I Know What I'm Doing Ch. 01


Ms Kelley, private investigator, watched me in silent empathy as I looked at hard evidence of my fiancée's infidelity. Ms Kelley had phoned me three days ago and I'd insisted on hearing her findings over the phone: Carolynn was sleeping with a married 54-year-old business tycoon who was providing her with every monetary luxury she demanded. I'd dropped the receiver at the end of the conversation, angry but not entirely surprised.

I'd immediately called Dan and had him arrange for all of Carolynn's belongings to be boxed and moved to the small guest bedroom until she could collect them. I appreciated his discretion when he came up and took care of it himself, no questions asked. After that I'd called my mother; who'd been marvellous at consoling me and cancelling all the wedding arrangements that she could in the last three days. Then I'd gone to the clinic and gotten tested. The results came back clean - my one silver lining.

Now all that is left is to face Carolynn and personally kick her out of my life for good. She was in the city for another week, which was fine by me - I couldn't stomach her just yet.

I escorted Ms Kelley out of the study after thanking her for her work. She eyed me sadly yet again then surprised me by enfolding me in her tiny arms. The woman was small but strong, and it turned out that a little compassion was just what I needed in that moment. I amazed myself by hugging her back in gratitude. A thump, a tumble and a groan in the foyer broke us apart. We turned to see Ethan, who appeared to have been sneaking out of the house before he tripped over the little foyer table. The man should come with an "Accident Prone" sign.

He blushed up at us sheepishly, "I didn't want to interrupt. Hi, you must be Aiden's fiancée." He stood and shook hands with Ms Kelley.

She was straightforward, "Faye Kelley. And, no, I'm not the fiancée. In fact, I don't imagine she'd be too happy to find me here."

I walked her out. "Thanks again for everything. This has meant a lot to me."

She gave me a small smile, "Just wish it could've been different."

"I know. Goodbye."

I closed the door wearily. Ethan was still in the foyer, looking rather hot under the collar.

"That wasn't your fiancée."


"You hold everyone you don't intend marrying that intimately?"

Is he serious? "That wasn't intimate holding. You, more than most, would know what my 'intimate holding' is like."

He blushed at that, but didn't seem at all appeased. "I'm not judging you or anything," Right. "I would just prefer not to bear witness to your illicit affairs."

"Are you kidding me? You've been stuttering and quivering since you arrived here, and this is what brings you out of your shell? You don't even know what the hell's going on. And, as for my affairs... Hey, I don't owe you any explanations, so kindly back off. Gods, anyone would think you're my bloody fiancé!"

Ethan glared at me and I was momentarily thrown by the amazing shine that came into his eyes. They really were like diamonds. Something happened in my chest, something hot and unexpected - I nervously smothered it before it could take hold. Ethan just shook his head at me before slamming out the front door.

Shitty. This has been a really shitty week.

* Ethan Hiding has become a forte of mine. I came out of the closet when I was fifteen, and have been hiding from my father ever since. My mother had embraced me and loved me since my confession till the day she died in a car wreck a year later. My father, on the other hand, had withdrawn behind hateful glares and daily bigoted comments. The more I hid from him, the less he was able to hurt me.

University had almost scared me witless. Its size, the overwhelming personalities I'd met - my world had grown majorly. Keeping mostly to myself and as far under the radar as I could, became my coping mechanism. The less people noticed me, the less chance they'd find a reason to hate me. It worked for me. Well, not really, but it was a necessary evil I had learnt to accept.

Now, not only am I on the run from Mark, but I've spent the weekend hiding from Aiden - in his own house. I've been holed up in my room, working. Not because I need to, but because working was the only way of getting Aiden Montgomery out of my mind. He of the deep voice, the dashing good looks and the mesmerising confidence. He even had a bloody Knight-of-the-Round-Table type name. I'd spent my life losing to guys like him. I'm afraid of what losing this time could mean for me.

I already felt like I was losing. I mean, what the hell was I thinking two days ago, confronting him about his girlfriend? I shuddered at the memory. The words, the way I felt had just slipped out before I'd collected enough sense to stop myself. There was no way I could face him after that.

I groaned and sank further into the pillows. I felt like I was the dim-witted prey and he was the lion, ready to pounce when I least expect it. I rolled my stiff neck, saved my work and turned off the laptop.

The bedside clock read 20:50. What the heck, an early night would be good for me. I stripped, took a shower then climbed into bed. I'd dialled Sam's cell number before I knew what I was doing.

On the third ring, "Have you forgotten about him?"




"Oh that's fantastic! But what could possibly have distracted you after a mere 3 days? Or should I say who? And how big is he? Hopefully waaay more than 3 inch-"

"Sam." Sometimes I just wanted to hiss and spit at him. Fortunately the rest of the time I wanted to hug him, so thus far the balance has been worthwhile. I did, however, tell him all. Well, most of it.

After an awful moment of silence, "Sugar, please don't go falling for a straight guy. I hated seeing what Mark had done to you; but this, this will kill you."

I rubbed my throbbing temple, "Don't worry, I've already told myself that speech ten times. It's just that it's such a bizarre coincidence, don't you think? Randomly landing on his doorstep like that?"

"Yeah. Of all of the doorsteps, in all the peninsulas, you had to step onto the one belonging to the engaged, straight guy. Get your head out of the clouds, sugar. The man is not interested; he's taken for goodness sake."

"Well, that commitment doesn't look too airtight." I mumbled shamefully.

"So? The goon's clearly too close-minded to release a side of himself that's obviously interested in exploration, maybe more. And the fact that he's willing to hurt you like that, then and now, makes him a coward and a fool."

"Sam, please don't call him names. You're assuming the worst about him and you could be wrong." Why am I defending him?

"And if I am? Are you telling me you're planning on taking more of this abuse while hoping to turn him gay and get him to come out?"


"Or would a short-term fuckfest suffice? And even if you succeed, you get him in your bed; what then, sugar? The most you can expect is one week of fantastic sex followed by rejection when he can't bring himself to commit. I know his type. He'll kick you out of his life the moment the holiday's over."

I felt something ugly coming to the boil in my gut. I just wanted some quiet, some sleep. Not this. "Samuel, I may not be sure 'bout what I'm doing but I'm a grown man and can take care of myself. I just needed to unload a little. Agh, this talk's doing more damage than good. Let's just drop it, ok? Goodnight."

I replaced the receiver before he could respond.

* Aiden I'm down in The Montgomery, in the plush office I use to impress (or intimidate) when meetings come to my turf. I'm not hiding. Not really.

Mike - Michaela, my brother's wife - had picked out the decor. A large Oriental rug on the wooden floor, wooden venetian blinds at the windows behind my oversized desk; and a combination of antique wood and dark leather furniture gave the room a feel of confident masculinity. African paintings and sculptures were my favourite items in here. So much so, that I bought some for the main house as well.

No meeting today, though. I'm on the phone with my financial advisor, not hearing a clear word he's said since mentioning that most of my investments are doing better than we could have hoped for, considering the markets. I could have taken this call in the small study I have in my home, but Ethan is there. For some reason, I appear to be on a quest to act a fool around the man. I, Mr Charm, have never tripped all over myself, nor been as offensive with anyone as I have since his arrival.

And yet you made sure to keep him here. Why?


"Hm? I'm sorry, what?" I can hear by Rick's concerned tone that he must have called my name a few times already.

"You sound preoccupied. No worries, just the property issue and then I'll cut you loose. I was asking what you want to do about those investments? Residential property values have taken a dive, but the business sites seem to be holding on a little stronger. Do you want to play it safe and bail? It could be a while before things swing back up to the way they were."

"I'm in it for the long haul, Rick. So hang on to all the property."

"Smart man."

Another two minutes and we wrapped up, leaving me with my thoughts of Ethan. How is it possible for another man to take up so much of my inner space? When I had sat down at my desk half an hour ago, instead of calling Rick right away, my first call had been to Rachel in the kitchen, ordering a ridiculously lavish breakfast to be sent up to the house as soon as she was done with the crowd in the restaurant. To the man who'd nearly snapped my head off the last time we'd spoken.

I'm afraid of scrutinising my reaction to Ethan. It challenges aspects of my identity that I had thought needed no discussion. There's a sort of magnetic dance that we're doing with each other, neither able to avoid what is now starting to look like the inevitable.

Oh, the inevitable, hey? And what is that precisely?

The kiss five years ago flashed hotly in my mind and my groin tightened. No. I am not fantasising about making love to the man because he is a man. If I were gay or bi or whatever, wouldn't these feelings for men have surfaced in my teens? I'd never even been curious about any other man. And I'd heard many say that they'd known even before their teens. Nothing in me knows anything. Except when I think of Ethan and that crazy vortex silkily draws me in. There'd even been a sliver of jealousy when he'd been so eager to get to Dan a few days ago. I was afraid of what that meant, the same way I didn't want to scrutinise the satisfaction of holding him after he nearly fell.

Circles, all I did was spin in circles when it came to Ethan Gray.

I opened one of the desk drawers and took out the extra set of keys I'd promised him. A slight excitement rose in me at the thought of giving him the keys and security codes so that he could share my home. Before more perplexing ideas could form, I stood and headed up to the house.

It was quiet as I entered and the kitchen was empty. At first I assumed Ethan must've decided to eat upstairs, but as I turned to leave the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of him through the window. He was sitting out on the back verandah. The kitchen, with its creamy walls and cherrywood cupboards, had very large windows to allow plenty of light in. The windows also gave a wonderful view of my private backyard. The verandah led off to a stone-paved area with a pool to the right and a lawn to the left. At the far end of the lawn a concealed gate opened onto a hidden path that led all the way down to a little secluded beach. It's a beautiful view and that's what must've drawn Ethan out.

I walked quietly to the backdoor, not wanting to disturb him. From this vantage point I was able to watch him in profile as he lifted lids off the dishes on the tray before him. Breakfast must just have arrived. There was bacon and eggs with grilled mushrooms and tomatoes; another plate held pancakes; and yet another, sliced fruit next to a bowl of muesli. Smaller bowls were also arranged on the tray each containing berry jam, marmalade, honey, freshly whipped cream and vanilla ice cream. How could Rachel let me order so much??

Ethan drew the pancakes, honey and ice cream closer -Really? For breakfast?- and I found myself gut-punched by the joy on his face as he savoured the first bite. As each bite elicited more reactions, I was surprised to find that I was tightly gripping the doorjamb. When he moaned on the final bite I was forced to consciously steady my breathing.

Ten minutes later, pancakes all gone, I assumed he was satisfied. Wrong. After a moment's hesitation he impishly dipped a finger in the honey bowl then stuck it between his full lips and sucked hard. I hardened in seconds and, instinctively, my hand went down to squeeze the ache. This I could not watch, not if I didn't intend grabbing him in a minute. I retreated into the kitchen and set some coffee brewing. Then I leaned against the cooking island and just breathed. When the coffee finished brewing, I got a large glass of cool water and poured the coffee into two mugs and headed out the backdoor.

"Thought you might like something to drink after that Winnie the Pooh impression you just pulled."

He started and his slight jump was accompanied by a dull thud that I assumed was his knee connecting with the table leg. He ignored it though and stared at me with shock and a little apprehension.

"How yong have foo meen wathing me?" His finger was still in his mouth. The honey bowl was empty.

"Since the first pancake."

He slowly extracted his finger and the sexiness of it almost made me scowl again. I looked away and quickly sat down across from him. I put the glass and one mug in front of him. He took long grateful swallows of water, avoiding looking at me.

"I wasn't sure how you take your coffee, so I took a guess and added cream and two sugars."

"That's perfect." The apprehension was still there, he's waiting for me to attack or blow up. It frustrated me.

"Look, uh, uh," Is it my name he's struggling with? He decided to skip it. "I had no right to attack you about, about.. her. You were right. This is your house and you're a grown man who certainly owes me no explanation."

"I'm sorry for being such a bastard to you." He blinked in surprise, but chose to hold his tongue and wait me out. "Again."

He sipped his coffee thoughtfully and, as I'd hoped, all his defences seemed to melt as his face lit up, "This is amazing. Where'd you get this?"

"I made it. I promised you coffee that night."

His ears went pink. "I shouldn't have kissed you. I don't know why I did."

"Maybe because it's what a gay guy does with a man he finds attractive."

His eyes widened as the blush deepened. I don't blame him, I wasn't expecting that either. Needless to say, my behaviour's been crazier than usual of late. He ducked his head and his hair fell forward; I had to clasp my fingers together to keep from brushing it back.

"You know what I mean," he whispers.

"The bigger question is why did I kiss you back?"

Now why the hell would you go and say that?

He looked up sharply. My strained smile dropped as agitated defensiveness rose; I dropped the set of keys on the table.

"Keys, as promised."

"Aiden." My name left his lips on a whisper that made my stomach clench. He looked into my eyes, "The bigger question. I was wondering what the answer is."

Now I shifted awkwardly and cursed myself for starting something I could not possibly finish. So I stood.

"I don't know, Ethan. There's something between us, it's impossible to ignore. As to what it is, who knows? Possibly a big mess bringing more stress than I want. And a mess is the last thing I need right now. I have nothing to offer you. So what's the point of scratching at this or making meaningless promises?"

Having royally fucked up the moment, I decided to run like the coward that I'd become. I didn't see his tears but, somehow, I felt them.

* For two days I lived like a fugitive in my own home. After hurting Ethan the way I had, I couldn't bear to face him; so I made sure to avoid spending too much time around the house. I left early each day and ate breakfast in the guesthouse office. I scheduled meetings back to back and made sure not to set foot in the north wing before bedtime.

To be honest, I was also running from the way I felt around him. I wanted to wipe his tears, not cause them. I wanted to hold him and let the fireworks in my chest just soar whichever way they wished. I wanted to kiss him, taste him, to remind myself of the feel of his skin. I wanted to hear him moan my name...

The sun was already quite high when I woke up Thursday morning. It must've been the exhaustion brought on by the stress of tiptoeing around my guest and my feelings, but I hadn't slept this late in a long time. I rolled over and squinted at the clock - 09:08. Shit, Ethan would be up by now.

Avoiding going downstairs, I swept the sliding door drapes aside and stepped out onto the balcony - and promptly froze. Ethan. He was there. More than that, he wasn't wearing a shirt. He was at his end of the balcony with his back to me so he didn't yet know I was out there. He was wearing loose-fitting pants and crouched in a yoga pose, a bright red yoga mat beneath his feet. I swallowed at the sight of his firm thighs and rounded butt straining against the light, blue fabric. His skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat.

Leave... now.

I stood transfixed as he inhaled a deep and steady breath while lifting his arms above his head, palms facing each other. His skin was taut and peachy. The lean muscles of his back danced smoothly into the new position. On the exhale his palms came together and he lowered them to his chest then twisted his torso to his right. I held my breath and prayed that he wouldn't notice me out the corner of his eye. He didn't. His eyes were closed. I wanted to kiss his soft eyelids. On his next inhalation he faced forward again, lifting his arms to the sky and rising out of the crouch. Before I could let out a sigh of relief he exhaled, bending his body in half at the waist till his palms touched the floor.


Before I could stop it, an image flashed through my mind: gripping his hips possessively, tightly enough to bruise him as I pound into-

I ducked back into my room as if dodging a bullet. These thoughts were tormenting me more frequently each day that he spent here; and I finally acknowledged that I needed a resolution or risk losing my mind.

In the shower the water helped soothe my muscles and ease my turmoil somewhat. It did nothing for my erection, though. I hadn't been this turned on and emotionally conflicted in years. I tried to remember a simpler time in an uncomplicated relationship.

Varsity. I'd dated a pretty brunette named Jemma. We'd shagged like rabbits for the entire duration of our relationship, until she had left to complete her studies in the UK. I recalled her face, flushed and sweaty as she rode me. I threw my head back against the shower wall and increased the pace of my stroke. Had her thighs been soft or firm? I teased my leaking slit as I tried to recall.

Ethan's were hot and firm and felt like they were made to cradle me. Not once in the time that I'd known Jemma - or Carolynn, for that matter - had I wanted to walk up behind her, grab her, ram her, climb into her. Had I ever wanted to consume her till she could speak no word other than my name? Ever noticed beauty in more than just her sexual parts?


Ethan had little things that I'd never thought about in aesthetic terms before. Like that spot a few inches below his neck where his shoulder blades met. I could spend an hour licking that and be content. And the slightly lighter shade of the insides of his wrists in comparison to the rest of his arms made the skin there look so soft. And the two grooves that ran on either side of his pelvis where his thighs met his groin, made my breath hitch. Well, that could also be because my balls were pulling up sharply as precum drooled down, slickening the length of my painfully swollen penis. Slick enough to glide satisfyingly into his tight warmth.

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