Hey you,

> I'm back, I'm alive, and I have my priorities straight - furtively printed
> out the other email [with much standing guard over said printer,
> and without reading] and - saving that for later.

Okay, this is dumb, but the thought of you reading that is making me blush.
Ahem. Yes.

> > Sounds like. How many exams do you have, anyway?
>
> Six - 3 hours a pop, on the 1st, 4th, 5th, 9th, 14th, and 16th of July.
> Only one Saturday, and no doubles. Could be worse.

Could be worse, yeah. I hated the night exams most--my brains were just not
made to be writing exams at ten thirty at night.

> > Ack! Return of the roommates!
>
> Both back now - just as I'd got used to the quiet. I'm bribing
> them to keep the kitchen clean with the promise of cooking a proper dinner
> for everyone on Friday.

Cool--hopefully, it will work. :-)

> You want me to send links to a couple of manufacturers? Or you'd rather I
> didn't geek out about mountain bikes and let you pick something that you
> might actually *use*?

Link me up. And I'm looking only at mountain bikes, really--have no
interest in racers. (I have an image of my mother's old ten speed. Eek.)

> > I'm not worried about it, Tom. Honestly. And if I thought you'd go for
> > it I'd insist on paying for the Brecon trip for us both too, but I don't
> > think you'd let me.
>
> No - I wouldn't. Think of it as me asking you out on a [really odd] date,
> after you invited me out for the first? Better?

Cool. :-) That works.

> > > Um - unless you want me to - to the extent of me ringing *you* I
> > > mean - not making conference calls to Bali or anything.
> >
> > Yes, I want you to call me.
> >
> > Twerp. :-)
>
> I meant - do you want me to call you tonight?

Yeah. I'll get home about five my time, ten yours. If you're still up, call
me. Whoa, nervous tingle that I'm going to ignore.

> > Spike, Dru, Angel and Darla *all* slept together. I swear, it's true.
>
> One big family bed of Vampires?

Yup. Hey, they were *evil*. Of course they all slept together. And I bet
discipline was a big thing.

> > > You're hopeless, aren't you? [This is me smiling, if you can't tell.]
>
> [I'm just repeating that part, 'cos it's still true.]

:D

> > (I'm pretending there are no differences between Boston, New York, the
> > Midwest and Texas. So there. :P )
>
> Like the different parts of New York don't sound different. ;P

Point. :P

<<interview stuff snipped>>

Sounds like you did great! :-) Really.

> Well, it felt like a lot of money, but - especially after today - it's a
> cheap suit. I like that you don't think I looked like an idiot in it,
> though. Feel a *little* overdressed for the computer labs, but I only just
> made it back for my seminar, and I haven't been home yet.

I'll bet you look wonderful in the computer lab--everyone else is jealous of
how cool you look. ;-)

> > You didn't tell *anyone*? Wow. I needed....I don't know. I
> > guess I just got to the point where I needed to tell someone, wanted
> > someone outside of me to accept it.
>
> High school graduation is 17, right? I moved from school to sixth form
> college when I was 16, and, really, I was only just figuring things out
> then. Spent a while thinking that if I just ignored it hard enough it would go away.

/nod. I did that for a while, too. It just got...easier in my head when I
let myself be what I am. Coming out for the first time, though? Jesus.
That's rough stuff.

> > > You say that like you're planning to - you are, aren't you? Date-test
> > > by raw fish? I think that might, officially, be evil.
> >
> > Evil Overlord. Keep it in mind. :P
>
> Thought you resigned?

I'm *considering* giving it up for a position dedicated to entertaining you.
We'll see how the other e-mail goes over before I make a final decision.

> > We can have cooked stuff, too. :-)
>
> I put myself in your hands. In so far as dinner, at least.

(See Oliver give Tom a Look.)

> This is me patting the pocket of my suit jacket - I - I want to be able to
> enjoy it without having to keep checking over my shoulder.

Uh huh.

I had fun writing it, if that helps. :P

> > > Hee - although - the cat had an owner? I mean - an identifiable owner?
> > > That's actually almost weirder than the collars - which are cool.
> >
> > Yeah, this wasn't a stray, and it actually stuck pretty close to it's
> > person until the dog chased it.
>
> I still don't quite get a mental picture - is this a residential area, or
> some guy walking a cat on a lead [which would be weird]?

Just a side street down town. I didn't see a leash, but that's not totally
unheard of. More common than a well behaved cat, anyway.: P

> > Collars are cool? Is this something I can explore?
>
> In general, or - you mean on me? Um - I *really* think I'd look
> dumb, but - you think you can convince me otherwise?

I...um. Yeah. I think this is a discussion to be held in person, with props,
and a lot of privacy. :P

> > Pretty calm, actually. It's pouring rain, so I didn't do much.
>
> <edit for space>
>
> > God, I have no life.
>
> This is me taking your hand and slapping your wrist. Rainy Sundays are for
> slopping round the house, watching dodgy film and / or TV, and generally
> chilling. Sounds to me like you did way to much housework. Bugger
> about the gym.

So I did good by being a bum, huh? :D

> > Right. I'm going to start that other one I promised you, and
> > see if I can get any early info on the trip trading. Janet hates it
> > when I call her at home, so this should be fun. :P There's a good chance I'll
> > have to buy her lunch tomorrow.
>
> I *ought* to be telling you to leave the poor woman in peace, but: any
> news?

Yeah. Part of me wants to wait until you call, but I'm.... ah hell. Got
plans for a week from Wednesday? I'll be in town from Wednesday mid day to
Tuesday night. Ten days away.

> Um - God, this makes me sound sad, but - I might come back down to campus
> later, email you again. I want to go out for another ride, where the
> interview had me tied up in knots, and I'll have to stick to the
> roads after dark anyway, so I might as well have a destination, right?

Excellent. :-) I'll look for e-mail. And keep my phone line free.

> Hopefully 'speak' soon

You got it.

Talk to you soon, Tom.

Oliver.

To: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Monday, 9:18pm

> Okay, this is dumb, but the thought of you reading that is making me
> blush. Ahem. Yes.

God, Oliver, do you have any idea what you do to me? Reading it, imagining
you writing it - God - imagining you jerking off, thinking about me... I
think blushing kind of got left behind somewhere.

I'll - I guess I'll tell you more later.

For now - going to keep this short so I can go back home, kick Mike off the
phone and ring you. [For lo, he underwent the torment of telling the
housemates, for he doth like you.]

> > Six - 3 hours a pop, on the 1st, 4th, 5th, 9th, 14th, and 16th of July.
> > Only one Saturday, and no doubles. Could be worse.
>
> Could be worse, yeah. I hated the night exams most--my brains were just
> not made to be writing exams at ten thirty at night.

Night papers? That sucks.

> > You want me to send links to a couple of manufacturers? Or you'd rather I
> > didn't geek out about mountain bikes and let you pick something that you
> > might actually *use*?
>
> Link me up. And I'm looking only at mountain bikes, really--have no
> interest in racers. (I have an image of my mother's old ten speed. Eek.)

I'll do that tomorrow. ;)

> > > > Um - unless you want me to - to the extent of me ringing *you* I
> > > > mean - not making conference calls to Bali or anything.
> > >
> > > Yes, I want you to call me.
> > >
> > > Twerp. :-)
> >
> > I meant - do you want me to call you tonight?
>
> Yeah. I'll get home about five my time, ten yours. If you're still up,
> call me. Whoa, nervous tingle that I'm going to ignore.

Uh huh. I will.

The butterflies are back.

[If I'm still up! I'm a student [and I'm valiantly ignoring the other
meaning here, ok? Work with me] - if the phone goes after about midnight it
crosses my mind to worry that there's an emergency somewhere, but I'm not
normally asleep.]

> > > Spike, Dru, Angel and Darla *all* slept together. I swear, it's true.
> >
> > One big family bed of Vampires?
>
> Yup. Hey, they were *evil*. Of course they all slept together. And I
> bet discipline was a big thing.
>
> > > > You're hopeless, aren't you? [This is me smiling, if you can't tell.]
> >
> > [I'm just repeating that part, 'cos it's still true.]

And for the record: still stands. ;P

> > High school graduation is 17, right? I moved from school to sixth form
> > college when I was 16, and, really, I was only just figuring things out
> > then. Spent a while thinking that if I just ignored it hard
> > enough it would go away.
>
> /nod. I did that for a while, too. It just got...easier in my head when I
> let myself be what I am. Coming out for the first time, though? Jesus.
> That's rough stuff.

Who'd you tell? I mean first?

> > > Evil Overlord. Keep it in mind. :P
> >
> > Thought you resigned?
>
> I'm *considering* giving it up for a position dedicated to entertaining
> you. We'll see how the other e-mail goes over before I make a final decision.

As chairman of Me Inc, I'd like to offer you the position of personal
entertainer ....

> > I put myself in your hands. In so far as dinner, at least.
>
> (See Oliver give Tom a Look.)

This is me, about 50% confused, 50% fake innocence - the confused isn't
fake.

> > > Collars are cool? Is this something I can explore?
> >
> > In general, or - you mean on me? Um - I *really* think I'd look
> > dumb, but - you think you can convince me otherwise?
>
> I...um. Yeah. I think this is a discussion to be held in person, with
> props, and a lot of privacy. :P

Um - yeah.

I'm really not going to out-perv you am I? - For the record: for some
reason that doesn't feel like a bad thing - the idea of you, um, teaching me
stuff, sharing stuff with me - not a bad thing at all.

> > > See if I can get any early info on the trip trading. Janet hates it
> > > when I call her at home, so this should be fun. :P There's a good chance
> > > I'll have to buy her lunch tomorrow.
> >
> > I *ought* to be telling you to leave the poor woman in peace, but: any
> > news?
>
> Yeah. Part of me wants to wait until you call, but I'm.... ah hell. Got
> plans for a week from Wednesday? I'll be in town from Wednesday mid day to
> Tuesday night. Ten days away.

Really? Shit - that's - that's really fucking cool!

Um - I have classes - but I can skip the lectures, and if I tell them this
week, I can skip RockSoc on Wednesday night. You still want to try and fit
in some climbing? [Thinking Sunday's wall meet.] And - Oliver? I think I
*like* your job.

OK - going to stop grinning like a loony and shoot off back home - to phone
you. Eep.

Talk to you soon: D

Tom
************************
"God-like aliens...man do I hate God-like aliens! I'll trade a critter for a
God-like alien any day!"

***PHONE CALL***

It had taken long enough for him to peel the phone away from Mike, so why
the waiting now? Tom looked at the handset sitting on the cluttered bedside
draw unit, and still didn't reach out for it. At least telling Ian, Mike, and of
course Sarah, who had a vested interest in why her boyfriend should
surrender the phone line to his housemate after all, had kept him from thinking
too hard about all the ways this could be deeply and horribly awkward.

He had a clear phone line, the door was shut, Mike and Ian had made good on
their pointed winks and turned the music in the living room up loud enough
that the bass was fuzzing through the floorboards, so there was no way they
could be eavesdropping. Tom unfolded the printout again - the creases were
already worn, and his eye found the block of numbers with the ease of too
many 'just checking's. Pushing all thoughts of sitting on the same narrow
bed, unfolding a quite different print out from Oliver firmly to the back of
his mind - in tele-space, no one can see you blush - Tom swallowed, took a
deep breath, and picked up the phone.

Tapping through all the numbers seemed to take forever, and there was a
free-fall second of silence before the ring tone started up. He glanced at
the digital alarm clock: 10.47pm.

It rang twice, giving him just enough time to start to panic, then Oliver's
voice came to him.

"Hello?"

How did he manage to sound relaxed and hopeful at the same time?

"Hi - Oliver?" God, his mouth was dry, and the butterflies were dancing the
hot-shoe-shuffle. Only a phone call he reminded himself.

"Tom. Hey." Oliver laughed a little, a short nervous sound that did little to
settle Tom's own nerves. "Thought maybe you'd given up on me. How are
you?"

"I'm good." He cleared his throat and tried for something that sounded a
little bit less strangled. "Well - I am now, anyway. It's - a little strange
to be calling you. I'm being a twit, because, God - been wanting to. And now
I'm babbling, aren't I?" He interrupted himself. "So, um, how are you?"

He rubbed his spare hand over the knee of his jeans while he spoke, trying
to force himself to just relax and let himself talk to the guy. Hopefully it
was working enough to keep him from sounding like a total loon. Maybe.

Tom could hear Oliver shifting--was he on a couch or a chair?--then he said,
"Honestly? I feel like I'm going to start pacing the room if I move, so I'm
sitting here as still as I can." There was a short pause, and then Oliver's
voice dropped lower. "It's...it's good to hear your voice, Tom. It's a
little deeper than I remember."

Tom could feel his cheeks heating, Oliver's voice echoing against the times
he'd imagined it.

"Still just me." He breathed out, turning it into a half-chuckle. "And this
room's too small for pacing, so no fair!" There was amused silence -
hopefully that was amused, anyway - at the other end of the line, and voices
chattering in the background - maybe the TV? "So, where's here, and what
were you doing? You didn't really think I'd stand you up, did you?"

"Here is the living room, sprawled on the couch--okay, maybe just now
sprawling instead of sitting on the edge--and I was watching TV. Sort of.
Not sure what's on really. Hold on." There was a slight pause, the sound of
something hard banging against something else, and then the TV sounds
disappeared.

"Sorry," Oliver said. "Dropped the remote. And no, I didn't think you'd
really stand me up. Did the roommates give you any trouble about tying up
the phone line?"

Somehow or other, he seemed to have remembered how to breathe without
conscious instruction, and Oliver's question made him smile.

"Well, they're going to be taking the mick for at least the rest of the
week, but that's nothing new. We have Sarah's blessing though, so long as I
promise not to share the details of - and I quote - 'your hot gay booty
calls'."

There was a very brief silence before Oliver's laughter rolled over him,
happy and surprised. "She actually said that? You actually *told* them?
Wow, that's...that's cool. You know, you could use that as a weapon--'clean
the bathroom or I'll tell you what Oliver said'."

"Well, I had to say something to get Mike off the line, and I figured I'd
play the 'you know how long distance can suck' card, and no! I did not say
'clear off the phone so I can get down and dirty with this guy' but, well,
Sarah has no tact, as far as I can tell .... "

He dragged himself to a halt before he could say anything more embarrassing.

Oliver just chuckled again, the sound warm and easy in his ear. Like Oliver
was *there*. "No, I can't imagine you saying that," he said softly. "It's
not your style. But I think it's cool that you told them I exist. Were
they freaked at all? I mean about you spending your time e-mailing some
American guy?"

"I think it was the novelty value, more than anything." Tom wriggled back
on the bed so he could lean against the wall. "I told Ian last night - who
you were - Mike was pretty shell-shocked, though. Not sure the idea had ever really
crossed his mind." He smiled at himself. "I kind of want to run around
telling everyone, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." Oliver's voice was more mellow now, a hint of nerves still
there, but Tom could almost hear him relaxing. "It's like...like the
puppy thing with Janet, you know? She knew something was up and all I
wanted to do was babble. Tell her everything I know about you, about how I
look forward to e-mails, and how...well, how happy I've been." There was a
brief silence then almost shyly Oliver added, "I am, you know. Happy."

"Oh." Tom didn't quite manage to stop the small happy noise. "That's - that's
good." He didn't even try to hide the warmth in his voice. "Cos - God,
Oliver? You know that you - hearing from you, thinking about you -" He
abandoned the sentence, hoping that his tone of voice would carry his
meaning better than the words he wasn't finding. "Becka accused me of
glowing, you know."

"Yeah?" Oliver sounded a little amused, but mostly just...warm. There was
a short pause and Tom thought they were verging on getting maudlin. Oliver
saved them, clearing his throat and asking, "So...it's okay if I come to
London a little sooner than we'd planned? You wouldn't believe the trades
that happened here this morning. Oh, there's a good chance that about six
people are fully aware of why I want to get to England."

"God, yes! Um, I mean - it's - great. Are you going to be taking stick
about this forever? From the swapees I mean?"

"Nah. Things just got a little twisted. Friday I was in those meetings,
right? One of the guys does the same thing I do, but we don't travel
together--remember the other guy with me when we met? Brett?"

"I think - the blond guy? Kind of solid looking?"

"Yeah, that's him. Anyway, when we do fairs and recruiting events that's
the way we go, two or three of us at once, so there's always someone
available for people to talk to."

"Makes sense."

Oliver made an agreeable sound. "We're kind of loosely organized into a
couple of teams at the office--two sets of three who don't travel together,
for assorted reasons. One of the girls requested that she do as little
overseas work as possible, and another guy tends to handle most of the
Asia stuff, that sort of thing."

Tom closed his eyes as he listened, shutting out his room, the thumping from
the stereo, just letting himself listen to Oliver's voice, soaking it in.

"Ok, with you so far."

"About two years ago we more or less divided up the trips between the two
groups so no one was doing all the overseas things and Michelle could stay
in North America. That means I tend to get to London for about half of the
trips, or maybe a third of them depending on circumstance--"

Tom smiled. "So you traded for the next London trip."

"Well...." There was a slight hesitation in Oliver's voice. "Yeah. I
actually...well, I more or less bullied my way around a few people and made
it clear that I would happily give all my US stops to Michelle if Brett and
Michael would see their way to making this happen for me." Another pause,
then Oliver said, "Now I'm into the scary stalker area, aren't I?"

"Um - no?" Tom offered, brain still working to take in all the consequences.
"You don't get that badge 'till you quit your job and camp out in front of
my house, I think." He couldn't stop the broad grin that spread across his
face. "So, no more Arizona, and lots of trips to London? That's - very cool
indeed."

"Yeah? I didn't know what you'd think--I mean, I knew what I'd *hoped*
you'd think, but it's different when it starts to happen, starts to move off
the computer screen." Oliver was starting to babble. It was damn cute.
Suddenly he stopped and took a breath. "Speaking of computer
screens... I got your last e-mail. You really shouldn't cut classes to see
me, you know." It sounded like he was trying to be stern. Also damn cute.

Tom shifted a little, shrugging as if Oliver could see him.

"I know I *shouldn't* - and my seminar classes I really can't - but -no;
if you're in London, and you're not working, and I'm sitting in a lecture
hall with thirty other people, you actually think I'm going be able to concentrate?"

"Good point. I'm sort of wondering how I'll get through the flight over, to
tell you the truth. Nothing to distract me." Oliver's voice had dropped
again, getting a little husky. "The other e-mail...was okay?"

Tom's breath hitched. "Oh, yes!" His voice became low and fervent. He
paused for a second to collect himself enough to realise what Oliver might
make of his silence. "Oliver? Do you have any idea ... you want to know how
that - how much...you want to know how hot that was, and how I came thinking
about you?"

The panic set in a split second after the words left his mouth. Unfamiliar
words that didn't feel entirely like his own. He clenched his hand into a
fist, nails in his palm, hoping.

The silence was just long enough to terrify him, but then Oliver gasped, his
voice ragged. "Christ. I...I was worried I'd gone too far, that I'd pushed."
Oliver paused again before he asked, "You really...? I mean, that
shouldn't surprise me, but it does, sort of. I dunno what I'm saying here,
really. I just....God, I want you."

The rush of relief and something more left him breathless. He drew his legs
up onto the bed, curling around the phone, fighting to keep his voice
steady, to say something.

"Yes," came out more pleading than he'd intended. "God. No - not too far,
just - if you were here." He swallowed, trying to force a coherent sentence
into existence. "I can't imagine anyone reading that and not being
affected," he managed, stumbling over the euphemism, shaking his head
slightly at his own cowardice, his stuffy words.

Oliver chuckled in his ear, the sound breathless. "Yeah, I...was pretty
affected myself. I--" Tom heard Oliver swallow. "I like the idea of you
reading it. Can almost see it. Wish I *could* see it, see you...being
turned on by it. By me."

Tom was almost certain his breathing could count as a whimper with Oliver's
words, Oliver's voice swirling round him.

"God" he breathed. "You - you do," was all he could find to say.

"Good," Oliver whispered. "There are so many things I want for you, Tom.
Want you to be happy, to do well in school, to have peace. And there's a
big part of me that just wants you in my arms, where I can tell you that in
person. Less than two weeks, Tom. Then I can feel you next to me, show you
what you mean to me."

Some part of his mind was registering the thought that he ought to be
alarmed, or at least startled, by the surety in Oliver's words, but the
actual emotion was missing, swamped in want and hope and Oliver's
voice. Tom tightened his arm around his knees.

"God - I want to hold you. Want you here, so I don't have to try and find
words, so you can see, and feel, and know." A new thought caught his voice
a second. "Oliver? In the e-mail - you asked ... I want to sleep with you,
I want to wake up with you."

Oliver made a sound that wasn't unlike the whimper he'd let out himself.

"That....that means a lot to me. I didn't like the thought of you leaving,
having to spend the night alone after seeing you. I know you can't stay
with me most nights, but...one night. Not alone, next to you--" A
shuddering breath later and Oliver was laughing again. "God, I sound
demented. I'm sorry, I just...hearing you. Makes me want."

Tom's laughter just bubbled up out of him at the thought.

"We're as bad as each other, aren't we? I - I want that, and I don't know if
you know what your voice does to me, God- I could drown in your voice and be
happy! And that was needlessly poetic and overblown, wasn't it?"

"No more over the top than me. So we're agreed then? We're pathetic. No
one will want to be near us, which sort of works for me. My cunning plan to
get you all to myself--barring some rock climbing--will be a success."

Oliver's tone was gentle, teasing. Still a little breathless, but moving
away from the dangerous edges of arousal--Tom wasn't sure if he was
disappointed or not.

"A cunning plan indeed, Professor Fox. I think I can work with that." he
smiled.

"Good. So long as we can stand ourselves, then we're doing all right.
Sooooo....you think you can see your way to having dinner with me on the
Wednesday? I don't want you to blow off the climbing society if you can't
get away, but maybe I can call you? Maybe dinner on Thursday?"

Oliver's words were speeding up again. Tom was detecting the pattern--the more
nervous Oliver got, the faster he talked; the more intimate he was, the
lower his voice. Just knowing those little details, finding them out for
himself, made everything a little more real.

"Oliver? I would love to have dinner with you on Wednesday. The climbing soc
can go hang, because I want to spend the evening with you." He managed to
keep his voice even - knowing that Oliver was nervous made it easier -
projecting every bit of certainty he could into his voice. He almost held it
too. "Oh God, I am going to be such a wreck on Wednesday. What time do you
get in?"

"Um, just a second...got to get my Palm Pilot--" Tom could hear Oliver
moving, shifting some things. A zipper opening and then a creak as Oliver
sat down again. Sounded like his chair needed some oil. A snap, some
tapping, all the while Oliver muttering under his breath, too low for Tom to
make out the words, though the general impression was impatience and
apology. "Got it," Oliver said, sounding relieved. "Flight lands at
Heathrow at 12:16 local time, and I'm staying at the Berners Hotel. I think
it's in the West End? Near Oxford Street, if I remember what Janet said."

"OK." Tom shut his eyes for a moment, thinking of his classes for the day.
"Um ... Do you have appointments, or do you get a day to settle in?"

"I've got a two hour meet and greet thing at the hotel, sort of meet the
London reps and find our spot, then I'm clear until ten am Thursday.
So...with time to unpack and grab shower, I'm free from about four thirty
on."

He sounded ultra casual, like he was almost indifferent to what Tom
would say. The man could *not* act. Not that he was doing any better.

"So, how about I meet you at your hotel at five, and you get to feel virtuous
for not tempting me out of my Social History class?"

Ultra casual. Yeah right.

"That would...that would work." Oliver's voice caught a little and Tom
gripped the phone tighter. "Um, I'm assuming there's places close by that
we can walk to. You know, to eat? 'Cause room service generally sucks.
And what's transportation like for you, will you have to leave really early
to catch a train? Not that we don't have time to work that out in e-mail or
anything, and I'm babbling again, so I'm just going to sit here and breathe
and you can talk to me about...whatever comes to mind."

"Hey - breathing's good. Um, and there'll be lots of places, if you're near
Oxford Street - or we can just walk - It's London, not LA - lots of places
you can get to on foot." Tom teased gently. "You really want me to give in
to the power of babble?"

A small chuckle from Oliver, and a quiet, "Please?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're nuts? Um - in a good way. In a 'sitting on
my bed having butterflies about calling you because I don't want you to
think I'm an idiot' sort of way? Which would be me ruining any impression
that you might have that I am, in fact, cool, calm and sophisticated, I
guess.

"Um - you sure you're sure? Because today's been kinda weird, and I'm
not sure *I* want the stuff that's buzzing around in my head, and really,
God, I - this is real, and you're going to be here in, what, ten days,
and - ok - this is just babbling, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's just babble. But it's 'Tom babble', so that's good. And yeah, ten
days. Compared to five weeks away it's sort of startling. It's real, and
that's a little scary--but I like it. Tell me why today was weird? I know
it was big, and busy, and you had a lot going on--I just...I want to know.
Want to know what you think." By the time Oliver finished he was sounding
more relaxed again, the way he sounded in Tom's head when he read the
e-mails. Sounded like Oliver.

"Oh, I like it, too - just - yeah - real, and a little scary, but good!" He
took a breath. "Ok - semi-focussed babble, right?"

He waited for the little sound of agreement before wading in.

"I guess mostly the weird was the interview - that's my first proper
graduate job type interview, you know? Just - odd to think of myself working
somewhere like that. It's all swanky offices and designer plants, and power
suits and breakfast meetings. And getting my exam time table pretty puts the
expiry date on my life now; kind of a weird head space. Ian and Mike are
both talking about where they're going to live next year, that kind of
thing, and - I'm not going to be looking for student digs, or picking
courses, or - yeah, I guess that's it. Today is weird because it's making
me realise that things really are going to change. It took me so long to get
settled back here after America - it's just sort of snuck up on me, you know?
Like, part of me's really looking forward to bigger and better things, but a big
part of me *likes* my life, and - it's kind of strange to know so concretely that
it's all going to change again.

Are you bored to death of me waffling on?"

"Doesn't bore me; this is the stuff I want," Oliver said, sounding calm and
much more together than he'd been a few minutes before. "It's hard finally
facing real life in the real world. But you can do it--I did, and I know
you can, too. Just don't push it too hard, yeah? Get through school, go on
job interviews....but don't dwell on it. It's just living." Oliver laughed
at the end and said, "God, I sound like a guidance counsellor. I'm such a
geek sometimes."

Tom grinned "You do, a bit. Gives weight to you telling me that it's all
going to be ok though. The prospect of being homeless does not thrill me,
you know?"

"Well, I'm glad I'm not an utter twit, then. And yeah, homeless isn't good,
but honestly? I don't see it happening. You're smart and funny, and you
work hard--you'll get a good job, I know it." Oliver's smile came through
in his voice. "And then you'll be so busy you won't have time for me," he
teased.

"I'll just work overtime while you're in Boston - I've got it all planned
out." He hesitated a second, thinking about how that might sound. "The
planning part's a blatant lie, by the way."

Oliver laughed. "You'll work out just fine then. The master plan to take
over the world? Was really a memo on the dress code in the office that I
used to put you under my thrall. You can work as much overtime as you like
when I'm here, so long as I get your evenings when I'm in town."

"You're improvising world domination? I knew you were smart, but ... " Tom
teased back. Somewhere along the line this had gone from nerve-wracking to
relaxing. The wall was hard against his back, and he wriggled around to lie
down, resting the handset base on his chest.

"I'm a very adept man. Think I could take over the world if I actually
tried? Nah, on second thought, that's just too much work. You can still be
my henchman if you want--I'll let you wear the trousers and everything.
Mind you, we'd just be sort of standing around trying to look menacing...not
my best plan, I'm afraid."

"Hey - except for the part where I seem to have agreed to wear the trousers for
you at some point." Tom pointed out. "I might be inclined to think that was
the whole point of the plan, in fact. OK - that sounded really bad. I'm
sorry."

"Why?" Oliver sounded puzzled. "It's not like I haven't made
my...desires...perfectly clear, Tom. I know you're not comfortable with
expressing...some things, but teasing and stuff? That's cool. I'm not
going to get upset, or think less of you."

It would have sounded like a lecture except Oliver was just being matter of
fact, no hint of displeasure in his voice. Tom didn't think he could keep
the tightness out of his own though.

"I, um, say things without thinking how it might sound sometimes and then people get
pissed off, and - I actually don't want you to think badly of me, or, you know,
think that I'm accusing you of - anything - which I'm not."

He closed his eyes tightly while he spoke, 'cos that sounded convincing.
Right - screwing things up already.

"Tom? I'm right here." Oliver's voice was gentle. "I don't think badly of
you, and I'm not going to get pissed. You can say anything to me, and if
your words get a little screwed up sometimes, that's okay, too. You know
that, don't you? That you can tell me anything?"

"God - Oliver - you do know you're not doing anything for the whole 'too good
to be true' thing, yeah?"

That came out kind of more serious than he'd meant it too.

"I can be an ass if you want me to, but I kind of like being me better." There was
the sound of Oliver shifting, the creak of couch springs. "Don't....don't hide from
me, Tom. Wanna know you, wanna see you. As you are. Can't do that if
you're watching your words all the time, you know?"

The was a pause but before Tom could say anything Oliver went on. "I'm not
trying to pressure you to say stuff you don't want to. I just want you to
know that it's okay to say the stuff that you *do* want to. If it's not
exactly what you mean, or if I misunderstand, just say so. That's fine,
happens all the time. You've already made your good impression--and I'm not
going anywhere."

Tom let out a long breath. "This is me trying too hard, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little."

"I'm sorry. I think I'm kind of tightly wound right now, and this - you -
it's important .. euch - you see where I'm going with this?"

"I think so," Oliver hesitated, sounding like now he was picking his words
carefully. "You don't want to fuck up. Because you care about me, about
us. Because there is an us, and you don't want to mess it up?"

"Pretty much - and I'm kind of out of reserves of 'laid back' to draw on,
you know?"

"Laid back is overrated. Wanna know what I was doing before you called?
Staring at the wall, trying not to throw up. Hoping to God you still liked
me after actually talking to me. Praying I didn't actually throw up when
we're on the phone. Trying desperately to come up with something
interesting to say. You don't have the market cornered on being a little
freaked." Oliver's voice was tight, like the admissions had cost him
something. Then he whispered, "Hate feeling like that--like maybe I put
myself out to get pushed away."

"Oh - oh God, no, Oliver. You'd have to be a total idiot to want to push you
away! And fair enough, I have my moments, but ... you think it would be less -
freak-making - if we could actually touch?" He kept going, leaving no space
for Oliver to answer, or for second thoughts to set in. "Just want to wind my
fingers round yours, and touch you, let you know that I'm here. And I like
you, and - I'm being a spaz because I *really* like you, and make stupid
promises about finding out whoever's made you think that you're going to get
pushed away, and doing something nasty to them."

Oliver laughed a little, the sound small and lost before Tom had really
heard it. "No, you don't need to go hunting anyone, though it's kind of
sweet that you would offer. And yeah, I think it would be--will be--easier when
we can touch. See each other's eyes, you know? Be able to just reach out
and say things with our hands that are too hard to say with words. I
want...I just want to be in your arms."

Tom let out a small noise that might have been 'yes' before trying for a
lighter tone.

"That works out well then." His voice dropped a little lower. "I want to
hold you." He sucked in a breath at the sheer force with which he missed
something he'd never had. "Ten days, right?"

"And in a few hours it'll be nine days. Think we can survive that long?"

Tom laughed softly. "So long as we can keep standing the mutual sap, right?"

"Maybe we'll get it all out of our systems," Oliver suggested. "Then no one
will die of insulin shock when we finally get together."

"Zee plan has merit." Tom joked. "Um, just checking, but how *are* you with
public displays of affection? Just…in a general sort of a way?"

"Pretty comfortable, I guess," Oliver said. "I mean I don't go in for dry
humping on park benches, but I'm okay with hand holding and fairly chaste
kisses. I don't--I don't like to draw a lot of unwanted attention. I try
for discreet. You?"

"Um. The thing is, Kay had a total *thing* about me touching him in public -
even, I don't know, putting my arm round his shoulders, which is the sort of
thing you do with your mates, and - I guess I can be kind of touchy-feely. Not,
like, shagging in the streets or anything, but - am I making any sense?"

"Yeah, you're making sense just fine. Some guys can be like that, I
guess--I mean, Kay's problem was probably that he was still hiding it from
his family and wasn't really comfortable with *himself* yet. I'm
more...comfortable." Oliver made a noise that might have been a tongue
click, might have been...well, anything, then added in a rush, "I like
touching. I mean, I like hand holding and smiles and just...touching."

"So, no freaking out if I end up hugging you hello in the hotel reception?
Cos' I should warn you that's a danger. Or is that too much like 'at work'?"

"Well, if you hug me then it will save us both the embarrassment of me
tackling you and dragging you off like a cave man." Tom could hear Oliver's
smile again. "And just so you know, the only time it's really too much like
work is when I'm actually behind the table at these things--you know;
working. I doubt you'll be around then, anyway, what with school and stuff."

"Can you e-mail me what you've got planned - so I can stalk you all the
non-working times? Um - can you tell that I'm grinning like a loon?" he
smiled.

Oliver laughed again, a low chuckle that rolled over Tom and made his stomach
tighten. "Yeah. I can tell you're grinning, and yeah, I can e-mail you my
schedule. I'm hoping we can work something out for the weekend--Saturday is
going to be full, I think, but Saturday night and Sunday are clear, same as
the other trip." Oliver's voice dropped. "I'm really looking forward to
this, Tom."

"Oh. Oh, me too - with spades. I'm just…God, you swapped trips to be here
sooner, and just - yeah, I am too."

There was a short pause before Oliver cleared his throat. "Had to. Just
couldn't see waiting that long. Which makes me sound desperate or
something, I know, but...well, maybe I am. Doesn't matter though, 'cause
you want to see me, I want to see you, and next week we will." Oliver
cleared his throat again. "But for now, we're still separated by the
Atlantic, and a five hour time difference--God, it must be getting late
there? Or are we still good?"

"We're good - it's not even 11.30 yet - and I really can't think of
anything I'd rather be doing - although - your phone bill? Maybe? Eep?"

"Oh, no stress about that. Though, speaking of stress--how long 'til you
get your dissertation back from Terry? Then what happens?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I asked, you tell," Oliver said lightly.

"Well, he's coming in early to give it back to me Wednesday morning, and go
through it with me, and then it's stress and corrections, and some more
stressing, and then it goes back into the proper final marking."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad. Any idea how Terry's reacting to it?
Not a lot of corrections needed, I hope?"

"I'm just not thinking about it - he'll only have got it this morning anyway. Today's just
one of those really long days, you know? Plus - it's taken me, what? - six
months to write it. Give the guy a chance to read it! I kind of trust him
to set me right - he'd have said something long ago if I was totally missing the mark. "

"Well, that's cool then. Don't worry about it for now, and give yourself a
stress free night. Don't suppose you managed to get a decent ride in, other
than going to the computer lab to e-mail me?"

"You know me that well already, huh? I got in about forty-five minutes and then
back here, so not really enough for the day, but better than nothing. That reminds me - am I
convincing you of its therapeutic nature yet?"

"Yeah, I suppose you are. I'm going to a couple of shops tomorrow--being
taken, to tell you the truth. You cyclists are a clingy lot. I mentioned
it over lunch and got a twenty minute lecture from the guy at the next
table. Don't remember a word of it, so he's taking me around at lunch."

"Yeah? That's cool." He was determined to ignore the utterly irrational pang
of disappointment that came from nowhere. "Knew we could turn you to the dark
side. How was your day today, anyway? You didn't say."

"Okay, I guess. Spent an hour doing nothing, waiting for Janet to find out
if I could have the London trip. Worked, had lunch, read your e-mail a few
times...got very little done, sort of spaced out when you said you'd call,
and more or less just smiled a lot. Thought about you running from your
interview to class to getting your exam schedule." Oliver laughed. "I was
pretty hopeless actually."

The low laugh was warm and right in his ear. "Yeah - I know that one." Tom
admitted. "I keep finding myself staring into space grinning."

There was a brief happy silence, then Oliver tentatively said, "Can I ask you something?"

Tom shifted on the bed, curling up around the phone once again.

"Yeah - of course," he said, trying to sound sure and confident. "What is it?"

"Just...do you think it's going to be strange when we see each other? I
mean, stranger than this? Don't get me wrong, talking to you is great, I'm
sort of flying here....I just--what's going to happen? What do you want to
happen? I'm really worried I'll push you somewhere you're not comfortable
going."

"I - I think it's probably going to be weird." Tom spoke slowly, picking
his way toward the right words. "I mean, it's going to be weird, but I
don't think it's going to stay weird very long. I think .... I think maybe I
want you too much to let it stay weird."

There was very brief silence, then Oliver said, "Okay. Um, here's where I
try to sort some stuff out."

Tom's hand tightened on the handset, and he curled a little tighter. "'K," he said,
half question, half invitation.

"Remember when I said that I needed you to tell me when I was pushing, or if
you needed anything? I kinda need to know what the limits are--not all the
limits, just...I tend to get a little into things, and honestly? I need to
know what you expect for the first dinner or date or whatever we're gonna
call it." Oliver took a breath and added, "Mostly because I don't want to
move faster than what you're comfortable with."

"Ok." Tom swallowed. "Um - this is where I sound like an idiot, because I
honestly don't *know* what I'm expecting, and...." He stopped himself before
that turned into a panic. "I don't know, and I don't know if it makes me
sound like an utter slut, but I can imagine that we're not going
to end up needing to worry about the last train home for me. I mean, it's
not exactly a *first* date, is it? Not like it was the first time we'd -
spoken, or - um," He could feel his cheeks heating.

"Oh God," Oliver said, his voice going from calm and slightly worried to
flat out husky in only two words. "You'll stay? Christ, Tom. That
would...that be fabulous. Shit, I want you so badly."

Oliver's breathing had picked up, and Tom's caught on the sheer want in
Oliver's voice.

"Yes." It was small and low and only just a word. Tom bit his lip and started
over. "I want to, Oliver, want - God - want you, want to be with you, want
you to see and feel just what you do to me - and that's just with your
words." His voice hitched as his brain caught up with what he was saying,
but the soft noises down the phone took priority. "I know that you worry -
about pushing me - but, Christ - I want to. Want to turn the tables on you
and kiss you breathless and find out how your fingers feel on my skin, and
mine on yours, and how you taste, and watch you, see your eyes when your
voice drops with pleasure, and - I want to wake up with you and know it's
not a dream."

Oliver made another noise, more moan than whimper. "Oh God. Tom. Want
that. Want to touch you and find out what makes you feel good. Want you to
see me, wanting more. Needing you." Another gasp and Oliver's dropped even
lower, almost a whisper. "Want you to feel what you're doing to me. How
hot you make me."

The shabby room and pounding bass didn't seem real, not compared to Oliver's
voice, stirring him as though the words were touches. "God - your voice,
Oliver. Do you know what that does to me?" he swallowed, and then carried
on, more hesitantly. "Want me to carry on? To - to tell you?"

"Yeah. Please?" Oliver made a short sound, tight and harsh, then Tom could
hear him taking a deep, slow breath. "I'd...yeah. I do."

Tom swallowed. "The way you sound - God - your voice drops, and - and it's
like I can hear the want, the passion in it - in you - and it just *resonates* with
something in me, goes straight to pleasure when it hits my eardrums or something
- better than I imagined, *more* than I imagined.." He hesitated, Oliver's breathing
loud in his ear, matching his own.

"Tell me?" Oliver asked, sounding like he was pleading. "God, I'm so hard.
Want you so much."

Tom bit back a soft moan. "Oh! It's - it's like your voice goes straight
to my balls, like if I close my eyes you'd be here, like your voice is
touching me, stroking me." He shifted, his hand dropping to press against
his jeans, and he hissed at the contact. "Makes me hard, Oliver, makes me
hungry to be touched, your voice."

Oliver groaned and Tom could hear him moving again. "Wish I could," he
said, his voice rasping. "Wish I could stroke you, feel you in my hand.
Want to kiss you, your mouth, your neck. Want to...oh God...want to feel
you against me."

The words burned hot, like touches, and Tom gasped. "Yes - oh yes, want to
see you, touch you, taste yo ..."

There was a click on the line, and a loud silence that told him someone had
picked up another extension. He bit back his syllable, praying that Oliver
had heard it to.

"Ian? I'm going to kill you - put the fucking phone down!"

"God! Tom - take a chill pill." Mike then, not Ian, his voice a little
overloud over the line. "I just wanted to see if the phone was free to call
Sarah back."

"Mike, I will *tell* you when the phone's free, ok?"

"'K - calm down, calm down."

"I'm calm, now - can I carry on with my conversation, please?"

Oliver laughed a little, the sound dark and rolling, sounding like sheer sex to Tom's ears.
"Good night, Mike," Oliver said. "We're almost…done here."

Mike hung up.

As soon as the line clicked with the disconnect Oliver said, "Shit.
Roommates suck. And that one? The worst timing in history. You okay?"

"Yeah." The adrenaline rush was rapidly becoming laughter. "Oh God, I'm
sorry. He has absolutely the worst timing on earth ever! Are *you* ok?"

"I'm fine. Really." Oliver laughed, then admitted, "Okay, so I'm still
mostly hard and sort of weirded out, but I'll live. Sort of killed the mood
though, huh?"

"Um - yeah. Although it does prove my point - I don't think either of us
actually *wants* me to go home when you're here, right? Anyway - you're
going to be dead on your feet with the jetlag, so you'll probably fall
asleep on me." Tom teased.

"Oh yeah, I can see that. Finally get a naked you in my bed and I'm going
to take a nap." Oliver's voice had loosened, and while still a little husky
it was clear he was more amused than turned on at the moment. "You'll
really stay with me? That would be so great."

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be that night - those nights, if you'll
have me?" He probably sounded completely pathetic, but Oliver hadn't turned
him away so far.

"Oh, I think I'll have you," Oliver said, then groaned. "God, I'm sorry,
that one just kinda slipped out. Didn't mean to sound like a total sex
starved pervert. Can I try again? Tom, I'd love it if you stayed with me
while I'm in London."

"Cool - your pervert-in-training likes that idea a lot," he chuckled. "So you
don't think I'm a completely wanton slut for wanting to, then?"

"Nah. I find you naked in the lobby--then I'll start to wonder. But for
wanting to spend as much time together as we can? That's just...nice.
Makes me feel good."

"Right - naked greeting committee idea out then. Pity that - would have given
your colleagues something to talk about. Um - are they going to be alright with
you having a, um, guest?"

"Not up to them," Oliver said easily. "Besides, they already know I wanted
this trip so badly 'cause I wanted to see my boyfriend, so they'll be a
little surprised if you don't turn up at some point."

Tom blinked, and there was a moment's silence before he remembered to speak
as well as smile.

"Well - that's humbling. God - um - just… you said "boyfriend" and about
two thirds of my brain mutated into being a fourteen year old school girl, and - that's
possibly not something I should be saying out loud ..."

There was a short silence and Tom could almost see Oliver blinking as well.
He was about to say something--anything--when Oliver said, "Um, you do
remember that girls do nothing for me right? Even you as a girl. And I'm
thinking that maybe I shouldn't have said 'boyfriend', but I'm also thinking that
it's what I meant and now I'm just starting to panic. It's too much?
'Cause I thought we--" He stopped suddenly, then added. "We are, aren't
we? Together?"

"Yes," Tom said, immediate and definite and without even thinking about it.
"Oliver - yes. I just meant - well - I was *trying* not to actually whoop or something -
although now I'm thinking maybe that would have been better, seeing as I
clearly managed to weird you out, but - no - good thing - not too much at
all." He paused. "Um. Look, can I tell you something?"

"Oh." Tom could hear the relief in Oliver's voice. "That's okay then. And
yeah, you can tell me anything. I keep saying that--try it out."

"'K. Um, you probably got the impression that Kay thought I was
a bit much sometimes, yeah?"

"Yeah, got that. Not saying I agree with him, but...keep going. I'm
listening."

"Thing is - it's not just 'cos he wasn't out. I mean -" Tom paused, and
then the words just came tumbling out. "There have been other guys, who've
said the same kind of thing - either that I was too serious when they were
looking for a casual thing, or there was Sebs. I mean he was practically
flaming, and we were seeing each other for, like, three months, but - I
think what I'm trying to say is that I'm used to guys thinking that
I'm moving too fast or coming on too strong, and then there's you, and you're
thinking the same stuff I'm thinking - the things I'd hope and wish
someone would be thinking - and you kinda beat me to the punch line.
Everything I know about you, everything you say…I want to be with you, Oliver -
not just with you in bed with you, but with you - your boyfriend, the whole
deal."

If it was possible to hear a smile Tom did. Oliver sort of hummed, not
really a tune, but a definite happy sound.

"Good. 'Cause I'm not looking for casual, or...or open, or whatever it is
that guys seem to want. We've been talking for...well, not long, I guess,
in terms of conventional dating, but I think we've got an advantage that
way. We've shared more--talked more--in three weeks than I think I've
managed to do in three months of other relationships. The downside is not
being able to hang out--the upside is getting to know you better. Does that
make sense?"

"I think so." Tom smiled. "It's - different, but it's cool - and I'm not
going to *let* it get weird when you're actually here, ok?" His tone turned
mock-serious. "No shaking hands and being formal, ok? 'Cos that will freak
me out, but - it's not allowed to be weird. We won't let it."

"You got it," Oliver said with a laugh. "Greetings shall be hugs, soft
kisses that are suitable for the general public and then we'll go for a
walk. If it looks like we're too wound up to be discreet through supper,
we'll tactfully retreat to our room. But no weirdness. And I *will* take
you out for sushi at least once."

"I knew it! The raw fish challenge. The idea is just - eugh, although I
guess you don't know till you try ..."

"Just because it's clear I'm not going to take over the world doesn't mean
I'm not a little evil."

"I guess - and that's a good thing. With the sterling exception of Saint
Sebastian, I don't think I've ever fancied a saint."

"Well, that's good," Oliver laughed. "'Cause I'm no saint. Trust me."

He ended it with a sound suspiciously like a purr. Tom couldn't help but
giggle a little.

"Mmmmm - lots of stories to tell then?" he smiled.

"A few," Oliver said mysteriously. "I could entertain you with stories
about my corrupt youth when I was in university--did you know that a single
roll of toilet paper can nicely decorate a room? And that it's a real bitch
to clean up?"

The end of Oliver's sentence though was overlaid by a sudden hike in the
volume of the music coming from downstairs - loud enough to make
it hard to follow what was being said.

"Hang on a sec - my housemates are being a pain."

"No problem."

Tom put the receiver down carefully on the bed, and pushed himself to his
feet, crossing the small room in two quick steps. Throwing the
door open he was greeted by the infuriating sight of Mike, leaning against
the landing wall, arms crossed, eyebrow raised expectantly.

"Thought that might get your attention," he grinned. "Not to be a total
bastard, but are you nearly done yet? You have been on the phone
forever and Sarah's got an early class tomorrow...."

He trailed off, leaving Tom to draw the most sympathetic conclusion. He
sighed.

"OK - I get the point - ten minutes? I'll call down when we're finished, yeah?"

"Cheers, mate."

Mike disappeared back downstairs, while Tom swung his door shut. The music
quietened almost immediately.

"Hey - sorry about that. Mike's getting twitchy about phoning
Sarah back. I told him ten minutes."

His voice made it both an apology and a question.

"Sure. At least he's still speaking to you," Oliver said. "I thought I
might have scared the poor guy. Though maybe *you're* no saint either and I
have try harder, hmm?"

"We'll have to do more than that to be scarier than a Sarah scorned, I
think, and Mike's utterly not my type anyway."

Oliver laughed. "So there's no worries about you hitting on him to get a
reaction? This Sarah sounds a little like Janet, though. I think I've
ignored one of her requests exactly once. It wasn't pretty."

Tom heard the easy laughter in Oliver's voice, could almost picture him
sprawling on his couch. Well, if he could have, if he had any idea what the
couch looked like.

"Absolutely no chance of that at all - although I might have to resort to
desperate measures to get worked into the phone thing they've got going
on - Mike and Ian I mean - not Mike and Sarah. Um - that is - if you want
me to?" He quite desperately hoped that Oliver did want him to.

Oliver did that purring thing again, the sound low and rumbly, and it made
something inside him tighten to hear it.

"Oh yeah. I'm not made of stone." There was a slight pause and Oliver
chuckled. "Mostly, anyway."

"Oliver!" Tom mock-scolded. "You can't go giving me images like that when
we're meant to be getting off the phone! No fair!." He swallowed and his
voice dropped, losing the joking tone. "You just want to make sure I'm
thinking of you all night, don't you?"

"God, yes. Why should I be the only one in distress? Gonna think about me,
Tom? Gonna think about my voice and my hands? Going to start counting
days?" Oliver's voice was husky again, and he could have sworn he heard a
zipper being lowered as Oliver spoke.

"Hundred and sixty eight hours in a week, so, um, two hundred and a few odd hours,
and you've got to know that I'd have been thinking of you anyway." His
voice came a little too fast, trying not to get caught up in Oliver's words
again; trying without really wanting to resist, and he had to ask. A quiet,
private coda. "Oliver, what are you doing right now this second?"

"Trying--" Tom heard a strangled groan and Oliver started again. "Trying
very hard not to start jacking off right here and now. Made a mistake of
adjusting myself, tried to ease the restriction. Oh God." Oliver started
to pant a little. "Shit. Won't if you tell me not to. But God, I want
to."

Tom glanced at the clock, and the closed bedroom door. He could feel his
heart rate speeding, his body reacting to Oliver's words, his voice, the
pictures they painted.

"Seven minutes - you think my voice, and *your* hands..." His voice
hitched.

"Christ, yeah," Oliver hissed. "Your voice...goes right through me."

Tom heard Oliver moving, could hear a soft noise as fabric was pushed away,
another moan. "Fuck, so hard, Tom. Talk to me?"

Oliver's breath was harsh in Tom's ear, the sounds hot and needy.

Tom let out a moan of his own, swallowing before he could speak.

"God, Oliver, you're making my mouth water, making it so hard to think,
imagining you; spread out and wanting. Wish I was there, wish it was my
hand bearing down on you, my fingers wrapped around you, my mouth
teasing your nipples. Wish it was my wrist setting the rhythm, my body holding
you down, my hips rocking against your leg."

Tom could hear it, the sound distant but real, could hear Oliver's hand on
his erection. Skin on skin, the rhythmic creak of a couch spring.

Oliver gasped, the sound low and longing. "Oh God. Please, Tom. Need you--"

Oliver's breathy words in his ear set the rhythm for the heel of his own
hand, hard against the base of his erection, holding him back, making it
so he could feed words he didn't want to think about, just see and feel
and hear, down the phone line.

"Wish I could see you, wish I could taste you. Christ, Oliver - want to see
you come, want to hear you, learn you, find every spot that makes you moan
and scream and push up into me. Want to feel you move, feel your hands on
me, your mouth on me, skin on skin and your voice in my head. Fuck, wish I
could slide down, between your legs, suck you, taste you, finger fuck you."

"Oh God!" Oliver cried out again, his voice tight. "Gonna--oh fuck. Tom,
gonna come--"

The words felt thick in Tom's mouth, his eyes closed, playing mental movies
against his eyelids. His muscles were tight with the effort of staying still, staying
focused, and despite it his hips made short aborted movements, desperate for
the pressure.

"Oh fuck - please - want that - want to hear you, want to hear it, want to
be there, drinking you. Wish I could kiss you, wish I could taste you, kiss
you with your taste on my lips, slide against you, show you how you get me.
Want to be there, mouth and tongue and fingers everywhere, to take you,
swallow you, drive you up into my mouth with my fingers on your skin - so
beautiful, eager. Fucking beautiful, hearing you."

"Tom!"

That was all, just his name, but Tom knew what it meant. Oliver was coming
for him, shooting over his hand, a long moan filling Tom's ear, gasping
breaths searing through him. It froze him somewhere inside, those sounds,
that image.

A few long moments later Oliver made another sound, mostly a long exhale, a
Soft, little moan. "Shit. I...oh man. Tom? You okay? Still there?" A
short silence and before Tom could force a sound out Oliver whispered,
"I...I'm sorry."

Whatever he'd been trying to say suddenly became "Sorry?", with a flash of
panic threaded through his voice.

Oliver laughed, but this time the sound was self mocking, not gentle
amusement. "Well, fuck, if that wasn't pushing, I don't know what was.
Jesus, I can't believe I did that."

"Oliver?" The sudden change of tone was - unsettling to say the
least, and Tom cursed himself for the timorousness of his response. "You
didn't ... I mean -" He shook his head and started again. "I wanted to.
And thank you. God - I meant every word."

"Just...hold on a second, okay?" Tom heard the phone being put down even as
he said okay, and then listened as Oliver walked away. Running water from
the distance and Tom blushed a little, imagining Oliver cleaning himself up.

Footsteps again, then Oliver's voice. "Tom? Listen to me. I...that was
really hot. It was...amazing and you made me fly, felt like you were here
with me almost. But I know it was...fuck, I want to say 'hard for you', but
that's just weird. You know what I mean?"

Tom picked himself up on the slightly light headed urge to deadpan 'Garleec
is hard for me' and replaced it with a fairly non-committal murmur.

"I guess...I mean thank you. And I want you, and that felt really good. I
didn't mean to push, and if I did, 'm sorry. If you're...more comfortable
with it then you thought, that's even better. 'Cause you really get me off,
your voice, your words. You. And I can't wait to see you."

"I know it's only ten days, but - want to see you, too. Ten days isn't so long,
right?" Oh, like he was the calm collected one. Right. Except - "Oliver, are
you stressing out on me?"

"Umm. Maybe. Yeah, I think that's entirely possible. Eek? I feel
all....well, really relaxed of body and kinda freaking in my head. You're
really not upset I just did that?"

"Really, really not. Um - a little panicked that I've said something you're
going to freak over once it sinks in, and that you're going to think I'm
some sort of slut, but - you really think I didn't enjoy that?"

This time Oliver's laugh was the same happy chuckle Tom found himself
looking forward to hearing. "I *hope* you enjoyed it. And I can't see me
getting upset about anything you said--sounded wonderful and perfect to me.
Want that. What you said. Want to feel it. And I want to make you feel
it, too."

Downstairs the music crashed loud for a second and then dipped again. Tom
glared at the clock.

"Sh ..ugar. Did you hear that?"

"Sugar? Don't tell me I have to teach you to curse. And yeah, I heard it.
That time, huh?" Oliver sounded disappointed, which was oddly flattering.

"Yeah - are you going to think I'm an utter sap if I tell you I don't
actually want to hang up?"

"Oh yeah, 'cause I'm in such a rush to let you go." Oliver's voice got
soft. "Miss you, Tom."

Tom bit his lip before he could say anything stupid. "Daft isn't it? - when
we've never really ... but - yep - miss you I will. Email tomorrow, yeah?"

"I'll send one tonight," Oliver said, his voice still quiet. "Hope tomorrow
is better for you--less stress anyway."

"If it doesn't have any interviews in it, it will be, although. Today's been
pretty good really. Got to talk to you, for one thing. Oliver? Thank you.
For setting it up, so we could talk, and everything."

"Not a problem. Really. I wanted to talk to you, and...ah hell. I don't
want to stop. I know we have to, but...Shit. Okay, this is me, gearing up
to say good night. Talk soon, Tom?"

"I'd like that - a lot." He felt about fifteen again. "Someone really needs to
write an etiquette book for this, don't they?"

"I'm pretty sure there are proper rules for politely ending a conversation."
Oliver said seriously. "Though I don't think they're specifically geared to
gay lovers who've never so much as kissed and just managed to have phone sex
while roommates blared music at them. I'm babbling again."

Tom smiled. "Yeah - and it's just as endearing in real - voice? Although
that's going to be 'roommates try and beat me to death' if I don't
hand over the phone line. Which I don't really want to do, but - in the
interests of being able to ring you in the future ..."

"God knows I don't want to endanger that," Oliver said. Another moment of
silence then Oliver quietly added, "Good night, Tom. E-mail me tomorrow."

"I will. Good night, Oliver. Or good evening."

"Both. Think of me."

Then the line went dead in Tom's hand as Oliver hung up. He returned the
handset to the base slowly, reluctantly, even. After a long moment he shook
his head, and stood up. Sticking his head around the door he yelled
downstairs

"Phone's free."

"Thanks!" came the reply, and he shut the door on all of them.

His room suddenly seemed both smaller and emptier, and ridiculous or not, it
felt a lot like missing someone.

****************************

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
Sent Monday 10:34pm

Hey you,

Calmer now. :-)

God, it was so nice to talk to you. Really--just hearing your voice,
listening to you talk about your day...it was amazing.

The rest? Also amazing.

> God Oliver, do you have any idea what you do to me? Reading it, imagining
> you writing it - God - imagining you jerking off, thinking about me... I
> think blushing kind of got left behind somewhere.

Yeah, I think blushing is a thing of the past now. :P

> > > Six - 3 hours a pop, on the 1st, 4th, 5th, 9th, 14th, and
> > > 16th of July. Only one Saturday, and no doubles. Could be worse.

Jumping back here--Isn't that a little late? Here I think the finals are in
early May--my graduation ceremonies were on May tenth, I think.

> Night papers? That sucks.

Oh man, they did! Seven to eleven at night. They were torturous.

> > Link me up. And I'm looking only at mountain bikes, really--have no
> > interest in racers. (I have an image of my mother's old ten speed.
> > Eek.)
>
> I'll do that tomorrow. ;)

Cool. Thank you.:-)

> > /nod. I did that for a while too. It just got...easier in my
> > head when I let myself be what I am. Coming out for the
> > first time, though? Jesus. That's rough stuff.
>
> Who'd you tell? I mean first?

First was my best friend, Jack. I was sixteen and we were hanging out one
afternoon, just talking. I'd been trying to get up the nerve for ages, and
had just started my speech--"Jack, I wanna tell you something and I need you
not to flip, okay? Okay. See the thing is--" when our other friend Grace
popped in. She was cool, and the three of us were pretty close, so I just
kept going.

"I'm gay."

To which Grace said, "Damn. Lets me out of the running then." And Jack
said, "You're sure?"

I looked at him and asked him what he thought about Teddy Kobat, in our math
class. Jack said "Who?" and I said, "Tall guy with brown hair that's a
little too long? Strong legs, wears work boots and a jean jacket, but on
Thursdays he wears a black wind breaker 'cause he has to walk to work? Blue
eyes."

Jack nodded and said I was gay, no doubt about it.

And that was really about it. Worst part was getting up the nerve. About a
week later Jack asked if I'd ever thought about him that way, and I said no.
Was the truth, but I think I would have said no anyway.

Life didn't get weird until I started seeing guys. Or sleeping with them.
Then it got more intense at school. The more people who knew, the harder it
got.

> As chairman of Me Inc, I'd like to offer you the position of personal
> entertainer ....

I accept. What's the on the job training like?

> > > I put myself in your hands. In so far as dinner, at least.
> >
> > (See Oliver give Tom a Look.)
>
> This is me, about 50% confused, 50% fake innocence - the confused isn't
> fake.

Um. Was hoping you'd put yourself in my hands slightly more literally. But
then we just talked on the phone and the flirt seems a little silly now. :P

> > I...um. Yeah. I think this is a discussion to be held in person, with
> > props, and a lot of privacy. :P
>
> Um - yeah.
>
> I'm really not going to out-perv you am I? For the record: for some
> reason that doesn't feel like a bad thing - the idea of you, um,
> teaching me stuff, sharing stuff with me - not a bad thing at all.

:D I'll see what I can do. :P

Oliver goes to revise packing list.... No, not really. I don't actually own
any tools of perversion. We can go shopping though.

Hope Mike isn't pissed at you.

God, what you do to me.

Um, just grabbed my Palm and made some notes on what I have to do in London
this trip. Like I said, the Wednesday is pretty easy, and you're coming in
that night. Oh--before I forget, you'll have stuff with you, I assume. Do
you want me to meet you in the lobby, or do you want to come up to the room
before we go for dinner? I won't know the room number until I check in, and
honestly doubt I'll have a chance to call you before you head over to the
hotel, so you'd have to ask at the desk. Which is fine. Up to you.

Thursday I'm doing various earn money things from ten in the morning until
about four, though it tends to run late. Should be free by four thirty
though. Friday I'm working in the morning, have a few hours off, then a
meeting from three to six. I just typed sex. Oh god.

Saturday I have stuff from eleven to three. Sunday is off. Monday I'm
working from ten until four thirty again, have meetings Tuesday from ten
until two and then I'm done. Flight leaves late Tuesday night.

If you want to climb on Sunday, that's cool, I'm ready for that.

Want to see you whenever you can spare the time--just don't want you missing
important stuff at school, you know? Though a large part of me is just
small and petty enough to say "Ah, come on. What could he learn in three
days that's going to matter in ten years?" You? Ignore that voice. Pay
attention to the sane Oliver voice that wants you to do well. Not the
Oliver voice that's trying to figure out how to ditch meetings so we can go
to museums and back to our room. That is a bad voice.

Right, there's the Oliver babble, right on time.

Off to bed.

Tom? Thank you for tonight.

Miss you.

Oliver

To: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Tuesday 10:34am

> God, it was so nice to talk to you. Really--just hearing your voice,
> listening to you talk about your day...it was amazing.
>
> The rest? Also amazing.

Took the words right out of my mouth - that was good. Stomach-lurching
panic distinctly without cause, right?

Makes it real, talking to you, and - I like this - like you - can't wait for
you to get here.

> Yeah, I think blushing is a thing of the past now. :P

Maybe - working on it at least.

> > > > Six - 3 hours a pop, on the 1st, 4th, 5th, 9th, 14th, and
> > > > 16th of July. Only one Saturday, and no doubles. Could be worse.
>
> Jumping back here--Isn't that a little late? Here I think the finals are
> in early May--my graduation ceremonies were on May tenth, I think.

Yeah - I have friends at other Unis that'll have graduated before I finish
my exams. This place runs them late in the year, and for some reason my
papers are late in the exam period. - I think there's like two engineering
papers on the 17th, but otherwise the American Studies department takes the
prize. The lecturers must hate it - we get our results on the 28th, and the
graduation ceremony is the next weekend. There is a reason, I just don't
know what it is.

The good side is more time to study, and my rent's paid up till the end of
August, the bad news is, all the students who graduated back in June will
have landed all the good temp jobs by then.

> > > Link me up. And I'm looking only at mountain bikes, really--have no
> > > interest in racers.

See the attached list - and let me know how you got on with random lunch
bike guy.

> To which Grace said, "Damn. Lets me out of the running then." And Jack
> said, "You're sure?"
>
> I looked at him and asked him what he thought about Teddy Kobat, in our
> math class. Jack said "Who?" and I said, "Tall guy with brown hair that's a
> little too long? Strong legs, wears work boots and a jean jacket, but on
> Thursdays he wears a black wind breaker 'cause he has to walk to work?
> Blue eyes."
>
> Jack nodded and said I was gay, no doubt about it.

Way to prove a point. ;)

> And that was really about it. Worst part was getting up the nerve. About
> a week later Jack asked if I'd ever thought about him that way, and I said
> no. Was the truth, but I think I would have said no anyway.

That would probably have been the smart move. Although I know people who've
been offended that I didn't even if they'd have killed me if I did ... which
is basic human nature for you.

> Life didn't get weird until I started seeing guys. Or sleeping with them.
> Then it got more intense at school. The more people who knew, the harder
> it got.

Possibly pushy question but - you were still in school?

I didn't even tell anyone until I was in sixth form college, and then, well…
I actually *told* my seminar group in Sociology. We were doing ideas of the
group and the other, and it just seemed like a thing to do: the rumour mill
took it from there. I never actually *did* anything to remind anyone much
though. Sebs wasn't till I was here, in my first year.

> > As chairman of Me Inc, I'd like to offer you the position of personal
> > entertainer ....
>
> I accept. What's the on the job training like?

As much opportunity for practise as you'd like, regular feedback and
appraisal ... I'm not sure about sending you on training courses, but
one-on-one mentoring is an option.

I almost managed that with a straight face and everything.

> > I'm really not going to out-perv you am I? For the record: for some
> > reason that doesn't feel like a bad thing - the idea of you, um,
> > teaching me stuff, sharing stuff with me - not a bad thing at all.
>
>:D I'll see what I can do. :P
>
> Oliver goes to revise packing list.... No, not really. I don't actually
> own any tools of perversion. We can go shopping though.

Now there's a thought. ;)

[Actually a mild to moderately panic inducing one.]

Um, although it did occur to me last night - when we're going out for
dinner, we should probably head into Soho somewhere, just because - I'm not
entirely convinced we're going to manage to stop touching.

> Hope Mike isn't pissed at you.

He left me a note that says: Just this once she's not going to kill either
of us.

I'll talk to them tonight - you still want to make it a sort of weekly phone
call?

> God, what you do to me.

Likewise.

God, Oliver, hearing you just - I can wait nine days. I can. But I'll be
grinning like a grinning thing every time I think of you though. Which is
pretty much constantly.

> Um, just grabbed my Palm and made some notes on what I have to do in
> London this trip. Like I said, the Wednesday is pretty easy, and you're coming
> in that night. Oh--before I forget, you'll have stuff with you, I assume.

I was a cub scout: always be prepared.

Um, at some point we ought to have that whole horribly embarrassing
'sexual history and preferences' talk? I hate that whole 'negotiation'
thing, I really really do, but - [watch as I try and drag this back from the
cringe worthy to the sappy] - I want to try and make things perfect, make
you fly, and, um, it might help to have some idea what to expect? Sorry. It
just seems really crass to bring it up, and right now this second I am
really envying all the straight people in the world who never have to even
think about some of the basic questions ...

> Do you want me to meet you in the lobby, or do you want to come up to the
> room before we go for dinner? I won't know the room number until I check in,
> and honestly doubt I'll have a chance to call you before you head over to the
> hotel, so you'd have to ask at the desk. Which is fine. Up to you.

Part of me thinks I'm going to make an utter fool of myself, meeting you in
public, but - I don't know - seems a little kind of sleazy having me come to
your room the first second we meet? [I say this safe in the knowledge that
my willpower is effectively non existent at the present time.] What do you
think?

> Thursday I'm doing various earn money things from ten in the morning until
> about four, though it tends to run late. Should be free by four thirty
> though. Friday I'm working in the morning, have a few hours off, then a
> meeting from three to six. I just typed sex. Oh god.

Perfectly rational typo. ;)

I need to check my tutorial times, but 6pm Friday onwards I'm yours for the
weekend

> Saturday I have stuff from eleven to three. Sunday is off. Monday I'm
> working from ten until four thirty again, have meetings Tuesday from ten
> until two and then I'm done. Flight leaves late Tuesday night.

Bollocks - Seminar I Cannot Miss is on Tuesdays 2 to 4. Um - will I have
time to at least take you to the airport?

> If you want to climb on Sunday, that's cool, I'm ready for that.

Do you want to climb?

> "Ah, come on. What could he learn in three days that's going to matter in ten years?"
> You? Ignore that voice.

Um - have a very similar one in my own head, to be honest. Thing is the
pol/soc seminar - the Tuesday one - there are only six of us, and I am due
to present, and it's some infinitesimal proportion of my mark, but it is
assessed, and I actually don't want to be there at all. I have to, don't I?

> Pay attention to the sane Oliver voice that wants you to do well. Not the
> Oliver voice that's trying to figure out how to ditch meetings so we can
> go to museums and back to our room. That is a bad voice.

I kind of like it. ;)

But it's probably bad.

You getting fired would probably really complicate things. No getting
fired, in fact. Deal?

> Tom? Thank you for tonight.

I wish I could come up behind you, and wrap one arm round your waist, and
slide the other over your shoulder, and hug you because 'thank you' just
doesn't seem like enough.

> Miss you.

Yes.

Hope you slept ok, and that this morning's going to be a good one.

I'll be back here later.

Tom

************************
"God-like aliens...man do I hate God-like aliens! I'll trade a critter for a
God-like alien any day!"

Attachment: bikelinks.htm

To: Oliver Kurland [rkurls @ pdc.com]
From: Thomas Moorfield
Sent: Tuesday 12:34pm

Hey you,

Just diving into the labs between American History: Myth and Method,
which, hey, is basically watching movies (cowboys and the Wild West,
Slavery and the South, Vietnam, and Space, the final frontier) and a study
session with Becka. She hates most of the US Lit novels, and reads Walt
Whitman for fun. Well, actually that's not true - she likes the beat poets -
but poetry in general is something that makes sense to her.

Had to climb all the way up to the tiny little lab on the fourth floor to
find a free machine - all these pesky students underfoot. ;)

Hope you appreciate that I'm braving a *Mac* lab to type this - weird mutant
round mice and all. OK, so mainly I was wanting to see if I was going to
see your name in my inbox. Instead I have three 'joke' mass forwards, one
quiz, 17 emails from two people on my USD list arguing about the history
assignment, and an account of Tam's weekend in Amsterdam. Sounds like he
had a good time at least.

God, I want a holiday.

That was an utterly random thought. I wouldn't waste it in Amsterdam though -
even in a weekend, Scotland or Ireland or the Pyrenees...

Anyway, I should get back to work, I guess.

Hope all's well.

Tom
************************
"God-like aliens...man do I hate God-like aliens! I'll trade a critter for a
God-like alien any day!"

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Tuesday, 11:15am

Hey you,

Really swamped today--got your e-mail though, and that's making things seem
tons brighter.

There--your daily dose of sap. :-) Actually...I dreamt of you last night.
It was really fragmented and didn't make a lot of sense, but it was you. I
could see you, and hold you, and I woke up in the best mood ever.

Janet just stuck her head in and told me to clear off my desk. So she could
cover it with more paper. Ugh.

Damn. I better go.

Thinking about you. Hope your day is going okay, and I'll reply to your
e-mail as soon as I can.

Oliver

To: Thomas Moorfield
From: Oliver Kurland
Sent: Monday 9:37pm

Hey you,

Check the time.

Guess where I am? If you guessed in my boring little apartment, nice and
relaxed after hitting the gym and having a decent meal, all comfy and ready
to spend the evening on the computer and the couch...you'd be not so right.

I hate my office sometimes.

*Oliver pouts a little in hopes of getting sympathy kisses*

Right. So, the London trip isn't exactly the same sort of stuff I usually
do. Not a problem, I just need to go over a few things, learn the ins and
outs of the system....crap. Oh well, not like I have anything to do with my
evenings for the next few days anyway. :-)

This would, in fact, be me being a baby. Want my cake and to eat it too.
Want to get to London, have all my time free, and have someone else pay me
to be there. :P

Anyway, upshot of it is I'll be working late this week.

> > God, it was so nice to talk to you. Really--just hearing your voice,
> > listening to you talk about your day...it was amazing.
> >
> > The rest? Also amazing.
>
> Took the words right out of my mouth - that was good. Stomach-lurching
> panic distinctly without cause, right?

Yeah. :-) No more panic.

> Makes it real, talking to you, and - I like this - like you -
> can't wait for you to get here.

Me too. Can't wait to see your eyes, see you smile. Kiss you.

> > Jumping back here--Isn't that a little late? Here I think the
> > finals are in early May--my graduation ceremonies were on May tenth, I
> > think.

<<snipped>>

> The good side is more time to study, and my rent's paid up till the end of
> August, the bad news is, all the students who graduated back in June will
> have landed all the good temp jobs by then.

Yeah. Extra study time is good. Look at it this way though--you're not
looking for a temporary summer job, right? You're looking for something
permanent--or close to it--and the extra study time will only help.

Plus, you won't be in exams when I get to London. :-)

> > > > Link me up. And I'm looking only at mountain bikes, really--have no
> > > > interest in racers.
>
> See the attached list - and let me know how you got on with random lunch
> bike guy.

Bike shopping did not occur. I spent my lunch hour behind a wall of paper,
trying to sort out exactly how different this trip is going to be. On the
up side, Janet and I ordered lunch from a new place and found the best
Montreal smoked meat in the city, we're sure.

I'm having their pastrami for supper. For lo, I have a crappy diet.

> > And that was really about it. Worst part was getting up the
> > nerve. About a week later Jack asked if I'd ever thought about
> > him that way, and I said no. Was the truth, but I think I would
> > have said no anyway.
>
> That would probably have been the smart move. Although I know
> people who've been offended that I didn't even if they'd have killed me if
> I did ... which is basic human nature for you.

People are just plain weird sometimes.

> > Life didn't get weird until I started seeing guys. Or sleeping
> > with them. Then it got more intense at school. The more people who
> > knew, the harder it got.
>
> Possibly pushy question but - you were still in school?

Yeah, first time I had sex I'd just turned 17, was in grade twelve. We
weren't really together...well, I guess we were. We didn't make a big deal
out of dating, I never said he was my boyfriend, but we fooled ourselves
into thinking we cared about each other. If I had the same feelings today
that I did then? I'd call it lust and move along. But I was 17, and lust
was pretty powerful. :P

> I didn't even tell anyone until I was in sixth form college, and
> then, well…I actually *told* my seminar group in Sociology. We were
> doing ideas of the group and the other, and it just seemed like a thing to do:
> the rumour mill took it from there. I never actually *did* anything to remind
> anyone much though. Sebs wasn't till I was here, in my first year.

Wow on coming out to a group of relative strangers. That's freaking brave.
How did they react?

Sebs was first? He's the guy that said you were too serious, right?

I don't think I like him. Feel all protective and manly at the moment. I
need coffee.

> > > As chairman of Me Inc, I'd like to offer you the position of personal
> > > entertainer ....
> >
> > I accept. What's the on the job training like?
>
> As much opportunity for practise as you'd like, regular feedback and
> appraisal ... I'm not sure about sending you on training courses, but
> one-on-one mentoring is an option.

Purrrrrrrrrrr

> I almost managed that with a straight face and everything.

LOL! You did very, very well. :D :D

> > Oliver goes to revise packing list.... No, not really. I don't actually
> > own any tools of perversion. We can go shopping though.
>
> Now there's a thought ;)
>
> [Actually a mild to moderately panic inducing one.]

Easy--same thing as with everything: one step at a time and don't be afraid
to tell me to back off. Er, unless it's the thought of shopping with me
that's making you panic. In that case, feel free. :D

> Um, although it did occur to me last night - when we're going out for
> dinner, we should probably head into Soho somewhere, just because
> - I'm not entirely convinced we're going to manage to stop touching.

You are a very smart man. And you know how to plan. I like that.

Soho it is, I'll let you figure out where.

> > Hope Mike isn't pissed at you.
>
> He left me a note that says: Just this once she's not going to
> kill either of us.

Umm...maybe I can send her a tacky Boston souvenir as a bribe. :P

> I'll talk to them tonight - you still want to make it a sort of
> weekly phone call?

Oh yes. I want that.

> God, Oliver, hearing you just - I can wait nine days. I can. But I'll be
> grinning like a grinning thing every time I think of you though. Which is
> pretty much constantly.

:D Yeah. Me too.

> > Um, just grabbed my Palm and made some notes on what I have to do in
> > London this trip. Like I said, the Wednesday is pretty easy, and you're
> > coming in that night. Oh--before I forget, you'll have stuff with you, I
> > assume.
>
> I was a cub scout: always be prepared.

Were you really? Cool. My father thought they were subversive or
something. :P

> Um, at some point did we ought to have that whole horribly embarrassing
> 'sexual history and preferences' talk? I hate that whole 'negotiation'
> thing, I really do, but - [watch as I try and drag this
> back from the cringe worthy to the sappy] - I want to try and make things
> perfect, make you fly, and, um, it might help to have some idea what to expect?
> Sorry. It just seems really crass to bring it up, and right now this
> second I am really envying all the straight people in the world who never have to even
> think about some of the basic questions ...

Eek. Yeah okay. Step by step.

History and health....(God I feel like I should be doing this with page
headers and topic outlines. :P)
Been with five guys, including Peter, which was a three and a half year
relationship. Used condoms with everyone, though stopped with Peter after a
couple months and we'd both tested clean twice. Test every six months for
everything, been clean always--even after Peter's little foray into an open
relationship. Haven't been with anyone since he left, so that's...Jesus. A
year this Thursday since I threw him out so I haven't actually had sex with
anyone since... (Does math) A year last night.

*blink*

Whoa.

That's....pretty neat. Weird in the extreme, but neat.

Preferences.
Oh look, I can still blush. Shit. Umm. Yeah. No idea how little detail I
can go into here. Basically, I like sex. I switch, happy to top or bottom,
but honestly? I love to suck and I love to be taken. Mornings are for slow
and sweet lovemaking, I like it hot and desperate too, when need builds
until you feel like you're on fire, and there is nothing better then kissing
during sex.

Right. Stopping now. Your turn.

> > Do you want me to meet you in the lobby, or do you want to come up to
> > the room before we go for dinner? I won't know the room number until I
> > check in, and honestly doubt I'll have a chance to call you before you head
> > over to the hotel, so you'd have to ask at the desk. Which is fine. Up
> > to you.
>
> Part of me thinks I'm going to make an utter fool of myself,
> meeting you in public, but - I don't know - seems a little kind of sleazy
> having me come to your room the first second we meet? [I say this safe in the
> knowledge that my willpower is effectively non existent at the present
> time.] What do you think?

I think that if you show up at our door you'll wind up pushed into it and
we'll not leave the room until breakfast. So I'll meet you downstairs,
we'll drop off your things, and head out. :-)

> > I just typed sex. Oh god.
>
> Perfectly rational typo. ;)

At least that one made sense. :P

> I need to check my tutorial times, but 6pm Friday onwards I'm
> yours for the weekend

Excellent.

> > Saturday I have stuff from eleven to three. Sunday is off. Monday I'm
> > working from ten until four thirty again, have meetings
> > Tuesday from ten until two and then I'm done. Flight leaves late
> > Tuesday night.
>
> Bollocks - Seminar I Cannot Miss is on Tuesdays 2 to 4. Um -
> will I have time to at least take you to the airport?

Probably--might even have time to have a quick meal, flight doesn't leave
until 10:00pm.

> > If you want to climb on Sunday, that's cool, I'm ready for that.
>
> Do you want to climb?

Wall or rock? What are my other options? You're my guide to
London--anything you want to do?

> > "Ah, come on. What could he learn in three
> > days that's going to matter in ten years?" You? Ignore that voice.
>
> Um - have a very similar one in my own head, to be honest. Thing is the
> pol/soc seminar - the Tuesday one - there are only six of us, and I am due
> to present, and it's some infinitesimal proportion of my mark, but it is
> assessed, and I actually don't want to be there at all. I have to, don't
> I?

Yes, you do. *Looks sternly at you.*

> > Pay attention to the sane Oliver voice that wants you to do well. Not
> > the Oliver voice that's trying to figure out how to ditch meetings so we can
> > go to museums and back to our room. That is a bad voice.
>
> I kind of like it. ;)

Heee

> But it's probably bad.

Yep. You can tell that one is bad because it comes with sound
effects--booming voice over, dark clouds, smoke. Very evil.

> You getting fired would probably really complicate things. No getting
> fired, in fact. Deal?

Deal.

> > Tom? Thank you for tonight.
>
> I wish I could come up behind you, and wrap one arm round your waist, and
> slide the other over your shoulder, and hug you because 'thank you' just
> doesn't seem like enough.

Mmmm. Soon. Almost to eight days already. Cool.

> > Miss you.
>
> Yes.

Thank you for the links. :-)

Okay, I have another hour of stuff here, then I'm heading home. How was
your day? Hey, you get your Diss back from Terry tomorrow--drop me a quick
note and tell me how that goes?

Still miss you,

Oliver

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