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  #1   Add to Londonboy's Reputation   Report Post  
Old May 7th, 2007, 05:21 PM
Thicker is Best
 
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An American Muscleman in London - Part 11

The Second Full Moon – Continued

As soon as Manfred walked away I felt lonely. It had been a great afternoon. I did not want my time with him to end – even though I knew he needed to start the journey to his parents’ house up north. I also knew we'd only ever be friends - but that didn't matter - I still wanted to be with him. I was also still a little pumped from the excitement of capturing the purse-snatcher. The adrenaline rush did not seem like it would be leaving my body any time soon. I could tell that the feeling was much more than blood pumping through my body from the excitement of the day or the thrill of being with Manfred – there was something much more mysterious and powerful flowing through every part of my body. The closest thing I could compare this feeling to was the sensation your body feels when it rests in zero gravity as you come down the hill on a rollercoaster or those few seconds of indescribable pleasure right before ejaculation - when jerking off. Yes, that was it. My body did feel very sexual – more so than ever in my life. I was on fire with desires – to be pleased, but more importantly – to please.

My mind was trying to grasp all of this when my cell phone rang. I looked to see the number and it said "restricted".

“Hello,” I answered.

“Anthony,” a voice responded, “this is Roger. From the party last night – at Martin’s house. I asked Martin for your number. I do hope that was okay?”

“Yes, Roger. Of course. How are you?” I answered – marveling at the fact that a second person from last night’s party was contacting me.

“I am fine, thank you. Listen, I am leaving work now and was wondering if you would like to join me for a drink. I belong to a club near you. We could meet there – if you do not mind,” Roger said in a very pleasant voice.
“That sounds great, Roger,” I answered, “I didn’t have any plans. What kind of club is it?

“You will love it, Anthony. It is one of London’s oldest gentleman’s clubs. It is a place where men gather to socialize, eat, drink, and work out. It will be a great experience for you,” Roger explained.

“It sounds nice – but it also sounds like something I need to dress up for – right?” I asked.

“I am so glad you asked, Anthony. Yes, there is a dress code. You must wear a jacket and tie.” Roger explained.

“That’s no problem,” I assured Roger. “Can you give me directions? And what time should I meet you? Roger gave me directions and I realized it was only about a ten-minute walk from my flat. He told me to meet him there in about thirty minutes. After hanging up my phone I suddenly remembered the growth of my body. I hurried up to my flat to make sure I had something to wear to the club. I didn’t panic immediately because I remembered I had an oversized sports coat that was a hand-me-down. I never had it tailored – but always thought I would. I tried the jacket on, and realized just how much I had grown since the once too-big-to-wear jacket was now a pretty snug fit. I tried on many pairs of pants and found one that didn’t look too much like high waters. I was also able to fit my feet into a pair of stretched out loafers. I didn’t look pretty, but I looked presentable. As I was walking to the club I was thankful that the tie I was wearing hid the fact that my expanded chest stretched the buttons of my shirt a little. I also began to think of my body differently from in the morning. I wasn’t freaked out by the growth anymore – as a matter of fact, something in my body told me that the growth was a good thing. A new thought was dawning in my mind – a feeling that said the growth was meant to happen – that it was a positive change happening to me. That sense of power I had felt when running, when working out, and when chasing the purse-snatcher was only going to get better. I somehow knew all of this – but how? What did it all mean? Just when I thought I was going to somehow have a breakthrough in understanding what was going on with me, I arrived in front of a huge non-descript building with huge double front doors and a small plaque that merely said Carlton Club.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I was instantly transported to a time that has all but disappeared in London. The noise of the street dissolved and the smell of cigars, leather, and liquor rushed over me. The lobby of the club was very impressive. The ceiling was four stories high and it seemed that stairwells went in every direction. There was a huge table in front of me with the most beautiful arrangement of flowers I had ever seen. A person could spend hours looking around that front room – the pictures, the furniture, the statues – everything spoke of old money and tradition. I knew instantly that it was a privilege to be able to visit this place.

After the initial impact of the space left I became conscious of another feeling within me. It resembled the feeling that overcame my body whenever Atol was near. I immediately reacted by becoming on edge and prepared for action. It was only after a few seconds of standing there that I realized the feeling was different, though. When Atol was near I was defensive and tense – but this new feeling didn’t seem necessarily negative. It felt good and, yet, somewhat bad at the same time. It gave me pleasure, somehow – yes; it filled me with a sense of power that was different from other times in the past few days. This feeling seemed to give me some kind of a buzz – like a wave of unknown and untested abilities. The main difference from this feeling and all the other feelings I had was that this one consumed me and I wanted it to continue and even grow more. At that moment an elderly gentleman stepped in front of me. He was wearing a tuxedo-like uniform and obviously worked at the club.

“May I help you sir,” he asked.

His question made me immediately self-conscious and feel out of place. I stammered, “Yes, uh, I am here to, umm, meet Roger Wexford.”

“Are you Mr. Lance?” the gentleman asked and this put me more at ease.

“Yes, I am Anthony Lance.” I said a little more confidently.

“Right this way, sir. Mr. Wexford is in the study,” he said and walked to a stairwell to the right. We went through an archway at the top of the short staircase and entered into a large room with multiple sitting areas. There were many men sitting in groups of two or three scattered throughout the room. Because of the size of the room the conversations throughout the space seemed like whispers. I followed my guide to a back corner that seemed a little secluded and there Roger sat in a large leather chair with a newspaper in his lap and a drink on the table beside him. When he saw me he immediately stood up and extended his hand.

“Anthony. Welcome to the Carlton Club. Thank you, very much, for joining me. Can I offer you a drink?” Roger’s welcome and his handshake were energetic and inviting. I immediately noticed what striking features he had. Jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, dark eye lashes that went on for days and a chiseled face. He was a little taller than me and seemed to have what people would call a swimmer’s body – I couldn’t really tell because of the immaculate suit he was wearing. I had been too focused on Manfred last night to get this good a view of Roger.

“Yes, Roger, that would be very nice. What are you drinking?” I asked knowing that was a safe way to order - I did not know the proper protocol at a London men’s club. I was trying hard to not mess up.

“I am having some good Irish whiskey – the one made by the Protestants, of course. Would you like some Bushmills?” Roger didn’t wait for an answer, “Of course, you would. Stanford, please bring Anthony a double, like mine. That will be all for right now. Sit down, sit down.” He said pointing to the chair across from his – another oversized leather chair. Roger sat down, as well, and looked straight at me. “Again, thank you for joining me, Anthony. It is a pleasure to welcome you here.”

“No, Roger. The pleasure is all mine. I know what an honor it is to come to such a restricted club,” I said - trying to flatter him. There was something about our short interaction that had made me want to “win” Roger over. I couldn’t describe it – but I wanted Roger to like me.

“Nonsense, Anthony, this place is overrated. But it does afford me a quiet place to meet friends, a great place to have dinner, and many other convenient ways to spend the time,” Roger said, smiling a somewhat naughty grin – but I didn’t understand the comment completely.

“Well, it is a very impressive place, nonetheless,” I replied.

“So what did our American friend do on his first Friday in London?” Roger asked as Stanford brought me my drink. I could not remember drinking a lot of whiskey before – if ever. As soon as I had my drink I took a pretty good-sized sip and immediately regretted it. I tried hard not to acknowledge the burning sensation in my throat, but when I went to speak it was hard to disguise. I saw just a hint of awareness of the situation in Roger’s eyes and was happy that he did not comment on it.

“Well,” I said trying to act like I was clearing my throat, “I worked out this morning, went for a long run, and then went to a late lunch with Manfred.”

There was an immediate change in Roger’s face. It looked like disappointment and that notion was confirmed as he said, “So the old boy got his claws into you first, I see.”

“I’m sorry,” I said - not sure I understood.

“Oh, it is just that Manfred tends to toy with anyone new on the scene. It makes it hard for the rest of us. I am sure he made it known that he is only into bodybuilders.” Roger said allowing the smile to return to his face.

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, he did,” I replied.

“Well, then the old guy is getting better – he usually strings a guy along for a while before telling him,” Roger said looking at his drink and it became clear to me that this must have happened to him. I could see Roger being attracted to Manfred (who on earth wouldn’t be) and I could see Manfred initially being attracted to Roger. I felt sadness for Roger because I could see that it was something that still hurt him. I decided to change the subject quickly – mainly because I did not want to remember the sadness Manfred had already caused me.

“Now you must tell me, Roger, so I know up front, why do your friends call you their favorite bad boy,” referring to the comment Martin had made last night when I was introduced to Roger – it had been an inside joke that made everyone at the party laugh.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Martin.” Roger said re-gaining his earlier commanding presence. “There are so many reasons, Anthony. For one, I get into trouble a lot – I tend not to care what I say and that sometimes causes problems. I guess some people also get jealous of me and say mean things since I do not work.”

I interrupted him, “But you said you were getting off of work when you called me and invited me to meet you here.”

Roger smiled. “I did indeed. Yes. And in fact I was working right upstairs here – I was busy working away at the poker table. That is another reason that I am known as a bad boy – I do like to gamble. It is the closest thing to work for me.”

“And you can live off of your gambling?” I asked and immediately realized it was a rude question. “I am so sorry, Roger. That was very rude. Please ignore that question. It was just that I was surprised by the fact that you can make enough money to live in London from gambling.”

Roger was laughing and said, “No, Anthony, do not be ridiculous. There was nothing rude about the question. Truth be told, I like your frankness. The fact is that I do not have to work. I come from old money in London and my parents are both dead. I will be able to live off of my inheritance for the rest of my life. That kind of lifestyle does allow a few pleasures in life – like gambling. And, if you must know, yes – yes, I do very well and earn quite a bit of money from my gambling habit.” Roger looked straight at me smiling, and we sat in silence for a few seconds.

In those moments of silence something happened to me – there was a subtle shift in how I viewed Roger. Last night and even earlier in this conversation he had been just a friend I had made at a party – but I started seeing him as something else. Was he boyfriend material? I wasn’t sure. Was he “let’s sleep together as long as we can and enjoy the ride while it lasts” material? I wasn’t sure about that, either. The main thing I knew was that I wanted to find out exactly what he could be for me – friend, sex partner, lover – who knew? There was a slight pining in my heart that reminded me of my desire for Manfred – but he had made it clear that I wasn’t his type. And if my instincts were correct - I was getting the vibes from Roger that said he’d like to explore our attraction as well. I dug a little deeper at what this feeling was that rushed over me at that moment and I realized I really liked the “bad boy” side of Roger. More specifically, I liked how he brought out the bad boy side of me. That was it – I saw myself in a different light in the few minutes that I had been sitting here with Roger. It was mixed in with the feeling that I had experienced in the lobby of the Carlton Club. I was beginning to feel desirable – and a lot of power and pleasure came with that feeling. I could see how Roger viewed me – in a primitive, almost animalistic way. His desires for me made me want to do things to make his feelings increase. It suddenly hit me that all of this newfound knowledge was tied into my body growth. That was it! I liked the changes in my body – and more importantly – I liked how the changes in my body might affect other people. I realized that I was beginning to be hungry for more growth. Was that possible? I knew it was. God, this new awareness felt great. I desired to be bigger, stronger, and able to influence other men – but in what way? This wasn’t clear, yet - but I knew that most of these new insights had come from my meeting with Roger – and that made me want him in a special way. And I knew that Roger had similar feelings – I knew all of this somewhere inside of me. I could also feel that something in all of this was not good for me – something told me to go slower. But my need for sex, the continued rush from overpowering the purse-snatcher earlier today, the flashbacks from my intense dream of a few nights ago, and my desire to be – what was the word – powerful, prevented me from heeding any warning signs in my head. I turned my attention back to the handsome Roger.
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  #2   Add to Mdlftr's Reputation   Report Post  
Old May 7th, 2007, 08:04 PM
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...and we're back in London!

Thank you, Londonboy, for another installment!

All of these new characters are making this more and more interesting!

I'm enjoying the build up here very much!

Keep up the good work!

Mdlftr
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Old May 7th, 2007, 08:14 PM
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More questions

I love this series because I never know where it's going. It reminds me a little of LOST on tv, as soon as you think you've got it all figured out there is another twist. This time with Roger is great, it seems Lance is beginning to see he can be a leader. Please Londonboy, keep up the good work and give us some answers to go with the new questions. Thanks for such a great story.
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Old May 7th, 2007, 09:44 PM
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I really love reading this story. Sorry if I'm a bit late in commenting, but for some reason we seem to be posting our newest chapters of our stories around the same time.

Well anyways, I'd like to say that I'm really looking forward to seeing how this story progesses, seeing how it already has a nice set up. I can't wait to see the next chapter!

-Red
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Old May 8th, 2007, 02:37 AM
A wanabe be muscled chav
 
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Full of more twists and turns.....I'm intrigued

It dooes seem the case Redkage, but I for one am not biother..... LOL

These are two entirly different stories, and both worthy of reading time and time again, in my opinion.
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Old May 8th, 2007, 01:43 PM
Thicker is Best
 
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Redkage - no need to apologize. Your stories keep me writing. Thanks for all you contribute to the Forum. Please continue to inspire me.
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