Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 2
Chapter 1
“MIND if I sit here?” the young man asked as he sat down. “No, of course not,” Matthew said, looking around the nearly empty car and thinking, Looks like you already are. The stranger smiled. “Yes, it does look that way,” he said. Matthew turned to look sharply at the young man. He didn’t remember seeing this kid on the platform, and he certainly would have noticed someone so striking. Dark curling hair and darker eyes contrasted vividly with smooth pale skin in a visage that could only be called Byronic. “What are you? A mind-reader?” Matthew asked sardonically. “Yes, that’s right.” “Really. Then what am I thinking right now?” The young man smiled, deep dimples bracketing sculpted lips. “You’re thinking that I’m full of shit and probably after your wallet, or at least the contents of it.” “That’s amazing,” Matthew said. “What’s the trick?” “Trick?” “Yeah. Do you study people for a while and make deductions about what they’re likely to say or do?”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 3 “That sounds like a lot of time-consuming work. It’s a lot easier to just read your thoughts.” “Of course,” Matthew said drolly. “How foolish of me. So why did you choose to reveal your gift to me?” “Your loneliness is a beacon like a lighthouse on a remote and rocky shore.” The stranger’s voice was soft and charmingly accented and Matthew found he enjoyed the sound of it. He decided to play along to make the trip go faster. Maybe it would be more interesting than solving the crossword puzzle. “I’m Albin,” the young man said. “And I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Matthew.” “How do you know my name?” “Do you have short-term amnesia? We’ve already established that I can read minds.” “Riiiiiiiiight,” Matthew said. “Sorry, that was a silly question. I’m glad meet you, Albin.” “No you aren’t, but you will be,” Albin said. “Are you selling drugs, or religion? Because I don’t …” Matthew began. “I’m not selling anything. I just saw someone lonely and thought I’d sit down so you wouldn’t be alone on this journey.” “Well, thank you, Albin,” Matthew said. “If more people did that, I think we’d have a lot less sorrow in this world.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 4 Albin nodded. “The world is certainly troubled nowadays,” he said. “But I’m sure that anyone throughout history could say the same of the time in which they lived.” “It’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?” Matthew agreed. “Pretty much,” Albin said. “I’d like to change yours about a few things, but we don’t have that much time. I’ll have to cheat.” Matthew frowned slightly. “I didn’t follow that,” he said. “I tend to speak as if people can read my mind,” Albin said. “I’ve been told that it’s part of my charm.” You’ve got plenty of that, Matthew thought. “Thank you,” Albin said. “And you’re a very handsome man, if you don’t mind me saying it.” “Are you hitting on me?” Matthew said with a rising note in his voice. “Would it be a problem if I were?” “Why don’t you read my mind and find out?” Albin sighed, as if facing a very unpleasant task. “This is going to cause you some discomfort,” he said. “That sounds like something a dentist would say,” Matthew said apprehensively. Albin ignored the comment, as he began to speak. “I have read your mind. All of it. That’s my gift, you see. I know a person as soon as I’ve met them, really know them, all about them, their smallest deeds from the time they’re born until the moment I cross their path. A connection is made, don’t ask me how, and all that knowledge is suddenly there in my mind.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 5 “That must come in handy,” Matthew said. “I’d say that’s a matter of perspective, as well,” Albin answered. “I know you, Matthew Janssen, and so I know that you’re a good man. Good men are not as rare as some suppose, but neither are the evil ones. I’ve brushed against strangers in crowds and felt the urge to vomit. But I don’t want to talk about that. Your presence is very soothing, and I’d just like to sit next to you for a while and talk.” “Where’s the discomfort in that?” Matthew joked. “I’ve seen the parts of your mind that you keep hidden even from yourself,” Albin said. “That’s what I’d like to talk about.” “Most people just want to talk about themselves,” Matthew observed. “But you aren’t most people, are you?” “Neither are you,” Albin replied. “You’re very special.” Matthew snorted his opinion of Albin’s opinion. “Despite the fact that you’ve worked your way up to partner in one of the most successful firms in the city, you consider yourself a failure. You leave the city and your job and your social life at every opportunity to spend time alone in your country house.” “You’re never alone when you have a horse,” Matthew said. “Or two,” Albin smiled. “And that is the essence of the quality that drew me to you. Not that you have a horse for company, but that you have a horse to keep your horse company.” “So?” “So, you’re a man that’s not only considerate of the wants and needs of others, but also of the others without voices of their own.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 6 “When you put it that way, I sound like a pretty decent guy,” Matthew said. “You were decent enough to marry the woman who carried your child. You were decent enough to stand by her after you realized you didn’t love her. You were decent enough to give her the divorce she asked for when she fell in love with someone else. You were decent enough to deny yourself the pleasure of watching your child grow up so that he could live with his mother, yet you have been a constant presence in his life with regular visits, letters and small gifts at odd times. “Just last Wednesday, you and your partners received a bonus for bringing a campaign in ahead of schedule, and you were decent enough to give your third to Paul, whose son has undergone a series of expensive operations to restore his sight. You didn’t even tell him. You and Antonio let him believe the bonus was larger than expected. You didn’t want thanks. You were satisfied with the look on his face when he opened the envelope.” Matthew smiled at the memory of the light that dawned in Paul’s eyes when he saw the amount of the check. “Anyone would’ve done the same.” “Did Antonio?” “No, but he has a family of his own.” Albin nodded. “Of course. Reasons for not acting are easy to find. But our conversation has wandered again. My fault.” Matthew watched the young man’s captivating features reconfigure through several distinct, if fleeting, expressions ranging from stern to sheepish and back to concerned. “You’ve never known why you take no joy from your accomplishments, but I will tell you,” Albin met Matthew’s eyes. “You’re unhappy because you’re doing what you think you should, instead of what you want. You design advertising campaigns for everyone from the film
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 7 industry to the mass transit authority as long as the money is there, but you should be writing poems instead of copy. When you accept that you’re an artist trapped in the world of commerce, you’ll understand why you feel like a failure.” “Because I didn’t resist the lure of money? I had to support my family.” “What if your poems were so good that they were published and millions of people bought them? Wouldn’t that support a family?” “That would never happen,” Matthew said. “As long as you believe that, it never will,” Albin agreed. “You feel like a failure because you never even tried. You stepped right into the ranks and marched along, never looking to the left or right, eyes on the prize, and now here you are. You’re in your middle forties; you have your beautiful house, but where is the wife and the family?” “Way to rub it in,” Matthew said. “What’s your point?” “If you had been true to yourself, you would be happier.” “Thanks for the advice,” Matthew said. “I don’t know who you are, or how you found out so much about me, maybe you Googled me or something, but I’m getting a little worried about your motives in stalking me.” “I never saw you before you got on this train,” Albin said. “If you don’t want to hear what I have to tell you, I’ll find somewhere else to sit.” “You’re freaking me out a little,” Matthew admitted. “You seem so sincere, but it’s a bit much to accept that you can actually read minds.” “Yeah, I know,” Albin said. “It wasn’t easy for me either. May I continue?”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 8 Matthew hesitated before answering. “Sure,” he said. “If you think you can fix me, go ahead and give it a shot, because I’m sick and tired of living the gray routine of this life.” “I know,” Albin said, stretching forth his hand. Matthew looked down as the young man took his hand in an easy clasp. Albin’s fingers were warm, and curled around Matthew’s in a very pleasant way. Albin shrugged apologetically when Matthew met his eyes again. “I have to touch you for this part,” Albin said. “I told you I’d have to cheat. If you’re ready, I’ll show you the part of yourself that you’ve denied for so long. Just pretend that you’ve fallen asleep and you’re dreaming.” Matthew blinked as the rushing, howling wind whipped his long hair across his eyes. He shivered in the chill and looked out from the rocky promontory at the wild sea that foamed about its feet. It was a beautiful place, but its beauty was cold and bleak. “You look different here,” Albin said from behind Matthew. The man turned around, and the wind died. He was looking across a pleasant rolling meadow with swathes of bright wildflowers bordered by a wood of birch and evergreen. Albin sat on a flat-topped glacial boulder with his arms around his knees. “It’s not just the long hair and the scruffy beard,” the young man said. “There’s a light in your eyes that isn’t there in RL.” “Arrelle?” Matthew said. “Where’s that?” “R. L.” Albin laughed. “Real life.” Matthew looked over his shoulder and saw that the wind still raged against the cliff and the waves dashed themselves to pieces on the rocks.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 9 The light was wan, the sun a cheerless point of pale light on the pewter bowl of the lowering sky. When he faced front again, the sward glowed green as emerald and a golden haze hung over the blossom-starred field. Albin’s skin glowed like sun-warmed honey. “Don’t stop halfway,” Albin called. “Don’t build another wall, or find another shell. Come to me and let me show you yourself.” “Who are you?” Matthew asked in wonder. “I am beauty and your heart’s delight,” the young man said. “I am what you want, what you have forged from the stuff of daydreams in the flames of desire: a Muse for your art and a lover to share your bed and your life.” “Lover?” Matthew halted in front of the table-sized boulder. “You sure got that one wrong, Kreskin. I don’t swing that way.” “Then you’ll feel nothing if I kiss you. Come. Prove me wrong.” Albin held out his arms. “You’re naked,” Matthew pointed out. “So are you,” Albin said. “And if you’ll look down, you’ll see why I’m so confident.” Matthew didn’t need to look down. He could feel his flesh rising in reaction to the tableau of a naked, desirable man in a sunny meadow. It was like the reveries he’d had as a boy on the edge of puberty, images his priest and parents had told him were sinful. “This is a dream?” Matthew asked cautiously. “It’s all a dream,” Albin answered. Matthew gazed on the long limbs gracefully sprawled over the dark granite and the ember that had always burned at his core glowed brighter.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 10 Albin sat up, his legs drifting wider apart, and the coal put forth a flame. Each small movement the young man made fanned the fire that Matthew had never before allowed to ignite. Depthless eyes and sweet lips beckoned to Matthew and Matthew answered. Moving between Albin’s thighs, Matthew wrapped his arms around the young man’s trim waist. Ignoring the roughness of the stone, Matthew pressed close, gathering Albin hungrily into his embrace. Albin put his arms around the other man’s neck, and boulder became a large, soft bed with a coverlet of deep red velvet. Falling backward, Albin landed on the bed with Matthew atop him. Matthew looked down at the young man’s flawless face, fathomless eyes and sable hair framed by the rich ruby of the cloth and he wanted pen and paper almost as much as he wanted to merge his flesh with Albin’s. Albin met Matthew’s eyes with a look that said he knew what the man was thinking. “This is you,” Albin said. “This is what you really are: a man burning with the fire of creation.” “In my dreams,” Matthew said. “It’s all a dream,” Albin repeated as he drew Matthew’s head down. Matthew felt the young’s man breath on his lips the moment before their mouths met and it was the last coherent thought he had for a while. As soon as their mouths touched, Matthew knew that this was the magic he had been promised all his life by the books he’d read and the films he’d seen. This was the thing that art directors illustrated with gloriously exploding fireworks. This was Christmas, Disney World and an endless summer. “I’ve wasted so much time,” Matthew said as he broke the kiss.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 11 “Stop,” Albin said. “Don’t think of the years gone by as wasted. Think only of the years ahead. They’re yours and you can do anything you want with them.” The young man palmed Matthew’s stubbled cheek. “And you can do anything you want with me.” Matthew could no longer control his long pent up desire. As he had done countless times in deeply buried fantasies, Matthew caressed his partner to an intense state of arousal before even thinking about mounting him. Albin responded very enthusiastically, feeding the blaze of Matthew’s unleashed lust, guiding him by example. Though Matthew’s passion flared high, he was content to continue discovering new erogenous zones for as long as he was allowed. Not until Albin asked did Matthew go near the young man’s lower entrance. Easing a finger into Albin’s opening, Matthew found it lubricated and responsive. Not stopping to question it, he followed his instincts and the prompting of Albin’s moans of pleasure. It was a dream after all, why shouldn’t everything be effortless despite his lack of practical experience? Why be surprised that his fingers knew what to search for and what to do when they found it? Why not just go with the flow? Matthew stroked Albin inside and out until the young man lay panting, nearly overwhelmed with pleasure, legs sprawled wide in invitation. Taking his hard length in hand, Matthew nuzzled the head along Albin’s cleft. The young man raised his buttocks, urging Matthew on, eager to feel the long rod stretching him, but no more eager than Matthew was to sheathe it. With a thrust of his hips, Matthew breached the guardian ring to the music of Albin’s gasps and moans. With a shallow, steady stroke, Matthew rocked into the narrow passage as he handled the young man’s quivering arousal. Albin came with a sharp cry and a look of beatific joy as he anointed Matthew’s fist. Matthew’s heart expanded until his ribs hurt to know he was the engineer of the young man’s pleasure. The thought alone brought Matthew closer to climax. Sliding deeper into the clinging velvet sheath, Matthew surrendered himself to the primal bliss of joining with a mate. Clutching Albin’s slim hips, Matthew thrust his full length into the young
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 12 man before withdrawing. In a few long strokes, the heat and tightness coaxed Matthew’s cock to give up its load. With arms and legs, Albin gathered the man close and held him as the aftershocks of an epic orgasm left Matthew enervated and gasping for breath. Matthew could do little more than lie on Albin’s chest and reverberate with the echoes of his release. It was a powerful thing, but in the aftermath, Matthew felt at peace with the world. Albin was right. This was what Matthew wanted in his heart of hearts. “I know,” Albin whispered in Matthew’s ear. “No need to say it aloud.” “Thank you,” Matthew said anyway. “My pleasure,” Albin assured him. A sudden suspicion struck the sex-drowsy man. “Am I going to find out that the train crashed and I’m in heaven?” he asked. Albin laughed merrily. “What arrogance!” he said. “And what imagination! Use it well from now on.” “It’s a deal, but first, let’s do that again, only slower.” “You can do it again tomorrow. Right now, you’d better wake up or you’ll miss your stop.” Matthew blinked and looked up at the conductor. “This is your stop,” the man said. “Next to the last. You always get off here.” “Right,” Matthew said, picking up his briefcase. “Thanks.” The conductor nodded and continued on his way. Matthew looked around and saw no one else in the car. What an unusually vivid dream; he
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 13 imagined he could feel the afterglow of the sweet sex. With a distinct sense of loss, Matthew turned away and stepped down from the train onto the deserted platform.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 14
Chapter 2
MATTHEW strode into the empty terminal. Few people lived this far out; he was usually the last passenger on the train. However, as Matthew trudged up the steps, he nearly collided with a man coming down them at a precipitous pace. Their shoulders brushed, knocking the slender stranger off balance. Matthew kept the young man upright by the simple ploy of grabbing him with both hands. The forgotten briefcase caught the young man a blow to the head, making him cry out. “I’m sorry,” Matthew said. “I was trying to help. Honestly.” “Were you walking in your sleep? You must’ve seen me coming!” “Easy,” Matthew said. “It was just a little accident.” “Let go of me!” Matthew realized he was still holding the young man’s arm and released it immediately. “Sorry again. You still seemed a little … unstable.” The young man looked up and Matthew’s eyes widened. “Albin,” Matthew said. The young man’s dark eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name? I’ve never seen you before.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 15 Matthew was confused, but decided to sort it out later. Fate was clearly taking a hand in his life and if there was the slightest chance that he could make his dream on the train come true, he wasn’t going to oppose it. Picking up the young man’s overnight bag, Matthew smiled in a friendly manner. “I can read minds,” he said. “Rubbish,” Albin responded. “I knew your name, didn’t I?” “True,” the young man said. “I’m just a little upset that I’ve missed the last train back.” “I’m Matthew Janssen. Come and have a cup of coffee with me,” Matthew said. “I want to tell you about this dream I had. You were in it.” “That’s the world’s lamest pickup line and rarely heard outside of junior high,” Albin said. “But I’m such a loser that I’ve nothing else to do.” Matthew looked at Albin. Yesterday he would have seen nothing more than a pretty, young man in medium-expensive clothing with the world on a string. He would have looked away quickly, uneasy for no reason he wanted to name. Now he saw another lonely soul that had been convinced he was not good enough to deserve happiness. “Come on,” Matthew said. “We’ll sit. We’ll talk. How bad could it be?” “If I’m there, it’s a guaranteed bad time,” Albin said. “I’m hopeless, really.” “There’s always hope,” Matthew disagreed. “Come on. We’ll talk about you and you can tell me why you’re such a loser.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 16 “Why don’t you just read my mind?” Albin said. “I don’t like cheating,” Matthew said. “Me either,” Albin fetched a deep sigh. “All right. If you’re serious, I could use a sympathetic, non-judgmental ear.” “Couldn’t we all?” Matthew said. “Tell you what. My car’s in the lot outside. I’ll drive you wherever you’re going and we can talk on the way.” “That would be brilliant,” Albin said. “It’s just so amazing that you’d go out of your way for a stranger.” “You’re not a complete stranger,” Matthew said. “You’re a human being just like me.” Albin looked closely at the dapper businessman in his expensive suit and shook his head. “This doesn’t seem real somehow,” the young man said. “Maybe I’ve been hallucinating since you bashed me with your briefcase.” “Then pretend it’s a dream,” Matthew smiled. “Stop thinking so much and just be who you are.” “Bloody hell, a hippie in a power suit!” Albin exclaimed. “Now I’m intrigued.” “Oh yeah,” Matthew said lightly, as they walked out of the station. “I’m all about karma and synchronicity and … stuff. Do you really think you missed the train by chance?” “I think you’re full of shite,” Albin said, but the morose tone was missing from his voice. “But it will help to pass the time,” Matthew said as he unlocked his car.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 17 Matthew got into the driver’s seat and watched the young man climb in. Matthew knew that this was not the same Albin that he had met on the train, if that Albin even existed outside of dreams, but he looked the same and gave Matthew the same feeling of completeness. The whole thing was stranger than fiction, but as Matthew’s ex-wife was fond of saying: shit happens. “All buckled up?” Matthew asked as he turned the key in the ignition. “Is it going to be a bumpy ride?” “Safety first,” Matthew replied. “How boring,” Albin said, fastening his seat belt. “But … your car, your rules.” “I think we’re going to get along fine,” Matthew said. “You like poetry?” Albin turned sharply to look at Matthew. “You really can read minds, can’t you? I’m a junior editor at the Whittier Quarterly. We publish poetry and illustrations of poems. What? I didn’t hear what you just said. I was still talking.” “I must be dreaming,” Matthew repeated clearly. “Next you’ll tell me that your ideal mate is a forty-something, blue-eyed blonde tired of his life and ready to start a new one.” “As it happens, you’re my definition of sexy,” Albin said. “But don’t get any ideas. I just met you. I’m not a complete slut.” Matthew smiled. “Me neither,” he said. “But … Damn. There’s no way to say this without sounding crass. I just want you to know that if you did decide you wanted to make love with me that I would be more than happy to oblige and I wouldn’t think you were a slut.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 18 “Was that a single sentence? Stop being cute this very minute. I won’t be attracted to another …” the young man’s words trailed off. “Another what? Another man that thinks you’re a complete slut? It’s not me,” Matthew said. “Whoever that guy is, he isn’t me.” “Thank you, Doctor,” Albin said. “I’m cured.” “Didn’t mean to get too personal,” Matthew said. “You seem very lonely, and since I’m an expert on loneliness, I thought we might talk about that.” “I’m not very good with words,” Albin said in a softer voice. “That’s why I edit poetry, instead of writing it. I wish I could, but I don’t have the gift.” “What are you talking about?” Matthew said. “You’re a sonnet made flesh. The light in your eyes could kindle words so passionate they would burn for all time. The shape of your upper lip makes me reckless with longing. Why are you looking at me like that?” “Do you always talk like that?” “It was my attempt at being romantic,” Matthew said truthfully as he brought the car to a stop. “I admit it; I’m trying to seduce you, but I’m way out of practice. And here we are at the intersection. Which way do you want to go?” Albin frowned and Matthew spoke again. “To the right is the highway, to the left is the road to the beach, and my house.” “I should go back to the hotel,” Albin said. “But I want to go to your house.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 19 “Only now you’re afraid that I’ll think you’re a complete slut,” Matthew said. “Stop reading my mind.” “I won’t, you know,” Matthew said. “I won’t think you’re slut even if you sleep with me. I’ll think you’re a dream come true and the answer to a prayer I didn’t know I said.” “I shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re pushing all the right buttons,” Albin said. “It’s spooky how much you remind me of Clive, but you’re not really like him at all. You look similar and you’re both poets, but Clive …” “Clive?” Matthew said in the sudden silence. “Just a guy,” Albin said. “A guy I loved so much that I had to leave the country he lives in to try and get over him.” “England’s loss is America’s gain,” Matthew said lamely. Albin didn’t respond and Matthew couldn’t think of anything to say after his last remark. Neither spoke until they pulled into the drive of Matthew’s house and Albin saw the stables. “I miss riding,” the young man said with such longing that Matthew turned to look at him. “I have two horses,” Matthew heard himself say as if someone else was using his voice. “We could go riding in the morning, if you have time.” Albin didn’t answer as Matthew turned to open the front door, but the young man followed him inside with expressions of admiration for the house. Matthew replied in kind, saying the things that one says, while his desire for Albin grew with each passing moment.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 20 And yet, Matthew didn’t feel anxious. He wasn’t nervous or stressed. He was enjoying every moment. He didn’t even feel as though he had to sleep with Albin tonight. It would certainly be nice, but Matthew could wait until Albin was ready. “Are you ever going to make a move?” Albin said abruptly. Matthew was starting to tell the story of the stranger on the train when Albin spoke and it took a moment for Matthew to change gears. However, when Matthew realized what Albin had said, all of the man’s noble resolve was swept aside. With newly found courage, Matthew took the virtual stranger in his arms and held him close. “This feels bloody marvelous,” Albin murmured, laying his cheek on Matthew’s shoulder. “I agree,” Matthew said. “Whether this is just a break in the battle, or I’m finally making peace with the world, it does feel good to just be still and hold you.” “Exactly,” Albin sighed. They stood like that for several minutes, just breathing in and out, while time flowed on around them. Then Albin lifted his head and offered his mouth. Matthew did not stop to think that this was the first man he had ever kissed outside of guilty fantasies. He simply bent his neck and took the sculpted lips. “I want this,” Albin said clearly as their lips parted. “Now that consent has been given,” Matthew smiled. “You are over eighteen, aren’t you?” Albin laughed. “A wee bit,” he said. “I’m twenty-five and I’ve plenty of experience.” “Good,” Matthew said. “Because I don’t have any to speak of.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 21 “Judging by that kiss, you’ll be fine,” Albin said. Tentatively at first, but with growing ardor, the two men undressed and caressed one another in turn and in tandem. Albin broke the torrid kiss that was melting the bones in his legs and pushed against Matthew’s chest. Matthew sat down abruptly on the leather-covered couch and looked up at Albin. Albin straddled Matthew’s thighs and took hold of the man’s aching arousal. Matthew groaned his pleasure and grasped Albin’s hips. Pulling the young man forward to kneel on the couch, Matthew lavished the attention of his mouth on Albin’s cock, balls and crack. The young man squirmed as the hot, wet tongue entered his anus, stretching and lubricating him. Albin clutched two fistfuls of pale hair and pulled Matthew’s mouth away. Lowering his hands to Matthew’s shoulders, Albin fitted the man’s arousal to his entrance. Matthew took hold of the base of his cock with one hand and helped support Albin with the other. The young man sank down, slowly engulfing Matthew’s aching rod. Finding a depth that pleased him, Albin rocked against the man’s lap, setting the tempo of their lovemaking. Matthew licked at the dark nipples in turn as they moved up and down before his face. Both became aware at the same moment that they were perfectly attuned, their rhythms precisely matched. “Now,” Albin whimpered. Matthew didn’t ask what Albin meant; he grasped the young man’s arousal and pumped it to the sweet cadence Albin had set. The young man’s tanned thighs flexed as he posted on the rigid rod of flesh. Matthew’s breathing grew ragged as the hot sheath tightened around his yearning cock. “Oh God,” Albin cried out. “This is so bloody perfect.”
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 22 Matthew looked up and saw tears standing in the young man’s eyes. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said. “It’s like a dream.” “I wish it would never end,” Albin panted. “But I’m going to cum.” “Wait,” Matthew gasped. “Wait. I’m going to … Oh shit, go ahead!” Albin bore down on the hard flesh that impaled him and his cock spurted a stream of viscous fluid. Both men shouted hoarsely as their orgasms bloomed and spread to every cell, setting them alight with the same glow. “Ah God,” Albin groaned as Matthew shifted his ass on the leather cushion. “Don’t move.” Matthew obeyed until his arousal softened. Gently, he withdrew from the moist channel and settled Albin against his chest. The young man’s breathing stirred the fine hair near Matthew’s left ear as Albin relaxed completely, letting all of his weight rest on Matthew. Matthew accepted the burden gladly for now and forever. After some time had passed in comfortable silence, Albin stirred. “Do you have to get up early in the morning?” “I don’t ever have to get up early again unless I choose to,” Matthew said. “I’m quitting my job as of now. I have savings I can live on while I decide what to do.” “Bravo,” Albin said. “Get out of the rat race.” “How about you?” “I like my job,” Albin said impishly. “And the guy in England?” “What guy?” Albin’s smile broadened.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 23 “Does that mean we might have a future?” Matthew asked softly. “I’m willing to give it a go,” Albin said. “We’re probably both crazy,” Matthew said. “I thought it was karma, or destiny, or something like that.” “I believe we might have had some help finding one another,” Matthew said. “But I won’t try to put a label on it. I’ll just be grateful.” “And if it doesn’t work out?” “I’ll still be grateful,” Matthew said. “I have a whole new life that I can’t wait to start. I’m excited in a way I haven’t been since I was twelve.” “Is that what I feel digging into my hip?” Albin asked coyly. “Because it doesn’t feel like anything that belongs on a twelve-year-old.” “Sorry,” Matthew said. “It’s been a long time since I made love and even longer since I enjoyed it so much. Move a little and I’ll see if I can coax it into behaving.” “No way! I want to do it again, only slower this time.” Matthew took Albin’s face between his hands and gazed into the young man’s eyes. “You read my mind,” he said. They made slow, torrid, tender, fierce, sweet love until they fell asleep and when they woke they rallied once more before dragging themselves to the shower. The spray of water revived them enough to make love as they bathed one another. A cup of coffee and some Pop-Tarts gave them the strength to make love on the kitchen counter. A walk through the brisk morning air necessitated a snuggling session in the stables. An exhilarating ride through the coastal pines inspired abandoned shagging on a horse blanket in the sand. Lunch was a sensual feast, the lovers using one another’s bodies variously as plates, cups and dispensers of natural
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 24 condiments. As Albin was drying off after his third shower of the day, Matthew grabbed the young man around the waist. For the first time, Albin resisted Matthew’s advances. “I’m still kind of sore,” Albin said. “We just did this.” “And we’ll do it until we perfect it,” Matthew purred against the young man’s nape. “Not right now,” Albin said. “I need to make a couple of calls first. There are people that could conceivably be wondering where I am by now.” Matthew let the young man go. “I got carried away and forgot the rest of the world existed.” “Well it does, and I have to make contact with it briefly and then we can get back to shagging out what brains I have left.” “You mean that? I thought you were leaving,” Matthew said in relief. “Well I’ll have to from time to time, won’t I?” Albin said. “But I’m coming back here as often as you’ll let me. Now, can I have a ride to the train?” With sinking spirits, Matthew nodded and went to get dressed. Too short a time later, he stood on the platform with Albin and watched the train approach. He was not happy that Albin had to go, but he believed the young man when he said he’d be back soon. As the train came to a stop, Matthew pulled Albin close and hugged him tight. There was no one to see them, but neither would have cared if there were. They stood in a dream, the boundaries of which did not include hate, injustice or despair. The world they made between them when they were together was composed of love, hope and freedom. It might not be impervious, but it was strong enough.
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 25 The whistle blew the signal for all aboard. Reluctantly, Albin tore himself from Matthew’s arms and picked up his bag. A slim, upright figure, he walked away and stepped onto the train. And Matthew had the sudden irrational thought that Albin would sit down next to a lonely man and … “Albin,” Matthew shouted and the young man looked over his shoulder. “I love you,” the man called out just as the doors closed. Albin turned, holding a hand up to his ear as the train began to move. Matthew ran down the platform. “I love you,” he shouted. Albin nodded, pointed to his eye, to his heart and then at Matthew. The last thing Matthew saw was Albin’s radiant smile. And Albin’s radiant smile was the first thing Matthew saw when the young man returned that evening after a day filled with increasingly pornographic phone calls and rhymes scribbled on any piece of paper Matthew found lying about. That same loving smile was the first thing Matthew saw the next morning and every morning after until he woke from the dream of this life and into a better one. And the dream never ends …
Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 26 Other titles by Connie Bailey
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Gently Down the Stream by Connie Bailey 27 ©Copyright Connie Bailey, 2008 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244‐149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Dan Skinner/Cerberus Inc.
[email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244‐149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America August, 2008 Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which is only suitable for mature readers.
