Chapter 1.
It was not only frustrating but a little humiliating in a way. Flat-sharing had worked well for me for years, but at 32 I was more then ready to be independent. I wanted the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, walk around in my underwear or less if i wanted - basically become an independent guy. I'd been looking around for a place to buy for ages, but the market in the city was out of control. Prices had shot up even more in the last year or two, and after several experiences of finding a place I liked and being hopelessly outbid, I began to worry I'd missed my window permanently.
To make things worse, the house I'd been sharing with 2 friends from work was being sold.
It was owned by Dan's parents, and although technically we had rights as renters, I'd been paying friends rates since I moved in. It didn't feel right to make things complicated, so I'd agreed to move out in the Autumn. At the time that had seemed a long way off, but by the end of summer I was faced with the cold realisation I could end up homeless.
It was in that mindset I met with my friend Samantha for a spontaneous Friday drink. We'd hit it off at a party a few years earlier, but weren't especially close. She was a little older than me, only a little shorter than my 194 cms, glamorous and always immaculately dressed. Most of all, she had her life so under control and was so naturally confident, she always made me feel like the world was a saner and safer place than I usually felt it to be. The relationship had settled into a pattern of a flurry of drinks and the odd dinner at her place, and then nothing for months. I'd always assumed she or her family were pretty wealthy, because the huge apartment she lived in with her brother was in the most expensive area of the city.
After some catching up she asked about my flatmates. She'd never met them, but that was just the kind of person she was. Before I knew it, I'd laid out the whole sorry tale. Telling it must have made me show all the anxiety about it I'd been pushing away for months, because by the end of it, I was flustered and even a little teary. Sam came around the table and put her arm around me, which was as surprising as it was welcome. I couldn't remember us ever touching before except for the briefest of cheek kissing, and it struck me anew what an impressive woman she was. And true to character she wouldn't hear of me going home to eat alone in what I knew would be an empty flat. As she paid up, she told me to order an Uber to her place so she could cook and as she put it, "spoil my boy".
When we arrived, the first thing I noticed was the door to Tony's room wide open. It was shockingly empty, although as I recall there hadn't been that much in there to begin with.
I'd always found it a little strange that his door seemed to be permanently propped open, showing a room so tastefully but sparingly decorated it could have been in a seminary. And if I'm honest, I was always a little tittilated that he never had anything covering his windows either.
"Did Tony move out?" I asked, realising as I said it how stupid it was.
"That's a sad story," she said, with a wry smile.
"Why? What happened?"
"He met someone, and now he's living with her. I mean I'm happy for him, but..."
"You'll miss your brother being around?" She gave me an odd little look as I said it.
"Yes. Yes. To be honest I didn't think it would ever happen though."
That seemed an odd thing to day, because Tony was an extremely handsome guy. Anytime he'd been there on previous visits, I'd always have to be on my best behaviour to avoid staring at him too much. Something he didn't seem to be aware of, because he didn't make it easy for me. His usual house attire was gym gear. Thin running type shorts, deeply cut sleeveless T's that let his pecs and large brown nipples peek regularly into view.
And on one memorable occasion randomly stripping his shirt off while we were having drinks, torturing me with his perfect torso, trying to stop my eyes flicking down to his belly trail and the waistband of his underwear as he stood talking to me in the kitchen. Damn.
"Why ever not? He's a gorgeous guy, well spoken, good job, loaded. Fuck, I'd marry him to be able live here." It was only half a joke.
"What do you mean?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I felt myself blushing. Maybe that had crossed a line since we probably didn't know each other well enough for me to be making these kinds of assumptions.
"Loaded? Whatever are you suggesting Andre?" she asked sternly, staring at me for a few moments.
"I... I always just thought, seeing where you live..."
She let me swim for a moment before laughing at how easily she'd embarrassed me.
"Trust me, Tony isn't loaded, financially or any other way. This is my place, not his. As you can see," she said, nodding to the empty room. She sighed.
"Come with me to the kitchen, I suppose I can spill now he's gone."
She soon set me to work, chopping vegetables and pouring us drinks. Once the food was in the oven, she took some snacks and we settled into the huge sofa in the equally huge living room.
"Tony isn't my brother," she said flatly. I didn't quite know how to process that.
"Oh, sorry...I, er." Hadn't she told me he was the first time I met him?
"I used to call him my little brother. But it wasn't literal, at least not in the way you thought it was. We had... an arrangement."
She could see the questions written on my face I suppose, because for the first time she began to tell me her background. She was an only child, and older than I thought - nearer 50 than my own age. Her parents had both died when she was in her twenties - tragic but leaving her independently wealthy. She'd had many who pursued her, but had always mistrusted their motives. Given her looks and wealth I could understand why that might be. And then she asked me something unexpected.
"Do you know what solosexual means?"
"Someone who enjoys self play more than sex with others."
She looked as surprised by my immediate answer as I had been by the question.
"How on earth do you know that?"
I felt myself blushing again.
"I've dated some really great guys, but somehow when it comes to the sex part, it gets awkward and.."
"And?" There was the eyebrow again.
"..and I realised I don't really need physical contact that way when I can do it better myself." I finished, lamely. She sat there for a moment, her eyes oddly intense on mine.
"Maybe that's why I've always enjoyed your company Andre. Not just because I know you're not interested in me as a woman but as a person. Maybe I sensed we have something else in common too. I enjoy men's company, and I sure enjoy being around the ones who are nice to look at too. But I don't need all the psychodrama and the little games that go on when it's starting to become more than that. I'm used to my independence, and most men don't seem to know how to handle being with someone who has more money than they do and is used to calling the shots."
Sam had always been someone who did that. Her general demeanour was always one of a person used to telling others what she wanted and how she wanted it. I guess I was the kind of guy who was happy to let her decide where we'd have drinks, or be summoned to her place at the last minute.
