Lust in London - 1. Chapter 1

It was June of the previous year, now just six-and- a-half months ago. Alex had submitted his application to study abroad in Europe for his final semester. The fresh-faced student felt the experience would enrich him and give him unforgettable memories. The chosen location was that of London, England. It was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Alex had barely left his home state of Kansas, much less fly to a different continent! The trip was long, but good. Everything went off without a hitch. Even his luggage managed to make it there in tact. Alex would not be alone on this trip; there were other students with whom to bunk with. They were an eclectic group of three, from all different backgrounds.

There was Paolo, the Spanish hunk who made every girl he met want to toss her bra at him. He was the silent, gorgeous, Spaniard. He was a soccer player with terrific legs, always in rugby shirts and shorts. He had thick, wavy black hair, smooth mocha skin and brilliant green eyes. His smile was picture perfect. Though he was a force to be reckoned with on the soccer field, he was shy as could be barely uttering a word. Alex had looked him over the moment he’d moved in. He looked very friendly. He found Paolo to be both a good cook and a great listener, especially in the wee hours.

Then there was Jake, the southerner from Alabama, who admitted he was there just to party. Jake was rarely ever home; he wanted to immerse himself in the club scene of London’s finest pubs. Despite his near-perfect physique, he was a notorious booze-hound, and boasted frequently of his drinking accomplishments. There were also the tales of sexual exploits that Jake had plundered at various clubs, especially along London’s famous Underground, aka, the Tube. He wanted to be very popular among London’s female population. Alex found him puzzling at best.

Alex was eager to explore all that London had to offer. The first two weeks passed quickly. In that time, he had found a part-time job as a waiter, and gone on three sightseeing tours. He saw the London Eye, aka Millennium Wheel, with a nice view of Parliament and Big Ben. He nearly changed his mind just by the long lines to get on and the tight security. Alex watched in amazement as two security guards with mirrors attached to poles swept each pod as it emptied. Alex shook his head, wondering what a world without 9/11 would be like.

Finally, for a bit of fun, he went to Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum. It was extremely crowded and quite difficult to get a picture of a wax figure without getting a fellow tourist in the frame. With his limited funds, Alex was relieved there was a joint ticket available to both Tussaud’s and London Eye for a discount. His digital camera was certainly getting a workout.

After this time, Alex wanted to delve into what types of people London had to offer. He decided to go out on his first night off, a Thursday. He’d chosen to dress as he always had, conservatively. Alex donned dress black trousers, which were freshly ironed of course. He’d paired it with a crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt he’d also ironed. His short, spiked hair was combed just so. His breath was made as minty-fresh as possible. Alex had never been on a date before and was petrified of the whole process. He’d decided now was the time. He left for the pub section of town to sow his oats.

He’d wandered by this section of town on two previous occasions, but only in the daytime. The nighttime brought out a completely different classification of people. No longer were people rushing hurriedly to get their business done. It was much more relaxed and social. Clean-cut Alex left his cab and took in the scenery. He wasn’t noticed as he’d pulled up, which he took as a good sign. He never did like the spotlight. The streets were filling up, but not even at half-capacity yet. It was only 7 PM.

All Alex could see were men, everywhere. They came in all sizes, colors, and dialects. He cruised a few as unnoticeably as possible. Some of the men noticed and looked back. Alex felt his shyness kick in and quickened his pace. He walked past a few groups on his way to the door of his chosen pub. He overheard the Scottish brogue, Irish, German, and even mid-eastern accents. There was also the myriad of smells in the air. It was a fine mixture of Polo and Stetson. Then there was whatever cologne the mid-eastern men wore. He found them haunting in a way. Being raised in the Midwest he’d rarely seen one in his town. They were new and interesting. Unfortunately, the only ones he’d seen before were on the news and terrorists.

Alex pushed the thoughts out of his mind. London was truly a melting pot of the UK. Alex finally reached the door to his chosen pub, The Houndstooth. Even before he could reach for the door handle, a very large bouncer asked for his ID. Alex presented his passport as proof. The bouncer scrutinized it carefully, as Alex looked on hopefully. Finally, after a tense moment, the bouncer let him pass.

The glass in the door vibrated with the loud music from inside. As soon as the entry was opened, the loud music spilled into the streets as a rushing wave. Alex grimaced. He’d always hated loud music, but had to endure it if he wanted to fit in. He tried valiantly not to cover his ears to at least diminish the punishing din. He decided to attempt to focus his attentions on what the other men wore. It varied widely. There were professionals still in their suits, minus the tie.

There were soccer fans wearing replicas of their favorite player’s jerseys. There were even a few odd men without shirts at all, only leather vests covered their bulging, hairy chests. Alex eyed his own outfit and saw that he did fit in, but his smaller size made him stand out. He was only 5’9” and weighed 150 lbs. He was skinny and pale, and scared to death. Some men noticed and tried to catch his eye.

Alex hurried to the bar to get a cold drink. He knew warm beer was the local favorite, but would insist on a cold one. He stood ramrod straight at the bar, his legs began to shake they were so tensed.

The bartender was a very large man with long, grey hair in a ponytail and a goatee. He must’ve been at least 200 pounds, Alex guessed. He could hear him laughing loudly with his fellow countrymen on the other side. He saw one point in his direction, and not in a friendly way. Finally, the barkeep walked over and barked at the trepid young man.

“Ay, bloke! What’s your pleasure?”

Alex tried to respond, but his voice had suddenly lost its sound. The gruff barkeep rolled his large blue eyes and sighed audibly in exasperation. Alex suddenly found his voice and shouted back.

“A draft! Cold!”

He’d said it so loudly that it caught the attention of all the men in the vicinity. Some smiled and laughed, a few others winked. Alex blushed, wary of the notice he’d drawn. He reached into his wallet and pulled out the right amount of money. He slapped it onto the bar and quickly drank off 1/3 of his ale to attempt to quell his fears. He decided to return to just people-watching and cruising.

Suddenly, the crowds cleared just long enough for Alex to spot a man sitting alone. He wondered how long he’d been there. He was dressed differently than anyone else in the bar. His outfit looked to be all black: pants, turtleneck, even his shoes. Alex could see when the man turned his head that his hair was in a smoothed ponytail that crept halfway down his back. He tried to catch the man’s eye color, but the dim lighting made that exceedingly difficult. Alex decided there was only one way to find out.

Mustering up every ounce of courage he had left, Alex took a large swig of his beer, which was so cold it caught him off guard. He choked for a moment on the icy beverage, but managed to calm himself, take a deep breath, and walked over to the man he’d spotted. When he approached, he eyed the chair opposite the man.

“Is this seat taken?”

The man quickly looked up and straight into Alex’s eyes. The student felt a rush, as if the man were looking right through him. The eyes appeared dark and cold in the setting; Alex hoped that wasn’t truly the case. After a long moment, the man replied.

“No, that seat’s free.”

Alex smiled and quickly pulled the chair out and sat down. He felt as if he’d just claimed a prize and had to hurry before someone else tried to. He looked over at the man and stretched out his right hand.

“My name’s Alex. What’s yours?”

The patron finally smiled and stretched out his right hand as well, joining Alex’s.

“Mason.”

They shook hands. It wasn’t too long or too tight, just right. Alex could always tell a lot from a handshake. He certainly liked what he felt so far.

“Nice to meet you, Mason. Are you from London?”

Mason grinned and took a sip of his ale. “No, I’m from Virginia. I’m just here on business. I feel like England is my second home though. It certainly has rubbed off on me!”

Alex’s tensions had to be tamed. He wanted to know much more about this man. For starters, he’d been trying to guess Mason’s age. He was obviously older, but by how much he could not discern. When he was nervous, Alex had a bad habit of blurting out peculiar questions. Just as Alex opened up his mouth to ask, Mason leaned forward and looked into his companion’s pale, fair face with a scrutinizing eye.

“Hey, not to be rude, but are you even old enough to be in here?”

Alex felt his face flush, but with anger. His mouth opened, but couldn’t yet conjure a reply. He grabbed his beer and took a large swig in defiance.

“Of course I’m old enough! I’m not a teenager, I’m 21! How old are you?” Alex crossed his arms haughtily across his narrow chest.

Mason backed away for a moment. “I’m 28. I’m sorry, Alex. I meant no offense.”

Alex uncrossed his arms and looked into Mason’s eyes. “Yep, you’re plenty old enough. Just as I am.”

Mason smirked. “Touché. Wow, guess I won’t be pissing you off again. Quite the temper you have!”

Alex felt a wave of nerves as he realized he’d just insulted Mason. His brown eyes grew wide and his pulse quickened. He unfolded his arms and lightened his tone.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

Mason leaned back in the barstool and eyed the young man. Alex’s mind quickly filled with worrisome thoughts and he was unable to slow his rapidly increasing breathing. He fumbled for his glass of beer, finally grasping it and shakily brought it to his lips.

“Alex? Hey, are you ok?”

Alex slammed the glass down on the table after finishing it rapidly. His face changed hue from pale to pasty white. He suddenly clamped his left hand over his mouth and bolted for the bathroom at the back of the pub.