Straightening Affairs - 10. Chapter 10

Michael's business trip to the UK started off exactly as expected—intense, exhausting, and filled with high-pressure client meetings. He was part of a four-person team tasked with scoping out a major project, and though the work was draining, Michael was secretly relieved to be away from the complexities of his personal life for a little while. The team he traveled with was diverse and interesting: there was Laura, the project lead, a seasoned and no-nonsense consultant; Jackson, a senior analyst with a laid-back demeanor; and Andre, a junior analyst who had only joined the firm a year ago but had already made a name for himself with his sharp insights.

Andre, Michael had learned, was openly gay. Though it had come up in passing during conversations, it wasn’t something Michael had paid much attention to—until now.

After a particularly grueling day on-site with the client, everyone was exhausted. They decided to head back to the hotel, but as they were about to part ways in the lobby, Andre mentioned he was heading out for the evening.

“I’m thinking of hitting up a bar. Anyone want to join?” Andre asked, stretching his arms as he looked around.

Laura and Jackson waved him off with tired smiles, eager to turn in for the night. “I’m dead,” Laura said. “Enjoy, but I’m going straight to bed.”

Michael hesitated for a moment, then surprised himself by saying, “Actually, I’ll join you.”

Andre glanced at Michael, clearly taken aback. “Are you sure? I’m not sure it’s your kind of place.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Andre’s hesitation. “What do you mean?”

Andre shrugged, smiling awkwardly. “It’s a, uh, gay bar. You might not feel comfortable.”

But Michael was unfazed. Maybe it was the escape of being in a foreign country, or maybe it was the unresolved tension from his life back home that pushed him to say, “Why not?”

Andre blinked, clearly surprised by Michael’s casual acceptance, but eventually nodded. “Alright then, let’s go.”

The bar was lively, loud, and buzzing with energy the moment they walked in. The air was thick with the scent of cologne and the hum of conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses. It was different from the bars Michael was used to, but strangely, he felt comfortable. Maybe too comfortable.

As they settled in, Andre kept glancing at Michael, clearly intrigued by how relaxed he seemed. It wasn’t long before several men approached Michael, buying him drinks and striking up conversations. Each time, Michael responded with an ease that took Andre by surprise. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation—Michael was engaging, even flirtatious, as if he belonged there.

After a few rounds, Andre couldn't help but ask the question that had been gnawing at him.

“Hey, Michael,” Andre began cautiously, “aren’t you in a relationship with someone? A girl?”

Michael, slightly tipsy by now, leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting lazily over the crowded bar. “Yeah, I am,” he said with a casual shrug. “But, you know, variety is the spice of life.”

Andre blinked, confused by the nonchalance in Michael’s voice. He knew Michael had a girlfriend—he had heard him mention Sarah before. But the way Michael was acting tonight didn’t match the image of a man in a committed relationship. Andre didn’t push further, though; he just nodded, unsure of what to make of Michael’s behavior. Maybe it was the alcohol.

The rest of the evening continued in a similar vein—more drinks, more attention from the crowd, and more confusion swirling in Andre’s mind. But as the night wore on, and the alcohol flowed freely, both men began to feel the effects of their intoxication. They laughed more easily, talked more freely, and as the night reached its end, they realized they had to get back to the hotel for their early morning meeting with the client.

“Better call it a night,” Michael said, chuckling as they stumbled out of the bar. “Can’t have the team dragging us out of bed tomorrow.”

Andre agreed, both of them a little tipsy but aware of their responsibilities. As they made their way back to the hotel, the cool night air sobering them up slightly, Michael’s mind began to race again. The familiar pull of desire—the same one he had felt with Ryan—began to creep up on him.

When they reached the hotel, Michael turned to Andre. “Hey, why don’t you come up for a bit?” he offered, his tone casual but laced with something more.

Andre hesitated, clearly unsure. “I don’t know, Michael. I mean, we’ve got an early morning, and…”

But Michael persisted, his inhibitions already lowered from the alcohol and the unresolved tension of the last few months. “Come on, just for a little bit. We can hang out, maybe grab a drink from the minibar. No big deal.”

After a moment of indecision, Andre finally relented. “Alright, sure,” he said, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Once they were in Michael’s room, the atmosphere shifted. The playful banter from earlier faded, replaced by a thick tension that neither of them could deny. Michael could feel it—the same pull he had felt with Ryan. The alcohol dulled his sense of responsibility, and before long, the barriers between them began to fall away.

As they sat on the edge of the bed, the conversation grew softer, more intimate. And then, before either of them could fully register what was happening, Michael leaned in, his lips brushing against Andre’s. It was a small, tentative kiss at first, but then it deepened, and everything else melted away.

Michael’s phone buzzed from across the room, a constant vibration, but he ignored it. He was too caught up in the moment, in the warmth of Andre’s touch and the intoxicated haze that clouded his judgment. The pull was too strong, the urge too overpowering.

By the time the night ended, Michael and Andre had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And as Michael lay there, his mind spinning, the reality of what he had done began to sink in. He had forgotten to call Sarah, had ignored her calls, and now, there was no taking what he had done back.

The guilt started to settle in, but it was quickly overshadowed by the realization that this was no longer about just one mistake. It was becoming a pattern—a pattern that Michael didn’t know how to break.

Michael got out of bed and walked to the table, and stared at the phone, feeling the weight of the dozen missed calls and texts from Sarah. He had forgotten to call her, forgotten about everything except what had just happened with Andre. He had been in bed with another man, and not just any man, but a colleague. The consequences of that weren’t lost on him. If anyone found out, it could destroy his career.

Quickly, Michael texted Sarah back, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible: "Sorry babe... had a long day and was exhausted. I fell asleep. I'll call you tomorrow, OK?"

He was hoping to buy himself some time, hoping she wouldn’t suspect anything. It was late back home, so he didn’t expect a reply for a while. But almost immediately, his phone buzzed with Sarah’s response: "No worries, I understand, but make sure you're taking care of yourself, OK?"

Michael exhaled, relieved, but the relief was short-lived. The guilt over missing the call gnawed at him, but strangely, the guilt over what had happened with Andre didn’t hit him as hard. Maybe he was becoming numb to it—this double life he was starting to lead.

He heard the shower in the bathroom turn on, and as the sound of water filled the room, he felt a strange pull toward it. His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it this time. His thoughts were already elsewhere.

The shower, the steam, the warm water—it was all so inviting, so easy to give in to. Andre was inside, and despite the heavy weight of what had just happened, Michael found himself walking slowly into the bathroom.

As he approached, his thoughts were consumed by Andre. His perfectly proportioned body, sculpted and muscular, every line of his physique seemingly carved from stone. His eyes moved down his body, until it got to his cock. It stopped there. He knew what he wanted. As he looked back up at Andre, he noticed his dirty blonde hair clinging to his damp forehead, framing his sharp, angular face. His gray eyes, cool and piercing, always seemed to hold an air of quiet confidence. And then there was his presence, undeniable and magnetic, pulling Michael in despite the turmoil in his mind.

Michael couldn’t ignore the thoughts that invaded his consciousness. The sight of Andre, standing under the water, his body glistening in the steam, made it impossible to think of anything else. The intimacy of the moment, the pull of temptation, was overwhelming. He tried to shake it off, but no matter how hard he tried, the image of Andre stayed with him.

Steam billowing out. He could see Andre through the fogged glass, his silhouette moving under the spray of the shower. Without even thinking, Michael joined him.

Andre smiled when Michael stepped inside, his eyes glinting with the same mischievousness from just moments earlier. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said, his voice low.

Michael didn’t respond at first. The hot water cascaded over his skin, easing the tension in his muscles, but not in his mind. He wasn’t sure why he was here, or why he kept letting himself fall deeper into this. But for the moment, he allowed himself to let go again, to exist only in this space, where the guilt and confusion could be drowned out by the warmth of the water and Andre’s touch.

They moved together slowly, Andre’s hands tracing the contours of Michael’s back, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed far away—Sarah, the job, the consequences. Michael could almost forget who he was supposed to be.

But deep down, he knew he couldn’t keep this up. Sooner or later, the weight of his lies would catch up to him. But for now, it was him and Andre.

The two weeks in the UK had been a whirlwind for Michael. He managed to balance the demands of work, the necessary calls home to Sarah, and his nightly rendezvous with Andre. Every evening followed the same pattern: after a brief, cheerful call to Sarah where he dutifully asked about her day and assured her he was doing well, he’d slip back into Andre’s room, or Andre would come to his room. The guilt that had once gnawed at him was now buried deep beneath layers of distraction, alcohol, and the thrill of living this hidden life.

Michael had grown to crave these nights with Andre. They were an escape, a break from the life he had been holding together so precariously. For those two weeks, he didn’t have to feel trapped between his desires and his commitment to Sarah. Everything seemed simpler, more carefree.

One night, as they lay in bed after another intimate evening, Andre broke the silence.

“Michael, can I ask you something?” Andre’s voice was quiet, thoughtful.

“Sure,” Michael said, turning slightly to face him.

“Don’t you feel guilty about this? I mean… I love being with you, but don’t you feel guilty about not being honest with Sarah?”

The question caught Michael off guard. He hadn’t thought about it much recently. The guilt that had once been ever-present had dulled over time, becoming more of a background noise that he could ignore. In his mind, as long as he called Sarah, texted her, and kept up appearances, everything was still intact. He was keeping the pieces of his life together, wasn’t he?

“I don’t know,” Michael admitted. “I think I’m still processing everything.”

Andre gave a small nod, his eyes searching Michael’s face. “Huh… OK. I get that. It’s just… I don’t want to push or anything. But when we get back, maybe we could see each other again? I know we’d have to keep everything discreet, but… I’d like to see you.”

Michael hesitated. His mind flashed to Sarah, to their life together, to the promises he’d made. But he also thought of Andre, of how easy it had been these past weeks to slip into this other version of himself. The one who didn’t have to worry about the consequences or the lies.

“Yeah,” Michael said after a pause. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

Andre smiled softly but didn’t push the issue further. “OK. Whatever you decide.” Andre turned around, and went to sleep. They both had a long day tomorrow.

As the morning of their departure back home approached, Michael felt a strange mix of emotions. Part of him was ready to go back to familiarity, to his life with Sarah, and the routines he had built over the years. But another part of him dreaded it. The last two weeks had been the best Michael had experienced in a long time. He had enjoyed his time with Andre—enjoyed the thrill of their secret, the nights at the bars, the freedom of not having to constantly watch himself.

Now, though, the reality of returning home was sinking in. There would be no more excuses, no more fleeting moments where he could step out of his life and become someone else. He would be back with Sarah, back to the life he had built, back to the expectations of who he was supposed to be.

But as they boarded the plane, Michael couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep up this double life. He had grown used to the excitement of living two versions of himself—the loyal, loving partner to Sarah, and the adventurous, secretive man he had become with Andre and Ryan.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could balance both.

As the plane took off and they flew over the Atlantic, Michael stared out the window, watching the clouds roll by. Below him, the world seemed small and distant, but the decisions he had to face felt enormous. Could he really go back to pretending nothing had changed? Could he bury what had happened with Andre, the desires he had awakened, and go back to his old life?

The thought lingered with him, unanswered, as they made their way back home—back to Sarah. Back to Ryan. And now, as if he needed to make things even more complicated - Andre wanted some of his time. He was going back to everything he had tried so hard to protect, but had already started to lose.