intimacy from someone.”
Henry turned to Christopher, shocked that he had been seen in such an intimate way.
“Yeah…I guess.”
Christopher smiled, drank the last of his drink, then laid a few bills on the bar. “Bernard, I’m paying for Henry’s drink.”
“I figured as much,” Benard replied with a knowing smile.
“Henry, would you like to come to my place? We could have a couple of hours before I need to leave.”
Henry wondered how someone could be so bold. He wished he could be half as bold, but on this night, he was pleased that Christopher was being so, letting him just give in and go along.
“Yes. I would very much like to go with you.”
Henry parked in the guest section outside the Schnee Tower, an older building in the Silverwood Park neighborhood. He had seen the fifteen-story building rising out of the canopy of the trees of the surrounding residential neighborhood on the few occasions he had driven through the area. He had been curious what it was like on the inside. One of the project managers had told him it was the first apartment tower built in the city, dating back to the early 1900s, and it was now condominiums, very high priced condominiums that were so exclusive there was a waiting list of ready buyers.
He followed Christopher into the wood paneled lobby where a tall Christmas tree dominated the room.
“How long have you lived here? I heard it is hard to get in,” said Henry.
“I’ve been here for a long time, and yes it has increased in value and exclusivity. It wasn’t always like that, not in the beginning,” said Christopher as the elevator slid open.
Henry stepped in next to Christopher, really getting a sense of the man’s physical presence. Henry gauged the man’s height against his own five foot ten, figuring him to be six foot four or so. He felt his heart racing with excitement, for he couldn’t believe he had so willingly followed Christopher to his home. He had done hookups before, but this time it felt different.
The elevator opened on the fifteen floor and Henry followed Christopher to double doors at the end of the hall. Chrispher used what looked like some old key, a type he had only seen in antique stores or at his grandparents’ place in Wald, Alabama, a rural community where their farm place anchored the north side of it.
“After you,” said Christopher after opening the right leaf.
Henry entered a small foyer, marble floored with plaster walls and ornate moldings for base, chair rail, and crown. He moved through the room into a large living room with windows facing downtown, the lights of the buildings lighting up the dark sky. He was surprised to see furniture not from the eighteenth or nineteenth century, pieces from France, or England, or simple pieces of Early American. Instead, the room was furnished in very old Scandinavian, early twentieth century pieces set in a room with white walls and beautiful wood floors. Accents of bright red adorned some of the furniture, from a painted panel or a pillow on the sofa.
“Wow,” Henry uttered.
“Not what you were expecting,” said Christopher.
“No, but I like it.”
“Thanks,” said Christopher.
Henry heard the closeness of the voice. Christopher was right behind him. He felt hands take him by the upper arms and slowly turn him around until they were facing each other.
Christopher kissed him. It wasn’t rushed or aggressive, but gentle, a slow lingering kiss that took his breath away. The zipper of his jacket was dragged down, then Christopher slipped it from his shoulders and down each arm. Laying the jacket over the back of the sofa, Christopher then took Henry by the hand.
“Come, Henry, lets go to the bedroom. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Henry followed Christopher down a short hall to the bedroom at its end. He entered the room to see a bed framed into the wall, a window overlooking the city centered over it. The enclosure was painted the same light blue green as the walls and the bed was covered in white blankets that looked thick and plush with dark green and blue pillows.
“What kind of bed is that?” said Henry as he approached it.
“A Scandinavian box bed. Most are usually smaller, built around a single bed, but this one was built around a custom mattress. There were no king or queen sizes at the time. This one is in-between the two in size.”
“It’s beautiful,” uttered Henry as he hesitantly touched the ornate trim of the opening for the bed chamber.
“As are you, Henry,” said Christopher.
Henry turned to face him, looked up into the face, seeing the vivid blue eyes staring back. He felt fingers touch his chest, then work the buttons free of his shirt. Despite their short time, Christopher seemed unhurried. The buttons were slipped free and the shirt removed. Then his khakis were undone and Christopher stooped in front of him and removed them from each leg.
Henry shivered when Christopher touched him for the first time. Fingers manipulated his cock through his boxers and he responded quickly. Then he was naked and his cock in Christopher’s mouth. He held the shoulders for he felt as he would fall over as the mouth moved on his cock. It pushed his arousal, made him feel his masculine nature.
He closed his eyes focusing on the feel of the mouth. How it moved on his cock. The manipulation of the head until he was gasping for breath and the slide of lips along its length. It pushed his arousal until he wanted release.
“Christopher…I’m going to cum,” Henry uttered breathlessly.
The mouth moved faster, with an intensity that Henry knew would push him to release. He couldn’t hold back and he moved his hips almost uncontrollably, working his cock through the lips and over the tongue.
“Fuck,” Henry exclaimed then he shuddered as his cock erupted in the mouth. He jerked with each ejaculation as the mouth swallowed every wad.
Then he was standing naked, still rock hard, watching Christopher stand and began to undress.
“Henry, get on the bed,” whispered Christopher.
Henry backed to the bed keeping his eyes on the body slowly being revealed. A smooth muscular chest, a flat stomach, then powerful muscular legs. Finally, the red boxers were removed, and a thick cock rose hard from the groin. He lay back and spread his legs for he wanted that cock, wanted it more than any before. He wanted to feel it penetrate him. He wanted to feel it fuck him. As Christopher came to him, he looked at the cock realizing it was massive, at least nine, maybe ten inches long with an arrow shaped head. And the head was drooling precum; ready to fuck.
“Tell me what you want. Tell me…your desires,” said Christopher as he got on the bed, ducking below the head of the framed opening, then knee walking up between Henry’s legs.
“I want…you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to…show me you like me.”
“I do like you, Henry Randolph. You are a beautiful young man,” said Christopher, taking each held up leg behind the knee and pushing them apart.
Henry felt the cock rake across his ass, then push alongside his own cock. He felt the slickness of it as it slid over his abdomen and at times pushed over his tightening nut sac. Then it slipped below his nuts, and rubbed his ass, raked slickly over his tight opening until he was clutching at the bed and breathing hard.
“Do it. Put it in me,” said Henry.
The cock aligned with his opening and pressed against it. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back waiting on the pain of penetration. But the pain never came, for the cock slipped through his tightness and into his ass slowly, gently, inch after inch, until nearly every inch was inside him.
Henry felt the fullness of penetration. He felt how it stretched him open as he was breathing hard, for it made him excited and aroused.
Christopher hooked his legs into the elbow of each arm and moved over him. The muscular body rested heavily, comfortably, on his own body. Lips touched his neck, moved up to his jaw, and along it until they were kissing again. And cock began to move inside him. It tugged at his opening as it pulled outward, then pushed inward. Slowly, Christopher built up his pace. Hips worked cock in Henry’s depths in a manner that let him feel every inch of the thick shaft moving inside him.
“Henry,” whispered Christopher as he increased his pace.
Henry wrapped his arms around the body, felt its heat within his embrace as it fucked cock in his ass. Faster and faster, the hips worked the cock into his depths until his own cock was drooling on his stomach and he was holding tight to the body, desperately clinging to it, hungry for its fuck.
“Christopher! Fuck me! Fuck me harder!” Henry exclaimed as he tilted his head back, giving him room to kiss and nip at his neck. He opened his eyes seeing the warm glow of lights from the buildings downtown. He brought his focus to the glass and the lights blurred, becoming a warm glow with no form, changing to something almost mystical.
Henry began to rock with the physical nature of Christopher’s fuck. It became faster, cock working his insides with such a pace he no longer sensed an inward or outward movement, but just the movement itself. The way it stroked his insides and his arousal.
Christopher pushed up and in doing so, pushed Henry’s legs against his chest. He felt how his ass was angled up for Christopher’s fuck and he felt it, the solid push into his depths. Over and over until hips smacked against his ass. The rhythm of it, how it rocked him, made his own cock ache for release.
“Fuck,” Henry uttered breathlessly.
“Do you want me?” said Christopher.
“Yes!”
“Do you? Do you really want me?”
“YES!” Henry cried out.
The fucking became intense, cock hammering his insides. The physical nature of it. How hands held his legs down. How cock battered his insides. How he rocked with it, increasing his own arousal.
“Fuck; fuck; fuck it in me,” said Henry as he reached out and clutched desperately at the bed.
Christopher hammered his ass, slamming down against it. Then shoved inward, all the way and shuddered with release.
Christopher lay heavily on top of him, breathing slowly returning to normal. Henry felt exhausted, spent, knowing he came when Christopher had done so. His cock had erupted shooting cum up his stomach then smeared it as Christopher fucked until spent.
Christopher rolled to his back and took a deep breath. “That was nice. Thank you, Henry, for spending some time with me.”
“It was nice,” Henry replied.
“I need to get cleaned up and go. You can just shower off and return to bed and leave in the morning. No need to rush out tonight.”
“Thanks,” said Henry, grateful he didn’t have to drive home, for he was suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open.
“Henry, come shower with me, then you can get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
Henry woke to sunlight coming in over the bed. The apartment was quiet and knew he was alone, remembering Christopher leaving the night before. He sat up and stretched, then looked around the room. An old Armoire sat on the side wall and seeing it in the early morning light, realized some winter image was painted on it. The image was faded and worn away but he could make out a cedar tree and the white of a snow-covered ground, and in the distance, a cabin.
He climbed out of bed and found his clothes folded and stacked on the dresser and he stood in front of its mirror and dressed as he replayed the night before, the sex with Christopher, and how it had been different from the sex with previous guys. In some way, it was unhurried, but then when near release, it had been so intense, so arousing, his cock stirred to think of it. If Christopher had been there, he would have wanted sex again.
Henry headed for the front door, moving down the hall until in the living room and for a moment, he took in the view of downtown off in the distance, a canopy of trees and rooftops between the window and the skyline. Then he looked for his jacket, finding it neatly folded and laying on the center seat cushion of the sofa. On top of it, a small gift box, white with a red ribbon and bow. A gift tag hung from the bow, and he saw it was to him, from Christopher. It made him smile at how a perfect stranger, someone who was a one-night stand would make such a kind gesture.
He slipped the top off and saw two small cards. The first was a gift card for Patara’s Family Style Dining. It was a restaurant he had not heard of and saw it was nearby in the neighborhood. The card indicated it was for a reservation at 12:30 that day, Christmas Day. The second was more intriguing, because it was simply an address and time. 3:30 P.M. that afternoon. Christopher wanted him to go to this address after a Christmas meal at Patara’s. It was an odd request, but he knew, with nothing better to do, he would go.
Jacket on, Henry slipped out of the apartment, rode the elevator down to the first floor, and strolled out to his car. He was surprised the building didn’t have a security guard or a doorman. He got into his car and drove to his apartment. He had time to shower and change clothes before his reservation at the restaurant.
Patara’s was in an old Victorian house a block off the main road through the small business district of Silverwood Park. It seemed to tower over the road, with its solid white exterior. He parked on the street and climbed the steps up to the porch and entered the wide door with his frosted glass panel into an interior that was warm and comforting. Old Christmas music played over the sound system and each fireplace burned with a small fire in the two rooms on each side of the foyer where others were dining at one large table in each room.
“Are you here for Christmas dinner?” said the hostess coming from the rear.
“Yes,” said Henry, holding out the gift card.
She took the card, looked at it, and smiled. “Follow me and I’ll get you seated at your table.
Henry followed her to the back to a long table that overlooked a garden area in the backyard. There were people already seated at the table, and Henry realized what was meant by family style dining.
“This will be your table for dinner,” said the hostess. Then she stood to one side and gestured to each person seated as she introduced them. “At the end on the left, that is Sam and Frank, two old friends whose families could not make it this year, and opposite them, is Ann and Louise, two cousins who have no one left in their family to spend the holidays. Next to Louise is Tyler, who needed a place to go, and opposite him is Elizabeth whose job at the hospital has her stuck in the city and she is unable to go back to her hometown for the holidays. Everyone, this is Henry, someone still new to the city and unable to take time off that would have allowed him to go home. Henry, you can sit next to Tyler.”
“Hello everyone,” said Henry as they greeted him, then he sat in the offered chair. He considered the others, how Sam, Frank, Ann, and Louise were older, looking like they were near seventy, how Tyler looked like a teenager wondering about how their hostess said he needed a place to go. Did it mean he was homeless. Tyler’s clothes looked worn and ill-fitting, and he kept diverting his eyes, as if afraid, or more likely, embarrassed to look someone in the eye. In Elizabeth, he saw someone like himself, stuck in the city due to their job, but he also knew by her expression and age, mid-thirties if he had to guess, this was not the first time she worked the holidays. He wondered how the hostess knew so much about everyone. Did Christopher tell her about them? It was unusual how she knew of their reason for being there. He looked across the table at the last chair, one empty, and wondered if anyone would be sitting in it.
“Did you get a gift card from someone to be here today?” said Henry to Tyler.
“Yeah, this guy gave it to me this morning when I was…”
“Tall man, white hair, but looked only mid-forties?” said Elizabeth after sensing Tyler’s embarrassment.
“Christopher,” uttered Henry.
“Who?” said Elizabeth.
“The man who gave Tyler the gift card. I’m sure it was a man by the name of Christopher Klaus. What about you?”
“Same as Tyler. He had come in the hospital late yesterday to see a patient and on the way out, gave me one, telling me I looked like I could use it.” She smiled, then laughed. “And he was right.”
“What about you?” said Henry looking at those at the other end of the table.
Franklin looked at Sam and a smile passed between, then he turned to Henry. “We got them in the mail yesterday.”
“We did too,” said Ann.
“Excuse me,” said the hostess, and everyone turned to see her led a young man to the table.
Henry sized him up, for he found him attractive. About his own height with red hair and green eyes, wearing a dark green turtleneck sweater and jeans.
“This is Arthur, and that is…”
The hostess introduced everyone to Arthur as she had done Henry. When she got to Henry, he smiled back because he saw Arthur seemed relaxed, easy-going and friendly. The hostess left as Arthur took the chair opposite Henry. Before Henry could ask, Elizabeth turned to Arthur beating him to it.
“Did you get a gift card for today?”
“Why yes, last night. My car broke down and this guy stopped and helped me, then gave me the card.”’
“Was he tall, about six four with white hair but looked in his mid-forties or so?” said Henry.
Everyone looked at Arthur waiting for his response.
“Yes. He was heading to the airport.”
“That was Christopher.”
“How do you know him?” said Arthur looking across at Henry.
“I met him last night and we…spent the evening together before he had to leave.”
Arthur smiled at Henry. “I bet it was a pleasant evening.”
“Yes,” said Henry, feeling his face flush hot.
Suddenly men and women came from the back carrying platters and bowls. A turkey, then a ham was set in the middle of the table. Other dishes were arranged around them until the table seemed to be overflowing.
“Wow,” Tyler uttered.
Henry looked over and saw an astonished look, then a grin.
“I’ve been roughing it, and this is…too much,” said Tyler, his voice breaking.
“Well, let’s eat,” said Elizabeth. “I’m starving.”
At first the conversation circled the table, everyone talking about themselves, Henry told them of his job, being an intern and the firm so busy he had to work the day before and would be back at his desk the next day. When Arthur talked about being new at his job too, an intern at an architectural firm, and like Henry, had to work over the Christmas holidays he smiled at Henry, acknowledging their similar situation.
Henry realized they had a connection, a common interest, and he intended to take advantage of it, if he could determine if Arthur was gay. If not, he knew they might be friends if Arthur wasn’t homophobic. But everything about Arthur seemed to say they had more in common than their jobs.
Over time, Henry noticed how everyone seemed to naturally pair up. Sam and Frank made plans with Ann and Louise for that night to watch a movie. Elizabeth told Tyler he would come to her house after dinner, then she would help with arrangements for him the next day after he admitted to being abandoned by his foster parents. Henry wanted to do something with Arthur, even willing to skip the appointment Christopher had set up for him.
“Henry, can I ask you something?” said Arthur, lowering his voice.
“Yes.”
“Did Christopher give you anything else?”
“He gave me a card with an address and time to be there.”
“25 Derby Road at 3:00 P.M.?”
“Yes!” Henry exclaimed and the others looked over smiling at his outburst. “Do you know what it is about?” he said in a lower voice.
“Not a clue.”
“But you’re going?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes. It seems important for some reason.” And at that moment, it seemed very important.
“By the time we leave here, it’ll be time to go,” said Arthur.
“Perfect timing,” said Henry. Then he considered other aspects of the day, and the night before. The way everything transpired, almost too perfect in a way.
A few minutes before three, Henry pulled into the parking lot of a building with a line of people outside of it. Arthur parked next to him, and they came together behind their cars, crossing the parking lot heading to the entry.
“Looks like a community kitchen or a food bank,” said Arthur.
They entered the entry door, squeezing in past those in line, and came upon a woman with an old clip board, holding a pen connected to it with a string.
“Can I help you?” she asked as Arthur and Henry came to stand before her.
“Christopher Klaus told us to be here at three,” said Henry.
She smiled and made a note on her clipboard. “You must be Henry.”
“Yes, and this is Arthur.”
“Arthur Hollis…yes, I was told to expect you. Have you ever served at a community kitchen before?”
“No,” said Henry and Arthur in unison.
“No worries, nothing to it. Just keep your hands in the gloves and be friendly.”
“I can do that,” said Arthur.
“Okay, this way boys, we’ll get you suited up in gloves and an apron and on the line. It’s going to be a busy day.”
Henry fell into the rhythm of greeting each person as he placed baked turkey on their plate. Arthur followed suite, greeting each one, then putting a scoop of dressing then cranberry sauce on their plate. They worked diligently along with everyone else to make sure everyone in line got a plate of food and a moment they were greeted in a welcoming manner. And at times Arthur playfully bumped Henry and they constantly glanced at each other smiling.
It was nearly 10:30 when Henry and Arthur came out of the community kitchen. They crossed the parking lot heading to their cars, neither feeling any fatigue despite being on their feet for hours.
“I guess you’ll go home and get to bed so you can get up tomorrow,” said Henry.
“I’m not getting to sleep any time soon. I’m too wound up.”
“Same.”
“You live nearby, right?”
“Yes,” Henry replied, grinning with what Arthur was hinting at.
“You could invite me over and we could…” Arthur let his voice trail off.
“Follow me.”
Arthur followed Henry up the stairs and to his door, the two giggling and playfully jostling each other. Henry fumbled with his keys, got the door unlocked, and opened the door. Arthur pushed him inside, shutting the door behind them, then pushed him against the wall in the small foyer area and kissed him.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” said Arthur when he finally pulled back.
Henry took him by the hand and pulled him to follow, leading him through the small living area to his bedroom. He swung Arthur around and pushed him on the bed, and he crawled over him. They kissed and ran hands over each other. Over chest and stomach, up along an arm or a neck, eventually clasping hands, Henry held Arthur down.
They kissed, slower, with passion.
Henry sat up and frantically unbuttoned his shirt. He tugged it off and tossed it across the room. Then he unbuttoned Arthur’s shirt with the same urgency and once it was open down the front, he pulled Arthur to sit up and tugged it off. Tossed aside, Arthur ran his hand over the bare chest, over the smooth skin and erect nipples. Then he leaned down and kissed him.
Arthur rolled Henry to the side and undid his belt, tugged open the jeans, and slipped a hand inside them until fondling his hardening cock. They kissed as Arthur manipulated Henry, then he slid down the bed and got Arthur to raise his ass so he could slip the jeans and boxers off.
“You have to get naked,” Arthur exclaimed as he worked each foot free.
“You too,” said Henry as he pulled his left foot free and spread his legs, opening himself to him.
Arthur jumped off the bed and stripped, quickly, nearly falling over as he got his right foot free of his jeans, then he was back on the bed, laying on Henry. Bare skin against bare skin. Cock rubbing against cock. Lips once again pressed together.
They toyed with each other, got so erect their cocks were drooling precum, desperate to take their sex to the next level. Henry lay on his back and raised his legs. Arthur hooked them in his arms and moved over him. Cock touched the upturned ass. It raked across it, then Arthur pumped it alongside Henry’s, mixing their precum as cock rubbed cock.
“Arthur…put it in me…please,” whispered Henry.
Henry tilted his head back and felt Arthur’s lips move down his neck and cock press against his ass. A kiss, then a nip of the skin, and the cock penetrated him, squeezed through his tightness, and he moaned with the pleasure of it.
Henry shivered as cock bore into his depths. He opened his eyes to see Arthur staring down, the green eyes seeming to glow from within by the dim lamp light on the nightstand.
Arthur began to fuck. Slowly, gently, tugging outward, then pushing inward. Henry felt the way the cock sank deeper and deeper until hips pressed against his ass. Then he felt the gradual increase in pace, Arthur unable to hold back, working hips faster. The bed began to squeak, then rock in rhythm with their fuck. It was as if the whole room was increasing the intensity of it.
“Henry,” Arthur gasped as he pushed up on hands and fucked harder. He smacked against Henry’s ass and rocked the bed until it was squeaking loudly.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me,” exclaimed Henry. “Fuck me. Arthur. Do it. Fuck my ass.”
Arthur began to sweat and it rained down on Henry. He wrapped his legs around the waist, feelings its undulation as cock hammered his insides. It worked his insides until he saw stars and his own cock flexed with his arousal. He couldn’t take much more.
“Pump it in me. Arthur! Fuck me!”
“OH…Henry,” uttered Arthur, and he shoved into Henry’s depths and shuddered and jerked with release.
“My turn,” uttered Arthur as he moved over Henry. He rubbed his ass over the dripping cock until Henry was pushing upward. He rose on knees and took the cock in hand and lowered his ass to it.
Henry felt the press down on his cock, then the tightness as the ass moved down on his cock. He watched how inch after inch disappeared inside Arthur until over half was inside him.
“Feels…so good,” uttered Arthur, as he held still adjusting to the penetration.
“Yes,” said Henry breathlessly.
Arthur began to move, upward, then back down, gradually building up his pace until moving in a solid fuck. He worked his ass down on Henry until taking every inch. He slammed down on Henry’s hips until his own cock smacked the abdomen.
“Fuck,” Henry exclaimed.
“Yeah…fuck. Fuck,” exclaimed Arthur.
Henry watched Arthur lean back, spread the knees wide apart, and work the ass faster up and down on his cock. He held the ankles and relished the feel of it. How the ass took his cock. How it slammed down on his abdomen. Such physicality that spoke to the masculine nature of Arthur, a man taking his cock…taking his fuck.
“Arthur!” Henry cried out as he watched him take his own cock in hand, stroking it while keeping up the brutal pace, slamming ass down on his cock.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum again,” exclaimed Arthur.
Henry watched as Arthur slammed ass down on his cock, then cried out in release as cum roped up the chest. He watched as the cock spurt wad after wad until spent. The smell of cum filled the room. Pushed him toward his own release. He sat up, pulled Arthur into an embrace and down on his spurting cock.
The water ran hot enough to steam up the small bathroom as Henry and Arthur bathed each other while kissing and touching and manipulating until once again erect. Arthur turned to the wall, putting both hands and forehead against.
“Henry; fuck me. Fuck me again. I want you inside me,” said Arthur.
Henry entered Arthur, held the narrow waist, and fucked. He fucked slowly, working his cock into the depths of the ass. He fucked to feel every inch of his movement through the loosened opening. He fucked to feel Arthur. To feel his cock inside him. To feel the body within his hands and the warm flesh against his lips as he kissed the shoulders and neck.
He reached around the waist and took Arthur in hand and stroked him in rhythm with his fuck. To bring them to the same level of arousal; the point of release.
“Fuck. Don’t stop; keep going,” exclaimed Arthur.
And Henry kept fucking and stroking and kissing until he wanted to cum. Needed to cum. He pressed against the back and buried his cock inside him and shuddered with release. He felt the Arthur’s cock flex in his hand, and he stroked as it erupted, spurting wad after wad until Arthur was begging him to stop.
Happy New Year
Nearly two weeks had passed since the Christmas holidays, and Henry was driving across town smiling with how everything had played out. Arthur and he were officially dating, going out to nice restaurants or a movie or hanging out with the friends the two of them had made in the city. One more couple among the group, only they were the only same-sex couple, until Matt at Arthur’s firm came out. Could Arthur be the one. It seemed as if fate brought them together, so it seemed as if he had to be. It felt like it.
Then there was the fate of their meeting or was it fate. He knew Christopher Klaus had done it, planned it somehow. Last weekend, Arthur ran into Sam and Louise in the grocery store. It seemed the four of them were hanging out together. Then last night, he and Arthur ran into Elizabeth at a coffee shop sitting with a friend of hers. They spoke, and in their brief conversation asked if she knew about Tyler. She and her friend had smiled, then her friend blurted out how Elizabeth was now his foster parent and considering full adoption.
It was perfect. Too perfect. As he turned into the parking lot of the Schnee Tower. He wanted to know and came to ask Christopher. In the darkness he looked up at the old apartment building and saw windows aglow with life inside them. He crossed the parking lot and entered the old lobby. The Christmas tree still dominated the end of it, filling the air with its aroma.
The elevator slid open as soon as he hit the button and he stepped inside and pressed the button for the fifteenth floor. He wondered how he would ask. How he would approach the subject with Christopher, how Christopher seemed to be able to do the impossible, bring a group of people together who needed each other. The elevator door slid open and he stepped into the corridor.
He looked at the opposite end, seeing double doors at that end of the corridor, then he turned toward the double doors for Christopher’s apartment. He realized there were only two units on the top floor. They had to be massive, and he wondered how much Christopher was worth to afford such a place.
At the doors, he took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell. He could hear the chiming inside the apartment, then someone unlocking the door. It swung open and Arthur found himself staring dumbfounded. It was a little boy, not more than seven or eight.
“Christopher, who’s at the door?” called out a woman from inside.
“I don’t know,” the boy replied.
Henry stood in shock. He looked at the boy who was staring back. Then he heard someone approaching and saw the boy’s mother come up behind him.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m sorry…I was…I was looking for Chri…Mr. Klaus.”
“I think you have the wrong floor,” she replied.
“I think so,” said Henry as he stepped back. “I’m sorry to disturb you.”
“It’s not a problem, but I have to tell you I don’t think a Klaus lives in the building.”
“Maybe I got the address mixed up.”
“It happens. I hope you find him.”
“Thanks.”
“And Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.”
Henry drove back to his apartment trying to figure it out. Had he been in a different apartment in the building, or maybe he just dreamed the whole thing. He sat back, pulling to a stop at a traffic light. He looked around at people driving home or to work or out to dinner, wondering if any of them had ever experienced something they couldn’t explain. Then he laughed, out loud and good naturedly, at the absurdity of it and the perfection.
The light changed, and he pulled away, knowing it would be his secret, one he wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Arthur, for it was too strange for belief. It would be his secret, and his alone, to cherish.
“Happy New Year!” he exclaimed, to himself and to everyone.
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