Broken (2 page)

Stacey coughs, almost choking on the wine she’s just sipped.

“I have
not
just had sex,” I say, knowing she’s joking because she knows
me
, knows I’m not into impromptu fucks against bathroom walls. “I
did
just make an arse out of myself though. I bumped into the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in the toilet and just stared at him like some kind of moron. Think David Gandy but younger.”

Tess scrunches her nose. “My auntie fancies David Gandy.”

“Your aunt has good taste,” Stacey joins in, finally relaxing into our company.

David Gandy remains the topic of conversation for almost half an hour. Ed’s never heard of him so Stacey pulls up Google on her phone and searches for images. Ed fails to see the appeal, comparing him to his granddad. We continue to chat, getting to know each other outside a formal work environment, and end up staying in Velvet for another three drinks. When we eventually head outside, my mum calls as we walk along the cobbled street.

I excuse myself and make my way over to the stone wall to answer, staring down to the canal. “Hey, Mum,” I answer, shooing my friends with a wave of my hand, silently telling them I’ll catch up in a few minutes.

“Where are you? You sound outside?”

“I’m with some friends.”

“Oh sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just wanted to see if you’re settled into your new job.”

Her concern makes me smile. “So far, so good. I’ve made a couple of friends and have got the coffee machine down to a fine art.”

She sighs down the line and I know she’s debating whether to give me the
you’re worth so much more than a brew boy
speech. “And the new flat? Have you finished unpacking?”

“Just about. Why don’t you come over next week and I’ll give you the grand tour?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll pick you up,” I offer, knowing her hesitation is due to the fact she’s scared to drive on the motorway. With me being in Manchester, she won’t use the roads either because she believes big cities are full of maniac drivers. “Or get Tom to bring you.”

Tom is my older brother, by two years. By day he’s an emergency doctor in St Andrew’s hospital’s A&E department and by night he’s a loud, over-opinionated wanker. But he’s my brother so I’m genetically programmed to love him and put up with his bullshit.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” my mum agrees. “See when he’s free.”

“Great. Look, Mum, I need to go. My friends are waiting, but I’ll see you on Sunday.”

Sunday is mandatory family day, where my mum cooks a roast dinner with all the trimmings for me and my brother, and in latter years, Tess too. We haven’t missed a single afternoon since my dad passed away four years ago. Losing a family member, especially a parent, makes you realise how important spending time together is. I still feel guilty that, before then, I took my family for granted. When you’re young you want to go off on your own, find new adventures, party, have fun, all the while assuming your family will still be there when you get back.

Until one day one of them isn’t.

“Okay, honey. Stay safe tonight and don’t forget to text me when you get home.”

“Sure,” I say. I know the drill. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby boy.”

I can’t help cringe when she calls me that. It takes me right back to high school when I was ribbed for six months after she said it in front of my friends. It was hard enough trying to hide the fact I was gay without getting the piss ripped out of me on a daily basis for being a mummy’s boy.

Tucking my phone into my jeans pocket, I jog the rest of the way to G.A.Y. I can’t see my friends when I arrive so assume they’ve gone in without me. I know where to find them though. Tess and I have designated meeting spots in almost all of the bars and clubs around here, so after getting in, I head to the second floor bar, spotting them as soon as I reach the top stair.

As I make my way over to Tess, I see Ed pulling on Stacey’s arm, trying to drag her out onto the dance floor. She protests weakly, giggling, but soon gives in and sashays away in rhythm with the beat of the music.

Tess leans into my ear. “Your friend is hot,” she says, straining her voice so I can hear her.

“She’s also very straight,” I tell her, laughing as I grab the bottle of lager in her hand. “Dance?”

Tess nods and takes my hand. We weave through the crowd of people dancing and eating each other’s faces, into the middle of the floor and show the club what we’re made of. She grinds her arse against my crotch, making me laugh, and we stay that way for a couple of hours, grinding and singing out of tune, only stopping to buy more drinks.

By midnight, I’m lagging and feeling a little dizzy. “Piss break!” I call out, too drunk to feel embarrassed by the fact I’m stumbling on unsteady feet as I make my way to the bathroom.

I spend five minutes trying to remember how to undo the button on my jeans before taking a piss, all the while supporting myself with one hand on the wall because I feel like I’m going to fall over. Turning away from the urinal, I dance towards the sinks singing
Maybe Tomorrow
by the Stereophonics at the top of my voice.

“Simon Cowell would come in his pants if he heard you, mate,” a guy I’ve never seen before jokes, clapping my shoulder on his way out of the bathroom.

He so fucking would
, I think, and then carry on singing. I’m about to break into the second verse when hands appear on my hips from behind, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“I’ve been hard since I saw you earlier.”

I know that voice. That’s David Gandy’s voice.
Its owner’s face is breathing heavily into my neck. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so drunk, or because I’m so stunned, but I can’t speak. As I turn around to face the voice all I can think about is the fact if I don’t breathe soon I’m going to pass out.

When I see his face it forces a rush of air into my lungs. I’m flustered, and he knows it. One side of his mouth twists into a smirk and he kisses along the rough stubble on my jaw.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispers in my ear and I can’t figure out why I haven’t punched him in his beautiful face yet. Instead, all I can focus on is how gravelly and delicious his voice sounds. “You want it,” he adds, cupping my dick through my jeans.

I’m hard. So hard it’s almost painful. I’ve no idea what’s going on with my body. Inside I’m yelling, asking myself what the fuck I’m playing at, but my dick is betraying me. I still haven’t uttered a single word yet I’m allowing myself to be pushed backwards into a cubicle. David, as I seem to have named him in my head, pins me against the wall, raking his rich brown eyes up and down my body as he blindly reaches out and locks the stall door.

His mouth lands on mine as he fumbles with my zipper. He tastes of whiskey and tobacco and my eyes roll into the back of my head like he’s physically intoxicating me. I tell myself not to, but I ignore it and arch my back, pushing my groin into him and allowing him to roll my jeans over my arse and push them down my legs. My cock springs free, hitting the material covering his crotch and all rationale and reason evaporates from my mind.

I grab his hair and drive my tongue between his lips while he reaches between our bodies and roughly tugs at my dick. I can’t breathe. I can’t even think. He releases my mouth, grinning wickedly, and my head falls back, hitting the wall as I groan into the air.

“Holy shit,” I cry out, and I don’t care if anyone hears me.

I bite my lip in an effort to stifle the intense moans and I know I’m only seconds away from exploding into his strong hand. His grip is so tight. He’s pumping me so fast.
Too
fast. I can’t hold off. My balls ache and my cock starts to weep as I reach for his shoulder to steady myself.

“Oh
fuck
I’m…” It’s too late. I buck my hips, forcing my dick deeper into his palm as jets of hot cum burst from my tip, coating his fingers.

“My turn,” he growls in my ear and I’m too breathless to protest as he spins me around and bends me over the toilet. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week without remembering this night.”

Oh my God…

I hear him unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open, and right now I don’t know who I am anymore. This isn’t me. I don’t fuck strangers in bathrooms. I’ve never even had a one-night stand. But I can’t stop it. I don’t
want
to.

I gasp at the sensation of cold lube being rubbed between my arse cheeks and take a deep breath. Without a word, he pushes inside me. Hard. Fast. I’m not ready and the burn takes my breath away as he slams into me over and over again, holding me down with one hand on the small of my back and the other gripping my hip.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he says and his voice sends shivers down my spine.

He’s stretching me and it’s only just bearable but I don’t want him to stop.

“Holy shit,” I whimper, my body trembling as I struggle to support my weight with one hand on the wall in front of me and the other locked onto to the cistern. 

“Fuck yes,” he breathes. “Take that dick.”

I think he’s close because his speed increases. All I can hear is ragged breaths and slapping flesh and my cock is already starting to swell again.

“Ah
fuck
,” he chokes out, driving into me one last time, so forcefully I lose my grip on the wall and almost collapse.

I’m still panting when he pulls out of me and I rise to my feet slowly, feeling dizzy. When I find the courage to turn around, the stranger I’ve just let fuck me senseless is fastening the button on his pants. He reaches behind me and lifts the toilet seat, tossing the used condom inside before flushing it away. I can’t look him in the eye as a rush of shame floods my veins. Instead, I focus on the discarded condom and lube sachets on the floor.

I see his fingers approach my face and he curls them around the back of my neck and pulls my heated face to his. I’m paralysed as I let him kiss my lips, and then he backs away.

“Thanks,” he says….

And then he’s gone.

Jeans still gathered around my ankles, I stumble back until I hit the wall.

What the fuck just happened?

I take a few minutes to compose my erratic thoughts and steady my breathing before pulling up my pants. Bending down, I pick up the torn sachets and throw them in the bin before leaving the bathroom in a daze. I’m instantly sober, no longer wobbly on my feet.

Tess is by the bar, chatting up some chick with long blonde hair. She leaves her behind, rushing over to me, the second I meet her gaze.

“What happened to you? You’ve been gone ages. I was just about to send Jimmy in to check on you.”

I don’t know who Jimmy is and, right now, I don’t particularly care. “I, um…” I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my face to make sure I haven’t dreamt it. “I just got fucked by David Gandy.”

**********

Tess crashed at my place last night. We left the club soon after my irresponsible encounter with the hot as hell stranger, while Ed and Stacey stayed behind, on course to drink themselves into oblivion.

This morning I’ve woken up with a hangover plucked straight from the pits of hell. My mouth is dry and tastes altogether disgusting, so I get up, stumbling from the head rush, and make brushing my teeth my first priority.

Tess must hear me get out of bed because she calls to me from the living room. “I made you a brew!” Her voice sounds like a freight train pummelling into my ears.

I can’t summon enough energy to reply, so I carry on taking a piss and then turn to the sink to wash my hands and face. “Ugh,” I mutter to my reflection in the mirror. I look like shit. My eyes are dark, sunken. My hair is a mess and my skin is dry. My highlights need touching up, too, and I make a mental note to ask Tess to do them at weekend. I refuse to look at my sorry arse any longer so I stare at my hands while I clean them, instead.

When I venture out into the small living room I find little comfort in the fact Tess doesn’t look much better. Her hair is shorter than mine and it’s currently sticking out in a thousand different directions. She’s sitting on the laminate floor with her legs crossed, wearing a pair of my boxers and one of my hoodies.

“You need a fucking sofa,” she whines, pointing to a mug of coffee on the floor in front of her.

I sit down next to her and take an eager sip from the chipped mug. “Do you know how little I’m earning right now? Think yourself lucky I can afford that coffee you’re drinking.”

“That’s what this is? Tastes like piss.”

I laugh at her dramatics. “I’ll splash out on a jar of the good stuff on payday. Just for you.”

Tess studies my face as she drinks the cheap coffee. I look away because I know she’s about to probe me about last night and embarrassment creeps onto my cheeks.
What the hell was I thinking?

“Stop looking so ashamed,” she says. “You’re not the only guy to have a one-night stand. In fact, you’re probably one of the few who hasn’t. Well, until last night, but you know what I mean. It’s about time you got some. You haven’t had a good shag since Stinky Steve.”