(c) 2008, Drew Payne.
He sat up and pushed himself to the edge of the bed, careful to keep his back turned on that guy (had the guy said his name was Kenny or something?). God, he felt bad, his mood sinking further down, he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole, certainly take him away from this place.
“Was that it!” he heard the guy, Kenny, sarcastically say. “Hardly seemed worth the effort.”
“Sorry, that’s never happened before,” he replied. It was hard enough to bear without that Kenny pouring sarcasm upon him.
“That’s what all you straights say,” that Kenny said.
“I’m not straight!” He hissed
“Yeah, yeah, heard it all before. You’re out for a night of rough trade, you pick me up and get me back to my place then you’re all excited at finally fucking another man that you cum in a flash. You cum before you start fucking me.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he again hissed. God, he had to get out of here. He quickly stood up and started looking around himself for his underpants.
“Course it fucking was,” Kenny now spat back at him. “You’d hardly got the condom on and you’d cum. You hadn’t got inside of me and you’d cum. I’m fucking horny and all you say is sorry. Fucking straights!”
“I said I’m not straight,” he hissed, more to himself as he pulled his jeans on over his underpants, but Kenny wasn’t listening to him.
“I always pick-up the fucking straight, what is it with you lot? Why always me?…”
As he hurriedly dressed he tried to ignore the whining voice coming from the bed behind him, but every complaining word of Kenny’s stung at him. He wasn’t straight, this had never happened before, it was all so humiliating and Kenny’s complaining dragged his mood down ever further.
Fortunately, he had his clothes back on and his boots tied up in record time. Only when he was finally dressed did he look back at the bed, were Kenny lie in all his naked glory. His eyes were dawn back to Kenny’s cock, were it lay against his thigh, still aroused.
“I’m leaving now,” he told Kenny.
“Yeah, thanks for fucking nothing!
He didn’t look back as he stomped out of Kenny’s flat and down the short flight of stairs. Once out onto the street he was relieved to find the night air was still mild, he was comfortable in his leather jacket. Kenny’s flat was only fifteen minutes walk away from his own home, he could easily walk it and it might help clear his mind. Pushing his hands into his jeans’ pockets he started to walk.
He and Eddie had been so happy together, at least he thought. They’d been together five years, been living together for three years and were even talking about having a Civil Partnership. Then it all fell apart. He thought Eddie had just been preoccupied with work, with the economic down turn – his job had been hit hard – that Eddie had been worried about his job and was putting in extra hours. Then that Friday night happened. It had been his turn to be late home from work. He’d found Eddie waiting for him. Before he could say anything Eddie’s story thumbed out. Eddie had been seeing Rupert, the friend of a work colleague, for months now. Things had come to a head when Rupert demanded that Eddie choose one relationship, so Eddie had chosen Rupert, that afternoon. That night Eddie moved out of their house.
He’d seen none of it coming, he’d had no idea that Eddie was tired of him and was now involved with someone else. He spent the following days wondering where he had gone wrong, how he’d driven away Eddie. Then, five days later, Eddie’s letter arrived. Eddie wanted their house; Eddie wanted to live there with Rupert. He was furious; all self pity disappeared to be replaced with anger.
They were engaged in a six month battle for that house, six months where he didn’t feel safe in his own home and were all the love he’d had for Eddie turned to bitter hatred. Four days ago it had all finally been sorted and his house was safe, it was still his house.
Tonight he’d gone out to celebrate it, with a group of friends. Eventually they had ended up at Trade nightclub, but just him and Jay. When that Kenny had approached him Jay had encouraged him, saying:
“Go for it. You deserve it.”
So he’d accepted Kenny’s advances and had gone home with him.
Kenny had been the first person he slept with since Eddie had left, the first time he’d tried to have sex in six months. He hadn’t thought he’d been so excited but obviously he was. Barely had he pulled on the condom to fuck Kenny and he’d orgasmed, a fast and not very unsatisfying orgasm.
With relief he reached his home. As he opened his own front door, he told himself it was all now behind him, but part of him knew that wasn’t true. The shame of that disappointment hadn’t eased; it was still nagging away at him. It just felt so pathetic, he wasn’t a breathless teenager thumbing at sex for the first time, he wasn’t speeding on drugs; what was wrong with him?
He felt so stupid and pathetic, he couldn’t even enjoy sex.
He dropped his jacket in the hallway and began to climb the stairs to his bedroom. He was tired but still felt depressed with failure. It was such a failure of his very masculinity.
I live in London, England, where I work as a nurse. I have been writing prose and drama since I was a teenager, which I have had published, in various publications, with increasing success, year on year, for the last ten years.
I have had work published in the anthologies, Nurses on the Run, Don’t Judge This Book By It’s Cover, Telling Tales and Courage To Love. My essay, “More Then Just Making Beds and Emptying Bedpans”, was published in the 2010 anthology Nurses on the Run. I have had short stories published in the magazines Chroma, Velvet Mafia, ScotsGay, Creative Week, and Moonlicht Nicht plus the website Gay Flash Fiction. I am also a regular contributor to FS Magazine, a National Men’s Health magazine, Nursing Times and Nursing Standard, Britain’s leading nursing publications, and for the Nursing Standard I have three times been a guest editor. At present I am working on a novel, set in the contemporary London, and a fantasy novel also set in the present day.
My website contains examples of my writing.