The phoenix's hypothesis - Book 1 (MxM 18+)

Chapter 6: A mystery

Ethan, Fri Jan 16th 2015

As always on a Friday afternoon, traffic is horrible. I had tried to anticipate this and leave early, but I just had too much to do. It didn't help that I allowed myself an hour more of sleep this morning, but I really needed it after last night. The mere thought of last evening's events leaves me with a smug smile. Which quickly disappears when I see it's already 4pm and that we are still four blocks away from the French high school. Since we are completely stuck, I tell Glenn I will walk from here and to just go home. I have to meet Luke after the meeting, and my place isn't far from there so he won't need to pick me up after.

I walk the four blocks at a brisk pace, but still arrive twenty minutes late. I hope Luke's teacher will have waited for me. At the sight of the high school building, I'm assailed by old memories: like my brother, I studied there. My father's company has a lot of ties with France, so he wanted both of us to be perfectly bilingual. My French is a bit rusty, since I haven't practiced in a while, but it should do if needed: almost all the teachers here come from France, and some of them barely speak English!

As I enter the building, I see that the lobby is empty, save from the receptionist and a very cute brown-haired guy standing in the middle. He is obviously waiting, so I guess he is the math teacher. I was expecting a nerdy guy with glasses dressed in a tee-shirt and jeans, not this gorgeous man wearing a black suit, a yellow shirt and a black tie. Not the cheap kind of suit mind you, it's perfectly cut and fits his slender silhouette very well. I'm thinking Italian brand. And yes a yellow shirt, it's a very warm sunny yellow and it's just beautiful.

As is his flawless face, with white, creamy skin. Luke told me he is almost my age, but you can't really tell how old he is from his features. He could easily pass as twenty-two. He is a bit shorter than me, but of average height, something like 5'8''. His brown hair is neatly styled though it would probably look better a bit shorter, and I see his pretty golden hazel eyes travel from my head to my toes then back up again. Someone just checked me out, this is going to be a fun meeting!

"Are you Mister Dumont?" I ask, with a hint of seduction in my voice. His expression is very neutral, almost cold. It's impossible to tell what is going on in his head.

"Yes, and I imagine you must be Luke's older brother? Mr. Wells?" he replies in a business-like tone. His medium-range voice holds the same detachment. This certainly fits the teacher profile, I am almost afraid he is going to scold me for my tardiness! His English is impeccable, with just a trace of that sexy French accent.

"Yes I am! Sorry for being late, traffic was horrible. You wanted to talk with me?"

"That's right. Please follow me!" he answers, and makes his way toward one of the elevator. I almost chuckle at the thought of him trying to order me, but I am too distracted by the perfect pair of buttocks moving in front of me to really mind. His suit pants hold his gorgeous bottom very tightly and I wonder how any of his female or gay students manage to focus in his classes.

He leads me to a small meeting room on the first floor. I make myself comfortable, and wait for him to begin. He seems a bit lost in thoughts, so I use this occasion to study his face a bit more. He really is beautiful! All of his features are juvenile, but I can see a few wrinkles on the side of the eyes, now that I look closely. He has a rather cute small nose, slender cheeks and I could definitely see myself tasting those plump lips. What fascinates me the most though, are his eyes. I don't know if it is his long eyelashes or their golden hazel color that make them so magnificent! However, there seem to be some struggle in them right now. They are the only part of his body showing some emotion, and I can't be sure, but it seems like fear.

"Are you unwell Mr. Dumont?" I finally ask.

"Yes... No! I am sorry, I was lost in my thoughts," he replies, a bit confused. Was he afraid of me? I know I can have an authoritative presence, but he doesn't seem like the type of person who would be affected by that. "Mr. Wells, thank you for coming," he continues. I chuckle inwardly: not right now little guy, but I definitely wouldn't mind you helping me! And I find myself picturing him on his knees between my legs. Perhaps I should focus on what he is saying instead.