A Kiss in the Rain

A KISS IN THE RAIN

Rik Francis

He also loved his wife. A true story.

This is the dramatic true story of Alvin’s journey as he attempts to live in two worlds at the same time.

‘As the weeks rolled by, my desire to see Robert grew more intense. There was something about him that really pushed all my buttons. It would appear it was not the case as far as he was concerned. Jean noticed how I had become withdrawn. She put it down to overwork so she decided to take me out for dinner. She made a booking at a Greek restaurant. She and I both knew it was a popular place for gays to dine. Why book there? I asked, somewhat suspicious she might have an agenda. I was already becoming a bit paranoid. Had she somehow found out I was away from home the last few Wednesday nights. No. I decided that was impossible. I had made a careful check of her movements before leaving for my clandestine meetings to make sure there was no change to her usual schedule.’

Reader Advisory: Be careful. This could happen to you. This is a true story involving secret liaisons, angst, musicals, and a concerned ghost.

A KISS IN THE RAIN

Rik Francis

LUMINOSITYPUBLISHING.COM

LUMINOSITY PUBLISHING LLP

A KISS IN THE RAIN

Copyright © February 2015 Rik Francis

ISBN: 978-1-910397-58-9

All Rights Reserved

No part of this literary work may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher.

The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work:

Facebook

Google

Big Mac

Dedication

There is only one lesson:

To learn how to love and to be loved

Some men are physically attracted to other men but never touch them.

Some men are physically attracted to other men and do.

There are two shades of gay.

Chapter One

An urge to check a gay dating site had been growing stronger for the past few months. I tried to entertain other thoughts, but my fantasy of having sex with a man kept stubbornly returning. I had to fight even harder to control myself when my imaginings started featuring a sexy guy pleasuring me with his erect cock.

I’m a regular married man, and don’t think I’m any different from the other married guys I know socially and at work. I met Jean while on holiday in Holland. I had recently graduated from college and decided to see Europe. I was travelling alone and on the day I was trying to find Anne Frank’s house but I was totally lost. I saw Jean sitting on a bench overlooking a canal and asked for directions.

Her shoulder length, straight, fair hair framed an angular, Nordic shaped face. Her green eyes spoke of a person with a focus. She had the day off from working as a receptionist at a dance academy. She offered to take me to see where young Anne had hidden from the Nazis during the Second World War to only end up being captured then sent to her death with other family members. Her story impacted me when I first read about it and I was determined to see where she’d lived when I was in Amsterdam.

By the time we arrived, the house had closed for the day. I asked Jean to join me for a coffee. We got talking and well, she has been my wife for the last twenty years. For the past six of them, she has been a personal secretary for one of the senior lawyers at a large legal firm. We’re not a clinging couple and value each other’s independence, and I encourage her to have her own social life.

* * * *

It was Saturday and Jean was out with her closest friend, Ruth. They loved to shop and with summer sales in full swing, they had decided to make a day of it. I was feeling hot, not just from the thirty-degree day, but also from this fantasy that was lodged in my brain and made me strike an erection.

I Googled ‘gay dating’ and a number of sites popped up. I chose one and signed up for free. I was amazed to see page after page of photos and profiles of men looking for sex. I spent an hour or so just surfing the offerings.

I paused at the photo of a muscular man with dark hair, not only on his head, but also on his exposed chest. I felt attracted to hairy men so plucked up the courage to send him a message. Although I could see he was online, I didn’t get a reply. With a little more courage, I sent messages to four other hairy men.

I swallowed hard when one came back for me. I read Thanks for the reply, but I’m looking for a younger guy. A second message arrived. This one was more hopeful, What are you into? he asked. I wasn’t sure what he meant so said I liked classical music and Italian food. He didn’t have the politeness to reply. I didn’t understand a lot of the terminology because I’ve never socialised with any gay guys or read any gay literature.

I have always lived a straight life. I am father to Linus, my eighteen-year-old son. He is a tall, athletically built good-looking boy. His blond hair is a legacy of his mother’s Dutch ancestry. He is at a local polytechnic studying graphic design. He and I shared an interest in classic movies when he was younger. It was always a treat to spend Saturday afternoons at a little cinema not far from home that specialised in old movies and foreign films. We would share a bag of mixed chocolates as we laughed at the antics of Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin, and Harold Lloyd.

As he progressed through his teens, he developed his own circle of friends and our film outings came to an end. He is more interested in technology now, but I’m happy for him and regard myself as a loving father.

I did consider my sexual orientation when he first brought home a pal called Dillon. He is a tall, broad shouldered lad with large bright eyes. I found it hard to keep my eyes off his strong, hairy legs and his muscular arms. Damn, why did he have to wear such sexy shorts that clung so beautifully around his tight little butt?

Jean commented on Dillon’s physique and although I wanted to enthusiastically agree with her, I knew I had to hold my tongue; otherwise she would—she might think I had homosexual tendencies. There was another time when Linus and Dillon were sitting at the kitchen table looking at photos they had taken at a summer camp.

Linus showed me one of Dillon standing shirtless astride a rock. The chicks love this one of Dee, he said as I stared at the perfectly formed young body. Gays go crazy over it too, he added. I frowned at the two boys as I handed the photo back to Linus.

How do you know? I asked.

A gay guy took the photo. Dillon smiled.

Dee teased him all week. Linus nudged his friend as they shared a giggle.

I was just about to change sites when a reply came from ‘Robocop.’ Thanks for the message. I’m looking for some anal action and some nipple torture. If this is your bag, get back to me.

I felt the palms of my hands go moist as I considered my reply. This guy certainly laid his requirements on the line. Were all gays like that? I would never be so direct with a stranger but there again, communication via the net is impersonal, and this makes it easy to be blunt about your requirements.

I read the message again. Mmmm, not so sure about the nipple torture. I pinched my sizeable nipple with my fingers. It felt good but ‘torture,’ what did that mean? I began to realise I had a lot to learn if I was to actually meet a man and have some sexual activity with him.

As I stared at the message, another one arrived from him. I opened it and gazed at a photo of a muscular, hairy, naked body. Robocop had a smile on a face bordered with a trimmed black beard. He also displayed an impressive cock pointing proudly at the camera. I leaned forward and gazed at it for a few moments. I felt my own cock stiffen.

I’m home, dear! I heard Jean announce.

I spun around and took a deep breath in relief when I saw she was in the hallway and couldn’t see the computer screen.

You still on the computer? she asked as she stepped into the room. I frantically punched the keypad to clear the screen. She glanced at it as my email page appeared. You’ve been on there for hours.

I have a stack of emails from work that need answering. I gave her a tight smile.

She grabbed a drooping pot plant and left the room. I waited a few moments before bringing up the dating site again. I stared at Robocop’s tantalising photo. I hovered my fingers over the keyboard and started my reply. I’m new to this. I typed.

He sent a quick reply. I was once too.

I smiled as I punched out another reply. I’m married. My wife doesn’t know.

I waited for an eternity and was about to close the site when I saw a reply from him. If you’re a time waster, find someone else to bother.

I felt pissed off. Here I was telling the truth and all I got for thanks was a rebuke. Who does he think he is, this godlike stranger talking to me like this? I stared at the computer. I didn’t want to respond, but an inner urge prompted me to bash out another message. I was just being honest.

His response was more tempered now. Sorry, bud. There are so many time wasters on here. I’m after sex, not to council a guy who doesn’t know who he is or what he wants. If you want to meet, name a time and place and I’ll be there.

Fuck, I didn’t expect a date so quickly. It’ll have to be your place. I punched back.

He sent me an address and said to be there at 7 p.m.

I was lucky. Jean often visited one of her friends across town on Wednesdays after dinner and this was that day. Do I need to bring anything?

How long have you been on planet earth? he asked rather facetiously.

But it made me realise it was a pretty dumb question. I used the handle ‘Hidden Lust’ as I thought it summed up my reality. I didn’t feel comfortable giving him my real name. Anyway, Alvin often gave people the impression I was a nerd in a knitted jumper. Jean called me Vinny, but I’d wait and see how things went before telling this guy my real name.

I watched Jean drive away before jumping in the shower. I had the place to myself as Linus was at the gym and wouldn’t be home till late as he usually went for a coffee with Dillon and his other pals after a workout. I kept dropping the soap as I quickly showered. I realised I was as nervous as hell, but if I stopped to consider what I was doing, I wouldn’t get in the car and head for the address I had stuffed into the back pocket of my jeans.

I kept my hand off my erection as I headed across town. I pulled up at the grass verge in front of a neat, inner-city, suburban house. I took a very