They may not mean to, but they do - 6. Six

Thursdays, Keith usually treated himself to something a bit special for his lunch, which usually meant lashing out on food from Tesco’s Finest or similar. Occasionally, under the influence of either his mate Jan (who was Polish) or house-mate Joe (Jiri, the Czech one), he would investigate the more exotic seeming cold meat and salami.

One Thursday, he’d been sitting in the sun at Bart and Greg’s, tucking into his lunch of salami sandwiches, and Bart had commented on the food. Keith had explained a little, and Bart had recommended a deli run by a Polish family, which did all sorts of exotic food. Keith had found himself in the area the following week and decided to give it try. The shop was small and full of stuff, both familiar and unfamiliar, and a lot of the unfamiliar packets and jars had explanations in a foreign language. But there was a deli counter, and the guy behind the counter had been very helpful, explaining to Keith what things were. He had got into the habit of going when he could, trying different things out for lunch and for his dinner – their meatballs were particularly good.

Each visit, the guy who had first served him would make a special effort to try and serve Keith, chat to him and generally be friendly. It took some time for Keith to wonder whether there was something further. The guy, whom everyone called Stan, was slight, a thin face, high cheekbones, and hair which flopped down in a long fringe in a way that Keith would have found very annoying if it happened to him, but which Stan seemed to accept.

The atmosphere in the shop was always rather busy, and buzzy, and there was certainly no way Keith could find to make stronger contact with Stan. He’d tried lingering, but that only resulted in having to buy something else. This week, however, he had more time and so having bought the dish of the day, for his lunch, he was busy eating it on a bench outside the shop. It was effectively on the pavement, but the shop seemed to have been able to get away with colonising the space. Then Stan came out and stood a bit away from Keith and lit up. The conversation started out pretty lame, is it good, yes etc. Stan spoke with a local accent, though there was a hint of something else about it too.

Keith explained that he was relatively new to the area, and a friend had recommended them. That he had a Polish mate and a Czech house-mate, so was used to trying new food and had enjoyed things. That seemed to get them going. His name was Stanislas, though his mates all called him Stan. His parents were Polish emigres, and he was born here, but still went back regularly to see his Gran.

Fag over, Stanislas came to stand by Keith, and chat more generally. He asked whether Keith had found any good places to go for entertainment and started chatting about pubs and clubs he knew. None of them meant much to Keith, though a couple rang bells. Their chat ended abruptly when a middle-aged woman put her head out of the shop door and said something sharply to Stanislas, who rolled his eyes and apologised, saying he had to get back to work. He left, but not before he had suggested they go out for a drink sometime and had given Keith his number.

Driving to Norton Building Supplies to pick up gear before his afternoon job, Keith realised that Stan had been flirting with him, and had evidently been aiming to pick Keith up in some way. It was a novelty and one that Keith was uncertain how to deal with. Yet…

The yard was busy, and Keith had to wait. Luckily that meant that Jaz was busy too and there was no chance to chat. Thank goodness. Keith sort of regretted telling her he liked guys, what if she said something, though he knew that was unlikely, she’d never seemed one for spreading rumours. And what would he say to her now? Keith knew the solution was to be more open, but it was difficult. To come out and say it? He could hardly mention ‘my boyfriend’, Thomas wasn’t that and Keith was almost superstitious, not wanting to mess up something by talking about it. Finally served, and now running late, Keith saw Jaz make a talk later gesture and smiled.

--oOo—oOo—

And finally, it was Saturday. It was a pretty typical sort of walking arrangement, Keith and Thomas were to meet up at a ridiculously early time in a car park. Keith had done that sort of thing countless times before, groups of people arriving, saying hi, swigging coffee out of flasks and putting on boots and coats, before heading on up. Only this time Keith was shittingly nervous, he’d even dropped out of an evening with his mates the previous night, on the excuse that he had a bad stomach. He had no reason to be anxious, but…

The van was playing up, so he was nearly late, and Thomas had already arrived. The car park was empty, only Thomas and his rather battered Ford Fiesta. Thomas’ face lit up when he saw Keith arrive and their rather tentative kiss turned into a full-on snog. In public, at that time of the morning. Finally, they pulled away, and Thomas wryly commented that if they didn’t stop, he’d do something in public that he rather regretted, and Keith had grinned.

Thomas had a route planned, which would take them past a choice of pubs for lunch and would get them back to where they started. It wasn't the most adventurous of walks, but Keith said he was happy; after all, it was the walk with Thomas that counted and wherever they went, there were great views, not many people and the sense of being outside. The first section was a stiff climb and a bit rocky going, both underfoot and in terms of conversation. But then they got onto a gentler section where they would walk side by side and talk.

Thomas’ conference had been a worthy cause, everyone agreed it had been a great success in bringing artists, art organisations and groups in need together and the workshops which followed the conference had really started the project off. But it had been knackeringly long hours, and as one of the groups hosting the conference, Thomas and his charity had been run off their feet, especially as they were a small group with few staff. But it was also a source of funny stories. Keith chatted about his week, which seemed far less exciting but required him to explain who Bart and Greg were. Which somehow led to his talking about buying the sexy knickers and the dildo. He went a bit red when telling Thomas, it wasn’t planned and when he started the story, he couldn’t see how he could stop.

Thomas had laughed, and then said, "Show me."

They stopped and wandered off the path, ostensibly to look at the view. Keith unfastened his belt and pushed down his old jeans a bit.

"More", this with a sly wink.

So, Keith pushed things down further, quickly checking that they were alone, that there were no other walkers.

"Very nice". And Thomas came up and kissed Keith, putting his hands on Keith’s arse and then slipping them under the fabric of the knickers to touch Keith’s naked flesh. Christ, if they didn’t stop, they’d get themselves arrested! They were both quiet for a bit, as they walked, digesting how intense the unplanned moment had been.

"Shit, I enjoyed that", Keith still found it odd admitting such a thing to a guy.

"So did I, I’ve been thinking about this all week."

Keith went red, "I have and all. The thing is", he went a bit red again, "I’ve never done this sort of thing much before."

"If it's any consolation, neither have I. So, we can both mess up together." They smiled and felt the ice had broken a little more.

After that, conversation was of smaller things, books, records, music. Finding out what each other liked. Thomas was 30, a little older than Keith but not so much as to make their experiences that different, except that Thomas, having been working in Africa for such a long time, moving around first in Zimbabwe and then Ghana, was remarkably lacking in knowledge about much popular culture that Keith took for granted, so there was more explaining, and more laughter when Thomas misunderstood. Good-naturedly, they quickly settled into an easy chat.

They stopped for a breather slightly later than planned but waited until they found a suitable spot to sit. It proved to be quite sheltered. Thomas leaned forward, put his hand on Keith’s thigh and said, ‘Do you want to?’, giving a little waggle of his head. Keith didn’t need further asking.

If someone had decided to wander off the path in a southerly direction then, in a sheltered depression in the ground they might have come across two men with their trousers round their ankles and oblivious to the outside world, absorbed in each other and each other’s bodies. The sensations were far stronger than Keith had ever experienced before, not with a woman and certainly not in his previous back-street grappling with men. For the first time, Keith saw a man’s naked body in terms of desire, not curiosity. Thomas wasn’t that hairy, thank goodness, and his long, slim dick was something Keith wanted to get to know better. And afterwards, a sticky sweaty mess, it was almost as if a light had finally come on.

They wiped each other down with the wet-wipes that Thomas had brought, and Keith enjoyed the intimate contact, the way each wiped down but also explored the other. Once they got their clothes back into some sort of order, Thomas looked a bit rueful. "Sorry about that, if it went a bit too far. I sort of got carried away. It's been a long time!"

Keith gave him a grin, "It was fantastic, can’t believe we did it but, Oh Christ, I’ve never done anything quite like it."

"And will you want to do it again?" Thomas was part teasing, part serious.

"Yeah, you bet. Thing is", Keith looked down at his hands, "I’ve never done it properly with a bloke, in bed and stuff. It's only been a quickie in the alley, sort of thing. And I’ve no experience, but that weren’t like anything." He ran out of words and leaned over and kissed Thomas, "Thanks". Then, somewhat embarrassed, started to adjust his clothes.

Thomas hugged him for a moment, then started to get up, "We’d better move, or we’ll never get lunch", and the two set off, grinning at each other and, at one point, bursting into spontaneous laughter.

The pub that Thomas had in mind was plain but welcoming, a stone-built structure that may well have started out as a farm building. There was a sign saying Walkers Welcome, and it had a selection of real ales and food. They sat on a bench outside, with a view of the moors where they had walked, and contentedly ate and drink, Keith a local IPA and Thomas a Summer ale which was one of the guest ales. It was blissfully peaceful; the pub was some way from the road and the side where Thomas and Keith were sitting faced the footpaths.

Something was nagging at Keith, and he felt this was a good time to get it off his chest. "We went to your brother’s church the other Sunday, Hamforth Wold is it?"

"To Nate’s church, wow. What brought that about?" Thankfully Thomas didn’t seem annoyed. So, Keith explained how he’d been a bit curious, and that Greg with his background had been able to track the church down and remembered it from his father’s visits.

"So, what did you make of it?"

Keith shrugged a bit, "Dunno really, it’s a handsome enough place, and old too. I’d have liked to snoop around a bit more, but we were there for the afternoon service."

"Hang on, this was last Sunday so you got the whole shebang. It isn’t always like that you know."

Keith grinned, "We gathered. It all went a bit over my head, but I sort of liked it, the old-fashioned language and the singing."

"Usually, it’s a lot simpler, just a few hymns. If that. And on a bad day just a couple of old biddies in the congregation." He smiled, "And you were lucky with the weather, it can get bloody cold there."

"One of the old folk grabbed us afterwards at the tea, and Greg told her about visiting with his Dad. She, Greg, and an old bloke had a good talk about that. Trying to remember dates I think."

"Evie, I bet it was her. Was she tiny?"

"Like a bird but didn’t stop talking. You believe all that", they were now continuing their walk. "Sorry, shouldn’t have asked, it's none of my business."

"No, it's OK. If your Dad and brother are both in the church, then it’s a fair enough question and I’ve been asked it plenty of times. Not really, I sort of fell out with the church when I came out. I couldn’t make the hypocrisy of their handling of being gay chime with the so-called message. Dad knew priests who were gay, and nothing was said if you kept quiet about it. I didn’t fit in. I always felt that I didn’t give up on the church, but somehow it gave up on me. And in Zimbabwe and in Ghana, I’d sometimes go along to the services, but they were different, more like community events and no-one quizzed you about details. What about you?"

"Dad hated vicars; said they were all two-faced hypocrites. Not sure where that came from, but Dad had a lot of strong opinions. Gran used to take me, for carols and the like but never regular and when she died that was it. I sort of enjoyed last Sunday, but not sure where God came in and what I think about that."

"The thing is, I still like going to church sometimes. I love Evensong, the service you were at. Leeds Minster does a nice line in Evensong, with some decent singing. Would you fancy going some time?"

"You mean going on a date to church?", they both grinned, "Sure, why not. But you’d have to explain things to me."

"OK, but there’s not a lot to it when you get used to it." They both smiled and continued in silence.

Thanks to generous portions from the pub, and the food they’d brought, they had enough for a mid-afternoon snack.

"You want to get together again", Thomas made it half question, half statement.

Keith nodded vigorously, "You bet!"

"Thing is, it's difficult to take you back to my place. Nate and his wife are nice enough, but I’m not sure I could face doing the deed with them in earshot."

"Bloody hell, no. And my housemates are around a lot. Some weekends is clear, the lads all go home or something, but I never really know till last minute."

Thomas grinned, "So we’re going to be reduced to doing it on the moors and in back alleys are we?"

Keith grinned back, "Looks like it."

"In that case, do you fancy one for the road?"

And they found a nice quiet, sheltered spot, well away from the path. This time it was quieter and less intense, more exploratory. But that light still went on for Keith.