This story is complete a fictional account of love between two men of consenting age and contains sex descriptions of a gratuitous nature. If this story, or your reading it, is illegal or offensive then you are directed to delete it immediately. All main characters, environments and locations are fictitious. Any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidental.
I would like to thank all those who have written to thank me for writing my previous stories - I appreciate it tremendously.
As I finish one story and start another I hope that the lessons learnt from each translate into a better story for all of us.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it.
Acknowledgements, critiques, flames or any other email can be written directly to
romanticiser@geocities.com.
Forge Friend
Copyright Romanticiser 1998
Part 5 of ?
Chapter 3: Friendships.
"Come on, time to get up." Joe rested his hand on Ginger's arm and shook gently. "Wakey, wakey"
Ginger opened his eyes to the dim light of the curtained room. He felt Joe's hand touching his arm. "OK. I'm up." And he turned over away from Joe.
"Oh no, I'm not leaving you until you're up. You've already told me that twice and yet you're still in bed. Come on, up and at `em, it's already eight o'clock and your breakfast is on the table."
Ginger rolled on to his back and stretched his legs out. "OK., ungh!" as he yawned and then he sat up. "OK."
"Come on, we've got a lot of work today. Get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen." Joe straightened and walked out of the room, the flow of his muscles flexing followed by Ginger's eyes.
Ginger twisted around and sat his feet on the floor, idly scratching his stomach. The smell of bacon tinged the warm air. Standing up he walked over to the small dresser by the window and opened the top left hand drawer. His last pair of briefs sat on top of the Victorian underwear, the washing had to be done today and it was his turn. Grabbing the briefs he walked across the room and entered the small en suite bathroom for his morning shower. Joe's washing was already piled up by the bath under the wash basin.
Fortunately it was only underwear and socks, the museum laundry cleaned and washed the shirts, trousers and jackets. Joe had explained to him that he never minded wearing different trousers or shirts but he drew the line at wearing somebody else's underwear. It didn't matter how you named them, tied them together or bagged them, when you went to pick them up, yours were gone replaced by an odd mismatched set of other peoples.
Every day they swapped turns on breakfast and the chores that kept the little flat working. Today was going to be different though, Ginger had managed to persuade Joe to move his day off to Thursdays. Ray hadn't been happy with the thought of the forge being closed for a day as it was one of the workshops but Ginger had got around that one.
As Ginger walked into the little kitchen and sat down beside the fresh plate of bacon and eggs he said "Morning."
Opposite, Joe wasn't his normal cheerful self, he seemed slightly broody and absorbed. His empty plate in front of him, knife and fork together, he sat drinking his coffee. "Morning."
Ginger started eating and decided to take the bull by the horns. "When are Ray and Gary coming."
"In about an hour. I don't know if this idea of your is going to work or not. I'm not keen on letting two inexperienced people run my forge when I'm not here."
"All they'll be doing is cleaning up the castings that we did yesterday, they aren't working with the forge just keeping it running. On my days off or when I'm doing the paper Gary has been working with you. They should be able to handle it for eight hours. Gary knows how to keep the forge running and Ray isn't stupid."
"I know, it's just what if something happens? Ray might get called away and Gary could feint again."
"Don't worry! Gary never had a problem when the doors were open and they both know how to shut the forge down if something happens. Look we've been through this, you trusted Gary to keep the forge going at night. He only has to do that at about one. We'll be back by six. You haven't had a day off in over a month, you can't keep going like this."
"I know but...."
"Do you want me to stay? I will do if you want."
"No - I guess not."
The conversation ended but Ginger knew that Joe wouldn't be really happy about it. They sat in silence as Ginger ate the rest of his breakfast.
After their breakfast Ginger headed back to the bedroom to wash their clothes and clean the bedroom and bathroom as Joe dusted and cleaned the rest of the flat.
Searching under his bed for the pile of socks and underpants he dragged them out and added them to Joe's pile. He filled the bath with hot water and poured in the detergent, mixing the pale blue liquid into the clean water. He grabbed his clothes and threw them in and reached for Joe's, as he picked them up he smelt the intoxicating odour of Joe rising from the pile and couldn't resist pressing into them breathing deeply. The musky smell seemed to shoot through his body, exciting him, his mind revelling in the thoughts of what had been hidden inside and the thoughts and dreams he'd had last night.
A creak of a floorboard and the slight squeak of the bathroom door opening was all the warning he got. He hastily threw the clothes into the bath as Joe's head popped around the door. "Aren't you finished yet?"
"Ur! Nearly" Ginger felt his face and body radiate heat in a blush and that only caused his embarrassment to become more pronounced.
"OK. Hurry up." And the head vanished.
Ginger breathed a sigh and relaxed a little. Swirling the water around wetting the underwear for it's soak as his mind wandered over what he'd done. The shock of nearly getting caught in his perverted, illicit act had scared him. Again he promised to himself that he would forget his feelings and never act on them.
Straightening the beds and dusting the cupboards only took a few seconds and soon he was dressed in his old clothes ready to leave the enclosed sanctuary of the museum.
Climbing down the stairs Ginger navigated the small cottages ground floor. A noise from one of the rooms pulled Joe's attention. He walked to the open door and looked in. John was dusting the parlour with a small feather duster. He was about halfway across the room and as little photographs and `objet d'art' covered the little cupboards and mantelpiece, he was going to be doing it for quite some time.
Ginger couldn't help but grin "Morning John. I see they got you helping out."
John looked up quickly. "Morning Ginger. Don't say a bloody word, two of the girls are down with flu and Mrs. Cunlif drafted me."
As a final dig he couldn't resist he called out "Well, enjoy yourself" and walked towards the forge laughing at John's reply of `humph'.
The doors of the forge were wide open letting the cool morning air into the hot workshop. Ray and Gary were stood outside talking with Joe as Ginger walked out.
Ray handed Joe his mobile phone "Here take this and stop fretting. We know what we're doing and we can call if we need you." As Ginger walked up Ray turned and smiled "Morning Ginger, will you get him out of here or he'll be still here at lunch."
Joe replied "OK. OK. I'm going but you'll call if you need me - right?"
"Just Go! The gates will be open in a couple of minutes."
Ginger walked with Joe as they headed for the gates and chuckled silently as Joe looked back a couple of times.
The sky threatened rain, darkness looming in the fast moving clouds. They waited by the gate for a couple of minutes as the flood of coach and pedestrian traffic entered.
Exiting the museum they slowly headed towards the town a couple of miles away.
"Joe?"
"Hmm."
"Do you have any family?"
"I've got a sister, she's married and lives on a farm on Sanday up in the Orkneys. Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering, you don't seem to go anywhere or ring anybody."
"Sheila and Kirk don't have a phone, they use radio up there. If they want to make a phone call they go to the town and use one in the post office."
"Oh!"
"Communication and travel are always hard up there, the weather can close down an island in minutes, especially in winter. My dad was the smith on Sanday, repairing tools, shears, pots, pans almost anything, he trained me to be the smith after him."
"How come you left?"
"Things change, even up there. Things aren't meant to last anymore, you can't repair a thin ali pan. The tools have become so mechanised and complicated that it's no longer worth trying to repair them, you send them to specialists."
They turned a corner and headed down the valley to the town standing on the edge of a deep gorge.
"I left because my living dried up. Money isn't easy to come by up there. You live on `give and take', you get a sheep today because you'll help them when they need it....And nobody needed me. I became a burden on my sister and the community."
"How did you get the job here?"
"I don't know, luck I suppose. I was working up at Aberdeen on the oil rigs. The recession of the late 80's was just starting to bite and they put in career advisors before the large redundancies came. They searched the country for jobs and this came up. Ray was just starting up and was after a smith. I came down for the interview and got the job."
"You like it don't you?"
"God you're all questions this morning."
"Sorry I didn't mean to ..."
"It's OK. Yes I love it, Ray maybe the man who pays my wages, such as they are but I love being my own man. I decide what I do and when I do it. If you ever find a job that suits you as well - go for it."
"I loved printing, doing the lithographs, setting up the text and printing it out. It's immediate and satisfying. Now they all use computers and hi-res laser printers. The skill has gone, you don't need experience and skill with a chisel and hot metal type, it's an electronics degree now!"
"You sound bitter!"
"Well after spending seven years learning how to do the job and do it well only to have it taken away. Yes I'm bitter."
Joe laughed and Ginger looked up to see Joe smile wryly. "We make a right pair don't we. A smith and a printer two people out of time. living in one century with the skills in another."
Ginger laughed with Joe and side by side they entered the small town.
Joe looked up at the sky. "We've only got a couple of minutes before it rains, want to get a coffee?"
"OK. Where?"
"There's a little caf not far." Joe led the way and Ginger followed the big man as he walked down a side street. The number of people out on the streets increased as they headed towards the centre of town but they cleared for Joe's hulking form. Ginger strode along in the wake, untroubled by the passers by.
The caf was down in the cellar of a large house that stood alone on the corner of three streets. Joe carefully ran his hand along the brightly painted iron railings and gate that protected the stairway. The large stone steps led down below the pavement and in through an open, dark blue door. The wooden tables and chairs, arranged in fours, filled the room except for a bar that ran across the end. The smell of frying bacon and chips filled the slightly smoky air.
Joe diligently manoeuvred himself between the tables and walked to the bar. A large woman in her late fifties was serving behind the bar and she smiled and shouted as he approached. "Stan, Stan, Joeseph's here." And in a quieter voice she admonished "Joeseph, where have you been? Me and Stan haven't seen you for weeks. You come waltzing in here with some railings spend the day taking out the old broken ones and fitting the new ones and then vanish. You didn't even let us pay you."
"I told you to forget it Marge, I enjoyed doing it."
She picked up a mug and walked over to the coffee urn, looking at Joe over her shoulder "That doesn't excuse you for not coming in here for weeks, you made me feel guilty." She returned to the counter with a full mug of milky coffee. "Sit down at that table, drink this and tell me what you've been doing." She pointed to a table right in the corner next to the bar.
"I'll need another coffee Marge, I'm not alone." Joe turned around to face Ginger and said "Ginger, I'd like you to meet Marge, the best coffee maker in the country and Marge this is Ginger the best apprentice I've ever had."
She quickly preened her hair, smiled and said "Any friend of Joeseph's a friend of mine. What would you like?"
Ginger smiled back "Coffee please."
"Right away." She picked up another mug and walked over to the coffee urn as Joe and Ginger settled themselves into the chairs. "Do either of you want anything to eat, Stan makes the best bacon barm cakes for miles."
Joe looked at Ginger who shook his head, "No thanks Marge, we've only just had breakfast."
She returned to the bar flipped open a hatch and walked out to the table. "Suit yourselves, can't even give away good food. Here you are petal, one of my special coffees." And she placed the mug by Ginger.
Ginger thanked her and asked "How much do I owe you?"
"Nothing dear, it's on me, I don't charge friends." There was a muffled snort from one of the other tables and her head shot up and looked around as Ginger thanked her again, only to be interrupted with her loud voice "James Alsop, Who told you to laugh? You haven't got the gumption to think of a joke."
At the old man's obvious uncomfortable squirming she went in for the kill. "Aren't you supposed to be at home? Does Elsie know you stop here after collecting your pension?"
The man hastily drained his cup and left apologising all the while.
Joe smiled at Ginger as Marge turned and went back behind the bar, dropping the hatch behind her. Locating herself back to her usual place she smiled at Joe and Ginger. "Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted."
Joe and Marge chatted for the next half hour about nothing and everything. Apart from the brief interludes of customers placing and receiving their orders. Stan appeared for a couple of minutes, a thin man robed in a greasy white overall who thanked Joe before he was railroaded back into the kitchen with an order for `Chips, bacon, egg and sausage.'
Ginger sat and watched the two talk and drank the refill of the milky coffee she served. After about half an hour Joe looked at his watch and apologised to Marge that they had to leave.
"Just remember to come back and see us next week, Joeseph. We missed you not coming in."
"We will do. Thanks for the coffee. Bye!"
Ginger thanked her and as they reached the blue door they heard Marge's loud voice. "Stan, Stan they're leaving, aren't you going to say goodbye."
Ginger almost stopped but Joe's whispered command of `Keep going' started him up the stairs.
When they had walked about twenty feet away and around the corner they both looked at each other and smiled. Ginger asked "Is this how you spend you days off?"
"Pretty much except I like to take a walk along the canal."
"What canal?"
"I'll show you after we get to the bridge." They walked together, in comfortable silence, down the streets of the little quiet town. Crossing over the narrow roads, avoiding the few cars, they headed towards the main street running by the side of the gorge.
Ginger spoke. "It's quiet today. I expected the streets to be filled."
"Half term! It's always quiet during the school holidays, Normally there are children all over the place, especially near Samson."
"Samson?"
Joe turned and pointed towards the hills overlooking the quaint town. "Samson is an enormous steam driven pump in the main Ironbridge museum over there."
"I wish I'd been here as a child, it would have been great to see and experience the history instead of the boring classes sat at a desk." They resumed their journey.
"I know what you mean, I see the kids running about, fascinated with their bright eyes burning with questions. The industrial revolution alive and available to touch, feel and explore. Each child sees with new eyes, drinking in the past with every breath. Our museum turns the history class away from a book and into a place, something tangible. No kid leaves here without remembering that this is the birth place of our lifestyles, the cities, railways, cars, all that industry makes, everything we take for granted stems from this place."
"You'd make a great teacher Joe."
"Nah! If I couldn't have my hands on metal everyday I'd become bored. I used to play in my dad's forge when I was about seven or eight, watching my dad make hinges, pans, knives almost anything. Dad used to polish the steel until it gleamed and threw reflections like quick silver. I used to be entranced with the glowing metal bending to my dad's will. Twisted and contorted but still beautiful."
Joe stopped and turned towards Ginger, lifting his hands in front of him. "You see these, they itch for the feel of metal. I made my first piece when I was eight and except for a one year drought they have made something every day since. Statues, railings, nails, axles it doesn't matter what, I take pride in my work. Proud that I create in a world where so many destroy."
They reached the small bridge over the gorge. In total it was only about forty feet across by fifteen wide. Tarmac covered the humping span.
Ginger couldn't see what was so extraordinary about this little bridge that caused a revolution. "Joe, why is this bridge so special?"
"Follow me and I'll show you." Ginger walked behind Joe as he lead him back off the bridge and down a row of stone stairs that turned and ran under the bridge. Joe stopped looking up to the bridge, Ginger craned his neck looking at the underside of the graceful arch. Joe's narrative explaining the bridge and its effects.
"This was the first iron bridge. As you can see it isn't one piece, it's made up from parts each individually cast by Telford. Each piece on the left had its exact mirror on the right." Turning round he pointed at the other side of the gorge where the bridge met it. SOver there it is exactly the same. I don't mean made the same way, I mean exactly. The piece on the left side here was cast in the same mould as the piece on the right over there."
"But.."
"What made this bridge special isn't that it is iron or that it crosses this gorge. It's that it was made elsewhere and fitted together exactly - reproducible time and time again. Every thing before this was hand made, each unique. Telford proved that you could make something accurately time and again. That was the key."
Joe searched Ginger's face for the spark of comprehension. It wasn't there - yet.
"Look it's very simple. The only machines that existed before were hand made, specials, one offs but after Thomas Telford you could design a machine and make it again and again. There wouldn't be any railways if all the rails were hand made." He paused for a breath and then changed tack. "There are millions of cars absolutely identical, If you go to the garage and buy a spark plug you'd expect it to fit. That is the essence of industrialisation, making things identical in every way. This bridge was the first example. Mass production, admittedly on a tiny scale but Telford was first."
Seeing the dawning light in Ginger's green eyes he pushed the idea further. "Because of Telford you could now have machines then mills & factories. They needed people and so the towns and cities grew pulling the people from the land. Society as we know it evolved from the changes he brought about."
Ginger paused and his eyes widening as the concept sank in. Joe smiled as he watched Ginger rearrange his thoughts. After a couple of minutes as Ginger looked at the bridge with insight. Joe said "Come on let's go to the canal."
"Oh yes you said you would show me where it is.
Joe pointed to the other side of the gorge further up. "Do you see that row of laurel bushes?"
Ginger looked but couldn't see what Joe was pointing at. "No where?"
Joe stood behind Ginger and pointed his arm over his right shoulder and leaned in to guide Ginger's sight. "Over there just above the rise, you see that row of shiny bushes."
Ginger only vaguely answered his mind reeling in the feel of Joe's body so close to his, the warmth and the tickle of breath on his ear. Overcome with a rush of erotic thoughts, risen fast from his dreams, Ginger froze as his mind flew into overdrive. Heat upon heat flowing through his body. "Uh."
Joe stepped closer pressing against Ginger, his armpit resting on Ginger's shoulder "Do you see the storm damaged tree above the bridge?"
Ginger could feel himself trembling and prayed that Joe couldn't feel it. "Y..Yes." Any answer would do, he couldn't see anything his eyes had closed in concentration, feeling the moment.
"OK now follow down at forty-five degrees to the left. Do you see the large bush with dark shiny leaves." Joe could feel that Ginger was quaking, he turned towards him, concerned, and whispered "Are you all right?"
Ginger could feel the warm breath going down his neck, he had to move, just one step, a little step, just move his weight, anything. His shaking grew worse as his mind and body rebelled at each other.
Joe pulled Ginger against him and put his hand on Ginger's sweating forehead. "You're burning up. Come on I'll take us back."
...............
Part 6 of ?
Ginger sat in bed waiting for Doc Williams to arrive, the sweat was running off him, wetting the blanket that Joe had found from somewhere. He'd tried to convince Joe that he was all right but Joe had him wrapped up in bed faster than grease lightening. Making him promise to stay there until the Doc had seen him.
The door opened and Doc Williams entered. Grey wavy hair covering a pleasing face that had aged with the world. The Doc was middle aged and plump around the middle. Joe followed him into the room and would have stood there until the Doc pushed him out.
"How are you feeling?" His voice was melodious and calm.
Ginger was pleased that the Doc had arrived, maybe Joe would let him up from this sauna. "I'm fine Doc. It was nothing."
The Doc looked around for a chair and seeing none sat on the side of the bed, his bag down by Ginger's feet. "Nothing doesn't make you nearly feint. Been feeling hot and then cold? Any feverish symptoms? Headache, aches and pains?"
"No."
The Doc leaned over Ginger and lifting each eyelid he looked deeply into each eye. He then reached for his arm and resting his fingers by Ginger's wrist felt his pulse for a few seconds looking at his watch.
"Been sleeping well? No bouts of dizziness? Tiredness?"
Ginger shook his head "No, as I said it was nothing."
"Well, I'm not sure - we've got three down with flu. I think you probably just need some rest. You've been working very hard recently, running two jobs can be quite tiring."
"Honestly Doc, I feel absolutely fine. Can't I get up."
"I don't think so, at least not for a couple of hours."
"It's stifling up here Doc, with the forge and this blanket, I'm boiling."
"Well, I'll open the window but I don't think I should let you out of bed right now."
Standing up the Doc went over to the curtained window and opened it wide. The noise of the visitors and children laughing, as they moved around the museum joined with the noise in the room. Turning and facing Ginger the Doc grinned and whispered as he walked back to the bed. "I can't let you up, Joe would skin me alive. He's clucking around like a mother hen down there, I wouldn't be surprised if he came up with chicken soup insisting that he feed you."
Ginger smiled as the Doc continued "I've never seen him like this before, he must really like you Ginger, you've got a real friend there." He patted Ginger's hand "I'll tell him you can get up in a couple of hours. Just take it easy and get up when the gates close. Call me if you feel it coming on again."
The Doc stood up and picked up his bag. As he walked to the door Ginger said "Thanks Doc."
"My pleasure and stay well." He opened the door turned, smiled and left, closing the door behind him.
About thirty seconds later Joe entered with a mug of coffee. "Well what did he say."
"He said it was probably tiredness. Look Joe, I'm fine, honestly I'm OK."
"Well the Doc said you should get some rest so you get some sleep, I'll bring you something to eat later. All right?"
"Yeah Joe, thanks."
Joe walked out of the room quietly closing the door behind him. Ginger sighed and looked at the alarm clock on the floor between the beds. Two thirty, another three and a half hours before Joe would let him up.
Lying back Ginger closed his eyes and tossed and turned under the hot blanket. After having enough he pushed the blanket down with his feet and relaxed in the cool air, relieving his over heated body. Feeling bored and frustrated he turned on to his front and closed his eyes.
...............
Joe entered quietly, shedding his clothes down to his boxers. Night time and with the forge heat, modesty wasn't an option.
Walking quietly over to the sleeping form of Ginger he sat on the floor, watching Ginger breathe, the red hair, the colour of embers in a fire, lying on the pale neck. The slight twist as he rested without a pillow. One arm in front and one knee crooked. Ginger lay in the comfortable recovery position, his back rising and falling slowly with his shallow breaths as he slept.
The pale back, white and unblemished, was almost hairless, Tiny fine hairs almost invisible at this close range waved in the cool breeze from the open window. Joe slowly lifted his large hand and leaning forward slightly ran his hand along the young body resting before him. Not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat radiate out and the soft brush of fine hair as it danced below his touch.
The lightly tanned forearm lying his side showed the sharp line of his shirts just below the elbow. The whiteness of his skin was like a magnet. Joe's large callused lightly brushed the fine hairs on the pale shoulder.
His voice almost a purr "So fine, so pure." A mantra to the man asleep. His hand lightly touched the light skin, smooth silky softness sliding below his broad fingers. "My beautiful Ginger." Joe leaned forward and touched his lips to the alabaster flesh of his arm.
Salt, sweat, heat and a taste that was the quintessential Ginger. His lips and tongue wanted more, he could wait no longer. The hell of sleeping so close and yet so far away had eroded his commitment to let Ginger make the first move.
Rising from the floor he leaned over and kissed Ginger's neck, light glances of touch, barely felt and yet so marvellous. Again and again he licked and sucked at the tasty flesh, delighting in the quivers and goose bumps that ran away from his agile tongue.
Ginger moaned in his sleep moving himself flat on his front pushing the cover further down. The jockey covered cheeks of his bottom emerging from under the folds of the blanket. Joe's eyes followed the line of Ginger's spine as it flowed down his back, enhancing the shape of his back as it sank to the thin waist, only to rise into the tight muscular cheeks, covered with the sheer green material of his briefs.
The sight aroused Joe's ardour even more, he could feel himself pant at the sight, lust driving sensible thought away. His boxers always so comfortable now pained and tightened against him. Pushing his hands down his sides he pushed the light material off his hips, lifting the front as his hardened meat jumped for escape.
Knowing he risked all, and yet uncaring of the possible consequences he slipped onto the small bed touching his skin against Ginger's. Feeling the heat between them multiply as he slowly lowered his weight by Ginger's side.
Ginger turned and snuggled closer rising on to his side, unknowingly pressing his back into Joe's chest. His eyes gleaming and filled with desire, Joe suckled at Ginger's pale neck feeling quaking reactions and a soft sensuous moan leave those pale lips. His hand roaming down Ginger's side, feeling the muscles flex and shift in harmony to his touch. Rising to flow down onto Ginger's tight abdomen and touch those tantalising red hairs that rose above his briefs.
Wanting more but enjoying it too much to rush Joe leaned over and followed Ginger's neck, kissing and licking even as his hand stroked and caressed.
Ginger's eyes fluttered as a moan escaped his lips, his breathing quickening to the surges of pleasure flooding his body. His jockeys flexing and tenting out as his body responded to the touch it had wanted. Joe's hand reached Ginger's smooth chest feeling the stiff nipples stand even more firmly as his fingers brushed them lightly.
A moan and a word rolled together, as inspirational as the pearly gates of Heaven opening. "OohJoemmmm". Joe's fires fuelled by passion and knowing it was returned leapt up, heating Joe into a frenzy of exploration. His lips leaving the jaw of his friend and jumping for the pale, moist lips on the Ginger's flushed face.
Ginger at the border of sleep and dream felt Joe's lips touch his and his tongue flick at his widening lips. Waking up to a dream come true, sick and perverted but gentle, arousing, enthralling and sublime. His mind threw away all his old prejudices, accepting the joy ride of lust and love combined.
Turning onto his back and feeling Joe's gentle weight relax onto him as their kiss climbed in passion. His arm over Joe's shoulder pulling him in tighter.
Joe's ever wandering hand slid lower and lower caressing from side to side the soft skin as his lips remained locked, his tongue delving into the hot mouth of his friend. His fingers brushed along the elasticated edge of Ginger's briefs. In a combined action of wills wanting and needing the same thing, Ginger pulled his stomach in as Joe's hand slipped beneath to mingle and press into Ginger's red pubes.
Ginger needing more hunched his pelvis up, thrusting his cock against Joe's large hand. A moan echoed in Joe's mouth as Ginger pressed and pulled Joe tighter, thrusting his tongue into Joe's fiery mouth.
Joe's hand slid lower caressing the steel cock, sliding the foreskin back slowly only to slide it up again and make Ginger moan even more. Ginger widened his legs letting Joe access all that he had, wanting Joe to pleasure him. Calluses and broad fingers filling his already filled briefs moved down and tickled at his raised balls, already tight and ready to shoot. One finger questing lower to press into the area just below his balls.
Ginger shook, his green eyes opening to slits as he hunched his hips up, orgasm was close, a tingling down below that was building far beyond anything he'd ever known. Joe's lips pulled from his and slid down his neck leaving a trail of saliva as that red hot tongue moved lower.
Ginger's hips pumped into the air a need to come building and about to flood from his soul as Joe curled up beside him sucking and nibbling on his enflamed nipple. Ginger's legs lifted and held his pelvis high in the air as Joe's finger teased lower, his large forearm lifting and pulling at the stretched elastic. The tight constriction and pain at Ginger's waist enhancing the incredible sensations he was feeling.
Touching the sides of Ginger's sweaty crack Joe pushed his arm down further, slid his finger up and pressed in as his finger found the rosebud entrance to Ginger's body.
Ginger cried out Joe's name as the tumultuous orgasm took him. His body flailing and riding along on taut muscles, his hips pumping, once, twice and then explosions of lightening in his brain, a rushing in his ears and violent spasm after spasm.
As he sank back to the bed, tired and breathing hard his mind kicked away the fantasy of dream as his body relaxed.
Joe entered the door concerned at the urgent cry of his name, his eyes unbelieving in the sight. Ginger lay on the bed, eyes closed, his body red and heaving with the exertion, his arm still embedded in his briefs with a large dark wet spot growing on his green jockeys.
His mind in turmoil he left the room shutting the door behind him. Ginger's eyes flicked open with the squeaking sound of the door closing. "Oh God."
...............
Part 7 of ?
Chapter 4: Truth and Dare.
After the streets had become silent and still, the last of the visitors gone, Ginger remained in bed. His stomach uncomfortably groaned and rolled, sick with worry. 'What had Joe seen, what would he be thinking?' Ginger's mind turned and turned rolling events and scenarios over and over again. Joe would want him out that was for sure.
He looked at the door, wanting it to open and Joe to come in, to say something, do something but it stayed closed. Ginger waited, the cottage remained silent, no movement, no sound of floorboards squeaking under any feet. No smells of cooking. No news playing on the small TV. Joe had gone, left the cottage rather than be under the same roof as him.
Ginger, frustrated by inactivity and unsettled by the silence, needed to talk, shout, whatever as long as he wasn't alone. He got up and stripped off his dry crinkly briefs. Shit! It was laundry day, the washing was still soaking in the bath. Neither of them had done it when they returned and they still had to be rinsed. He looked down at the green briefs and knew he couldn't wear them again, not in the heat of this place. It would be like a banner across his front 'I wanked over you'. The black humour, sick and self recriminating made him smile, lifting his mood slightly.
The Victorian underwear fitted strangely, tight around the tops of his thighs like cycling shorts and around his waist where the draw string was pulled but baggy and soft around his groin. The fly gaping before he buttoned them up. Ginger pulled his jeans on, their tight form rucking and pushing the soft cotton up tight against him. Ginger pushed the cotton back inside as he pulled his jeans closed. The stresses and pressures odd, on his groin, as the tight denim pressed in.
Ginger opened the door and walked into the small landing. The flat was quiet, No lights were on and the fading light outside hardly penetrated the dim rooms.
Ginger looked through the door into the tiny cramped kitchen. Two used mugs sat on the table awaiting washing. The emptiness and lack of activity disturbed Ginger, he was used to seeing the cottages empty, set out for view, missing the people but this was worse. It had only taken a month but he'd grown used to having people, Joe around him and he found it unsettling.
The small living room was dark, the curtains blocking the last of the daylight. Ginger walked in and opened the curtains looking out, the cleanup crew were emptying the waste bins, large black refuse sacks over their shoulders. Although no noise reached through the glass the looks on the faces, in animated conversations and laughter, incongruous, somehow alien. Ginger watched them as they slowly moved up the street and out of his view.
"Quiet, isn't it?" The voice, seemingly loud, made Ginger jump around, his stalled heart beating like a trip hammer as his eyes searched the room.
Joe was sat on the floor, in the corner behind the door, his face shaded in the dark corner.
It took a few seconds for Ginger to work out what he was going to say only to have Joe speak again as he got up from the floor.
"You hungry? I didn't feel like cooking, thought we might go over and get something at Don's."
Ginger tried to read Joe's face and voice but Joe didn't seem to look at him and his voice was measured and unreadable. "Ur OK."
"Come on then, let's get out of here." Joe walked out and down the stairs. Ginger searched for his boots and socks. Walking back into the bedroom he sat on the bed as he pulled them on. He grabbed a sweat shirt and walked for the stairs.
The Bull was slowly filling up again after the rush of the day. The visiting families replaced by the workers, able to drop their guard and relax. Don walked out of the kitchen with two plates of steaming food heading for Joe and Ginger. Don was worried about them, they usually came in a couple of times a week, laughing
and joking, like the best of mates. Today there was a sullen silence that permeated the area around them, empty tables all around as if the other people didn't want to catch whatever plague they had.
Don returned to the silent pair with two pint glasses and sat them down. "Now drink up, this is one of my latest porters and I need to know if I have the brew right."
Joe's reply was a mumbled "Thanks". Ginger was silent but looked up in mute supplication.
"I think I'll join you." He pulled over a stool and sat opposite the silent pair, turning his head back to the bar called out. "Harry, another porter for me and keep them coming." Turning back after seeing the barman wave. "How you feeling Ginger, I heard about you nearly collapsing."
Ginger's voice seemed strained to start with. "I'm OK. it was just one of those things."
Harry walked up to the table and handed a pint to Don as he was speaking "Where, thanks, Where were you?"
"Under the iron bridge Joe was showing me the construction..."
Don watched Ginger's face as he spoke, briefly glancing over to Joe. Don wasn't a psychologist or trained in any official capacity but years of experience told him that the two sat opposite really need to talk something out. Keeping Harry supplying them with drinks and shifting the stilted conversations back and forth between him and Ginger and then him and Joe. Keeping them talking was hard, pulling teeth was easier, whatever had happened had destroyed the trust between the two of them. They were colder towards each other than strangers.
Like barmen the world over, Don, slowly pulled them into the same conversation letting the booze open them up. He didn't try to find out what had happened, digging for that would be a disaster. He'd watched a friendship blossom only to be curtailed by something, so sharply. As a friend to both of them he saw his responsibilities clearly defined.
The pub was coming up to closing time, the museum pub was exempt from the normal trading laws but Ray didn't want the staff drunk. Don briefly left the two friends at the table under an excuse of getting more beer, Behind the bar he told Harry to "Close the bar as usual and then go home. I've got my work cut out for me. And tell Jen I'll be late home." Harry looked up to see the two silent friends, Ginger staring into his pint and Joe staring out, away over the tables, and nodded. Don returned to the table with the small round tray with three pints on it.
As the bell and "Time gentlemen please." sounded Joe started to rise only to be told to sit back down by Don. "It doesn't apply to you two, I've decide to get drunk, I do once a year and I'm not doing it alone."
The pub quietened down as the crowd thinned and then vanished, leaving for their beds. Harry supplied one more pint for each of them and then saying "Goodnight" walked out of the door.
"I always like the end of a night, when the crowd go and the noise drops." Don looked around the empty pub "It's nice to see the people laughing and joking but as a barman you can't really join in."
Don turned to face him as Ginger spoke "Why do you get drunk once a year?"
"It's a long story, if you're up to it." at Ginger's nod he continued. "I trained as a barman over in Nottingham at a pub called 'The Sherwood'. it's a very old pub, some eight or nine hundred years old. The building isn't that old but they always built the new one on the ruins of the old one. Any way the pub has always been independent of breweries, making it's own beer, some are modern like the beers today but some are extremely old recipes and they are a lot stronger than most people are used to."
Don supped part of his pint and then continued. "The landlord of the Sherwood was an old man when I joined them and he had no family, he was looking for someone to take over the pub after him. Now Grimmer got three of us together and taught us how to make the normal beers, had
us serving in the bar, cleaning tables and so on. He used to run the cellars, setting up the barrels, leaving one of us in charge with the normal staff. But.."
He drained his pint watching Ginger and Joe watching him.
He wove his story pulling the two friends in. "But Grimmer was a right bastard and he told each of us that we had the job and he just had to be fair to the other two. Well you can imagine what happened, we were all pleased and sympathised for the others knowing that the pub would be passed to each of us. Me I thought. Then the right old bugger set us up, An old man came in from one of the big breweries looking for an old recipe to try and fight the real ale pubs. He offered us money, night after night, more money, bloody fortunes for the recipe of one of the old porters that Grimmer made. When I mean money, I mean lots of it, I'm bloody telling you."
Don stood up slowly and headed, half falling, for the bar and started to pull more pints. "Come over here, I can keep us topped up. Any way, where was I, oh yes. I smelled something fishy when Mike, asked me if Grimmer had shown me how to make this porter yet. Next day Mike no longer worked at the Sherwood, he'd quit and left or so Grimmer said. That's when I decided to tell him about the old man. Grimmer then told me that I was too late, Spenny had the pub, the fucker had told him about the old man on the first night. Grimmer didn't trust me after that. I quit less than a month later."
Don watched them both as he finished his story. Ginger looked puzzled for a moment and then the sozzled look took over again. Joe looked plastered. Don didn't think they were ready 'Not quite ready - yet'
"Whiskey chasers!" Don pulled three glasses and put doubles of whiskey in each. Putting one in front of each of them. "Down the hatch." He gulped the whiskey down and the picked up the pint, draining it to the dregs. He watched Joe do the same, Ginger looked unsure but did it none the less." 'Ten minutes - no more.'
Ginger spoke, his voice slurring "Why do you get drunk once a year then?"
"Oh that's simple, Grimmer was a fucking bastard but he was the best landlord I ever met. Every bar hand had to get smashed as a rat, once a year so that they knew their limit, and the consec..consk.. what it does to you. Throwing up and the fucking hangovers - Jesus! More importantly to teach us how to spot it in others."
Don's question when it came was out of the blue. Ginger would have evaded answering or lied if his brain had been working properly. "What the fuck did you do Ginger?"
Ginger stammered, unable to say, the pain that had been there earlier, avoided in the booze, returned full force. His face turning a brilliant red.
Don's mind slowed by alcohol wasn't that bad, he saw where this was heading."
"You like Joe don't you." The emphasis was so strong on like that its meaning was unmistakable. Ginger coloured even more with the start of tears in his eyes.
"He's a fucking queer!" The words fast and slurred from Joe.
Ginger tried to run but Don grabbed his shaking arm, holding him.
Don's reply was fast and vicious. "So what? So are you!"
Joe struggled to his feet anger blazing in his eyes. "Are you calling me a queer? I'll fucking kill you."
"Yes! You're queer, as bent as a nine bob note. You just don't want to admit it. You haven't had a girl in the six years that I've known you, you've never been married or mentioned a girl. When a pretty one walks down the street your eyes don't follow. You're a fake, a fraud."
Joe sputtered, his face red and his blue eyes wide in shock.
"I've seen the way you look at Ginger, the way you act towards him, best of friends HUH?.. You fancy him something chronic don't you? DON'T YOU?"
"You fancy men, you've been fighting it for years and then Ginger turns up. He's got to you hasn't he? Broken through the mask of the big strong MAN...."
"STOP IT! JUST STOP IT! Please." Ginger's shout faded into silence. He shook Don's hand off his arm and ran.
Don looked at Joe. "Well! Don't just stand there like an idiot! Get after him, if you ever want a chance at happiness, you'll have to catch him first."
Joe stared at Don for long seconds and then stumbled for the door.
...............
The cobbled street echoed his footfalls as Ginger ran. His head wouldn't work straight. He was queer, a puff. It was true, he knew it, the fantasy of Joe this afternoon had hit him stronger and harder that at any time with Julie. He'd never really been interested in women, they were pretty but like a painting or a statue.
The street was coming to an end, he panted as he drunkenly ran up the slope towards the car park. He knew he couldn't run away, he had to go back but not yet, not now. The grass glinted slightly in the moonlit night. Ahead of him he saw the muddied tracks of the cars as they had rutted and torn up the grass.
Out of breath, out of energy and will to run. Ginger sank to the grass. With his lungs gasping for breath and his heartbeat loud in his ears he didn't hear Joe approach.
Joe sank to his knees about 10 feet behind Ginger, his mind running over what had been said. Don was right, he didn't want to admit it. He'd run from it all his life, living a lie. Finding Ginger in the bedroom wanking off had affected him more than he thought possible, for an hour he'd struggled with his body, fighting it's reaction. Losing control and seeing the image so strong again and feeling himself harden. 'What was he supposed to do? He shouldn't react like he did. Christ! what a mess."
"You stopped running?"
Ginger was too smashed and shell shocked to be surprised, he turned to face the voice.
"Nowhere to run to!"
Joe struggled with the words, fighting a fear. "He's right you know? I'm sorry if I hurt you, I just can't help myself."
"What do we do now?"
"I don't know, this is new to me as well."
"Do we go back to as we were or try to act normal or what?"
Joe's anger flared "How the bloody hell should I know. I saw you wanking, you called out my name. What am I supposed to do? You run away and I hide."
Ginger started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Us!. This! Everything!"
"Well!"
Ginger's laugh dropped to a chuckle. "I don't know, it's just that for days I've been dreaming of you, I couldn't help myself. I've been scared out of my wits and now I find you're the same."
"Not quite!" Joe was thankful that the dark of the night hid the flush that rose on his skin."
"Why?"
"I've never ... I mean .. I haven't..." he stopped unable to find the words.
"What?"
In a rush it all came out "I've-never-been-with- anybody."
"You're a..."
"Yes!"
"How come?"
"I don't know, I just haven't."
Ginger stood up, rocking slightly before his balance took control. "But you must have been offered. I mean you're so..."
Ginger walked towards him and Joe looked up at him as he spoke, a plaintive whisper "I haven't! OK! Can we just leave it at that."
Ginger pulled Joe to his feet and steadied him "I don't think so, not yet any way."
Quickly before Joe could stop him he raised himself to tip toes and pulled Joe's head down and kissed his lips. When Joe's drink befuddled brain raised his arms in shock, Ginger had already let go and was walking back towards the village. "You coming? The forge needs coal and it's your turn."
Ginger didn't turn back and Joe watched him walk away unsure of what was going to happen but like Ginger, he hadn't got anywhere to run to either. Deep in thought, remembering the feel of Ginger's lips he trailed after Ginger, back to the forge.
...............
Part 8 of ?
The street was dark as Ginger returned to the village. Don had closed up the Bull and gone home to his wife. Ginger looked behind him and listened to the sound of Joe walking up the street. Opening the small cottage door he felt the blast of heat rolling out, it was always a shock after being out in the cold.
Joe was few feet behind him as Ginger entered the small cottage and climbed the narrow steep stairs. Turning on the lights in the flat he went in the kitchen to put the kettle on. Seeing the light on the kettle glow red he went to the loo. It always affected him like this, he could drink and drink without need of a toilet but when the urge came, it came strong and fast and usually painful until released.
Ginger sat on the toilet looking around the small bathroom, the laundry still sat soaking in the bath tub, leaning over he pulled each piece in to his hands and wrung them out. Creating a pile of cold wet laundry under the washbasin. Not willing to finish them today he pulled the plug, resigned to repeating the task tomorrow.
The heavy creak of a floorboard announced Joe's arrival. "Ginger?" the voice was reserved and quiet.
"In here!"
"Are you finished?"
"Yeah - I'm coming out." As Ginger left the bathroom Joe stepped round him and closed the door behind him. Dramatic relief in the Ahhhh! sound that escaped the room.
Ginger made two coffees and sat in the lounge waiting for Joe. When he arrived he stood in the doorway looking at Ginger, nervously moving weight from one foot to the other.
It felt odd to Ginger, he was younger than Joe by over ten years but when it came to this subject Joe was a child. Ginger didn't feel much more experienced but maybe his fantasies had helped him "Come in Joe and drink your coffee, I don't bite."
Joe entered and picking up his mug he retreated to the chair across from Ginger and sat down.
"We need to talk Joe."
"I know, it's just so.. uncomfortable."
"What do you want to do Joe? Do-you-really-fancy- me?" He hadn't intended to ask it but it just came out.
Joe coloured and his mouth opened but no words came out. His nod was tiny, his head hardly moved but Ginger saw it and smiled. Joe lips raised slightly and his eyes darted elsewhere. The perfect image of coyness, totally unaware of his actions.
Joe drank heavily from the mug and put it on the floor by his feet. Getting up he paced the small room.
"What's wrong Joe?"
"Oh!... I don't know."
"Nervous?"
"OK. petrified, I'm too old for this." He collapsed into the chair again.
Ginger recognised the signals Joe was sending, Julie, had had to calm him down for his first time. Joe was in the same boat, heading for panic if it wasn't stopped. "Joe what scares you."
"You scare me, this scares me."
Ginger stood up and Joe flinched. "Calm down Joe, we're not going to do anything tonight. We're both too smashed, to do anything any way." He turned the subject on to some thing Joe would be steady on. "The Forge OK?"
"Yes, it was a bit low but we got it in time."
Ginger headed for the door "Right! that's it then, I'm knackered. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
Ginger went to the bedroom and pulled the blanket off his bed. Stripping down to his underwear he reset the alarm clock and lay down to sleep.
It was a good twenty minutes before Joe entered, his eyes staring at Ginger as he pulled off his clothes and sat on his bed. The adrenaline rush of anticipation and the nervous fear of the unknown fading. Joe turned his back to Ginger and lay facing the wall, looking in to the darkness.
His mind running through the nights events over and over again. Why did he have to be different. He had worn a mask to everyone and yet Don had seen through it. An extra weight settled on the bed and Joe turned his head to see, his eyes able to pick out Ginger as he settled beside him. "Ginger, what are you doing?"
"I didn't think you were still awake and I just wanted to hold you."
"You should go back to your bed."
"Just shut up Joe and go to sleep. Nothing is going to happen." Ginger cuddled in behind him and settled his head on Joe's pillow.
Joe froze, unsure of what was going to happen. Ginger's body a steady pressure against him. Listening to Ginger's breathing as it slowed and then settled in to sleep. The feel of Ginger's skin against his caused a reaction in Joe that wouldn't go down but unsure of what to do he remained still.
It wasn't innocence he knew the theory, the terms, read about them, seen a movie or two, it was just that he'd never kissed anyone except for his mother and sister. He knew what French kissing was, he'd seen it hundreds of times, he'd just never actually done it. He was afraid of appearing stupid, of doing it wrong.
The alarm went off. And Joe's body moved before his eyes opened. He woke, tangled in Ginger's arms and legs, Ginger was between him and the alarm clock. The second thing he noticed was that he was hard, like steel, it hadn't happened to him for years. Like any teenager, he'd always wake sporting a hard on but it had stopped happening everyday, in his twenties, to fade away entirely in his thirties.
Joe separated slightly and lifting his head off the pillow "Ginger wake up."
Ginger's eyes opened and then closed, his arms pulling Joe down by him again. His voice a murmur "Let's stay in bed, I'm tired." He snuggled in tight against Joe. Whilst Joe tried to avoid the pressure and hide his hardness.
Joe liked feeling Ginger's arms around him pulling their bodies together, it felt good, it felt right. He looked at the face a few inches away feeling a tingling touch of warm moist breath against his skin.
The blaring alarm cut off, automatically setting itself to go off in another minute.
Joe stared at the clear face and the tousled fine red hair, the colour of molten iron. Ginger's nose was straight with a slight bump just below the closed green eyes. His eyelashes were so fine and pale that only a few inches away could Joe see them. His lips were a dark pink, thin and slightly parted, a chiselled chin below with a little vertical cleft in the centre.
Leaning closer he kissed the forehead, eyes and pale lips. drawing back he saw a smile start to curl on to Ginger's face. "Come on Ginger we've got to get up."
"OK. in a minute. I just want to stay here, one more minute?"
"All right but turn the alarm clock off."
Ginger swivelled around and turned the alarm clock off and then pressed into Joe again. "I like it here. Just one more minute." He pushed his arms around Joe's broad back and then snuggled in tighter.
Joe carefully put his arms around Ginger and then lay his head down next to him, whispering "I like it too."
"Mmmm" Ginger's voice quiet and sleepy.
"Come on now. No going back to sleep."
"Hmm?"
"Wake up Ginger, we can't go back to sleep."
Ginger wrapped his leg through Joe's and pressed in hard against him as he snuggled his head in to Joe's neck.
Joe lay there frozen. Feeling Ginger lightly press his lips to his neck as below his cock was now being pressed against Ginger's morning wood. Ginger started rocking slightly and Joe gasped and then groaned at the unbelievable feelings.
Guided by Ginger's hand, Joe let his weight pull him on to his back as Ginger climbed on top of him, rubbing and thrusting against each other. Joe's hands automatically rising to hold Ginger by the waist. Ginger's voice quiet and sly "Like it?"
Joe only moaned and before he could react further Ginger pecked at his lips. "I want to kiss you Joe. Can I?"
"I've Ungh!.. I.."
"It's OK. Joe follow my lead."
Joe felt Ginger pull himself up higher until they were face to face. Joe watched, dazed as Ginger slowly tilted his head to one side and those pale pink lips descended on to his. Ginger's mouth parted slightly his tongue touched Joe's lips, teasing them, pressing in between them.
Joe opened his lips and felt Ginger's tongue enter his mouth, gently running along the roof of his mouth until it touched his tongue. Feelings and tastes combined motivated him and his tongue caressed and rolled over Ginger's. Joe tilted his head to assist his tongue, his hands rising to pull Ginger's head and lips down tight against his.
He followed Ginger's tongue as it flowed around his mouth, tasting it, him. The feel of Ginger's breath running from his nose showed him how to breathe and his tongue renewed its caressing touches. His body suggested the movement, a need to be filled and he let it guide him. His hands sliding and pressing into the tight soft skin. His body was near cumming, enjoying the feel of Ginger's cock pressed into his stomach.
As Ginger's tongue slowly withdrew he followed it entering Ginger's mouth tasting him, feeling his gums, teeth and the tongue that pulled at him.
Their kiss went on, Ginger was happy that Joe was now responding, his nervousness being replaced with a freedom to act. Ginger pulled away sucking on Joe's tongue only to press down and start the kiss again.
Joe moved pushing against Ginger rotating them as he kissed Ginger again, their tongues flexing and caressing as each tried to reach deeper parts. Breaking frequently only to restart with driving passion and urgent needs.
Ginger's thigh pressed against his groin and Joe moaned. Ginger humped a couple more times, rubbing Joe into fervent action. The heat between them multiplying their feelings, Joe's eyes were glazed and mere slits as his hands rode down Ginger's back to rest on his bottom, grasping the soft cotton covered cheeks and pulling them up tight against him.
Ginger wiggled and rocked his weight against Joe's hidden erection, feeling Joe become more passionate and instinctive in his responses. Joe gasped and froze, all his muscles tight as his hips rocked and pressed hard against Ginger. Sparks of tension shooting through him as a long denied orgasm built to unknown levels.
The violent muscle spasm that ploughed through Joe pressing Ginger hard against him set Ginger off and he pulled back from the kiss, shoving harder against the big man, enhancing the glorious feelings as his cock fired shot after shot.
They both nestled against each other, sweaty bodies pressed together magnifying the intense feelings of pleasure and relaxation as their breathing returned to normal. Ginger leaned forward and kissed Joe softly, a lingering contented kiss. When he pulled back he smiled and said "Now we can get up."
Gently pulling away Ginger rose and walked in to the bathroom, Joe's eyes following his every movement. When the bathroom door closed, Joe sank on to his back feeling a euphoric peacefulness slide through him. As Joe looked up at the ceiling, resting his head on his hands, a smile on his face as he heard the echoing sound of the shower as it hit the cast iron bath.
Joe sat up and looked at the clock, thirty minutes had gone since the first alarm, he'd been kissing Ginger for thirty minutes, it only felt like five. He stood up feeling the wet stickiness in his boxers shift. He wanted a shower as well.
They were both drinking coffee in the little cramped kitchen, looking at each other, smiling, when there was a tight little knock on the door of the cottage. Joe's eyes lost their contented look and became anxious, the fear of being discovered cutting through his good feelings.
"It's OK. I'll get it, Joe."
Ginger stood up and walked out and down the little stairs. A short muted conversation and then the tramp of two pairs of feet coming up. Joe checked his clothing, he was dressed for the day.
Don stepped in to the kitchen, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Morning Joe. Ready for a hair of the dog, to clear the cobwebs, clean the mouth and blow away the hangover."
Ginger entered behind him and offered Don his chair. "Have a seat Don, I don't need a hair of the dog, I'm fine." He walked around the table and rested his hand on Joe's shoulder. "How about you Joe."
Don sank in to the offered chair.
Feeling Joe's start and the tight muscles below the shirt Ginger swapped his hands to one on each shoulder, rubbing gently against the tension. "Relax Joe, Don already knows."
Joe blushed slightly "I.. I'm fine."
"You mean I've got to put up with this hangover alone? I get you two drunk, find out what's wrong, fix it and I'm the one with the pain in my right eye and a tongue that wont fit. Jesus! Somebody get me a glass."
Joe smiled suppressing a laugh.
As Ginger walked to one of the cupboards Don's voice continued. "Isn't that bloody typical, out of the goodness of my heart I get you two together. And look what happens." He hastily grabbed the glass from Ginger's hand. "God bless you mate." His hands fumbled at the screw top on the bottle.
Joe pulled the bottle from his unsteady hands and unscrewed it. He poured a small measure in to the glass.
Don looked at the glass picked it up and held it in front of his face, his eyes watching the golden liquid slosh about in the glass. Then his hands, as steady as a rock put it down again. "Any chance of a cup of tea?"
"What about your hangover?"
Don grinned madly "Never suffer from 'em." And then he burst into laughter. Ginger and Joe looked at each other and then chuckled.
"I just came to check everything was all right. I wouldn't want my two best friends to fall out with me."
...............
For comments, constructive criticism and so on you can email me.
Romanticiser@geocities.com