and ditched the boyfriend from hell. He is now young, free and single again. If you’d like to join in the celebrations, you’re more than welcome. Isn’t that right, Martin?”
Martin nodded bashfully. “Yeah. Of course. The more the merrier.”
Rob, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Martin for one second, pulled up a chair and sat down. “Thanks,” he said, looking directly at Caroline for the first time. Then, turning back to Martin, “That’s the best offer I’ve had in a while.”
Martin didn’t believe this for a moment, but he wasn’t about to argue. “Great,” he said, suddenly aware that his nose was about to drip and sniffing sharply. “Sorry. I’ve just got to pop to the toilet. Don’t go away.”
Rob grinned mischievously. “Don’t worry,” he said, checking out Martin’s groin as he stood up. “I’m not going anywhere.”
John was sitting in front of his computer, wearing nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs. Next to the keyboard, the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts. Apart from a brief break for something to eat and a quick trip to the newsstand for another pack of cigarettes, John had been on line for almost six hours. The phone bill would be enormous, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that he met someone in a chat room who was as stimulating as “CuriousCute28.” Their initial conversation had lasted a little over an hour. By the time it drew to a close, John was convinced that this guy really was the genuine article. It was a shame that he didn’t have a photo to swap, but from the way the conversation had gone, John had already formed a pretty clear mental picture of him. He was six feet tall, clean shaven, with dark hair, brown eyes and the kind of naturally muscular physique that came from years of playing contact sports and lifting building materials, rather than months of intensive weight training at the gym. He had a girlfriend, lived a completely straight life, and had only recently begun to explore the possibility that he might be bisexual. He had never stepped foot inside a gay bar, never bought a Madonna record, never shaved his chest, and never worn an item of clothing that was a size too small. He was the ultimate gay fantasy figure, the “Great Dark Man” that old queen Quentin Crisp had dreamed about, and John was about to have mad passionate sex with him—sort of.
Their earlier conversation had only been a warm-up, a kind of first date, a means of discovering if they were really compatible. Clearly “CuriousCute28” had decided that they were, because he had asked John to meet him again, on-line at 9:00 P.M. The plan was that they would both be naked and would indulge in a spot of cybersex, exchanging sexually explicit instant messages while simultaneously masturbating. John had heard of people doing this, and had even read somewhere that cybersex was the new phone sex, but he had always considered this sort of behavior beneath him. Tonight he felt rather different. He had drunk the best part of a bottle of wine to get himself in the mood, and had a bottle of poppers waiting. He had spent the last half hour checking out some of the gay porn Web sites and was feeling extremely horny, if a little ridiculous.
What if the whole thing had been a windup? It was already 9:10 P.M. and there was still no sign of “CuriousCute28.” What if he didn’t show up? It would be so humiliating. That was the funny thing about the Internet. Unless you had a Web cam, you knew that nobody could actually see you, that nobody need ever know that you had spent the past half hour sitting there in your underwear, waiting in vain for a man who probably didn’t even exist, or at least not in quite the same way, shape or form that you imagined. Still, the lure of the chat rooms was so strong, and the fantasy so seductive, that just as you could picture the man of your dreams at the other end of the line, so you could convince yourself that a thousand prying eyes
Martin nodded bashfully. “Yeah. Of course. The more the merrier.”
Rob, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Martin for one second, pulled up a chair and sat down. “Thanks,” he said, looking directly at Caroline for the first time. Then, turning back to Martin, “That’s the best offer I’ve had in a while.”
Martin didn’t believe this for a moment, but he wasn’t about to argue. “Great,” he said, suddenly aware that his nose was about to drip and sniffing sharply. “Sorry. I’ve just got to pop to the toilet. Don’t go away.”
Rob grinned mischievously. “Don’t worry,” he said, checking out Martin’s groin as he stood up. “I’m not going anywhere.”
John was sitting in front of his computer, wearing nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs. Next to the keyboard, the ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts. Apart from a brief break for something to eat and a quick trip to the newsstand for another pack of cigarettes, John had been on line for almost six hours. The phone bill would be enormous, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t every day that he met someone in a chat room who was as stimulating as “CuriousCute28.” Their initial conversation had lasted a little over an hour. By the time it drew to a close, John was convinced that this guy really was the genuine article. It was a shame that he didn’t have a photo to swap, but from the way the conversation had gone, John had already formed a pretty clear mental picture of him. He was six feet tall, clean shaven, with dark hair, brown eyes and the kind of naturally muscular physique that came from years of playing contact sports and lifting building materials, rather than months of intensive weight training at the gym. He had a girlfriend, lived a completely straight life, and had only recently begun to explore the possibility that he might be bisexual. He had never stepped foot inside a gay bar, never bought a Madonna record, never shaved his chest, and never worn an item of clothing that was a size too small. He was the ultimate gay fantasy figure, the “Great Dark Man” that old queen Quentin Crisp had dreamed about, and John was about to have mad passionate sex with him—sort of.
Their earlier conversation had only been a warm-up, a kind of first date, a means of discovering if they were really compatible. Clearly “CuriousCute28” had decided that they were, because he had asked John to meet him again, on-line at 9:00 P.M. The plan was that they would both be naked and would indulge in a spot of cybersex, exchanging sexually explicit instant messages while simultaneously masturbating. John had heard of people doing this, and had even read somewhere that cybersex was the new phone sex, but he had always considered this sort of behavior beneath him. Tonight he felt rather different. He had drunk the best part of a bottle of wine to get himself in the mood, and had a bottle of poppers waiting. He had spent the last half hour checking out some of the gay porn Web sites and was feeling extremely horny, if a little ridiculous.
What if the whole thing had been a windup? It was already 9:10 P.M. and there was still no sign of “CuriousCute28.” What if he didn’t show up? It would be so humiliating. That was the funny thing about the Internet. Unless you had a Web cam, you knew that nobody could actually see you, that nobody need ever know that you had spent the past half hour sitting there in your underwear, waiting in vain for a man who probably didn’t even exist, or at least not in quite the same way, shape or form that you imagined. Still, the lure of the chat rooms was so strong, and the fantasy so seductive, that just as you could picture the man of your dreams at the other end of the line, so you could convince yourself that a thousand prying eyes
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