Come Di(n)e With Me, page 16
Although it was his music, a gift from Stewart not long after the film came out, Patrick wasn’t overly familiar with playing the piece. He generally preferred practicing the classics, dipping his toe into contemporary music with the likes of Ludovico Einaudi or Craig Armstrong. Quickly casting his eyes over the page, he could see it wasn’t a complex piano piece to accompany the main star of the evening. “I think I can just about manage that.” He smiled.
Patrick began slowly, before the rest of them had even sat down. A song that really builds. He started playing just a few chords on the keyboard, gently. Subtle.
Stewart couldn’t help but be proud of his husband. He played so beautifully, and Stewart rarely gave him credit for his talent. It was certainly a bit of a surprise this evening, but he hoped that Patrick would be keen to play more once all of this was over. He found it so endearing to see his husband get lost in the song like that. It brought a lump to his throat.
And then Anton began to sing the opening lines of From Now On and yet again, everyone was mesmerised. By the end of the song, they were all clapping and singing along.
Uncomfortable with his guilt in such a domestic arrangement, Stewart quietly slipped out again, although this time under the guise of making a start to clear the table. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself, and he didn’t want to start crying again. He didn’t want Patrick asking more questions, either. He just needed to step out for a moment.
Not long after, Sandy followed.
“Are you okay, Stewart?” Sandy asked quietly as Stewart was bent over the open dishwasher.
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I accidentally overheard your little chat with Peters earlier.”
Abruptly, Stewart straightened and flared his nostrils. Stood tall as if to square up to Sandy, his lip curled as he said, “That was a private conversation.”
“Well, I’m sure you agree that adultery is disgraceful in any kind of relationship. You simply must tell Patrick.”
“I wasn’t asking for your opinion and I don’t need it, thank you very much,” Stewart said, all but pushing past the older man.
“I couldn’t live with myself for lying to my husband,” Sandy whined on as though he’d never lied about anything before. “But it’s not my place to tell him.”
“Maybe it’s time for everyone to leave,” Stewart suggested, a little too aggressively. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with Sandy or anyone else. It was a personal matter between him and his husband alone and he certainly didn’t want any more ears eavesdropping on yet another private conversation.
Just as Anton and the rest of them were coming to an end of a rather fun performance, Stewart popped his head around the door and announced, “I’m beat. I’m going to head off now, if you’re coming, Peters?”
It was rather early for him, but the night seemed to be dead in the water, drunken-party-vibes wise, so why not? “Coming!” he shouted.
With the quickest goodbyes in the history of gay dinner parties, Stewart and Peters made their way back into town on foot. It was only a fifteen, twenty minutes’ walk, so better that than waiting for a taxi, as far as Stewart was concerned.
“Wait up a sec,” Peters said, following behind. “You’re on a right mission tonight.”
“I just wanna get home, that’s all. Well, not home. I really want to go home, but failing that, I want to go to bed.”
Peters stopped him in the street. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened and I’m really sorry you’re upset with it. But it was just a bit of drunken fun. If you hate me that much, just go back. I’ll walk home by myself.”
Stewart seemed to be considering it for a moment. He’d much rather be curled up with his husband in his own bed. But then, that would come with its own problems. He’d probably want to have sex and since remembering what he’d done in the early hours with Peters, he’d promised himself he won’t do anything with his husband until he’s been open. Who knew what kinds of venereal diseases Peters might have if he was sleeping around as much as he appeared to be?
“I just don’t want anything to happen between us.”
“Look at me, do I look like a rapist?” Peters said in his rather camp voice, whilst stood with his hand on his hip.
Stewart couldn’t help but laugh.
“Suppose not.”
“Well then. It was a big mistake and it won’t happen again. Can we please just get through tomorrow night, then do whatever you need to afterwards?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
The pair walked the rest of the way home in silence.
Fifteen
“What was up with Stewart tonight?” Anton asked as they were clearing away the table.
Even though it was a Friday night, people really didn’t want to stick around after Stewart had pretty much stormed off. For the most part, they’d already had enough of each other, anyway. Only one more night to go.
“Just tired, I guess. He didn’t want to leave… but I told him we were nearly done with the competition and not to spoil it all.”
“But he seemed really upset?”
Patrick just shrugged. It was best they hadn’t had a late night tonight. He had a football match at eleven tomorrow and he didn’t want to be hungover for it or he’d get flack off of his teammates. He hated letting the side down, and being gay, knew he had to try that little bit harder as most of the other players were typically straight lads.
“Hey, you don’t reckon something has happened between him and Peters, do you?”
“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. That was the last thing that would have caused him to be down.
“It’s just, you know, if your husband already shagged Peters… maybe we could…”
“No–”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“You know, Anton, this little joke of yours is getting really tiring. I’m going to bed. I’ll do the rest tomorrow.”
Fuck, thought Anton.
He was wired enough to want the night to continue and a long way off being too drunk to fall asleep without at least trying to get his end away. Anton knew deep down that Patrick wouldn’t be up for it. He wasn’t that lucky, but what a bloody shame. If Patrick was anything like his husband, and let’s face it, they were like twins, it would have been fun. Fucking hell, Stewart’s prick was huge, and Anton had only seen it flaccid. Imagine that beast rock-hard and rearing to go.
It was only eleven thirty. Maybe Duncan would be up?
Without thinking about it, Anton grabbed his coat and quietly slipped out to make his way across town.
***
Once again, when Sandy and Faye returned home, he made a beeline straight for bed. He clearly didn’t want to stay up and chat with her. Although she was fine with that, his abruptness was rather rude. But then, why would he want to spend more time with her? She was a woman, after all and by all accounts, he hated them. The problem was, it was still early and Faye wasn’t in the mood to go straight to sleep. It was a Friday night and wasn’t even midnight.
Maybe she could text a girlfriend. Pop into town for a quick drink or two?
But that would involve putting something else on and changing her makeup.
Or, instead…
Peering into the lounge, she wondered if Moanie was hanging about, maybe up for a nightcap at home. But the lights were all turned off.
Reluctantly, Faye headed upstairs. Moanie’s bedroom door was ajar, and the lights were off in there too. She was either sleeping or out.
Bugger.
Faye went to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.
With each passing car, she hoped that it would be her new friend returning home. Maybe Faye could nip downstairs for a glass of water and strike up a conversation.
Still awake, she flicked through her notebook, wondering if there was anything else she could add to her next workshop. But she just couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was Moanie.
Moanie was probably out having fun with all those cool girlfriends of hers. She wouldn’t have been stuck between a group of queens all evening, having to put up with boring conversation, that’s for sure.
It was no good. Faye just couldn’t do any work. She put her book down, turned the light off and hoped for a better night tomorrow. One thing was for certain, she’d make dammed sure she wouldn’t be seeing Sandy for a long time after they were through.
***
Duncan was just about to go to town. It was pretty late to head out, without knocking back at least a few pre-drinks, but he was still disappointed about how Sam spoke to him earlier and he wanted to take his mind off it. Otherwise, he’d end up going over it again and again, without getting anywhere. He liked Sam a lot, and right now, needed his help more than ever. He had no idea how he was going to pull it off without Sam’s help.
Sam was right, though; Duncan didn’t owe Anton anything. He never did. They were supposed to be friends. Friends helped each other with auditions and stuff like that. It didn’t mean Duncan had to offer his services to Anton in way of thanks.
Never again, he thought to himself.
No married men, no secrets, no illicit affairs. He wanted to go to town and meet a nice guy properly, like you did in the olden days, apparently. Then, he could focus one hundred percent on his new career with a clear conscience and no need to keep looking over his shoulder.
Duncan nearly jumped as he opened his front door. There, on the other side of it, was Anton, with his hand up, presumably just about to knock.
“Bloody hell, Anton! You didn’t half give me a fright. What are you doing here at this time?”
“Can I come in?”
“I was just heading out.”
“Please?” he begged. He’d obviously been drinking as he smelt of wine, and had that telling red line around his lips.
Duncan looked at his watch. It was five to. There’d be plenty of time if he was going to head straight to the club.
“Fine. Come in, I’ve got time for a quick drink,” he said, stepping aside.
“Perfect.”
Anton had never been to Duncan’s flat before, but they’d spoken a couple of times about where he lived. In fact, Anton wasn’t even sure it was this door, until, of course, Duncan had opened it. What a fortunate coincidence that was.
The ground-floor apartment wasn’t big, but it was enough for Duncan living alone. It was neat and tidy, but didn’t have any personal touches like photos of family and friends. There were a couple of Dunelm specials hanging on the wall, but other than that, it was rather stark.
“What do you fancy?” he asked, heading into the kitchen.
Following behind, Anton knew exactly what he fancied and wasn’t shy in making it known.
He grabbed hold of Duncan’s arse and came in to give him a kiss on the neck.
Fucking hell, Duncan was hot. Anton was already hard. Just thinking about having sex with him on his walk over had turned him on, but now, in squeezing distance, Anton was solid and couldn’t wait to finally fuck the younger man.
“Err, what are you doing?” Duncan asked, pulling away. He hadn’t sounded aggressive, or angry even, just a little surprised.
He reached up to grab two tumblers from the cupboard. Anton couldn’t help but stare at the sliver of midriff which was now exposed from under his t-shirt. The dark skin, smattered with a touch of curly black hair, sent shivers through Anton.
“Nothing, I just thought you might be in the mood, that’s all?” he purred with a smile.
Letting the comment slide, Duncan grabbed some ice from the freezer and poured two equal measures of gin into the glasses, before adding some tonic from the fridge.
“Cheers!” Anton said, clinking glasses.
“So, I’ve just hosted a dinner party with Patrick, but it ended up being pretty bad. I mean, who leaves a dinner party so early?”
“Patrick Stewart?”
“Umm, yes. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just I play football with him sometimes.”
“Of course you do. Isn’t he a little old to be playing football?” Anton scoffed. “Not like you, of course.”
“It’s only five aside. We’re playing tomorrow, in fact.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Duncan led him through to the lounge. “So, what did you want so late on a Friday night, Anton?”
Anton took a swig of his drink. “I wanted to see you.” He shrugged.
“You could have called. We could have gone for coffee tomorrow afternoon, or on Monday, after my first day?”
Duncan was happy to remain friends. He had no problem with that, he just wanted to stop all the fooling around. Especially in Anton’s office.
“Well,” Anton began, swirling around the ice in his glass, “what I actually had in mind was something a little more private.”
He got up from the couch and came to sit next to Duncan.
Duncan pulled away sharply.
“Why are you acting so frigid?”
“Sorry, Anton. I’m just not interested in messing around anymore. You’re married and I need to start focusing on my acting.”
“It didn’t stop you when you wanted something from me.”
“Hey, you’re supposed to be my friend,” Duncan claimed, getting up from the couch. “I didn’t realise you put a good word in for me just so you could have sex with me.”
“Err, no. You’ve got it wrong. It’s not like that at all. I like you.”
“You’re married.”
“But I really like you.”
“And you’re twice my age.”
The truth was, under different circumstances, things might have been different between them. Duncan did like the older man, but that tended to get him into trouble in the past. He wanted a clean start; he needed a clean start with people his own age.
Anton’s face dropped. He hated the fact he was losing his looks. He hated getting older, especially as he was so drawn to Duncan. If they’d met when they were both twenty-five, Anton was sure he’d be able to give Duncan a run for his money. Maybe not quite as classically handsome, but he’d certainly had his fair share of men on the scene.
It seemed that Anton wasn’t going to take rejection easily. He just wasn’t getting it. And although the fooling around they had done was fun, he just didn’t want to do it anymore.
Duncan knocked the rest of his drink back. “I’m going to be late,” he lied.
Anton looked surprised. “Where are you going? Are you going to see someone? Do you have another boyfriend?”
At this, Duncan raised an eyebrow. “I mean, do you have a boyfriend?” Anton added.
“No. Just meeting some friends in town for some drinks.”
Anton looked at his watch. Ten past twelve. “Do you mind if I join you for a couple?”
“Err… it’s a pretty different crowd,” he squirmed. Duncan might have slept with married men, but he didn’t take pleasure in being rude or upsetting people intentionally. “I don’t think you’d like them. We’re all really young. Loud. You know the sort. Plus, you’re not really dressed for it.”
Anton was deflated. He looked down at his outfit and realised he did look a bit old and fussy. He was wearing a bold print shirt, with big collars and cuffs, under a smart blazer. Whereas Duncan looked really on trend with ripped stonewash jeans, rolled up to show his bare ankles. He had on a plain white t-shirt under a tight-fitting leather jacket. They couldn’t have looked more different, and it was a little embarrassing.
But Anton did want something tonight. He wanted some fun. He didn’t want to go back to Patricks only to go to sleep like the old man he felt like he was becoming.
It was his fear of getting old that had driven him to the type of relationship he’d had with Duncan in the first place. It was that fear that had previously driven him to several other secret affairs over the last six or seven years… but with the way Sandy treated him, what did he expect?
Their marriage could be described as flaccid at best. They had fallen in love a long time ago. It was a real, physical relationship with a friendship just as strong, but both of those elements had slipped over the last decade. Sandy wasn’t interested in having any fun, excitement, or living life to the full at all anymore. All he seemed to do was complain, and it was becoming unbearable for Anton. At least with a little bit of fun on the side, Anton could still be happy in the remains of his marriage. But now, even that was becoming more difficult, and Duncan was a testament to that.
Anton didn’t want pity from his younger, hotter friend. He didn’t want to tag along and cramp his style just to keep him quiet. That would no doubt make him feel even older, which in turn would make matters worse.
“I’d better get off then,” he said reluctantly. “Patrick will be waiting up for me.”
Duncan saw Anton to the door, hoping it would be the last they’d talk about the situation. No more locked doors, or zippers down. No more sneaking around. Watching Anton walk off, he hoped they could remain friends.
Anton was disappointed on the walk back, there was no denying it. He’d wanted some fun to lift his spirits, but instead he had a cold dose of reality. He couldn’t help but smile, thinking about some of the men he’d slept with over the last few years. Duncan was incredible. There’s no denying that, but a few of the others were pretty hot, too.
His first foray into adulterous sex was with his colleague, Joshua. The new barman at the Opera House. To be fair to Anton, he’d endured about three years of sexless marriage with Sandy by this point. He’d tried to reignite the spark between them, but after so many refusals, ‘maybe later’ and ‘don’t be silly’ comments to his suggestions of a bath together, or a couple's massage, he’d hit breaking point.
Joshua was there behind the bar. He’d just finished up for the Sunday afternoon. Without an evening performance after the matinee, he’d had nothing to do. It was just by chance that Anton was walking through. They got to chatting, had a beer and then ended up on Anton’s desk with Joshua’s legs in the air.
That was the start of something for Anton. It was then he realised how much he needed that level of intimacy and a need to fill his animalist urges. In all honesty, he probably would have been diagnosed as a sex addict if it hadn’t been for the fact that he could just about control himself. It never interfered with work. He’d never been caught. And Sandy had never found out.
