Fireside Romance Book 1: First Flames

Chapter 1-2

We found ourselves at our usual table in the window, a pot of coffee between us. Neither Mary nor I liked the traditional English beverage of tea. We had also chosen our second favourite cake—cream doughnuts—all the Eccles cakes having been sold earlier.

From our vantage point looking out onto the high street, we were able to play our usual game of man-watching.

“He’d suit you right down to the ground,” Mary said of one guy who had just come out of Boots the Chemist.

In truth the man did look kind of hunky in his black bomber jacket, the collar turned up against the cool evening.

“He’s probably married,” I sighed. “All the good ones usually are.”

“Funny, I always found the good ones were all either married or gay, so that gives you a chance with at least half,” Mary said, draining her cup.

Our other favourite game was to guess what a particular individual did for a living.

Mary’s best guess that day was to whisper to me that one man—mid-forties but still quite fit looking—was a secret agent for the Russians. He masqueraded as a prostitute to get women into bed to learn their secret recipes. He’d pass this information back to the KGB. They would then take over the western world by developing the best tasting Yorkshire pudding and selling it at an ever increasing price. Thus they’d gain enough capital to be able to buy out all the multi-national companies of the world, and hold them under the yoke of the Soviets.

Did I mention Mary had a screw loose?

After we calmed ourselves down from that piece of outlandish deduction, Mary decided it was time she headed home. She still lived with her parents and dated occasionally, but hadn’t found Mr Right, yet. I dated not at all, and of course I too was still looking for Mr Right. I had my own place about a fifteen-minute walk away. It was a rather basic two up, two down; all I could afford, but it was mine. Well, the building society’s.

Mary’s words of a few minutes earlier re-awoke something I’d been considering for a while. I’d thought about hiring a guy for a couple of hours. I didn’t think I could go as far as actually having s*x with him, but perhaps he’d agree to just sit and talk, or maybe we could have a kiss and a cuddle. I’d almost approached one of these men a few times, but had always chickened out at the last second.

After bidding Mary goodbye outside Daphne’s, I squared my shoulders, set my jaw and ventured toward the back streets of our town and the red light district. Once on Gamble Street—the place where I knew a few rent boys plied their trade—I began to experience the same doubts I’d had before, but I pushed them aside and walked with the most confident manner I could muster, up to a young man of about nineteen or twenty years of age. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt which was a little on the small side for him, a pair of worn blue jeans, and white trainers. He was a couple of inches shorter than me with curly black hair. As I drew closer still I saw his eyes were grey-blue. He was good-looking, and under normal circumstances—say in a gay bar—I wouldn’t have stood a chance.

“Hi, mate,” he said in a low—and, to me, sexy—voice “What you after?” He had a faint but detectable Geordie accent. I thought it was…well…sexy.

Haltingly I asked, “Uh, what do you, um, offer?”

He smiled reassuringly. “Anything and everything, so long as we’re safe.”

“Um, would it be all right if we just went back to my house and uh,” my voice, low to start with, whispered, “Just sat and cuddled and…” I knew my cheeks were flaming red. This was a bad idea.

The man’s smile increased. “Sure, mate, not a problem.”

After agreeing a price, I realised I’d actually committed myself, we walked the ten minutes or so to my place.

Although the temperatures were about average for early September, I thought a thin T-shirt didn’t afford adequate protection, but that I guess was his business.

Conversation was a little forced on my part. We exchanged names, and he said I could call him Jim. I doubted if that was his real name, but that was his business.

We eventually arrived at my house. I unlocked the front door and ushered him in.

The front door opened into the main room.

“First things first,” I said, getting out my money and paying Jim. I guessed it was usual to deal with such things at the beginning.

“Thanks.” Jim tucked the notes into his front jeans pocket.

“Want a drink?” I offered beer, sherry. I could have kicked myself for that last. It seemed, well, inappropriate somehow.

“Do you have anything soft?”

“Diet Coke?”

“Perfect.” Jim’s smile was back. He was so handsome.

When I returned from the kitchen, can of Coke in hand, Jim was looking at my rather extensive video collection, which was shelved along one wall and all in alphabetical order—once a librarian, always a librarian.

“You’ve got a few nice titles ‘ere, mate,” he said.

“Would you like to watch one?” I asked.

I left him looking through the selection while I put a match to the fire I’d laid that morning. Although the house had gas central heating, I liked a real fire, and it wasn’t cold enough to justify switching on the boiler. After the fire had taken hold, I looked up to see which film Jim had selected.

“South Pacific has always been one of my favourites.”

I was a bit surprised; I thought he’d go for a James Bond, or some other action movie.

“It’s one of my favourites, too.” I smiled.

I put the tape in the machine and we settled down to watch. We began by sitting next to each other, but soon I lay across the back of the sofa. Jim settled himself in front of me, the top of his head under my chin. I slowly worked an arm under him, and put the other one over him, squeezing lightly. He gave out a quiet sigh.

My attention drifted from the screen to take in my surroundings. Dusk had fallen outside, and the only illumination in the darkened room came from the TV screen and the fire. I looked at the warm body next to me. Jim had moved further down my front, and I’d worked myself a little flatter, allowing Jim to put his head on my shoulder. The situation began to tug on my emotions. I had lost count of the number of times I’d dreamed of such a scenario, someone warm and soft to cuddle up against in a cosy room, something romantic on the telly, all lit by a flickering fire. My eyes began to water at how nice everything looked and felt. I was able to block out the fact that the only reason this was happening was because I’d paid someone to help fulfil the fantasy. It just felt so nice…right…perfect.

A bleeping noise shook me out of my thoughts. I looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw my two hours of bliss were about to come to an end. The noise must have come from Jim’s watch. I made to get up.

“It’s okay, I can stay longer if you like,” Jim said in a quiet, almost sleepy voice.

“I’d love you to stay longer, but…a librarian doesn’t earn all that much, and…” I raised my arm to let Jim free.

Jim twisted around before I’d had a chance to wipe away the tears that had fallen earlier.

“It’s okay. I like it here. There’s no extra charge.” He lifted up on one elbow and gave me a quick peck on my lips. It felt wonderful. I put my arms back around him and managed to choke out through a quickly tightening throat, “Thanks, Jim.”

“Please, call me Mark. I feel safer, a bit more removed from my customers, if I don’t give them my real name. I like you, Simon, so I wanted you to know my real name.”

“Thanks, Mark. I think I like you, too,” I managed to get out through a throat that hadn’t grown any less tight.

At that moment both our stomachs began to rumble. Mark let out a quiet chuckle. I did, too.

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked him.

Mark nodded. “If we can bring it back in here—and finish off the film. I’ve seen it so many times, but it’s nice to watch it in such pleasant company.”

I smiled. “I often have my tea in front of the telly. There isn’t much point in setting out the dining table for just me.”

I didn’t have a dining room. Just a kitchen worktable with leaves that folded out to allow up to four people to sit round it. Not that I ever had that many guests.

We both got up and went into the kitchen to see what I could cobble together from what lay in the far corners of the fridge.

“There’s a couple of chicken breasts, some tomatoes that are only fit for frying, and a bit of salad. Would these along with some pasta and a jar of pasta sauce do you?” I asked Mark.

“Great. Do you need a hand?”

“Thanks. If you could get the packet of pasta and the sauce from the pantry over there, that’d be a help.”

We soon began to get the meal together. We seemed to work pretty well as a team. Domestic harmony, Yeah right, Simon, I thought to myself, dream on!

I cut the chicken into strips; Mark said it would cook quicker that way. I wasn’t all that domesticated, I just knew enough to feed myself the basics. I didn’t see the point in going to a great deal of trouble, when I was the only one who would eat the end results. I made a bit more of an effort on the few occasions when Mary would come over, but on the whole, I just did for myself.

The meal was soon ready. We went back into the living room where I got out a couple of TV dining tables, setting them up in front of the sofa. After we both got settled, I switched the VCR back on. We ate in cosy silence, with occasional comments from one or other of us about the food or the movie.

We’d pushed away the tables from the sofa, and I had my arms back around Mark when the final scenes came on, the ones where Liat, the native Island girl, finds out from Nellie that Joe Cable, the man Liat loved, had been killed in action.

“No matter how many times I watch this film, this bit always makes me cry,” Mark said.

I agreed with him.

When the titles began to roll, I looked down at the tears on Mark’s face.

I don’t know where I got the courage, because I’d never done such a thing before, but I lightly kissed Mark’s eyes. He gave a contented sigh of pleasure.

I pressed rewind on the VCR and got up to turn on the lights. It was totally dark outside now. The extra light in the room seemed to dispel the cosy mood. I knew Mark had to go soon, so I thought it better I bring up the subject. He’d been good enough to stay longer than we’d agreed, and I didn’t want to impose on his generosity any further.

“I guess you’ll have to make a move,” I said.

“‘Fraid so,” he replied.

Walking over to the window to draw the curtains, I saw the glow of the streetlights reflected in the puddles on the roadway. It must have been raining steadily for a while.

I turned to Mark in his thin T-shirt. “You can’t go out wearing just that. I’ve got a jumper and an old raincoat upstairs. Will you let me go get them for you?” Before Mark could object, I ploughed on. “I outgrew them, so they’re no good to me…and you’d be doing me a favour by taking them and—”

“Thanks, mate. That’s really nice of you.”

I went upstairs and dug out the promised items. They fit him quite well.

“Thanks, Simon, these’ll be a big help.” I didn’t really give much thought to his statement at the time, but after he’d gone I wondered if he had many clothes.

“I’d like to do it again sometime, but…” I looked down at my shoes, “I don’t earn much so I can’t say when.”

Mark touched my cheek. “Looking forward to it.”

We bade each other goodnight and I shut the front door and returned to my seat on the sofa. After looking at the discarded plates on the TV tables, I got up again and took them into the kitchen. While going through the usual domestic routines, I pondered on the evening’s events. I wondered what Mark really thought of me. He couldn’t have been too disgusted, as he’d agreed to stay longer than he had to. I imagined he occasionally got strange requests from his clients, so I didn’t think mine would have been too weird for him.

Feeling a little tired after the day’s events, I put the fireguard in front of the fire, turned off the lights and went upstairs to prepare for bed. Undressing in the bathroom prior to getting into the bath, I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, You’d have stood no chance with Mark if we’d met socially. The pneumatic drill was at work again, burrowing even deeper.

After a soak in the bath, I got out and dried myself. Stepping into a pair of boxer shorts, I stood at the sink and brushed my teeth.

Once in bed, I looked at the cover of the book I was reading, but decided I wasn’t in the mood, so I switched off the bedside light and settled down to sleep.

Naturally my thoughts drifted back to Mark. I wondered what he was doing now. Would he have gone home, or to wherever he slept, or back to Gamble street to pick up another customer? I heard the rain splatter against the window, so hoped he’d gone home. I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Mark’s warm body that had—for a short time at least—been held next to mine.

Chapter 2

Getting to the library at 8:30, I walked into the main office, signed in and generally went through the usual motions of starting the workday.

Mary breezed in just in time.

“You’ll be caught out one of these days,” I cautioned in my mock parental voice.

“I know, I know. I got chatting to the milkman and lost sight of the time.”

“Is he a dish?” I asked.

“About fifty, thinning hair and suffers from B.O.”

“My kind of man,” I joked.

“I’m sure you could do better than him. Anyway, he’s got a wife and three kids. He was telling me about his youngest, Amy I think. That was what almost made me late. She’s got herself in the club. Seems she and her boyfriend thought if they did it standing up, she wouldn’t get pregnant.”

I frowned. “She won’t, will she?”

Mary looked at me with astonishment written all over her face. I couldn’t hold my serious countenance any longer and began to grin at her.

“Bloody fool! It amazes me what they teach the kids at that comprehensive, it really does.”

“Kids today.” I croaked out in my grandfatherly voice.

“Absolutely!” Mary said, sweeping past me to change the date on the stamps that we used to indicate to the readers when their books were due back. That task accomplished, she announced, “Shall we open up then?”

“Yes, might as well let the madding crowds in.” I went to the doors and unlocked them, swinging them back with a dramatic flourish. Of course there was no one waiting to gain admittance.

“Bloody fool!” she repeated. “You seem pretty happy today.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it later,” I replied. “Though I’m not sure you’ll approve.”

She raised an eyebrow. I could quite easily predict what her reactions would be. First would come shock. Then she’d wonder at my boldness. Next would come a short period of silence as she processed the information. Then she’d worry I’d put myself in danger. Finally she’d ask if I was going to repeat the experience.

Patrons trickled in throughout the morning. The miserable weather no doubt encouraged some people to just come in for a bit just to shelter from the rain.

We had the usual crop of students doing that last minute bit of research, needing to look up a few references for the essay that would be due in that day. We also saw a couple of local historians who wanted to consult the microfiche records of the local paper. Two old age pensioners shuffled through the doors. The first wanted to find out what he could about a murder committed half a century ago. The second wanted to research his great uncle Frank, and whether or not he had won first prize for his onions in the county flower and produce show twenty-five years ago.

All pretty mundane stuff, but that was what I liked. Predictability, order and onions. The local historians knew what they were doing, so needed little help from me. The guy checking on the prize-winning onions wasn’t really sure what to do, so required more assistance. It seemed there was a long running family argument about whether Uncle Frank came in first or second. The things families argued about! I was able to find out he had actually got a ‘highly commended.’ No doubt this didn’t satisfy either of the warring factions, but there it was in print, and so at least that particular argument was laid to rest.

The day progressed pretty much as most days do in the glittering world of non-fiction. As Mary and I took different lunches we couldn’t talk then. I would have to wait till a lull in the rush.

It wasn’t until half past three that the section was empty enough for me to feel I could spill the beans about the previous evening without being overheard.

“Want to know what I did last night?” I said to Mary as I sidled up to her left side, using my best master spy voice.

“I’ve been wondering what has improved your mood today, and the bit about me not approving has me intrigued.”

“Well,” I coughed, looked around again to ensure I wasn’t going to be overheard and said rather too quickly, “I spent the evening with a male prostitute.”

She laughed. I looked sternly at her.

“You didn’t!” she said a bit too loudly.

“Not so loud! I did. Honestly.”

She was stunned. I didn’t think much would shut Mary up, but this did. She stared open mouthed at me for a few seconds. “Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stairs.”

Despite my nervousness, I had to smile at her old-fashioned turn of phrase.

“What was it like? You were safe weren’t you? Did he hurt you? Will you do it again?”

I gave another quick look around. No one was paying us any attention. “To take each of your questions in turn, it was pretty nice. In fact I felt good about it.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes I was perfectly safe. We went to my place. All we did was sit on the sofa and kiss and cuddle. No, Mark—his name was Mark—didn’t hurt me at all. I felt nice and warm and tingly inside.” I closed my eyes to try to recapture some of the pleasant feelings of the previous evening, but I couldn’t. I opened my eyes; the doubt was already beginning to settle in. “It’s a pity I had to pay for the experience though.” I sighed.

Mary gave me a hug.

“Thanks.” I returned her hug. “Even though we agreed on a couple of hours he stayed later, and didn’t want any extra money.”

“That’s, uh, good?”

I wanted to tell her more about Mark. Maybe talking about him would help recapture the good feelings. “I fed him. I don’t think he’d had a decent meal in a couple of days. He was wearing a thin T-shirt on top, so I gave him an old jumper of mine. It was raining, so I also made him take an old raincoat. Honestly, Mary, I don’t know where I got the courage to go out and do it, but I’m really glad I did.” I paused, then said, “But I didn’t give him my recipe for Yorkshire pudding.”

She looked at me strangely for a few seconds. Then the penny must have dropped and she tilted her head back and laughed.

After she quieted, she asked, “Will you see him again?”

I shrugged. Part of me thought I’d pushed my luck the first time and it would be impossible to recapture the magic of that night. Another part of me thought I was weird and sad and creepy to be willing to pay for my happiness. And a third part thought what the hell. Next time you can afford it, go for it!

“I’m surprised, I really am. But if it makes you happy, then I suppose that’s okay. Simon, you will be careful though, won’t you? If you got hurt, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I promise I’ll be careful.” Silently I added, Careful with my heart, too.

We continued with our duties until closing time. Bidding each other goodbye at the main door, we went our separate ways home.