The Symposium Chapter 01: Iain's Interview
This story is a work of fiction. Resemblances to real persons, places or events would be extremely surprising.
A summer shower had started ten minutes into Iain's ten mile run. The sun was out and the temperature was a half-decent 25 degrees. So at least the rain was warm, Iain had mused to himself. In a vest and jogging shorts, Iain was wet with sweat and the provincial Scottish weather. Iain's train of thought dwelled on this and he was sure his cousin Callum would be quick to point out they'd had two good summers and a mild winter which was hardly consistent with the rain-swept heath stereotype that Scotland carried.
Ever the optimist, Callum would choose to see this as a sign of things to come – a benefit of global warming perhaps. Ever the realist, Iain would reply it would probably piss down for a year and a half to make up for his naiveté. Iain was enjoying the warm summer morning but wouldn't be confusing his home town with Magaluf any time soon.
He's spent most of his run thinking about his final exam (again). He retained a quiet confidence he'd get the grades he was looking for. After taking a year out before starting his honours degree, he was now 21 years old and looking for a half-decent job. One that would pay better than the pennies he was getting paid just now. As well as graduating Callum persuaded Iain to also applied for Accreditation of Prior Learning to become accredited personal trainers ("Options!" Callum told him, "Don't want to look like we're sitting with our thumbs up our arses, do we." He'd also said an Iain had ignored the obvious joke). To that end, he'd applied for the job of personal trainer at an esteemed gym on the other side of the city and had gotten a reply this morning.
The mail had arrived as he'd raced out the door just over an hour ago. Iain open a carton of juice straight from the fridge and drained half of it in ten seconds flat. He took the slim white envelope from the kitchen table where Callum had left it neatly stacked along with a `this is not a circular' letter and something from his local MP. Iain slit the fold of the envelope using a kitchen knife and extracted the letter. An invitation to an interview no less.
"The prestigious Symposium Athletics Club would like to invite you... please wear the following... interview will involve an intensive physical component..." Iain spoke allowed to himself but began to mutter under his breath the italicised sentence near the end of the letter. "It is imperative you do not discuss your interview or potential employment with anyone; any such discussion could invalidate your candidacy." The final sentence pointed out that the club's prestige meant they catered for high status clients who appreciate anonymity and discretion – hence the need to compartmentalise and minimise the number of people who knew about the employment lists.
"Morning." Callum said, entering the kitchen door behind Iain.
"Oh, yea..." he replied, stuffing the letter back in the envelope. "G' morning."
"You alright?" Callum asked. "Anything good?" he tapped the remaining mail pile.
"Eh, no. Not really." Iain felt guilty lying to Callum. They told each other everything. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g! "You got anything this morning?"
"Same as you." He replied. "Bank statement, in the black if you were wondering. And that MP chap of ours is talking about getting a filter for the traffic light at meadow road."
"Goodo. Only took a fatality to swing that one, eh." Callum said dryly.
"Wheesht." But he smiled. Callum always smiled at Iain's sarcastic and pithy sense of humour. It was a nice smile too, Iain noticed (not for the first time).
The boys shared many similarities. Both were a couple of inches over six foot. Both had very short blonde hair with the faintest tint of ginger. Both had handsome faces and carried athletic builds, a sparse scattering of chest hair between the nipples and fine fair hairs on their legs. Indeed, even their mothers admitted they were similar enough to pass as twins.
Until they hit puberty they passed for identical, but even now the similarities were so slight as to be negligible. Their respective fathers had been identical twins so the boys shared their dad's looks. Except the eyes; where Iain's are green, Callum has clever blue eyes. The boys always got on well and when Callum was twelve his parents died; his mother of liver cancer and his father from the sudden stop at the bottom of his office building.
They had talked about it on and off for years, and still occasionally did, and Callum often expressed the pain he felt as a boy – to lose his mother like that and then to lose a father who didn't love him enough to carry on for him. It wasn't that simple of course and it was Iain who rationalised that it wasn't about a lack of love but a abundance of it – Callum's father had loved his wife so much he could not live without her. Leaving Callum behind was a selfish side effect but it wasn't that he was not loved. Iain found it hard to say things like that – sensitive sap was more Callum's thing.
After they died, Callum moved in with his closest family – his dad's brother and his wife, and of course his cousin Iain. They grew up together, shared together, watched the last episode Friday Night Lights together. It helped too that both boys parents were rather wealthy and Callum's father had left a healthy inheritance, not that that made up for losing his mum and dad. It had however give them the cash they needed to study Physiology and Sport Science (hon.) and to afford an indulgently expensive house of their own...
Callum looked expectantly at Iain, who realised he'd missed something. "Sorry, what?" he asked.
"Earth to Iain... You back on planet Earth? Will you be in for dinner? Or have you got other plans?" Callum repeated patiently, after the gentle teasing of course.
"Yea." He replied. "And also yea." He smiled amiably. "You know my other plans' evaporated when Natasha moved to Manchester with her suspiciously intimate friend'."
"I know. Just checking you weren't meeting up with some of the boys." Callum replied.
"Like Craig?"
"Shut it!"
The rest of Monday was warm and dry and uneventful. The late afternoon passed into early evening and featured alcoholic beverages – both boys choosing to mix their drinks. Neither were working today but and both held part-time hours that paid a few pounds above minimum wage but Iain knew he could do better. They both could. Iain hoped to have a better job by the end of the week, his interview coming on Thursday gave him a few days to prepare.
On Thursday morning Iain rose at six and ran like he was being chased. He enjoyed pushing himself every once in a while. He passed far fewer of the regular fellow runners and dog walkers than usual, but he was completing his run rather earlier than normal.
When he got home he ate breakfast then showered. He stood naked under the stream of hot water and pushed his hand over his cock. He wasn't really one for wanking in the shower but his penis responded favourably to the attention after a couple of days amnesty. His invitation to interview had instructed him not to masturbate for 48 hours before the interview as there would be a test of his sexual health. Iain tried to recall how the letter had phrased the rationale...
Due to the holistic needs of our clients and their tailored training regeime it is important we can meet their individualised needs. This might also require sexual health information and education that, as your employer, we must ensure you are capable of demonstrating.
...Iain had read the interview invitation and the attached instructions several times and had prepared himself for the possibility of embarrassment. As if! Iain wasn't easily embarrassed – and reminded himself why he ought not to be as he looked in the mirror while drying himself. If Michelangelo was around today he'd push David off the pedestal to make way for him. Actually, Iain would share the pedestal if the pay was good enough.
This too had occurred to him, the club was indeed prestigious and notorious also. He knew only pretty boys worked at the club and their client group was, not exclusively, extensively homosexual. Offended by the drooling attention of men? Yes, grossly offended that someone thinks I'm hot enough to wank over. Er, not - Iain would enjoy the attention.
Iain wrapped a towel around his waist and headed to his bedroom, peeping out of the top hall window as he passed – enjoying the early morning sun on the street and the people passing down the road towards the bus stop or town centre, or beyond towards the city centre. And he always felt a thrill at the thought of being seen from the street below – almost naked, the towel low on his hips. Today the mail man got a look.
In his room he tossed the towel on the bed without even closing his door – he only shared the house with Callum and felt little need for boundaries. His bedroom window, like Callum's, faced the street out front but still he showed contempt for covering up. Let them look was Iain's philosophy. His skin was almost dry, his hair only damp and his cock was long and supple from his shower-borne cock fluffing.
He's just about flashed a school bus once – not on purpose per se, just incidentally. Now he needed to get dressed (as the letter had instructed); jogging shorts just above knee length and a short sleeve t-shirt - down stairs he slipped on a pair of trainers without socks. He set out with a back pack containing his personal portfolio (no bastard was going to bother looking) and a change of clothes – long joggers, a hooded top and a towel.
He took the bus. Callum had taught him to drive but every so often he felt he was living too much off of his cousin's back. It was Callum's inheritance that had bought the house in a good area and his (albeit second hand) car. Their jobs paid for utilities, though Iain knew Callum still had significant savings.
Callum was savvy and clever – probably cleverer than him, which made him wonder why Callum had chosen a similar career route. Iain asked him once but in a rare sarcastic moment (sarcasm was really more of Iain's thing), Callum had replied "I want to work with pretty men."
Perhaps Callum was being half fun but wholly earnest.
The bus stopped a few streets away from the gym, barely a five minute walk. He drew admiring looks from patrons and staff as he entered reception; giving his name and purpose to the trim solid-chested man behind the desk who asked him to take a seat.
Directly inside the entrance to the building was an impressive open-plan foyer with a small sitting area, where Iain took a seat, with coffee and vending machines. Iain's back was to the entrance, so patrons were entering from behind - so to speak. Facing the reception desk, Iain scanned what he could see. On the wall to the left of the desk was a glass lift leading to the upper floor, to its right a door led to a corridor that accessed a variety of training rooms: weights, tennis, badminton, squash, basketball and a machine room (treadmill, cycling machine rowing machine etc).
From his research Iain knew this corridor turned right at 90 degree angle at its end, and then again at the end of that corridor – ultimately joining the back corner of the locker room. Indeed the locker room could be seen directly behind the reception desk, its wide entrance providing a tantalising glimpse of several men who were only just out of view as they dressed or locked up their bags.
To the right of the reception desk was a coffee bar that's main wall was made of glass and overlooked the swimming pool. Again, Iain knew there was a similar space for spectators upstairs to watch the pool and a few of the seminar/ conference rooms would also overlook the pool.
Iain noticed a few men who entered checked him out as they passed and ever looked back at him with pleasing smiles. It took a few minutes to realise they could probably see up his loose shorts and take a peek at his cock.
"Mr Carter? Iain Carter?" asked a tall slim man. Bald but sexy, with chiselled features. He extended his hand as Iain stood. "I'm Mr Douglas. Managing director"
They shook hands. Firm grip!
"Iain is fine... if that's ok with you?" he replied. He realised he felt nervous.
"Iain, good. But I am Mr Douglas, yes? I'll be leading your interview. Would you like to come this way?" Mr Douglas had a way of asking questions that could be either rhetorical or not. "We'll take the glass lift up."
Iain stepped into the lift with Mr Douglas who stood a little closer than was probably necessary. He reach over Iain and pushed the button for the upper level.
"Are you a local man?" Mr Douglas asked.
"Yes..." a second passed while Iain considered whether to call the man Mr Douglas or sir. "...Mr Douglas. I live in a town just outside the city - Foxhill. My parents used to live close to here."
"And now?" he asked mildly.
"They don't." Iain quipped, a little too late to stop himself. Never joke at an interview: interview etiquette 101.
Mr Douglas smiled though and laughed softly. Ian could see he was genuinely amused.
"They moved to San Francisco – my dad got work there. A ten year secondment." Iain felt his mouth growing dry.
"Lucky man." Mr Douglas replied, stepping out of the lift and leading the way to conference room one.
Inside the rather enormous room Iain noticed a large oak table and the wall that faced to door which was almost entirely made of glass and overlooked the swimming pool. Behind the desk were two men.
"Iain, this is Doctor Ledger and Mr Simon Wright, one of our physio staff. Gentlemen, this is Iain Carter." Mr Douglas had a polite Scottish accent; gentle but firm.
They all shook hands and made polite introductions. Iain was instructed to sit on the opposite side of the desk and was asked questions, without any sense intimidation, for about twenty minutes. Iain was graced with a glass of water and he felt himself relax. Not too relaxed however because every so often he remembered an open legged posture meant flashing his goods. He thought a bit more and opened his legs to increase his chances of employment.
"Do you have any more questions Iain?" Mr Douglas asked. Iain did not, so the senior man continued, "Shall we get down to the physical?"
"Sure." Said Iain.
"Would you like to stand up please?" Dr Ledger instructed. "And take off your t-shirt."
Iain stood and lifted his arms, slipping the t-shirt off. Simon took it from him and put it on a table by the window. The doctor checked his arm muscles, his eyes and ears. The doctor's touch gentle but surprisingly arousing; he explained he was checking for underlying muscular defects – nodules, lesions etc. His thumb rubbed a mole on Iain's back. The doctor knelt down as he slid his hands up Iain's legs, the tips of his fingers passing into the legs of his shorts. Iain could feel his cock thicken.
"Slip your shoes off, please." The doctor asked, not yet standing.
Iain toed each off and again Simon removed them and transferred them across the room, setting them beside the t-shirt. Iain was asked to stand with his feet together and eyes closed. Then to take a few steps forward, toe-to-heel.
Iain knew the doctor was likely observing his gait and balance - and probably sneaking a peak. Soon the doctor began to examine his legs, which felt very much like fondling. Iain could feel the head of his cock begin to press against the inside of his shorts as is thickened and lengthened.
He'd never really been touched like this before – not by a man. Iain was a little surprised to feel aroused by the doctor's touch, but it had been a while since he had been touched intimately so Iain ignored the fact a man was making him hard.
"I understand you have a cousin?" the doctor asked as he stood and indicated for Simon, younger and cuter than the doctor (indeed younger and cuter than Iain) to continue the muscular examination. "I haven't checked his Achilles yet." He told Simon who nodded.
"Yes." Iain answered the doctor's question. "I have a cousin." He could hear his breathless voice. He could feel sweat on his brow, his back, his chest. His chest was rising and falling hard and his heart was thundering inside. Simon's touch was even more sensual. His cock throbbed against his shorts – his sensitive head rubbing.
"I ask because I'm given to understand you are very similar?" he said.
Iain did not vocalise and answer. He moaned, which was sort of an answer.
"We vet out employees thoroughly." Said Mr Douglas who had not moved from behind the desk. "Your similarities are quite striking, I believe? And you have even gained similar qualifications. An unscrupulous person might use that similarity to share this job, perhaps take the odd day off and send his doppelganger in his stead." Mr Douglas had a glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm by no means suggesting you would do such a thing and while I would like to simply trust you, I rather think it would be prudent to find the differences between you and... Callum?" Mr Douglas made the final point as if searching for the answer but Iain was confident that he knew the name quite nicely without such considered thought.
"Is he interviewing too?" Iain asked.
Mr Douglas realised Iain was cannier that he'd given him credit for. "Confidentiality, remember?" Mr Douglas replied.
Simon provided distraction by sliding his hand from Iain's left ankle, up his calf, up the back of his thigh, into his shorts – a glancing touch to the bottom of Iain's gluteus maximus. Simon looked up at him and gave a wink.
"I'll examine your penis now." The doctor said unequivocally.
Simon stepped aside so the doctor could tug the front of Iain's shorts down, resting the waist band under his scrotum. His penis bounced slightly and stuck straight out. His cock head was already gleaming and his penis was so hard the foreskin was completely retracted.
Iain wasn't sure how to feel about this - being aroused by a man and being watched by men while he got hard. But Iain was confident, blasé and more than that shrewd. If this was how he could get the job, then this is what he'd do.
The doctor traced a pounding vein on the top of Iain's cock before wrapping his hand around it and squeezing so pre-cum oozed from the tip. The doctor's thumb smeared the seminal fluid across the head of his penis and Iain moaned. He was quickly forgetting this was meant to be a physical exam for a job. Sex sells he supposed, might as well sell it. Never the less, it felt rather like being wanked off. But Iain like being wanked off so that was ok.
"Let's take these off completely." The doctor said, stepping back to promote Iain to do it himself, a subtle psychological manipulation – if he did it, HE was doing it. Iain was choosing to comply - because he could refuse, couldn't he?
Iain pushed the shorts down at the waist so they bundled at his knees then slipped them to his ankles with a few gentle movements. Once around his ankles, he slipped one foot out and lifted the other. With his foot raised and shorts now within reach of his hand, Iain took them in his grip. Iain was naked and resplendent in the open plan conference room.
He looked deliberately towards the window overlooking the pool – looking long enough to draw the attention of the men in the room's attention to it. He was telling them he knew he might be watched, might be seen and he didn't mind. Iain tossed the shorts towards the window where they snagged on an upper latch and dangled there.
Iain was not totally naked and everything he owned was out of reach. Iain's blasé exterior became arrogance. He put his hands behind his head and slipped them down to his neck – exposing everything.
Then the door opened.
"Sorry I'm late." Said the newcomer – a tall, dark and very handsome man in a navy polo neck t-shirt and navy shorts.
His black hair was sleek, his beard tidy and sexy, his chest was muscled and the low cut of his top exposed black chest hair. Iain guessed he was a little older than him too, though it was hard to age him: thirty perhaps, plus or minus five years. Never the less, Iain was kind of impressed by him. That was new, Iain had never noticed himself noticing men before. The new comer looked Iain over, undressing him with his eyes. So to speak.
"Sorry, man. I'm Findlay - Finn. One of the personal trainer's here."
Finn crossed the room to shake Iain's hand. Iain dropped his hands from behind his neck and they looked each other in the eye as they shook; not a longing romantic look, more a who'll-blink-first sort of look. Neither blinked but Finn had other interests. He nodded in concession to Mr Douglas who winked, communicating something to the entire room. Dr Ledger and Simon returned to their seats to enjoy the view and Finn took over the massaging of Iain's cock.
"Shall I take his profile picture?" Simon asked before actually sitting, his voice cracked a little as he said it.
"Yes. Good idea." Mr Douglas replied, almost imperceptibly his eyes moved upwards. Iain noticed it though and realised the smoke detector above the desk probably had a camera.
Iain smiled for the cameras. Simon took several photo's from varied angles, some of his face like you would see on an ID card and many long shots showing his completely exposed body. Photo's of his hard cock – the kind of photo's he wouldn't even have let his ex have. And he had been having sex with her.
Sex sells he reminded himself.
Iain wondered if he really believed this conceit. He had spent four years of university with his fair share of women – a lot of people's fair share of women, actually – and now he was exploring his sexuality in a way adolescents usually do. It was... fascinating, stimulating. Yes, he did believe the conceit.
Once that was out of the way, Finn began again. Resting Iain's cock in his big hand, the tips of his fingers just brushing Iain's scrotum. "Rather weighteous." He said, leaning in and kissing Iain on the lips.
The movement was so subtle and quick, the kiss so soft and the pressure so light it was almost imperceptible – indeed the men behind the desk did not seem to have noticed. Mr Douglas probably noticed, Iain doubted anything got passed him.
Finn began to make long pulling strokes of Iain's cock with one hand and with the other made circles with his fingers at the small of Iain's back. Sweat made his back sleek and Finn's motions moved lower to the top of Iain's arse crack. Iain's heart beat fast again. Finn transferred sweat to his wanking hand and used it to lubricate Iain's cock and slake his cock head.
A low whistle caught Iain's attention and he looked towards the window overlooking the pool – some had noticed him but he had higher ground and the angle was not really conducive to watching the show – not from his present position in the middle of the room.
No, the whistle had come from the other side – from the door that Finn had entered and not closed.
Two young men, a little younger than Iain's 21 years at least were watching from the hallway. Behind them other staff passed and caught a good look but reluctantly had other work to do and so moved on. Iain closed his eyes as he began to reach climax.
When he next looked at the door, the two men were gone but another boy had taken his place. He was dressed in white short shorts and a tiny polo neck t-shirt. The shorts hid nothing, but from his not-insignificant distance Iain could see the lad was hard. Finn's wet hand glided over Iain's cock head and his hand moved faster, he was about to cum and felt obliged to tell them.
The doctor stepped forward with a specimen container and Iain was afraid he's cum so hard it could shatter the bottom of the container. But at the last second Finn squatted down and took Iain's cock in his mouth and sucked.
Iain's cock blew hot cum into Finn's mouth and once the first few eruptions had cleared the distance-spewing potential of his orgasm, Finn withdrew. He took the container from the doctor and collected a sample.
"We need this, is that ok?" he said to Iain, making no attempt to conceal the wry tone of voice. Iain heard what he really meant – if you believe that, you'll believe anything.
Iain moved his own hand to his cock and squeezed the last drops out, wiping them on his thigh. His cock was still almost full length but softening. Iain felt exhilarated – job interview my arse, he'd thought after being stripped and fondled – but he was happy enough with the result.
"Well," Mr Douglas said. "We'll let you know if you get the job."
Iain felt a pang of disappointment he could not himself understand. Personally, he'd never gone for any label – gay straight, bi, omnisexaul, metrosexual, pansexual, cissexual. But he'd enjoyed this experience - more than he could have imagined and he would never have imagined this.
Mr Douglas and Iain locked eyes, did the man know what Iain had been thinking. Iain made a choice, a persuasion technique and mind-fuck just to return the gesture after what he'd endured in the name of an interview and throughout the `physical examination'. Iain crossed the room towards the enormous window that overlooked the pool. He was fully exposed to the men below – he reckoned there was about a dozen of them and most noticed him quickly.
Iain made no attempt to cover up but instead reached up, exposing his arm pit, and retrieved his shorts which still hung where they'd landed earlier.
The men were impressed.
Perplexed, but impressed.
Turned on, but impressed!
Iain lifted a foot to put them on just as he had removed them, then changed his mind. Instead he turned his back on the window and bent over. Slipping his feet into the shorts and pulling them up but leaving them hung low so his pubes were just visible.
Mr Douglas was surprised and stunned by the audacity, Iain could tell. The man stood and Ian slipped on his trainers – he did not put on his vest. Instead Iain carried it with him in the same hand as he carried his bag with the unread personal portfolio. No-one spoke, not even Finn who winked and licked his upper lip but did not speak.
Mr Douglas offered to show him out. He pressed the button for the lift and turned to face Iain. It was only now he really registered hut how tall Mr Douglas must be – over 6ft 5. He looked down at (but not down on) Iain and his low shorts and still thick cock and his shirtless torso and smiled.
"We have another interview but I'm confident we'll be asking you to join the team. I hope to have two vacancies, though that was not my original plan." The lift doors opened and they stepped inside. "Would you be available for a joint, follow-up interview? If all goes well with my short-listing today?" Mr Douglas asked. Usually his questions were more instructions but Iain heard something in the voice this time. Mr Douglas was not just telling him to come back, the man wanted him to come back.
"Yes, sir." Iain said, giving the S word a try and rather enjoying it. He enjoyed the way it made Mr Douglas smile also.
The lift reached the bottom and opened. "I'll call you tonight if you're needed for the second interview then. And please remember not to discuss your potential employment with anyone."
"No problem." Iain replied, accepting Mr Douglas outstretched hand.
Ian stepped out of the lift and headed across the vast foyer for the exit.
"Don't pull those shorts up!" Mr Douglas said.
Iain stepped out into the sun and smiled a smile bigger than he ever had before. He didn't pull the shorts up either – Iain skipped the bus and walked home, pubes and ass crack visible all the way.
Chapter Two coming soon.
Write to me if you like the story: niftyencomiums@gmail.com