Before Lovers

Chapter 1-2

By five-thirty the following day, Paul had forgotten about the man on the bus. As usual, he walked to the bus stop and waited in line with about fifteen or sixteen other people. He checked his watch, then glanced back along the road to see whether the bus was coming. It wasn’t, but something else caught his eye. The man from yesterday had joined the line. He was wearing a tailored suit, as he had been the previous day, and carrying a briefcase. The man smiled at him and gave him a discreet nod. Paul turned to face the front of the queue. His heart was racing.

He was about to turn around once more, to ascertain whether he’d been seeing things or not, when the bus pulled into the stop. He got on and made his way to the back of the bus where he’d have the advantage. Most people stood in the aisle facing the front, some faced the side, staring blankly out of the windows, but no one ever faced the back. He found a seat two down from the very back one, and as he watched the man make his way along the aisle, he realised his mistake.

The man had stopped level with the rear door. Paul was going to have to walk right past him in order to get off the bus.

As the bus neared Paul’s stop, he began to fidget. Now it was his turn to watch the man, who stood in profile facing the rear door. Twice he caught the man’s eyes upon him. There was no mistaking it, and he didn’t just casually cast his eye over the back section of the bus and find Paul. He looked directly at him. The second time he caught the man looking at him, the man smiled. Paul frowned.

This is ridiculous, he thought as the bus approached his stop. I’m a grown man, for God’s sake. This isn’t high school.

He climbed out of his seat and eased his way past an overweight woman, who was soon squeezing herself into the seat he’d vacated, much to the consternation of the gent in the window seat.

The bus stopped. The door opened. He watched the man step back, out of the way of two teenage girls and their school bags. Paul followed behind, keeping his eyes on the floor, determined not to make eye contact with the man. He hurried off the bus, and even as it pulled back onto the road, he didn’t look up. He was damned if he was going to give the man any encouragement.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop thinking about the man. He was conflicted between feelings of curiosity and interest, and feelings of concern and annoyance. The man was handsome. Classic Irish—blue eyes and black hair. And that afternoon, as Paul had passed the man to get off the bus, he’d detected the scent of cologne. A manly aroma. Fresh and masculine. But the sudden appearance of the man in his life, and his constant staring, was unnerving, unsettling.

He called his best friend, Rick, a stocky, solidly built, and rather hirsute man into wearing women’s silky underthings.

“Why don’t you come over?” said Rick. “I’ve got a new black, lacy number to model.”

Rick lived three blocks away, so Paul grabbed his mobile phone and walked to his friend’s place. He knocked on the door and was greeted by Rick wearing, as promised, his new black, lacy teddy.

“You like?” asked Rick, performing a little twirl, his voice deep and manly.

Paul nodded. “I’m constantly surprised they make those things in your size.”

It wasn’t the only thing that surprised him. Rick was as masculine as they came. His thick, dark chest hair made it difficult to see where the teddy ended and his chest began. And the fact that Rick possessed a rather sizeable c**k meant the fabric at the crotch was stretched to capacity; Paul could see half a hairy ball poking out.

Rick invited Paul into the kitchen and made some coffee.

“To what do I owe this honour?” he asked.

Paul shrugged. “Can’t I just drop in and see my best friend?”

Rick walked to the cupboard to get the coffee mugs, his gait anything but feminine. He looked like a truck driver in drag. In fact, the only thing feminine about him was the negligee, and even then it tested the imagination to its very limits to think the garment had been designed to tempt and seduce.

Rick shook his head. “Not on a school night.”

“Ah, but I have something to tell you. There’s this guy on the bus. He’s only started catching it, but the thing is, he keeps staring at me. It’s freaking me out.”

“Is he a looker?” asked Rick, chuckling. “Maybe he wants your hot body.”

“That’s what Linda said…”

“Oh, that one. Does she still hate people?”

It was Linda’s habit to arrive at any given destination and announce upon entering a room, “Gee, I hate people.” There was usually a story to follow about how someone had cut her off on the highway, or how a telemarketer had called to ask if she was happy with her health insurance company.

“Always,” replied Paul. “Now, back to me. Do you think it’s weird that a guy starts catching my bus and happens to focus every second of his journey on me?”

“What I think,” said Rick, pouring the hot water, “is that you’re becoming Peggy Paranoid.”

“I don’t think I am. You don’t know what it’s like. And besides anything else, it’s bloody rude. Nobody likes being stared at.”

Rick brought the coffees to the kitchen table and set them down. “I do.”

“Yeah, but look at you.”

Rick poked out his tongue. “Listen, why don’t you talk to him? Ask what the f**k his problem is. Tell him you don’t appreciate being gawked at. Or…” He took a sip of coffee and held up a thick, hairy finger to indicate there was more to follow. “You could catch a later bus. Or ride a bike to work. You could stand to lose…”

“Uh uh uh,” said Paul. “Pot calling kettle.”

“My point is there are tonnes of things you can do. I can’t see there’s a problem. Just deal with it.”

Paul nodded, unamused. “Such a good friend.”