Jump to content

Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 5 of 14


LJackson

Recommended Posts

Chapter 4 is here.

 

5

Steven

Tuesday, August 19th

 

Another strange day. Another job interview — and a surprise in the library.

I don't know if I can go on in this rootless state, no job, no plans, and no arse. I used to at least have one of those. I used to also have one of those in particular. I suppose I focused on it a little too much.

Today's interview was one-on-one in a cafe on

Lordship Lane
. I don't know why the couple — Hakan and his wife, Ayla — even bothered to see me. Everywhere I go I see university graduates behind the counter, the bar, the shop-floor, obviously prepared to work for less than nothing. They're perky and cute and I suppose they are just about ready to inherit the Earth. One of them will be serving in Hakan's kitchen next week, you'll see. Someone like the librarian — soft-shell, untested, slightly fragile, very sweet. Hakan himself, I suppose, is not exactly sweet. I may have at least a foot of height on him — and I saw his face when I had to duck to come in at the door — but he's one tough cookie. His shoulders are broad and his belly — yes, a bit tubby — but it's strong too. He likes his food, but I think he'd chase you down the street and knock your block off if you insulted one of his cakes.

I really tried to concentrate on Ayla. She handles the business side, so I asked questions about money and licenses. But inevitably I caught myself fantasising about her husband, less than halfway through the proceedings. Waiting for him to tug off his white t-shirt so I could see how hairy he was underneath. Deciding who was going to be the man, just for the pleasure of talking about it, because it's quite obvious, he is always going to be the man.

I mentioned working for the police in the past. Didn't mention Tom.

At the end of the interview, Hakan smiled at Ayla, his dark eyes glinting for the briefest of seconds. Then he shook my hand with the strongest grip I've ever experienced, and told me he'd let me know. Which more or less told me all I needed to hear. Ping. Next young person, please.

Yes, I'm adrift at the moment, and it's strange. Strange and dangerous. Living back in Dulwich, trying once again to live a life outside of my sexual fantasies. Perhaps if I was like Hakan and Ayla — heterosexual, living somewhere new, running their own business — I would have to focus.

Or perhaps I can only see that because I'm queer. Perhaps I see everything through a pair of lenses that see through walls, words, looks, clothes. Perhaps I should be careful not to lose the things that make me 'me'.

For instance, this guy at  the library. I couldn't resist. I had to go back and see him again. There was about half an hour's grace after the interview, but I still had to jog through the park, swinging my bag. I would just about make it and see what I wanted, before I had to get out and go home and talk about my day. But I had been thinking about that young lad so much, wondering if he was okay, wondering what I could do for him. And yes, he's handsome and I like those clean-cut, preppy young guys. Yes, I wanted to spend five minutes in that clean, shiny aura, making conversation by the Returns trolley.

Yes, I wondered if the Beast would be back.

And as I reached the door, I felt my heart begin to race. I wondered what I expected to find amongst the bookshelves today. More fucking? A threesome? A jack-off circle? Some libraries had book groups, after all, and perhaps not all libraries were alike.

I hunted through the cookery section, looking idly for books about Turkish food. I looked up at the clock and saw how close to closing we were, glanced around, but couldn't see the young librarian anywhere. I took my book up to the counter, feeling suddenly stupid.

The bloke at the counter gave me a funny look when I handed it over, and I assumed it was because of my expression. Why had I come here, really? He bleeped it back in, thanked me, and smiled.

Didn't I know that smile, those blue eyes, that fluffy quiff? As the next person thrust past me to be served, I realised who it was. The cute little twink who had got abused by the Beast.

I tried not to stare. I went off to browse the library, but in fact I simply found a good position to watch the librarian from. Something was different — very different — but different in an impossible way.

The quiff was perhaps a little less fluffy, and the face below it, less smooth stubble on the jaw. His attitude was a little more serious this time — the smile had come as a surprise. Perhaps that was all it was, I thought. But I knew there was more to it than that, more to him.

He had been a little twink in a baggy t-shirt. Now he wore a pale blue shirt (meticulously ironed — so he was still that well brought up kid, living at home) and although he didn't fill it, you could see he was... bigger. Put on weight? No, stronger. In the time since I saw him, he's obviously hit the gym. The shirt was rolled up to reveal beefy forearms, it was tight around the shoulder. The collar was buttoned — and an ugly blue tie was knotted — around a thicker, stronger neck. His chest was still small but you could see it through the shirt, two little mounds in the cotton, like someone standing behind him with their hands covering his tits. The little pup has grown.

Even his hands had a little more strength in them. And I don't remember those arms being hairy before. I've checked, and it really is only a fortnight.

I waited until the queue had dissipated and he was left alone. As he stood there, bored, he scratched his abs, unconsciously demonstrating something solid beneath his drab work shirt. How could this possibly be the same boy? And yet — somehow he had blossomed, almost literally, in less than a month.

My dick was slightly bewildered, but it was thinking about getting hard. I went over to the counter and pressed my groin against it, hoping that would mean nobody noticed.

'Hi,' I said.

'How can I help you?'

'I'm not sure,' I said, sizing him up. 'It's sort of personal.'

He did that teenage thing of almost rolling his eyes in confusion. 'O... kay?'

'Look,' I said, 'Did we meet a few weeks ago? There was a -'

'An incident,' he said. I thought his voice might have dropped a little too, since I last saw him. 'In Mind, Body and Spirit. You were nice to me afterwards, yes!'

'I knew it was you,' I said, with a smile. 'How have you been?'

'Fine,' he said, shyly. 'I met up with the guy since, actually. He apologised and — stuff...'

'You certainly look like you've been fine,' I said. 'I mean, you look like you've hit the gym.'

He shrugged and gave a little smile. 'Just a couple of times a week.'

'I never see those sorts of gains when I go.'

'It's just hard work, man,' he said. 'And eating right.'

'You look good,' I told him. 'Go on, flex a bit.'

He looked to see that no-one else was looking, than flexed his arms, demonstrating his mini baby biceps first, and then curling the other way, showing the enlarged triceps. I noticed his arse had hardened in his chinos too; they seemed a little tighter round his packet, too. I humped the desk, pretending to be innocently admiring.

'You can't really tell in a shirt like this,' he said.

 'You were scrawny and now — well, you're getting pretty big.'

He blushed. 'I'm nowhere near big,' he said, 'not yet, not by a very long way. I want to -' He stopped himself. 'What were you after?'

'Actually, I thought you might advise me — by suggesting a book on gym technique,' I said.

He nodded politely, his beautiful blue eyes looking about as he thought. Still a sweet, somewhat shy kid. Then he escorted me to the right section, and I admired the tendons in his forearms as he lifted volumes down for me. I checked them all out with him, asking questions about where he worked out, what his plans were.

So this is why I came back to the library, I thought.

'I'll come back in a month for an arm wrestle,' I said, and he laughed.

It was a beautiful laugh. Fuck it, why do I have to fall for little straight boys and big straight cafe owners, when I have a cute, talented doctor at home begging me to fuck him?

Why do I want to take the librarian home and let him go as far as he wants, why to want to live with him and look after him and cherish him, as well as fuck him. Or, if he continues as he has been going, have him fuck me.

Well, I have a date for an arm wrestle in a month. I won't miss that.

The weird thing is, I logged on again to Muscle Worshippers again. Hoping against hope, I suppose, that my librarian friend would appear on there. He didn't, of course: it's for big guys, not newbies. I switched through screen after screen. And then I saw him — unmistakably, him. Not the librarian.

The Beast.

Hey, last minute edit before bed: Just heard from Hakan. I got the job!

(To be continued...)

  • Like 6
  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

15 hours ago, Shade said:

Apart from being set in areas of London that I know so well, I am just finding this story very enjoyable. I like it best when I can empathise with the characters.

That’s awesome, Shade. So good to hear. I hope I do the locations justice!

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Guidelines, Terms of Use, & Privacy Policy.
We have placed cookies on your device to help make this website better. You can adjust your cookie settings, otherwise we'll assume you're okay to continue..