for you to chat to someone—ask if a massage would help?’
‘Yes, yes,’ she replied wanting to be rid of him.
Clive smiled with satisfaction and rose. ‘I’ll arrange it Mother,’ he said, bending to plant the required kiss on her forehead.
Thoroughly pleased with himself, he manoeuvred the car into the midst of the morning rush hour traffic inching its way to work. His plans were laid and, as he went over them, he couldn’t see anything he had missed. He was determined not to make the slightest mistake this time. With each outing, he would get better and better until nothing could stop him.
While waiting for yet another traffic light, he compared his precarious feelings for Ben to this wonderful new feeling of power coursing through his body, making him feel like a god. By the time he reached work, he was convinced he did not need Ben and had resolved to avoid him as much as possible.
It was only at the end of a long and boring meeting that he allowed himself to do more than glance at Ben. Ben was in profile, talking to Mr Phelps, the accountant, and the light from the window highlighted his curly hair, reminding Clive of a statue of a Greek god he had seen on a trip to Rome. He had an impulse to go over and join in the conversation but stopped himself and made his way to the door instead. Ben wasn’t for him.
As he reached the door he sensed, rather than saw, that Ben was following him out.
Ben spoke before he could think of what to say. ‘Could hardly keep from nodding off. How about you?’
‘It was pretty dense wasn’t it?’ He tried to keep his voice light, although his heart was starting to thud so loudly he couldn’t hear his own words.
Ben stopped by the secretary’s desk and turned to face him. ‘Well, I’m sure going to need a drink after that. Meet up later?’
Despite everything inside trembling, Clive managed a quick ‘Yes,’ together with a brief smile. This seemed to satisfy Ben as he nodded and turned away after favouring Clive with that warm, vivid grin. Was it his imagination or did it seem different? The smile had reached Ben’s brown eyes, causing them to crinkle in the corners. That wasn’t a mere courtesy smile carelessly bestowed on a colleague.
For Clive, time seemed to stop, and he wasn’t aware that he had come to a halt until Phelps’s accounts ledger file dug him sharply in the back.
‘Come on, out of the way. Work to do, work to do,’ grumbled Phelps.
He tried hard to keep calm but the good intentions in his head seemed to be at war with his body. It was only a couple of mates having a drink after work, nothing heavy, nothing out of the ordinary. But he wanted more than that, longed for a physical closeness with Ben that he had never desired with anyone. Questions raced around his head. Should he forget about his plans and put all his energy into developing a relationship with Ben?
Suddenly, Clive was angry. Why had this come now when he had decided—was set on a course of action? Why was this traitorous heart sending out lies to confound and confuse him? He had managed twenty-nine years without the useless organ and had been happy. Hadn’t he?
He felt the need to strike out at someone, something. The nearest object was the waste bin beside the coffee machine, so he kicked out hard. His reward was the attention of every pair of eyes in the office. Clive tried to smile and pretend that he had knocked it over by accident, while acutely aware that hot, unfamiliar tears were welling up.
He crouched down to pick up the debris and to hide his display of emotion. Someone knelt besides him and he realised with horror that it was Anne.
‘Oh, Clive, you are a silly one. Here let me help.’
As she bent beside him, he wanted to scream at her to leave him alone. The urge to push her head into the waste bin was so strong, he knew he had to get away before the desire overcame his normal caution.
Using the excuse of coffee dregs on his hands, Clive stumbled, rather
‘Yes, yes,’ she replied wanting to be rid of him.
Clive smiled with satisfaction and rose. ‘I’ll arrange it Mother,’ he said, bending to plant the required kiss on her forehead.
Thoroughly pleased with himself, he manoeuvred the car into the midst of the morning rush hour traffic inching its way to work. His plans were laid and, as he went over them, he couldn’t see anything he had missed. He was determined not to make the slightest mistake this time. With each outing, he would get better and better until nothing could stop him.
While waiting for yet another traffic light, he compared his precarious feelings for Ben to this wonderful new feeling of power coursing through his body, making him feel like a god. By the time he reached work, he was convinced he did not need Ben and had resolved to avoid him as much as possible.
It was only at the end of a long and boring meeting that he allowed himself to do more than glance at Ben. Ben was in profile, talking to Mr Phelps, the accountant, and the light from the window highlighted his curly hair, reminding Clive of a statue of a Greek god he had seen on a trip to Rome. He had an impulse to go over and join in the conversation but stopped himself and made his way to the door instead. Ben wasn’t for him.
As he reached the door he sensed, rather than saw, that Ben was following him out.
Ben spoke before he could think of what to say. ‘Could hardly keep from nodding off. How about you?’
‘It was pretty dense wasn’t it?’ He tried to keep his voice light, although his heart was starting to thud so loudly he couldn’t hear his own words.
Ben stopped by the secretary’s desk and turned to face him. ‘Well, I’m sure going to need a drink after that. Meet up later?’
Despite everything inside trembling, Clive managed a quick ‘Yes,’ together with a brief smile. This seemed to satisfy Ben as he nodded and turned away after favouring Clive with that warm, vivid grin. Was it his imagination or did it seem different? The smile had reached Ben’s brown eyes, causing them to crinkle in the corners. That wasn’t a mere courtesy smile carelessly bestowed on a colleague.
For Clive, time seemed to stop, and he wasn’t aware that he had come to a halt until Phelps’s accounts ledger file dug him sharply in the back.
‘Come on, out of the way. Work to do, work to do,’ grumbled Phelps.
He tried hard to keep calm but the good intentions in his head seemed to be at war with his body. It was only a couple of mates having a drink after work, nothing heavy, nothing out of the ordinary. But he wanted more than that, longed for a physical closeness with Ben that he had never desired with anyone. Questions raced around his head. Should he forget about his plans and put all his energy into developing a relationship with Ben?
Suddenly, Clive was angry. Why had this come now when he had decided—was set on a course of action? Why was this traitorous heart sending out lies to confound and confuse him? He had managed twenty-nine years without the useless organ and had been happy. Hadn’t he?
He felt the need to strike out at someone, something. The nearest object was the waste bin beside the coffee machine, so he kicked out hard. His reward was the attention of every pair of eyes in the office. Clive tried to smile and pretend that he had knocked it over by accident, while acutely aware that hot, unfamiliar tears were welling up.
He crouched down to pick up the debris and to hide his display of emotion. Someone knelt besides him and he realised with horror that it was Anne.
‘Oh, Clive, you are a silly one. Here let me help.’
As she bent beside him, he wanted to scream at her to leave him alone. The urge to push her head into the waste bin was so strong, he knew he had to get away before the desire overcame his normal caution.
Using the excuse of coffee dregs on his hands, Clive stumbled, rather
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