Table Of ContentLust in London
By S. L. Danielson
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Cover Artist: T. William
Lust in London © 2010 S.L. Danielson
ISBN #0797734794625
All rights reserved.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or
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PUBLISHER
DEDICATION
For Dustin, my good friend and inspiration for this book.
Chapter 1
The weather outside was perfect for the mood Alex was in.
Sleet tapped its incessant melody onto the newly patched roof. The
windows were fogging up, creating a glowing white vignette on
each pane. The room was warm, aided by the newly-added wood
fireplace. The only sounds were the pelting of the sleet, the
crackling of the fire, and the pounding of Alex’s heart.
He was all alone this night. His mom wanted to drop by, but
he turned her down. Alex wanted to be alone. It gave him time to
rest and recount what thoughts tortured his mind. He sat up slowly
in the burgundy wingback chair, adjusting the fleece blanket he’d
placed over his exposed legs. A chill fell over the room as the wind
suddenly gusted outside. Alex rubbed his arms and huffed warm
air into his hands. The thin blue sweater he wore was not enough.
His coffee brown eyes glanced at the clock above the fireplace.
Alex sighed. It was only 8 PM, the evenings kept growing longer
and longer.
He ran his fingers through his tuft of brown, spiked hair. All
of the week’s events caught up in his mind, needling at him
incessantly. It had been very lonely ever since that fateful day, or
as he called it ‘the end of days’. It had been the day that he and
Mason ended their six-month-old relationship. He tried to look on
the bright side and think objectively.
Alex was only 22 years old, but was already ahead of most of
his life goals. He’d graduated early from high school and had been
on the dean’s list every semester at college. His upcoming
graduation was a full six months ahead of his classmates. His
dream of going to law school had finally become reality the day
the acceptance letter arrived in his mailbox. He couldn’t wait to
attend in the fall, after taking some time off. He’d just landed a job
as a law clerk and could now pay for his own rental house.
But now, all the goals, all the dreams, all the careful planning
he and his parents had orchestrated together, meant little to him.
Alex rested his head on his right hand, and stared into the fire. His
life felt meaningless and empty without Mason to share it with.
The breakup had been very one-sided. The last six months had
been full of every emotion the young man could’ve mustered. He’d
felt love, hate, passion, jealousy, absolute joy, pain. The breakup
was very sudden, and very emotional.
Alex felt his young, beardless face flush, and there was the
sudden refreshing coolness of tears rushing down his skin. He
brushed the tears away violently. He tried valiantly to stop the
onslaught of memories, of all their dates, games they played, and
nights they’d spent together. He’d battled this round of tears, but as
an unrelenting foe, they came back, and in greater numbers. Alex
surrendered to them at last and fell asleep after crying for a half-
an-hour. He dreamt of when he and Mason first met.
Chapter 2
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?”
