Rubbing One Out - Susan Mac Nicol Page 0,3

a collection of stuff now. You’re always in here.” His voice held a tinge of longing. “Um, is it only the items in the shop you come in for, or is there something else drawing your attention?” The underlying something or someone didn’t escape Ben. He felt like a heel, but he needed to head this off at the pass before Ryan got the wrong idea.

“I’m always on the prowl for unusual stuff. It’s why I love this shop so much. My parents were big collectors, so I grew up with it. And…” he hesitated, “forgive me, but I’m not interested in any sort of relationship right now if that’s what you’re asking?”

“Oh, no problem,” Ryan stuttered, turning crimson. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I mean I didn’t think you’d be interested…” He trailed off, looking rather woebegone. Ben had to give the kid some sort of ego boost.

He leaned over the counter and patted Ryan’s shoulder. “You’ll find the right guy one day because you’re a real catch. You’re cute, friendly, and you’re young. Men will be queueing up to take you out one of these days.”

Ryan eyed him moodily. “This is Wickham,” he said gloomily. “I don’t even know any other gay guys around here.”

Ben winked wickedly. “Then let me educate you a little.” He pulled out his wallet and retrieved a tatty card. “Here, this is a place I know in Winchester, not too far from here. It’s a cool spot, not a dive, so you’ll be okay there. Tell the bouncer—his name is Steve—you know me, and he’ll look after you.”

Ryan took the cards. “Honestly? I don’t go out much, so I have no idea what to do.” His face turned hopeful. “Say, would you come with me the first time? As friends?”

Ben cleared his throat. He supposed he could show the baby gay the ropes a little. “Sure. Maybe next weekend? Gives you time to see what’s in your wardrobe. You know, tight jeans, tight shirt, and all that jazz. You can’t go wrong.” He turned to leave, bag clutched in his hand. “See you next weekend then, Ryan. I’ll give you a call. I have the shop number.”

“Cheers,” Ryan called out as Ben headed out. “I’m looking forward to it.”

As Ben cycled home with his treasure, he hoped Ryan hadn’t read more into his offer.

Chapter 2

Home at last in his cosy two-bedroom thatched cottage, Ben sighed in relief as he got out of his jacket and gloves, leaving them in an untidy pile on the dining room table. He strolled into the kitchen over to the fridge and retrieved a beer. He popped the tab, took a slug, and sighed in satisfaction. That hits the spot.

He’d hardly had time to drink the first sip when a bundle of black fur tackled him waist-high, and a wet tongue licked him from jaw to temple.

“Tess, how are you doing, baby?” Ben ruffled the dog’s fur as she climbed down. “Did you have a good day?”

Tess sat smiling up at him, her brown eyes filled with love. She was a rescue Labrador, and Ben’s best part about coming home. A human had never greeted him with as much enthusiasm as she did each day.

He checked Tess had fresh water and kibble, then made his way into the adjoining lounge, Tess trotting behind him. It was quaint. A proper bachelor pad with only what was needed: an armchair, a two-seater couch, a couple of small side tables, and a set of bookshelves along the wall that didn’t slope down. His fifty-nine-inch television took pride of place in the corner.

Upstairs were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. It was everything Ben needed.

He slumped into his favourite chair. One he’d rescued from a flea market. It was a huge, floppy fabric affair of biscuit-coloured comfort and Ben loved nothing more than to stretch out on it after a hard day’s work and watch a David Attenborough programme.

He took another drink and put his feet up on the rustic centre coffee table (yet another buy from a flea market). Tess settled comfortably at his feet although she did give him a disdainful stare.

“I’ll take you for a walk in a minute. Let me finish my beer.”

It was comforting to come home to someone, even if it was a fur baby, although his lounge was starting to look more like an animal haven than an adult’s dwelling. Tess’s toys littered the floor—old socks, half-chewed rope toys, and a manky old duck