The case conference didn’t go according to plan. Instead there were a number of matters that needed a lot more work, and ‘discovery’ of the evidence held by the opposition had turned up several new matters. All romantic notions were forgotten as he sorted through the reports, and made notes of the further questions to be raised. His briefcase was stuffed with papers and notes when he arrived home and routinely checked his post box, not expecting anything. He wasn’t disappointed. Completely out of sorts he did some work on his case, took a walk, then went to bed. Even his usual nightly hand job couldn’t satisfy him and it was a long time before sleep claimed him.
Awake early and frustrated by the gaps in the case, he left early for his usual swim at a local pool — a Lido with a good length — braced himself and took the plunge. As he swam he turned over in his mind the conversation with Leo. Could they build some kind of understanding? He wanted Leo’s friendship — and they shared the love of leather — but did he, Max, really want to risk something more intimate? One part of him screamed ‘yes’ — the other, the carefully constructed Max, professional, barrister, King’s Councillor, screamed ‘NO’. You can’t! They’ll destroy you if you admit to being Gay, and a fetishist … Twenty lengths improved his mood, but left him still unable to decide between accepting that he was gay and wanted intimacy with Leo in his life, and protecting the staid image he’d so carefully constructed around himself.
Back home he made coffee, had breakfast and set to work, wearing, in the complete privacy of his home, a pair of heavy leather ‘chastity’ shorts he’d indulgently bought for himself, and only ever wore at home. They felt good, and he immersed himself in his work. At lunchtime, he took a break, made some more coffee and light meal of omelette, toast and a small salad bowl, then on impulse, checked his post box. There were three envelopes, two clearly bills, the third an A3 size, with a stiffening board back. He didn’t recognise the handwriting, so took it back to the table and carefully slit it open with his letter opener. Inside was a beautifully executed watercolour of a man seated on a rock admiring the stream and forest ravine depicted in the painting he’d admired. A card with a brief note came with it …
He read, “Hope you like this. Just a small daub by way of ‘thank you’ for a really enjoyable evening after a rather disappointing opening evening of the exhibition. Fancy meeting up for a glass and perhaps a meal sometime soon?” Closed ‘with love’ … The signature was a flourishing ‘Leo’.
His heart skipped a beat as he read it again, taking in the salutation at the end. For a moment he remained absolutely still, his eyes unfocussed as his mind raced. Then he studied the picture again. With a shock, he realised the figure was himself. Then he registered the fact he was shown wearing leather slacks, and a leather jacket lay beside him on the boulder — the very jacket he remembered Leo wearing.
His emotions in turmoil, he pushed back his chair and strode to the window, then out onto his deep balcony with it’s view of the busy river and the buildingscape of the opposite bank. His fear of exposure drove all rational thought from his mind as his desire for some kind of relationship fought against his rigid denial of any form of intimate need.
What the hell? Was Leo trying to trap him? Get him to embark on an affair? Did he want to ruin him? Blackmail him? He felt the panic rising. He thought of the closing salutation, ‘with love’ … Was Leo really ‘in love’ with him? Or just trying to indicate that he wanted to develop their friendship? Or worse, like so many of the women who’d tried to ‘interest’ him, simply after his wealth? His parents, and some of his relatives, had left him more than simply well off, and he knew all too well that some people would go to any length to ensnare him. His legal training and experience made him all too aware of it.
As always, he pushed the romantic notions from his thoughts. It couldn’t happen. He’d too much to lose. Better to stay as he was — confirmed bachelor, a loner, not romantically tied to anyone. Let the firm think what they liked, don’t prove it … But now his focus on his work was gone. Angry with Leo and angry with himself, he grabbed a jacket and his keys, then remembered the shorts, stalked to the bedroom and swapped them for his jeans and went for a long walk. It didn’t help.
Back at home he looked up Leonides Turner. It appeared Leo was a successful artist and photographer. His catalogue of paintings and his clients for professional photography was certainly exclusive. And, he noted, that sure sign that someone’s services were expensive, the key phrase ‘Fees by negotiation.’ Not ‘prices’ … Digging further, and calling in a few favours, Max discovered that Leonides Turner was certainly not in need of a wealthy ‘catch’, and at least as well ‘connected’ as his own family. He went to bed eventually, his searches having taken up the entire afternoon and most of the evening, tired, very thoughtful and wrestling with his own feelings for this man who’d crashed into his life, and given him a glimpse of what could be something more than just acquaintance …
He slept badly, woke tired, took an early swim at the Lido, then breakfast. He tried to phone Leo, and got no answer. Morosely, he set to work trying to complete his study of the case notes. It was hard going, his mind kept wandering, remembering the pleasure of Leo’s company, and the way he’d felt drawn to being open with him. Could he surrender his privacy and self-imposed isolation to build a relationship with this man who’d more or less barged into his life, destroying his carefully constructed barriers so easily? There was no answer to any of his questions, but at least he managed to make progress on his case work.
And he arrived at a way to respond to Leo’s gift. Retrieving Leo’s business card, he found his email, and sent him a brief message, thanking him for the lovely picture and suggesting they meet for lunch … With that off his mind, he took the train to the city and his chambers, discussed the notes with his clerks, and dictated several brief letters with his specific questions. Then he checked his emails …
‘I’d love to,’ he read. ‘Today would be perfect if you’d like. I promise not to embarrass you. I’ll be good.’ His laugh made several of the clerks pause in their work. Checking his diary, he entered an ‘appointment for lunch’, blocked off two hours as a ‘consultation’ and replied to Leo with, ‘Great. Meet at Hayes Wharf at twelve thirty?’
Seconds later the reply was there, accepting …
“I’ll be out for about two hours, maybe a little longer,” he told the chief clerk. “I’ll be back to sign off those letters before the post closes and if there’s anything urgent, I have my mobile with me.”
“Should I record who you’re meeting, Mr Fennister?”
“If you wish. He’s an artist I met at that exhibition I was at last week. Leo Turner. A photographic artist.” He smiled. “And a very talented painter from what he had on exhibit. I’d have bought one of his works if someone hadn’t beaten me to it!”
“THE Leo Turner?” The ‘Dragon Lady’s' eyebrows rose. “Wonderful artist.” She smiled. “He’ll make someone a wonderful catch when he’s ready, Mr Fennister:”
“Really?” Max managed a smile, aware of the hint in her comment, and the warmth starting in his cheeks, he was glad he had the light behind him.
Leo was waiting at the comic statue, ‘the explorers’, when Max arrived. In contrast to Max’s dark suit, white shirt and tasteful tie, Leo was wearing his leather trousers, an open necked casual shirt and carried his jacket — also leather — slung over his shoulder. Noting this, Max felt a stab of concern, then shoved it aside. Leo’s face broke into a broad grin as he saw Max. For his part, Max felt a thrill run through him. A powerful surge of attraction. Leo could have been the only person in the crowded atrium for all he cared, his smile — if he could see it — radiated happiness. So what if anyone who knew him saw them? Smiling he greeted his friend.
“Thanks for accepting my impromptu invite.” Offering his hand, he continued aware how stilted his gesture and his stiff politeness was, “What do you fancy eating? I’ve not booked anywhere, so … You choose.”
“Thanks for inviting me,” Leo teased. “Look at you, the perfect City Gent.” Taking Max’s hand he held it, giving a gentle squeeze as he spoke. “The pub is my usual haunt, but with you all dolled up … Let’s go for the brasserie.”
“Good choice.” Max smiled, returning the squeeze on Leo’s hand, lingering with the contact and reluctant to release it. “That watercolour you sent me is beautiful. I love it. You’ve so much talent in your work …” He heard himself gushing, and stopped himself, embarrassed.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Leo replied, his voice conveying his pleasure. He paused as an attractive waitress greeted them and led them to a small table inside the brasserie. “I wanted to give you something personal as a token of a really enjoyable evening.” He grinned as they accepted the menu and ordered a glass of white wine. “I hoped it would be a small something to say I’d like to see you again …”
“It is beautiful, and I guess you can say it worked.” Max saluted with his glass. Placing his order for chicken in a wine sauce, he waited while Leo ordered a dish of steak, rare, with frites, then continued, “I have a confession to make though, Leo.” Pausing he played with his wine glass. “I’m a coward. I’m absolutely terrified of anyone finding out …”
“I understand.” Leo’s hand touched Max’s as it lay on the table. “And I promise you I will not let you down, embarrass you, or anything else.” Withdrawing his hand, he added, “I want to be a friend as well as … So when you’re ready, we can see where it goes from there. I do understand what it’s like. Especially for someone in a profession like yours.” He grinned. “As an artist I’m expected to be Gay.” Raising his glass he saluted his companion. “And I can tell you, that having that freedom is the greatest gift in the world.”
“I know.” Max sipped his wine. “It’s something I really have to deal with, but it terrifies me to … admit that I am … and that I get a real thrill from leather …” He coloured in embarrassment. "Used to love visiting an Aunt who lived in Bavaria -- also an artist -- and I could wear lederhosen ..."
To his surprise, Leo’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“I think that’s beautiful,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity. “Fetishes are just another way we express our desires. They’re part of what makes us unique.” Skilfully he led the conversation into Max’s work and what had drawn him into the legal profession and copyright law. Dessert followed their meal and then an espresso. Around them the brasserie filled as they talked.
Max had recovered his composure and had Leo laughing at his mimicking some of the Judges and fellow Barristers he worked with by the time their food arrived. The two hours he’d set aside for the lunch slipped past far too rapidly.
“Leo, I have to get back to work, but this has been an absolute tonic.” Signalling the waitress, he added, “This is my treat. You can buy next time.”
Back in Chambers, the Chief Clerk noticed his happiness and smiled as she handed him his letters to be checked and signed. She hoped, but refrained from comment, that he’d at last found someone who could make him happy. She’d looked up his luncheon guest. Leo Turner was an up and coming artist, a society photographer, and openly Gay. She’d long guessed that ‘our Max Fennister’ was as well — and hoped he’d find the company he so obviously needed in this friendship. From his expression and the difference in his carriage, he just might have …
The image of Leo filled his mind as Max enjoyed his nightly fist fuck. He’d been doing this since he’d first discovered the pleasure of massaging his penis as a small boy. It had got better and better as puberty developed, though he’d had to be extremely careful in the dormitory at school. He’d also had to endure lectures from his father about ‘real men don’t do that … ‘filthy behaviour’. And, of course, all the ‘sex education’ that had focused on ‘sodomy’ and ‘self-gratification’ being the most heinous of crimes …
He let his thoughts wander to imagining what it would be like to surrender to his desire and make love to Leo … His ejaculation caught him by surprise. Disappointed, he reached for the tissues to clean himself up, then stopped, grinned, and said to the empty room, “Why not?”
Studying the pool of his warm spunk on his stomach, he carefully scooped it onto the thin plastic mat from the nightstand, lifted it and sucked it into his mouth. Holding it there, he savoured the warm cum, then deliberately swallowed it. In that moment he knew he had to let Leo teach him how to enjoy being Gay, and how to enjoy making love. He smeared the remaining cum on his abdomen, grinning. Now to find the opportunity to give himself to Leo … if he dared take that step. It would mean having to accept coming out of his carefully constructed ‘closet’ and accepting having the disapproval of the senior members of Chambers …
Still wrestling with this problem, he fell asleep.
