Finding Forever

by Lori C. Hawkins

  “That would work out very well. I’ll meet you there around noon.”

  Peter told Alec the exact location of the construction site and hung up.

  At a quarter past noon, a black cab pulled up in front of the construction zone. The taxi driver looked at the well-dressed woman with the large designer tote bag in the back of his cab and asked, “Is this the correct location, madam? It looks like it is still under construction.”

  “Yes, driver, this is correct, thank you,” came the reply from a pair of impeccably made-up lips. The woman settled her fare, gave her blonde hair a quick fluff, and stepped out of the cab. She hitched the bag up on her shoulder a little higher and gingerly picked her way along the rough ground in her high-heeled shoes toward the temporary structure that functioned as the construction office. Behind it was a chain-link fence that cordoned off the construction area. When the woman got inside, the receptionist, Hayley, a twenty-something woman dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans with a tattoo around her left wrist, greeted her.

  “Good morning, madam, may I help you?” asked the receptionist, who gave the Chanel-suited blonde in front of her a quick head-to-toe glance.

  “Good morning. I’m here to see one of your staff, Peter Leavesley,” the blonde woman said imperiously.

  “He’s inside the construction zone at the moment. I’ll ring him and tell him you’re here. May I say who’s calling for him?”

  “Tell him Dorothy is here, dear,” the blonde replied with a haughty toss of the head, taking a seat facing the door. The receptionist gave the blonde a squinty-eyed look before she picked up the phone and punched in Peter’s number.

  Deep inside the old warehouse, Peter’s mobile vibrated. “Hello, Peter here. Dorothy? I don’t know anyone by that name, and I’m not expecting anyone today.” Peter looked at his watch and huffed. “I’m meeting my boyfriend for lunch in a few minutes. Is she there with you? Right, can you put her on the line, please?

  “Hello, Miss er….”

  “Parker, Dorothy Parker,” answered a vaguely familiar husky voice.

  “Right, yes, Miss Parker, this is Peter Leavesley. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I have some business that I can’t discuss over the phone. I simply must see you personally.”

  Peter rolled his eyes but agreed to meet the woman. “I’ve got to go up front to the office. This is probably a good time to break for lunch. I’ll see you guys in about an hour,” Peter told the rest of the crew before he headed out to meet the mysterious Dorothy.

  Winding his way around piles of old wood, rubble, and wiring, Peter went through the gate in the construction fence and walked to the office, where he saw a rather solidly built blonde woman in a black-and-white Chanel suit. The woman saw Peter and rose to greet him with an extended hand. Peter extended his own hand in greeting, but before he could utter a sound, the blonde pounced on him. Peter waved his arms like a drowning man, and his hard hat clattered to the floor as she tilted him back in a dip and planted a smoldering kiss on his lips.

  “Dahling, let me take you to lunch,” offered the woman when she set Peter upright again.

  “Right, right, yes, sure let’s go to lunch,” Peter stammered, still saucer-eyed when he bent down to pick up the hard hat that had fallen from his head during the kiss.

  Hayley gulped like a codfish at what just happened. She lunged toward the woman and tried to rescue Peter. “You can’t take him with you. He’s, he’s already meeting someone for lunch!” she protested.

  Unperturbed, Dorothy leaned in close to the young woman and sweetly said, “No worries, my dear. I’m sure you’ll think of some way to explain it to them when… they get here,” she said theatrically as she whipped off her wig.

  “Aarhh,” screamed the girl. When she looked more closely at the figure in front of her, she screamed again, “Aarhh, it’s you! Oh my God, you’re Alec Bannerman.” Hayley looked at Peter and pointed at Alec. “You never told me your boyfriend was Alec Bannerman!” she sputtered.

  Peter clutched his side in laughter. “Oh God, you had me fooled until you kissed me! Does the theater know you’ve taken their clothes on a walkabout in London?”

  “Look, I’m a fan of yours, but that was not very nice of you to let me go on like that,” Hayley scolded.

  “I’m sorry. It was meant as a prank on Peter, not you. Thank you for being a sport,” Alec said, taking her hands in his.

  Now that he had apologized to the irate young woman, Alec asked, “Do you have someplace where I can change out of these clothes? I’d love to lunch in this Chanel ensemble, but these shoes are killing me,” he added in the voice he had used as Dorothy.

  Wordlessly, Hayley pointed toward the back office. Alec reappeared a few minutes later scrubbed of the heavy makeup and wearing a pair of ripped jeans with a polo shirt.

  With Peter leading the way, they strolled over to nearby West India Quay, where they found an out-of-the-way table on the terrace to enjoy the warm summer sun and each other’s company over a leisurely meal.

  “Happy six-month anniversary, babe,” Alec said, raising his wineglass in a toast while flashing the trademark grin that made Peter weak at the knees.

  “Happy anniversary! And thank you for coming all the way out here for lunch. I know you have a heavy schedule, and I appreciate it.”

  “It was worth it to see the look on your face. It’s worth even more to see you in a hard hat and jeans. I’ll be thinking about it all day, so save some energy for tonight, when we can celebrate properly,” Alec said seductively.

  Peter grinned mischievously. “Why wait?” he asked. Reaching under the heavy tablecloth, he ran his hand up the inside of Alec’s thigh and gave his privates a squeeze.

  Alec jumped but relaxed back into his chair when the warm hand cupping him started to rub little circles on his rapidly swelling cock. Peter quirked an eyebrow at Alec, silently asking if he wanted more. Peter got his answer when Alec nudged at the hand with his groin.

  The world started to fade around Alec as Peter continued to stroke at the growing bulge between his legs. He nearly moaned out loud when Peter unzipped his fly and freed his engorged member.

  “Jesus, Pete. We’re in public! You’ll get us arrested!” Alec hissed when he felt cool air hit his hard-on.

  “Relax, no one can see us. There isn’t even anyone out here today,” Peter said as he curled his fingers around the hardened organ and started stroking it. “Do you want me to stop?” Peter asked as he stroked faster.

  “Oh God!” moaned Alec under his breath. He gripped the table tightly as he felt an orgasm welling up from the base of his penis.

  “Oops, too late!” Peter said with wide-eyed innocence as Alec dropped his head down and shuddered.

  “God, Pete, you are positively evil. My trousers are a mess,” Alec complained breathlessly. “I can’t go back to the theater like this!”

  “Well, I guess Dorothy is going to have make another appearance,” Peter said with a lopsided grin as he wiped his hand on a pocket handkerchief.

  Alec rolled his eyes as he picked up the bag with the costume and headed off into the restaurant to change his clothes. When he found the restroom, he thanked his lucky stars that it was a single-occupant unisex toilet.

  A few minutes later, Peter watched as “Dorothy” came walking back to the table. He couldn’t help snickering; Alec had put on the dress and wig but not the makeup.

  “For heaven’s sake, at least put on some lipstick. You look totally like a guy in drag.” Pete smirked when Alec sat down again.

  Alec shot his boyfriend a dirty look and took a little mirror out of the bag. He guffawed when he looked into the mirror and noticed a hint of stubble on his face. “It looks like Dorothy could do with a shave!” he said as they both dissolved into a fit of laughter.

  When they had calmed down again, it was time for Peter to go.

  “Oh, look at the time. I’d better get back. We’ve got loads more work to finish today. Hey, thanks
again for coming out here.”

  “You’re worth it. It was fun for me too. You should have seen how the cab driver kept glancing in his rearview mirror trying to work out whether I was a real woman,” Alec said with a chuckle.

  “You made his day, I’m sure. He’ll have good story to tell his mates when he gets off work. Are you taking a cab back?”

  “Well, yeah. I can’t very well take the Underground looking like this!” Alec answered with a chuckle.

  Peter walked with Alec as far as the nearest taxi rank, where he gave him a quick peck on the cheek and headed back to work.

  LATER that afternoon, while Alec was getting ready for the night’s show, Peter called.

  “Alec?” said a shaky voice.

  “Peter! You sound awful. Are you all right, hon?”

  “God, no. It’s food poisoning. I’m completely laid out,” Peter answered weakly. “Oooh,” he moaned, “I knew I shouldn’t have been eating oysters in June. I’m sorry, Alec. We’ll have to cancel for tonight.”

  “Aw, hon, I’m so sorry to hear that. Are you going to manage alone at home? I’ll come by after the show, all right?”

  Despite the pain in his gut, Peter managed to smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “I’ll see you later, then. Drink plenty of fluids!”

  After the show, Alec quietly slipped out the service entrance and bypassed the crowd at the stage door so he could head over to Peter’s place straight away. He quietly knocked on the door of the flat before letting himself in with his key.

  “Peter? It’s me, Alec. Are you awake?” he called quietly as he closed the door behind him. When he got no answer, he crept quietly to the bedroom and gently opened the door. A slice of light from the hallway fell across the bed and onto its occupant. He saw that Peter lay with the covers thrown off and gently tucked him back under; then he settled on the bed stroked Peter’s head, smoothing his tousled hair back into place.

  “Hmm? You’re here. What time is it?” Peter rasped in a barely audible voice.

  Alec carded his fingers through Peter’s hair. “It’s past ten. How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit,” Peter replied with a snuffle. “How was the show tonight?”

  Alec continued to play with Peter’s hair as he talked. “It went all right. We had some cast changes, though. A couple of people were out ill. How was your day?”

  “Well, Hayley got over her encounter with ‘Dorothy’ and told the rest of the crew what happened. We all had a right laugh,” Peter said.

  Alec gave a little chuckle as he remembered Hayley’s face when he pulled off his wig. Then he stroked Peter’s cheek with the back of his hand and said, “Have you had anything to eat? Do you want some tea and toast?”

  “No. Mattie came by earlier and gave me some broth. I just want to sleep.”

  Leaning down, Alec placed a gentle kiss on Peter’s temple and whispered, “You go back to sleep, and I’ll be out on the sofa tonight just in case you need anything.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine,” Peter weakly protested.

  “I want to. Now go to sleep,” Alec said, placing a kiss on Peter’s hair. Peter sighed contentedly and went back to sleep.

  It was when Alec crept quietly out of the bedroom that he spotted it—on the table in the entry hall was a single red rose lying alongside a card addressed to him. Recalling the yellow rose of friendship Peter had given him on their first date, he melted as he grasped the significance of the flower. That night, Alec couldn’t have been happier as he fell asleep on the sofa knowing Peter returned his affections.

  THE next morning, Peter woke to the sound of clattering in the kitchen. He felt limp and sluggish, but at least the pain in his stomach had gone. It took all the willpower he could muster to get out of bed.

  When Alec heard the bedroom door open, he looked up from the tray he was preparing. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  “I’ll feel better once I’ve had my morning coffee. It’s getting late. I’ll just grab something on the way to work,” Peter replied while absentmindedly rubbing the stubble on his unshaved face.

  “Oh no. No way,” Alec said emphatically. “You are going straight back to bed!”

  “Alec, I’ve loads to do. I really have to go to work.”

  “By the looks of you, you can hardly stand up. Now go back to bed.”

  In truth, Peter knew Alec was right and meekly went back to bed after he had used the toilet.

  A few minutes later, Alec came into the bedroom holding a breakfast tray and the morning paper tucked under his arm; he noted happily that Peter was snuggled under the covers again.

  “Ah, now, that’s better!” he said as he set the tray down. “Voila! We have porridge and fruit for brekkies, and I’ve put some honey in the porridge. My mum says it settles the stomach.”

  Alec poured Peter some tea and continued to talk. “Since it’s Wednesday, I don’t have show tonight, so I can stay with you today. If you’re good, we’ll go somewhere tonight.”

  “Look, Alec, please don’t go to all this fuss. I’m not a child who needs looking after. I don’t expect you to spend your day off hanging about the flat.”

  “I’m glad to do it,” Alec said firmly as he poured himself a cup of tea. Then, with mug in hand, he settled down on the bed next to Peter. “Besides, this is really quite nice. I could get used to this,” he said as he unfolded the paper with a snap of his wrist.

  “What? Me getting food poisoning and puking up for hours?” Peter asked facetiously.

  Alec gave Peter a shy glance and said, “No. I could get use to this: taking care of you, having breakfast with you.”

  Peter smiled and enjoyed a flush of butterflies in his chest as he tucked into his porridge.

  Chapter Seven

  “HEY, babe, come take a look and tell me what you think,” Peter called from the front room, where he had spent the last hour decorating the Christmas tree in Alec’s flat. It stood in the space in front of the bay window that looked out at Redcliffe Square, and its bright lights made the natural pigments of the carved giraffes on the nearby shelf and the big painting of an African woman in tribal finery on the wall to the left seem subdued.

  A lot had happened after Peter’s food-poisoning episode. When Alec spent the night, even though it was chaste, he inadvertently fast-forwarded their relationship from seeing each other to being significant others, and they were both perfectly happy with it. By November, Peter was spending most nights at Alec’s, and they tossed around the subject of moving in together.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” a voice called back from the kitchen.

  Peter walked the few steps that separated the front room from the rest of the flat and peered into the kitchen to see what was keeping Alec. What he saw was Alec standing next to the sink wearing a long white chef’s apron and busily stirring something in a large mixing bowl.

  Peter quietly crossed the threshold and stepped in close to curl his arms around Alec’s waist. He ground his pelvis playfully against Alec’s behind and peeked over his shoulder.

  “What are you making?” Peter asked. “It looks awful.”

  “It’s a Christmas pudding. It looks awful because it isn’t cooked,” Alec replied as he picked up the next ingredient.

  Peter made a face as he watched the suet go into the bowl. “Our puddings always came in a plastic tub. It never looked like that.”

  “You’ll all love it. It’s one of my Gran’s recipes,” Alec assured him. “And it’s also the tradition that you stir the pudding and make a wish,” he said, offering Peter the spoon.

  Peter rested his chin on Alec’s shoulder. Reaching around, he took the spoon and gave the pudding a cursory poke. “There, I’ve made a wish. Now will you come out and look at the tree?” he asked before giving Alec’s earlobe a nibble.

  Alec ducked his head away from the tickling sensation. “Stop it. You’ll make me lose track of the recipe,” he complained, taking the spoon ba
ck. “The sooner I’m done here, the sooner I’ll be in to see what you’ve done with the tree. Now get outta here,” Alec said, and he nudged Peter away with his hip.

  Peter relented but stole another nibble on Alec’s earlobe before he left the kitchen. A few minutes later, Alec went to join Peter in the front room, where a cozy scene greeted him. In the gathering gloom of the late winter afternoon, the tree glowed brightly, and a fire crackled away merrily in the fireplace.

  Peter was sitting on the floor reading a magazine and drinking eggnog; his long legs were stretched toward the fire so he could enjoy the toasty warmth on his stocking feet. Alec studied him for a moment to take in the cute way Peter sucked on his lower lip as he swallowed the creamy drink.

  “Good job on the tree, hon. It’s beautiful!” Alec finally said to announce his presence before strolling over to take a seat on the floor too.

  Peter gave Alec a little peck on the lips and held out the glass of eggnog for Alec to share. “Thanks, I’m glad you like it. I think I did a splendid job with this year’s theme, even if I say so myself.”

  The golden lights of the tree sparkled off crystal ornaments of all sorts hanging from the branches. There were a couple of high-end crystals from Waterford and Swarovski that Alec had inherited, but mostly they were little treasures they had bought on their rambles through the street market on Portobello Road in the Notting Hill district of the city.

  The two of them sat in companionable silence, sharing eggnog and admiring the tree, until Peter let out an audible sigh.

  “You all right?” Alec asked.

  “Christmas is so bloody depressing. I was just thinking about Christmas as a kid and how I haven’t seen my family in years,” Peter answered, taking a swallow of eggnog.

  Alec kissed him on top of the head. “You have me and Aunt Jo. You’ll see. We’ll have a splendid Christmas.”

  “Don’t you miss your family at this time of year? I’m surprised they haven’t asked you to go back to America for Christmas,” Peter commented while staring into the fire.