Christmas Kisses Read online

  He met Josh one fine evening and they went to a fancy wine bar for dinner followed by a night of dancing until dawn at an exclusive gay club. It was like nothing Josh had ever experienced. He had grown heady on the envious glances of other men as they saw Phil lavishing attention on plain old spec wearing him. So what if Phil had left his wallet at home and Josh ended up funding the whole evening on his recently acquired credit card? It was worth every plastic penny. He had felt like one of the cool guys for the first time in his life. He had at last arrived on the gay dating scene.

  Within a fortnight of that first date, Phil had moved into Josh’s little ground floor bedsit and life seemed set to be one long domestic dream.

  Phil had his eyes set on a career in films, only his auditions, the ones he turned up for, never seemed to lead anywhere. He got a few bit parts, mainly as non-speaking background beefcake in TV commercials, but nothing of the leading man variety. It was just a matter of time, he said. The best actors started out doing bit parts.

  “Got any champagne?” Phil took time out from blowing puffs of cigar smoke at the ceiling, even though he knew Josh hated him smoking in the flat.

  Josh shook his head. “No, and anyway, it’s too early for boozing.” As things stood, he barely had enough money left to buy cheap teabags never mind champagne.

  “It’s never too early for champagne, man,” drawled Phil, a lazy smile on his face.

  Phil liked to live what he imagined was the film star life, even if he wasn’t making film star money, or any money most of the time.

  “Well I haven’t got any. I’m skint at the moment.”

  “Can’t you get an advance on your next month’s wages from that old bloke you work for?”

  “He isn’t old, and no, I can’t. I haven’t been into work for a week, so he’s hardly likely to take kindly to me asking for an advance. He’s probably going to sack me.”

  “Why haven’t you been to work?”

  “Why do you think, Phil?”

  Phil looked puzzled for a moment and then he grinned, showing his perfect, professionally whitened once a month, teeth. “Aw, how sweet, moping over me like a daft girl. Never mind, I’m back now aren’t I, so you’d better go in and butter up the boss. We can’t live on fresh air. I’ve had my dole suspended for refusing a stupid job interview at a supermarket. Can you see me in a supermarket? I don’t think so. I’m not ruining my manicure by opening boxes and packing shelves.”

  “Why did you come back, Phil? You said we were over, in fact you said we had never been anything other than bed mates, just a bit of fun and I’d misread the signals. You called me clingy and said I was stifling you.”

  “I missed you more than I thought I would. Ben isn’t a patch on you in bed.”

  “Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” Josh was actually flattered, but didn’t want to say so. After all, Phil had walked out on him leaving him feeling like a discarded rag.

  Phil sat up, dropping the butt of his Hamlet cigar into his mug where it hissed in the half drunk tea. “We’re good together, you and me. We had fun before you started being a drag about money. I have an artistic spirit. It needs nurture, not nagging. It was your fault I went off with Ben. You drove me into his arms.”

  “What drove you out of them?” The note of sarcasm took Josh by surprise. He wasn’t usually the sarcastic type.

  Phil delivered one of his most dazzling smiles. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I told Ben I’d made a mistake in leaving you. He begged me to stay, but I told him I had to follow my heart.”

  He got to his feet, stretching his impressively muscled arms above his head, proving he was no stranger to the gym. “Is there any hot water? I fancy a shower, to warm me up if nothing else. It’s bloody freezing in here.”

  Josh shook his head. “I haven’t had the emersion heater on.” He had to save money somehow and hot water and warmth were luxuries when you were on a shoestring budget.

  Phil walked over to the chair where Josh was sitting, perching on the arm of it. “Tell you what. I’ll put the water on to heat while you nip out and get a bottle of Moet. Make sure it’s chilled. Get some of those black Italian olives I like too and some pecorino cheese and sundried tomato bread. When you get back, we can have a nice shower together and then some fun time.” He ran long, seductive fingers through Josh’s hair and down the back of his neck.

  “Told you. I’m skint,” said Josh, trying to ignore the throb in his loins.

  “You’ve got a credit card, what do you think credit cards are for, if not the little luxuries?”

  “So why haven’t you got one?”

  “I keep telling you, some cock up at the bank left me with a bad credit rating. I’m still trying to get it sorted out.”

  “My credit card is at its limit and so is my debit card and overdraft. I’m out of credit everywhere.”

  Phil scowled, the look marring his handsome face. Then he brightened again. “Hock something.”

  “I’ve already pawned most of my stuff.”

  “You’ve still got your phone. Pawn that. I’ll help you buy it back. I’ve got a modelling job lined up next week. Come on, Josh. Let’s have some fun, like we used to before you started talking rent and rates. It will get us back on the lurve train.”

  “I haven’t got time for shower frolics, not if I want to butter up the boss and save my job. I’m late as it is. I should have been in well over an hour ago.”

  “Course you’ve got time. The boss can wait another day. I’m sure you’ll win him over tomorrow. Why have a gay boss and not take advantage of it. I reckon he’s a bit sweet on you anyway.”

  “He’s never shown the least bit of interest in me.” Josh had to fight to keep a pout off his face. God knows he’d tried, doing everything bar fluttering his eyelashes and flashing an ankle.

  “I’m an actor. I’m trained to read emotions. I used to watch him watching you in the shop when you weren’t looking. Stuffy old blokes like that have pride. He wouldn’t want you to know he fancied you. It’s too embarrassing and pervy to be seen hankering after young flesh when your own life has gone past its best by date.” He shuddered dramatically. “Can’t stand oldies myself. They’re just a reminder of where you’re headed.”

  “James isn’t stuffy, or pervy, or past his best. He looks after himself.”

  “I knew you were short-sighted, but I didn’t realise you were blind. He wears cords for Pete’s sake and jumpers. Talk about old man fashion. My granddad is more fashion savvy than him. And look how uptight he is about people using mobiles in his shop. He confiscated mine once, wouldn’t give it back until I left. He’s like a dinosaur from the Stone Age.”

  Josh resisted pointing out that the Stone Age had been a dinosaur free era. Instead he defended James’s action. “There is a notice on the door saying such things are banned. If you didn’t want to obey his rules then why did you come in the shop?”

  “Because I saw you and knew I had to have you.”

  It was a corny line, but Josh allowed himself to be flattered. What difference would one more day make? He was already in trouble with James. The promise of sex was too alluring. Josh had been a virgin when he met Phil, and fearful of dying as one. Sex was a powerful persuader. And, it was an excuse to put off the meeting he was nervous about. He’d let James down and he had no doubt James would let him know it. He could be formidably stern when he wanted to be.

  “Come on, babe.” Phil ran a hand along Josh’s thigh. “Let the good times roll again.”

  “You promise to pay to get my phone back if I pawn it to buy champagne?”

  “Yeah, course I will, though why you need one is beyond me, you don’t have many friends.”

  Standing up, Phil hauled Josh up from the chair. “Get a move on, Specs. I’m thirsty. Get some decent teabags while you’re out and some quality coffee as well. You know how I hate cheap shit. You’ve let standards slip since I’ve been gone. You’ll have to buck up if you want me to stay. Get me anot
her couple of packs of Hamlets while you’re out as well.”

  As Josh pulled on his duffle coat ready to brave the elements a small thought inserted itself in his mind, it was a favourite saying of Bea’s: be careful what you wish for.

  “Butt out, Bea,” he muttered as he launched himself outside to do his master’s bidding. Josh frowned. Only, Phil wasn’t masterly, not in the least. He was just demanding.

  Six

  Restless On Angel Street

  After waving Bea off, James locked up the back door, returned to the kitchen and tidied away their crockery. He set the dishwasher going. Then he went into the coffee lounge to do the chores Josh usually dealt with before going home. He tidied around, wiped the counter, hoovered up crumbs, polished the tables and the soft leather sofas and chairs, plumped cushions, straightened and dusted the card rack and bookshelves and generally left everything ship shape ready for the next day’s trading.

  He put that days takings into the safe at the back of the shop and then got a batch of homemade carrot and coriander soup out of the freezer to defrost for the next day. He then went upstairs to his private flat.

  After showering he wrapped himself in a towelling bathrobe, put on some relaxing music, poured a glass of his favourite red wine and sat down on the couch to read, his long legs stretched out towards the log burner fire.

  The book, a crime thriller, lay open on his lap, un-read. Instead, his thoughts turned to Josh, as they had for the past week or more, not surprising given the circumstances. It wasn’t nice to be let down by someone you had grown to rely on.

  He took a sip of wine. Bea was bang on when she said Josh hadn’t been quite the same since meeting Phil in the summer. Oh at first he’d been happy, ecstatic in fact. His joy at being in a relationship with the human equivalent of a Greek divinity was evident in his beaming smiles and shining eyes. James’s stomach suddenly flipped over. The boy had always had a nice smile, what with that engaging little gap between his front teeth. And his eyes were as large, soft and brown as a Disney Doe. However, as summer passed the smiles faded and Josh’s shoulders seemed bowed under some invisible pressure. He snapped at Bea, snapped at James and was apt to be distant and miserable with the customers, as if his mind was elsewhere.

  James had tried to talk to him, asking what was worrying him, because something obviously was. Josh claimed everything was just fine, thank you. He was happier than he’d ever been in his life. He issued a polite but firm, “back off, James.”

  Fair enough. James issued a reprimand regarding his snippy manner and then backed off. As long as Josh was polite to him and nice to Bea and the coffee lounge customers then he would keep his nose out of his private life.

  James’s mood suddenly changed from one of relaxation to restless tension. He got to his feet, speaking to the clock on the mantelpiece. “It’s as good a time as any to deck the halls. Bea’s right, if I don’t do it soon I’ll miss the festive boat.”

  After swapping his bathrobe for comfy old cords and a baggy old rugby top, he dug out a few boxes of festive finery and carried them downstairs to the silent coffee lounge. The decorations would please the customers and get them in the mood for the forthcoming jollities. He also took his camera with him. He might as well make and take some photos of the new hot chocolate drink while he was down there. He’d take them to the printers tomorrow and get them blown up into advertising posters to put in the shop windows.

  Several hours later the coffee lounge glowed with subtle holiday glitter and sparkle and James had several alluring shots of Christmas Kisses to take to the printers. Picking up one of the glamorous ‘models’ he had used in his photoshoot he took it upstairs to bed, determined to indulge in some chocolate love.

  Seven

  Questions Bloody Questions

  It was cold outside with a bite of frost in the air. Josh didn’t mind. It cooled the lustful heat in his groin, which helped clear his head into the bargain. He walked along Old Thursk’s main street going towards the pawnbrokers’ shop he was all too familiar with in recent times. As he walked, an image sprang to mind of the mug he had thrown at the wall earlier that morning. Its motto appeared before his eyes, seeming to hover in the air like a neon sign, flashing – Big Fucking Mug! Mirages he didn’t need. He blinked it away.

  Standing outside the pawnshop he fingered the phone in his pocket. It was a good one. The best he could afford. How much would he get for it, more to the point, would he ever get it back? Okay, so he didn’t have a whole host of friends, but he still liked having a phone to keep in touch with the few he did have. Given his recent track record, losing it was a real possibility. His bass guitar and amp, his flat screen telly, his games console, all were gone because he hadn’t been able to afford to redeem them within the time period.

  Any money he got for the phone would vanish in a flash, leaving him with nothing but the memory of champagne fuelled sex. Was it worth it for champagne and sex? For a start he wasn’t too keen on champagne. He preferred a nice red wine or a good artisan beer. Sex with Phil was good, but was it great? After all he had nothing else to measure it by.

  Josh admitted an uncomfortable truth to himself. Phil always put his own pleasure first. Once he’d come, he lost interest and didn’t seem to care if Josh was left dangling, so to speak. Josh sighed. Inexperienced though he was something told him a truly considerate lover would not leave his partner to orgasm alone and under his own steam. What was the point of having a partner if you still had to yank your own handle?

  The mix of emotions he’d been experiencing since Phil sailed back into his life as casually as he’d sailed out of it returned to confuse him. He needed time to think.

  Turning away from the pawnbrokers he allowed his feet to carry him to Angel Street, where he stood outside ‘The Silver Coffee Lounge & Book Exchange.’ He ought to go in, speak to James, apologise and hope to be given another chance, but he couldn’t. His feet remained glued to the pavement. He peered through the window like a ragamuffin outside a Victorian toyshop.

  He saw James carrying a tray of coffee and cake towards a snug corner table where an elderly man sat reading ‘Fifty Shades Freed.’ Josh couldn’t help but smile. Mr Mandale was a favourite coffee lounge customer, a good tipper, and interesting too. He was in his late seventies, silver haired, tall and slender, if a little stooped at the shoulders. He still paid meticulous attention to his appearance, and what an appearance it was. He favoured tight riding breeches, fitted leather jackets, knee length leather boots and an array of silver rings and leather and pewter bracelets. Given his attire and his choice of racy reading material it was fair to assume he had a kinky aspect to his personality, not that he ever said so of course. He was charming, friendly and self-assured, not at all abashed by the odd looks he often attracted from more conservative members of the public.

  James privately called Mr Mandale ‘The Dom’ but with no hint of derision. In fact he said it with a note of respect in his voice. Not for the first time it made Josh wonder, with a small thrill, whether his boss privately leaned towards the kinky side of life. He had proven he could be macho when the occasion called for it, if not downright domineering. The thrill deepened, and so did the colour in Josh’s face, as he recalled the time James had turned him over his knee and spanked him. What a shock it had been. The incident had not been mentioned since, but Josh often thought about it and wondered if James did too.

  His smile vanished and he felt a pang as he observed James chatting with Mr Mandale, no doubt discussing the book in process of being read. If he were at work he’d have joined in. James always listened to his opinion. He suddenly realised how much he’d missed the place during his self-imposed exile. It was an extension of his little bedsit, his home. He’d missed the warm ambience, the regular customers and James’s calm, velvety voice. He’d even missed Bea’s teasing along with her crushing hugs and her scrumptious cakes.

  James, as always, looked casually smart in well-cut brown cords and a cream shirt top
ped by a brown V-neck sweater. Phil had called him a fashion dinosaur, but he wasn’t, he was…Josh searched for a word that fitted his boss’s appearance and came up with dishy. It was an old fashioned, out of mode word, but it suited James Arthur Silver down to the ground. He was dishy with his dark blonde hair, violet eyes and majestic nose.

  James moved away from Mr Mandale and began gathering up used cups and plates from other tables, smiling and exchanging words with other customers as he did so. Josh hastened away, fearful of being spotted and hauled inside.

  The window of the pawnshop bore sad testimony to hard times. Josh wondered how many of the treasures displayed had been given up willingly, and how many would find their way back to their original owners. Not many, he suspected.

  The town hall clock sounded a quarter hour note. Josh glanced towards it. Time was moving on. Phil would be wondering where he was, though knowing him he was probably too busy primping and preening to notice the time. He spent an inordinate amount of time in front of mirrors.

  Josh took a deep breath and made to push open the pawnbroker’s door, hesitating, as that sign flashed before his eyes yet again – Big Fucking Mug! More time, he needed more time.

  He took refuge in one of the new coffee shops that had recently opened in Old Thursk, quelling a spark of guilt at what felt like disloyalty. He gazed around as he walked in. The cafe was nice enough in its way, but not a patch on James’s coffee lounge. It had a corporate atmosphere and lacked real character, unlike the lounge. He ordered the cheapest drink on the menu, basically a teabag in a mug of hot milky water, and carried it over to a small table at the back of the shop.