I don't know if the share market blow out the late 80s affected you, Father, or anyone you know, but for me it was like Dickens wrote in "A Tale of Two Cities". I can't remember it perfectly, but it starts, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, something something something, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…The winter of despair.
Despair.
Looking back on it now I don't know how I survived. Everything about my world caved in in 1987. The company I had worked for dried up and blew away, my savings followed. I ended up back living in a room under my parent's house, which wasn't all bad, but I did feel like a failure. I managed to get a job tending a bar, and I at least had some cash flowing again. I invested the last of my meager funds into a "start up company" in a desperate attempt to get a full-time job. I think if I'd thrown a party for the random strangers at the bar I would've had more to show for it.
One bright note that did come out of the grey years was I met Pete. He was an older man - in his late 60s - and he'd also invested in the start up. I didn't feel quite so bad about being suckered in on the dubious scheme.
Pete and I got on well together - I guess we had an enemy in common - and we formed ourselves into a team to attempt to recover some of the money we'd lost. I don't think we ever really saw any of the lost money back, what with legal fees, interest rates, and slippery characters. We did successfully fight off being declared bankrupt, we did form ourselves into a media and advertising business, and after a significant amount of work, we found ourselves not only back in the black, but we began to settle with debtors. They'd been justifiably angry, but when they saw we were making efforts with repayments they came on board, and things began to come right.
We worked long and hard - seven days a week, and 10-12 hour days were typical. Pete and I were spending a lot of time together, and one day I realised that for me it wasn't just the work demands, I wanted to spend time with him. I was attracted to Pete.
It was agonising. He was married to a shrivelled shrew of a woman, who attributed the results of all of our hard work to Jesus. No disrespect, but it wasn't Jesus there at seven in the morning and He didn't bring me coffee when I was still working at 22:00 that night. Peter would get the meal call at about 6:30 each evening and he'd spend another 30 minutes chatting with me, before he'd go.
I'd watch him drive away, and I'd head straight for the bathroom. Once there, within moments, I'd stroke free an orgasm.
We decided to build a photography studio so we'd have more control over the space and availability for client work. We transformed a warehouse space into a studio, complete with a soundproof audio booth, cyclorama, offices, and a beautiful reception/breakout space for clients. It was exhausting but the end results were extraordinary.
When I get tired I go quiet. It was late in the evening, Pete had been working at his desk, and he noticed something was wrong with me.
"Are you OK?"
"Sure," I said, looking away.
The truth is I was more than attracted to him. I was desperate to touch him, to finally run my fingers through the hair on his chest. I could feel it tickling, brushing my fingers and hands already. I swallowed and looked back at him.
Have you ever looked at someone and just desired them with all of your being?
And known that would never be allowed happen...
At that moment, I felt a part of my heart die. I blinked. Clenched my teeth. What do you do, how do you explain? Here's a man that I worked along side of, through thick and thin, and had served in every respect bar the one I was longing for. I blinked again and stared at his crotch.
"Do I owe you money?"
"No, I would've told you. I'm just tired, worried, nervous really, about the opening. We haven't tested the studio, and well, you know..."
He nodded, and looked grim for a moment. In our heart of hearts neither of us were as confident as we'd once been.
"Well, come on, we can do it now. Get your camera and let's just see how it works."
The studio smelled of fresh paint and plaster. By the time I'd got there Pete was already almost dancing around in the space. The cyclorama had transformed the acoustics and Pete was amused and delighted by the sound. He sung a few lines - 'What a wonderful world' - and I was surprised by the depth of his rich tenor voice. He was good. Maybe more than good.
"I didn't know you could sing."
"Oh yes," he said, "I used to sing in a choir before we came here. I love it. If I had my time over I'd have done more."
He sighed. Seemed we both had things we loved and couldn't have.
"While you're setting up let's a have a drink, let's christen the place before the grand opening. It'll be nothing new for us then," he said, and popped open a bottle of bubbles.
I stared at Pete in amazement. I'd never seen him take a drink, ever. I wondered how much of that was him and how much was his crazy christian wife. I wondered if they ever fucked, and I just couldn't hold the thought in my mind.
"Drink?"
"Cheers, Pete, thank you for everything, and congratulations to us both on a super human effort."
Pete grinned and we clinked glasses. I took a sip of the wine, and looked over to see Pete take a gulp of the wine. "Dear oh dear," I thought, "Either he is no stranger to a glass or two, or, this is gonna be interesting."
"OK," I said, "Let's get started. Just stand over there."
Pete put down his now empty glass and stood obligingly for the first shots.
"The shots are good, the lighting so-so, but we can fix that. It's a bit dark because of your sweater, do you want to take it off, let's see how it works with your white shirt."
Pete grinned slightly foolishly, and pulled his sweater off, swirling it and singing the stripper song. I laughed. God, if only you knew my heart - the alcohol must be kicking in. He undid the top couple of buttons and could see the silver hair on his chest. I stared long and hard through the viewfinder, focusing, focusing...
"Do you think you could take your shirt off?"
"You're not going to get me to strip all the way are you?"
There was something in the way he said it that made me hesitate. It was like he wanted to play out the role. He fiddled with his belt, waiting. The studio was silent.
My pulse was pounding in my ears. I swallowed dryly and licked my lips.
"Yes I am. You better take off your slacks, or we'll have to see if the casting couch is all it's cracked up to be."
He laughed and poured himself another glass of wine. I took a sip of mine. "He's two to one of mine, the god child isn't going to be happy..."
Pete ambled back in front of the camera, and dropped his sacks. He stood there, swaying slightly, and then suddenly grabbed his balls.
"Quickly, make the photo!"
He sounded a bit like a naughty school boy, caught stealing a treat.
"C'mon, landscape shot. We need photos for the Christmas cards. Chop chop."
Pete laughed and adopted the classic pose.
"Hey, c'mon, that's it, we've gone as far as we need to go."
"No, Pete, we've gone this far. I think we definitely need to go the next step. Besides, you look like you're starting to enjoy it."
He looked down to wear I was staring. His cock was stirring. He blushed and looked away, and then at me.
"You know I haven't had sex with my wife for a long time," he said, in words I could barely hear.
He looked ashamed.
I ignored his confession, fussing with the camera, focusing on him.
I looked up at him, eye-to-eye looking deep into him, and nodded. He knew.
He looked down, got to his feet, and slipped his blue boxers off. It was strange how he shielded himself demurely while his other hand found its way to his cock.
"Hoi! That's enough of that. I want clear body shots, not photos of you wanking!"
Pete snapped his hand away, but it was too late. His cock was hard, and getting harder by the moment.
"C'mon, less talk, more action, let's get some energy here!"
"Right, near enough, now, let's finish the set off with some..."
"I'm tired," he interrupted, "I need something to rest on, hang on a moment..."
He came back with a stool from reception.
"Good idea, I knew we got those things for a reason."
He laughed agreeably, but I could tell he was getting tired.
"OK, last few shots, let's make them happen."
"C'mon, gimme the virile thrust!"
And that's it. He gave me a quick, confident thrust and it was gone. The mood, the magic, whatever had possessed him had left.
I should've knelt and given him the blow job he so richly deserved; but I didn't. I've said before I don't know exactly why I didn't, but actually, I do know why. It would've changed everything. A few crazy photos are one thing, sex, even casual (or maybe especially casual) sex is something else again.
We knew each other well enough to know we were big on honouring commitment. For better or worse, Pete was going to remain committed to the crazy god child. He knew I loved him. I like to think he loved me too. He never showed it beyond that one impulsive mood, on a magical night.
The studio opening went off without a hitch. The right people turned up for the free booze and food, and orders began to flow. We built the business for a few years, and then we'd had enough. We sold to a competitor and everyone was happy. We'd done the right thing by the debtors, and we'd more than recovered the money we'd lost.
Pete retired with the crazy woman, and I took my share of the money and began to travel. Before I left I visited him at his house. We stood outside on his driveway, and shook hands, and then Pete stepped in and hugged me for a long time. He was shaking, I wanted to kiss him.
We never said a word.
Each turned away and never looked back.
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