Please note: this story is about bi men, not gay men. The biological acts they commit are identical, but I am told that some gays resent it if the two are mixed up or (like in this case) are labelled as gay because there is no better fitting category. If you feel like this is you, please read no further.
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He had not been very forthcoming in the phone call:
"Why don't you come over to my house? I have a business proposal that might interest you, something where I need someone with your skill set."
"My skill set?" I asked doubtfully.
"Yes, your skill set. Trained lawyer, inhouse experience, sales experience, board experience, negotiations, department lead experience, multicultural teams, some project management.... that sort of thing." I was mildly impressed. We did not know each other that well, he had done his homework.
"Will there be anybody else that I know?" I asked, just to say something and win some time to think.
"Yeah, one more person, not sure if you know him. Sven Treptow, figures guy, accounting, financial management, financial directorships, etc. He also lives here."
"Medium tall? Strong guy, blonde longish hair?" I asked. I thought I had met him before, maybe a school meeting, or at one of the numerous events the town organized on the town square.
"Yep, that's the guy. Even though, strong? He is not bulky, but fit, yes, I'd say he is fit. Sinewy rather than built. But yeah, he works out, I think. You know him then?"
"Not really, saw him a couple of times, probably around town somewhere, I forgot in which context".
"Ah, right, I'll introduce you to each other", he said, "would next Thursday 1.30 suit you?" I quickly checked my agenda and said:
"That looks good, yes, 1.30 your house, next Thursday. Can you give me a hint what it is about? You, me and a finance guy, that sounds like a core team for something new."
"I'd rather not, over the phone and all. But I promise, you will be interested."
"Ok, ok," I grumbled, "I'll wait until Thursday. You really make it sound as if it was the new Google or something"
"You wait and see. I'll see you Thursday."
"See you Thursday, ok".
I hung up, slightly baffled, but definitely curious.
"Yeah, sure, Sven Treptow, he is married with that bubbly readhead with a shrill voice and massive knockers". The best wife of them all obviously knew as always who everyone was in our town. "Come on, don't pretend you can't remember her," I was absolutely clueless, "from the school play where we helped make the stage decorations?" I vaguely remembered the evening, I now seemed to remember that indeed Sven had been there. I could not remember the knockers on his wife, though. Strange. He was not the tallest, but boy could he lift stuff. That's probably why I remembered him as small, but stocky, even if he was maybe just strong. He had helped a lot during shoving stuff around, lifting it and handling all kinds of things that night. "They have a medium-sized house on the other side of the church and the mall. He has a big car, looks expensive, something foreign. Two kids at the school, boy and girl, about 8 and 12. He is a bookkeeper or something like that, and she is a homemaker." Right, there I had it all.
The caller was a friend, Andrew, not the innermost circle, we knew him and his wife from tennis, the different charity events in our town, we had sat next to them at a dinner invitation at a mutual friend's house etc. We had been several times over at their home, a garden party for their favourite charity, a farewell party for friends in common which they hosted, they had been at ours for similar reasons. The way you know people in a midsize town in the outskirts of a metropolis.
I knew that Andrew was an engineer and project manager, he had several times started up businesses, had managed them until they started to grow fat and had then sold them off, rumors had it he had sold them well. He and his wife tried not to show off, they were certainly not bling-bling, rather old money-style, but one could see that they were more than just well off. Their house was bigger than the others in their street, they had a big overflow pool in the garden with antique statues from Italy and Greece, their cars were big and their three children had attended prestigious universities.
So, yes, I was definitely interested in what he had in mind, specially when he wanted to discuss with a finance and a legal guy that both had operational experience. Sounded tempting, to say the least.
I was approx. 15 years Andrew's junior. We were well off, nice house and all, pool in the garden, our kids went to good schools on the coast, but we were more in the league with Sven and his wife than with Andrew.
I really wondered what he wanted to discuss with us. I was working in a good position, but I would not have minded a new challenge.
Thursday was an absolute scorcher of a day, the thermometer had been at 28° (82 Fahrenheit) mid-morning. As I worked from home for the day, I had decided that a dress shirt and slightly more formal shorts were in order. I did not see any reason to change before heading out to Andrews'.
I rang the doorbell at 12.30 sharp. While I waited, I noted that a dark 7 series BMW was standing next to Andrew's car on the driveway. Was that the big foreign car my wife had seen at the Treptows' house?
I rang the bell again, but nothing happened, nothing seemed to move in the house. It was only then that it registered with me that the door stood slightly ajar. I tried Andrew's mobile phone, but he did not pick up. Should I.... I hesitated.
Just walking into an somebody else's house was usually not a good idea... you never know how seriously the owner takes home defense, or if he has a dog.
But I knew that they did not have a dog, and that Andrew was no gun nut. And I was invited, and there was Sven's car in the driveway. I tentatively stuck my head into the hallway.
"Hello Andrew? It's Gabe. Are you there?" I looked up the large wooden stairs to the first floor, carved and gilded oak banister, chandeliers and all, and listened. Nothing, apart from the echo in the marble-floored hall. I took a few steps into the hallway and closed the door behind me, calling again: "Andrew, Gabe here. We had an appointment, are you there?" Nothing. On me left, I saw a large room, I peaked through the door. Maybe a dining room? Nobody. "Andrew? Gabe here. Are you there?"
I saw in the bright sunlight one end of the pool, it was open, the tarpaulin rolled fully back and stowed away. The water rippled slightly, but that could be the wind. I hesitantly walked into the room. Definitely a dining room. Paintings on the wall, a large, beautifully polished table, chairs. Even though outside the sun was beating down and it must have been at least 38° (100° Fahrenheit), the room was pleasantly lit. They must have installed self-tinting window panes against the glare and heat. I called once more - no reply. I stepped up to the window and could now see the whole pool. There were wet footprints besides the pool leading to the pool house. So, there must be someone out there at the pool, maybe he (she?) just disappeared into the pool house?
I was just about to turn away when I saw a movement. Yes, definitely, there under the awning, there was a movement, half-hidden by a chair and table.... I stared, yes, definitely, someone was moving there, but I could not really see what it was. A back, the back of a head? I stared, in any case, it was moving... somehow... but it was not going anywhere. What was that?
I looked through the dining room. If I was not mistaken, the door at the other end of the room led to the enormous living room that hugged the pool area in an L-shape. I opened the door a tiny bit and peeked through the gap, yes, there was the enormous expanse of the living room, with carelessly strewn islands of sofas and small tables, the whole room with enormous window panes looking out on the pool. And they were also tinted. I considered for the briefest of moments. But if they were tinted, no one in the sun outside could possibly see me.
I opened the door and furtively scurried across the room, always making sure that there was at least a sofa or something between me and the windows, so that if necessary, I could just drop and would not be seen from outside. I arrived at the junction of the L-shaped room with my heart in my mouth, sweat poured down my body. Furtively approaching the window, I stared out. Yes, I could see better now, even though there was still the table in the way.
It was Andrew, clearly, the black hair, the dark tanned skin of his neck and upper back, the bear-like black body hair, no doubt possible. But what was he doing? Visibly he had been swimming, he had probably board shorts on, but what was he doing? He moved, but stayed in place behind that table. Was he working on something?
My curiosity was peaked, or should I say: my curiosity took over the last remnants of reason? The living room went all along the pool on two sides in an L shape. If I moved into the other arm of the L shape of the living room, into the bottom stroke of the L, I would probably be at the same height or further than the table, in line with the pool house. I carefully scanned the living room, listened once more into the house. Nothing. I tiptoed along the window pane, all fear gone. As I moved forward, I saw clearly now Andrews head from the side, his strong pectorals. Did he work out as well? Under this bear fur seemed to be sizeable muscles. My view still obstructed by the table, I could see that he held something in front of him.
I moved further along, further and further until I saw behind the table. Andrew continued with the same movement, over and over again. I took a few more steps and saw.... A blonde long-haired head, bent forward, close to the ground. Andrew a bit further back, moving ceaselessly.... And then it dawned on me: he was shagging. He was humping someone from behind next to his pool. Yeah, he was fucking someone hard in doggy style. As you do on a sunny day, I thought grinning.