I should never have stayed talking to Him in the bar that night I lost my job, and certainly should not have borrowed money – at least not from Him. But the current credit crunch, with rising debts, outgoings and expenses soaring, had left me destitute. Losing my job at the bank was the final straw and there seemed no where to turn.
I had seen Him several times in bars and clubs over the past months, in my home town and when away on business trips. He always seemed to be there, sitting at the bar and raising his glass when he caught my eye. Not that I minded or even thought it odd that He should be there. I travelled extensively with my work and just assumed that He was another traveller – alone in a strange city.
And why should I object to the attentions of this six foot three brick shit house of a man, with a goatee, cropped dark hair and the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen? His was a body and face to make Tom’s Men seem insignificant. He was always in leather jeans, or chaps with a skin tight black tee-shirt that hid nothing and revealed every ripple on His body plus two large heavily ringed nipples.
Now I have had a think for pierced men for many years and whilst I had a couple of tats, had never plucked up enough courage for rings – but a Daddy with heavy piercings was another matter.
These regular ‘meetings’ eventually lead to a ‘Hi’ and before long, conversation. Being away from home, with a new acquaintance and a few beers, it was easy for me to talk about my life, my likes, desires and fantasies. The fact that I built up both my experience and my fantasies was not an issue - they were my fantasies. Little did I know the trouble this would get me into.
Whenever I was in a bar or club, He was always there, and from our developing conversations it was clear that He was interested in my experiences in life, work and relationships but whenever I asked a question, especially plucking up courage to ask about our regular pattern of meeting, He just smiled.
And nothing else happened.
At least, not at that time.
Let me tell you a little more about me at that time – name of Jim, 36 years old, five ten with a good shaved body (gym three times a week) and short, but not cropped, blond hair. As I said, Ii had a couple of tats – one on my arse and one in the small of my back – but had always dreamt of extensive ink work and body modifications. Indeed, when I wanked off, and yes I did so several times a day even in the bog at work, Ii always fantasised about Him and how I would like to submit to Him and let Him change me as He would see fit…..
With my boyish looks and tight body (with a goatee when on holiday, since my company did not favour facial hair and I was The Corporate Man) Ii know that I attracted admiring glances when in a bar, and my then boy friend used to enjoy this attention, too.
My troubles really started with the bank going into receivership and me not only losing my employment but my vastly subsidised lifestyle – mortgage, cars, loans for designer clothes, and expensive holidays around the globe and eating out in top restaurants several times a week – who wants to cook when there was someone else much better to do it? However, given the situation i felt that if we really cut back on all expenditure, let the cars go and looked for a smaller place to live we might, just, be able to get things sorted. After all, with a decent degree, a good track record in banking and finance and, living centrally there had to be jobs out there and we had no need of a car to get around.
The boy friend had other thoughts and stated that he was not prepared to subsidize me; after I had put him through school and paid for acting lessons and gym membership for the past few years and included him in everything I did. That evening he moved out, taking many of the paintings and ornaments – ‘before the bailiffs get them!’ . Bastard.
So, left in a waterside apartment with fantastic views, what was I to do?
Friday night. So let’s go out and get laid. It helped. When I entered the club the first person I saw was Him – raising a glass and indicating for me to join Him. Within minutes my whole story was out. He nodded and listened. “So what would you do to get out of this situation…?”
“Anything”, I replied, and I think that answer sealed my fate.
Telling me that He would be in contact to discuss employment options (and I still had no idea what line of business He was in) I gave Him my address, phone number, email and employer’s name and address. Feeling somewhat relieved that I had some hope, I went home early, not even remotely interested in sex.
A week past – creditors’ letters were starting to pile up and while my land line had been cut off, my mobile never stopped ringing (couldn’t turn it off in case He called) – people hassling for repayment of loans. Had I really been that profligate?
Friday night again – and I dare not go out for fear of the four thugs that had all week been hanging around the entrance to the apartment block, obviously watching my movements and when the apartment would be empty so that the landlord or creditors could take possession.
The door bell rang. Not expecting anyone, I checked on the screen and saw Him. ‘OK, He’s probably coming to discuss my employment,” and I slipped the catch.
He entered, with a small balding man in a dark suit, carrying a briefcase. Seeing Him in my hallway was more impressive that in the club, and the contrast between the two men could not have been greater. “Right, down to business. You need a way out and funds, and I have brought my lawyer to go walk you through your employment contract. Your troubles end tonight”.
The layer removed a thick wad of papers from his briefcase. “Sign where indicated”, was all he said.
Starting to read the contract, it was suddenly snatched from my hands by Him. “If you want to have your financial troubles sorted there is no need to read this – just sign. Should you want to go through in detail we call a halt to our arrangement now’.
What choice did I have – this was my salvation. I signed – what I thought would be once, but as the lawyer turned pages, Ii was signing at least every third page. When I had finished, both the lawyer and He added their signatures to the last page.
Legalities completed, the lawyer packed up his case and left. He did not shut the door behind him and the four thugs that I had previously seen hanging around outside burst in, locking the door behind them.
‘What the fuck……’ was all I could manage before Iwas hit hard across the face and in the stomach.
Nobody - Part 1ORIGINAL TEXT BY: ss575758 on BNSKIN.COM (2008)