Something Different

Chapter 2

 Hotel rooms always felt a little magical to Michael.  Anything that took him away from his daily life had a sparkling, supernatural quality he couldn’t distill into mere words.  And this was a luxurious American chain-hotel, with all the bathrooms en suite and climate control in every unit.  They even offered a buffet breakfast each morning.  It put the usual English bed-and-breakfast, where a single bathroom was shared with three other couples and breakfast was often just coffee and a newspaper, to shame.

“This is a palace!  Bet it doesn’t charge by the hour,” James said, throwing himself on the king-sized bed and bouncing happily.  “We don’t have to leave until – when?”

“Eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”  Michael said.  Something about James’s pleasure in the room delighted him.  It was like shyly offering a gift and being rewarded with an unabashedly enthusiastic response.

James laughed.  “Don’t suppose there’s any booze?”

“Probably.  In the mini-fridge,” Michael said, indicating the small unit near the telly.

“Fancy a drink?”

Michael shook his head.  He’d never seen the point of alcohol.  All it did was erode control.  And the few times he’d imbibed, he’d felt no happier.  In fact, he’d felt markedly sadder.

“And I suppose this is a non-smoking … oh!”  James chirped as he discovered the ashtray on one bedside table.

“Thought you might appreciate a smoking room.”

James already had a cigarette out.  Lighting it, he took a drag and stabbed a finger at Michael.

“Know what?  I like you.  You’re considerate.  Polite.  There aren’t enough considerate, polite people in the world.  Believe me.”

“You meet a lot of the other kind in … in your chosen pursuit?” Michael asked, uncertain how else to phrase it without giving offense.

James lit up.  He was even more beautiful with that light in his eyes, a sly, coquettish creature with a core of real vulnerability.  “In my chosen pursuit,” he repeated, choking back a laugh, “I meet the very worst people in the world.  And a few of the best.  I felt kind of lost, wandering around fucking Brixton Park, wondering how many geezers I’d have to fuck to get back to London.  Thought I’d sleep on a bench till the rozzers poked me with their batons.  But I met you and I’ll sleep here tonight.  Can’t complain.”

“Shall I open it for you?” Michael asked, pointing at the sealed mini-fridge with its pay-as-you-go list attached.

James shook his head.  “I don’t need a drink to do you, love.  I’m ready right now.”

Michael went erect.  He didn’t let himself question the strength of his own response, the throb of need from root to tip.  It was like his daily masturbation – possibly wrong, possibly juvenile and borderline deviant, but something he required to keep from going mad.  Other men received oral sex, but Frannie refused to administer it.  Was it really so wrong to obtain such attention secretly, without harming her?  And why not from a beautiful boy?  What difference did it make if the mouth was male or female?

James patted the bed.  “Lie on your back.  Undo your belt.  I’ll do the rest.”

Michael took a deep breath.  Removing his suit jacket, he draped it over a chair.  Pulling off his shoes, he stretched out beside James, trying to modulate his breathing.  “Should we turn out the lights?”

James shook his head.  “Watch.  You’ll enjoy it more if you watch.”

Hands trembling, Michael managed to unlatch his belt, unbuttoning his trousers and unzipping his fly.  Then James took over, pushing down Michael’s shorts and pulling out his fully erect penis.  James gave a low whistle.