Victor and Samuel Ch. 01

Author's Note: A special thanks to jushorny who willingly accepted editing this story for me. I hope you enjoy the beginning of these two gentlemen's journey into their relationship and the relationships around them. I look forward to all comments and suggestions. Please enjoy the read, it was a pleasure to write. ~ Red

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Samuel watched his friend and drinking partner knock another Jack and Coke down, his fifth this afternoon. He put his hand on Victor's arm when his friend went to wave the bartender down for another. "Look Vic," he said. "I think you've had enough."

Vic looked at the drop of black liquid still resting like a raindrop on a leaf. He tipped the shot glass back and savored the little drop. "Yeah . . . I guess so."

Sam was glad to hear his friend agree. "When are you going to tell her?" he asked. He watched Victor's expression and for a moment was lost in the sorrow filled eyes.

Victor had been a temporary clerk for Samuel's company. He'd been working the mail room while a replacement was being interviewed. Samuel had been away when the head of the division passed away. The vice-president made arrangements to have someone come in and take over until a more permanent person could be interviewed. By the time Sam returned from his hiatus Victor had done such a great job, the vice-president hired him as the permanent replacement. Sam was introduced to Victor and the two became very good friends.

"Tonight . . . I guess," Vic answered.

Sam forced his attention back to his friend and gave his arm a firm, gentle squeeze. "I wish I could be there for you," he told him. He moved his hand down his friend's arm and curled his fingers around the hand that still clutched the empty glass.

"I know," Victor replied, his voice hollow.

"I've got to get back to the office. You got a cab coming, right?" Sam asked. He didn't want to leave his friend like this, but since he'd taken such a long hiatus to get over his last relationship, he didn't want to jeopardize the faith that the company's stockholders had in him.

"Yeah," Victor answered. He nodded his head to the bartender. "We have a standing rule. If I knock back three and ask for a fourth he calls a cab." The bartender chuckled, hearing the conversation. Sam laughed too.

"Well, if I don't hear from you tonight, I'll see you tomorrow at work," Sam said. He stood up and pressed a kiss to his friend's temple. "I'll be thinking of you."

"Thanks," Vic answered. There was a soft smile on the young man's face. He watched his lover leave the bar and sighed. "When's the cab arriving?" he asked Marty.

Marty looked at his watch, "Oh about five more minutes."

"All right. I'll take one more and hit the john before I go."

Marty poured the drink and went back to wiping down the counter. He felt bad for Vic. He'd been coming in here the past couple of months and after the first week he'd finally opened up to Marty. Like many people do with bartenders, he told Marty all about the secret life he'd been living. From the conversation he'd overheard tonight it sounded as if Victor was finally gonna lay it all on the table with his wife and confess.

As Vic left the bar, after the sixth drink, Marty's mind traveled to his wife and he wondered what he'd do without her if she were about to come home and tell him she was leaving him for another woman. In Vic's case though, it was the opposite. Vic was about to leave his wife for another man.

Victor sat in the back of the cab and thought about his life. He focused mainly on the last eight years, eight years full of heartache and pain. He loved his wife. She was a great woman. Her smile lit up her face and her eyes spoke volumes when she was at a loss for words. He knew he'd see those eyes doing just that later tonight. Victor could see her clearly, it was as if she were right there beside him. She was his friend really. Samuel was too, but Pamela would always be nothing more than a friend.

They'd gotten married because it seemed like the right thing to do, for him anyway. She'd married him because she was in love with him. He'd married her and he did love her, but mainly he'd married, because it was expected of him. His parents strove to make him the best at everything. He won Scholarships to several big league colleges to play football, something he didn't care about at all. He knew if he married Pamela and got her pregnant, then he wouldn't have to leave home. So he stayed her boyfriend through their senior year in High School and into college until she got pregnant. He married her, finished school as a business major instead of the football athlete his parents had hoped for, and continued to keep his secret.

The cabby put the car in park and watched his customer climb out. He'd been picking up drunks and tipsy men from Marty's Place for years. Each man had their own reasons for drinking and each man had their own story to tell, he figured this fellow's story wasn't a good one. He'd only driven the man home a few times. Every time he did though the young man seemed drunk and more depressed. He took his fare and watched the man walk away. "Hey," he called out. When the man turned, he said, "I'll be thinking of you. Good luck."

Vic looked surprised, but touched. "Thanks," he said. He waved goodbye to the cabby and finished the short trek up his walkway. As he walked, he recalled taking the same path with his Bride. He remembered how excited she was and how much he viewed it as a prison. He knew when he made that first step into the house that he was sealing the door on a life he'd have to keep hidden forever. The footsteps he took now reflected that day. Though the walk was short, it was one of the longest of his life, the exception to this moment, his wedding day.

He unlocked the house and was glad the kids were spending the weekend with Pamela's parents. Victor tossed his keys to the table and walked to the study. He poured a shot of brandy, downed it quickly, and took a seat. He pressed his palms into his face and rubbed his skin vigorously. "Oh God, give me strength," he pleaded into the air.

His eyes rested on a silver frame that held a picture of his wedding day, the day he slipped a ring on a delicate hand that touched him in a way he never allowed another woman to touch him. As he held her hand his eyes moved to the onlookers and caught his lover's stare. He'd come to see if he'd go through with it. When the final words were spoken and they turned to face the group of friends and family, his lover had disappeared, refusing to ever speak to Victor again.

His finger moved over the picture and he traced Pamela's face and cried. He didn't want to hurt her, yet he was dying more inside each day. He couldn't continue. He'd found his match and he owed it to her to come clean . . . he owed it to himself.

He heard the front door open and soon she was there in the doorway of the study. "Hey Hon. You're home early," she said. "Everything all right? The kids okay?" she asked.

Victor looked up at her. "Yes, they're fine. Still having fun at your parents."

Pamela gave a sigh of relief. "Great," she said. "You don't look like your fine though. Something happen at work?" She slipped off her shoes and crossed the room. She saw the picture he was holding and smiled softly. "Can you imagine? Eight years . . . wow."

"Eight years of marriage . . . but many years before that," he said quietly.

"I know," she grinned. She took the picture and held it tight. "I remember this day like it was yesterday. You cried Hon, remember?" She pressed a kiss to his cheek and stood. He watched her place the picture on the table in front of them. "Okay, out with it. What happened at work?"

Pamela could tell something was wrong. He was so distant. He'd been more distant every time he'd come home from work. She knew cutbacks were being made all over the company and he worried about her and the kids. She worked too so they'd be okay; she was about to tell him that, but he took her hand and squeezed it tight.

"I need to tell you a story," he said to her. His eyes searched hers and she could see the seriousness of his words.

She sat down beside him, looked into his face. She paled and swallowed. "This isn't about work, is it?" she asked.

"Not really," he said. "I mean, it involves work, but it isn't the main thing."

Her teeth gnawed on her lower lip and she took a deep breath. Her fingers curled into her skirt and she felt the rolling motion of nausea in her stomach. "I don't want to hear it," she said.

Suddenly she was on her feet and walking away. She knew he was leaving her. It was there in his face, his body language. He was leaving her. She stopped when he called her name. Her whole being seemed to be lost in a black abyss of pain. "What's her name?" she asked him. Her back rigid as she waited for the name of his lover to fall from his lips.

"Samuel Winters," Victor said. Now, he was the one waiting.

She turned around slowly and stared at him. Pamela blinked rapidly for a moment as if she were seeing their lives flash before her eyes. The excitement of the big win that seemed to appear on his face, when he scored the winning point, was replaced by eyes that spoke a thousand words of "who cares." She saw the look of two male friends joking at a dinner party turn into true looks of desire and hunger. Pamela saw Victor and herself when they made love. During that moment she saw fire and passion, but in truth she fooled herself.

As she stood there remembering their lives as friends, lovers, husband and wife, and finally parents, she realized that she knew long ago this was going to happen.

Pamela slowly closed the distance. It seemed to take a lifetime to reach him; when she did the resounding crack of her hand meeting his face echoed through the room. She beat at his chest with her tiny hands and screamed at him how much she hated him. She yelled at him, pulled at his clothes, and wanted to make him feel how badly she hurt. "You liar! You lied to me!" she screamed over and over. Finally she collapsed against him, his arms wrapped around her and he whispered apologetic words to her.

Several minutes later she pulled away from him and sat down on the chair he'd been sitting in. "I'm sorry," she said. She sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him. "Oh God," she said and took another deep breath. "I think you should start at the beginning."

Pamela sat there and listened to her husband expose his true self. He told her about the first time he wondered if there was something different about him. He shared with her the time he and one of his baseball teammates explored each other after a junior high ball game. Victor told her how he'd found someone really special in high school and they learned things together. He told her about the time his father confronted him and how his dad delivered the first beating that Victor ever received. He told her how his mother cried, blaming herself for his "disease"; that was what they called it.

Victor painted pictures for her describing the lie he'd been living. He'd sneak away and take care of the desires he had. He told her about keeping the secret bottled up for so long, because he was in so deep. He shared with her how much he loved their kids and how he did love her, but he just couldn't continue living this way anymore. He reassured her that the lovers he'd taken in the past were clean and he always used protection.

Her voice was monotone when she thanked him for that. She was in shock, he knew this so he squeezed her fingers and told her he'd be leaving, but would give her a number where he could be reached.

He got up and headed to their room. Victor passed his son's bedroom and glanced at the posters of Sesame Street characters. He chuckled as memories of his son opening up a Christmas present and squealing when Elmo started shaking and singing. Victor took a moment to walk into his daughters' room. He glanced at the doll houses and the numerous unicorns and ballerina's. This was going to confuse them. He hoped Pam would agree to join a group or seek some sort of professional guidance for them.

Pam heard him leave an hour later. She stood up and picked up the phone. She dialed the number to his work and asked for her husband's lover. She waited while the call went through and she kept telling herself to hang up. The voice that came on the line caused her stomach to roll from nervousness. "Hi," she whispered.

Sam waited for a moment to see if the woman on the other end was going to say more. "Hello . May I help you with something?" he asked when she didn't add anything else to her hello.

He heard her intake of breath and something inside him clicked. "Pamela?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. Her voice was shaky and a tear slipped down her cheek. She took a seat at the desk and toyed with a pencil. "Do you love him?" she asked.

"Yes," Sam answered. "Very much."

"Oh . . . so do I."

"I see," he said. He waved off his secretary when she popped in the door to ask him a question. "Is he there?"

"No. . . he left me your number though. I guess it's your house number or cell phone?" She rattled off the number and took a deep breath. "You know . . . I guess I always knew."

"Many do. They just don't want to see it."

"Yeah? I guess so," she sniffed and took a deep breath. "When you see him, tell him I'm okay and we'll sit down together later this week to talk about the kids."

"All right. I will," Sam said.

She was about to hang up when she brought the phone back to her mouth. "Samuel."

"Yes?"

"He's special. You know that right?"

Sam smiled into the phone. "Yes, Pamela. I know he is." He heard her hang up the phone and then he did. He buzzed his secretary and told her he was taking off the rest of the day and he'd see her Monday. She kept her thoughts to herself and agreed to cancel his meetings and reschedule them. He walked out of the office and headed to the parking garage to get his car.

On the way home he stopped and grabbed some Chinese and a bottle of wine. He wasn't planning on romance this evening. Victor wouldn't be in the mood for that. Samuel just wanted to be his friend tonight. From this moment on they had all the time in the world to be lovers. He got back onto the highway and was soon lost in thought while he drove toward his future.

He remembered the first time Victor and him hit it off sexually. It wasn't too long after they'd been introduced at work. Victor had come to deliver a rather large box to Samuel's office, but his secretary had been out to lunch, so Victor knocked on Sam's door and asked what he wanted done with it.

Sam had waved him in and held up his hand signaling for Victor to stay a moment. Victor did and while he glanced over the room, Sam found himself studying the man. When Victor finally felt the gaze of the other man he looked back at him and returned the appraisal. Their eyes connected and Sam knew Victor's pulse quickened, just as his did. That was the beginning. Samuel asked Victor out that night and from then on they were inseparable with the exception of when Victor went home to his wife. That thought would normally bring a sad expression to Sam's face, but today it didn't; today Sam was going home to Victor.

Victor was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee when he saw Sam's car pull in. He grinned and drained the cup dry. He rinsed it out and placed it in the sink. Vic gazed out the window, Sam waved to him. The bottle of wine and Chinese take out was lifted in the air and Sam nodded for Victor to meet him at the front door.

The first thing Samuel noticed when he walked in was the emptiness of his home was gone. He no longer felt alone. He felt at peace. Victor took the wine and pressed his lips to Sam's. Their tongues touched and slipped along the sides of each others. Though the kiss was short, it spoke volumes and Sam knew that the wine would wait as would the food.

"Let's put this on ice," Victor said, taking the bottle of wine from his friend and lover.

Sam agreed and he followed Vic into the kitchen. His eyes moved over his friend's 6'-2" figure and he felt himself continuing to respond with each step Victor made. "Vic. . . I don't know if I can wait till we get upstairs."

Victor took the Chinese food and placed it in the fridge along with the wine, deciding that the wine would taste just as good coming from the fridge as it would from an ice bucket. "I never said you had to."

A groan escaped Samuel and he closed the distance between him and Victor. "Oh God Vic. I've wanted this for so long. To have you here and know you'll not be leaving in a few hours." Sam's fingers moved into Victor's hair and he pulled his head toward him. Their mouth's met again and their tongues began to dance and stroke along side each other's once more.

Vic felt the sandy surface of Samuel's tongue and slipped his back and forth over it, increasing the speed. His fingers moved to Sam's tie and worked it free. He then opened up the buttons of his lover's shirt until he reached Sam's slacks. Sam stepped back and shrugged off his sports coat and pulled his dress shirt from his pants. "Oh fuck babe. I'm so hard right now," Sam groaned.

A laugh erupted from Victor's throat and his fingers skated up Sam's chest. He flicked his nipples then pushed the dress shirt off his lover's shoulders. His fingers skated over Sam's skin and he brought his lips to his neck. He kissed the warm flesh, pulled it with his teeth, and sucked hungrily from him. "Oh yes, Vic," Sam muttered.

Victor's hands moved down to grasp Samuel's waist and he pulled his hips closer to him. As his tongue traced up his lover's throat his hands massaged the firm skin. He licked his ear, traced the curve, sucked at that lobe, and then nipped hard. Sam shuddered, his cock jerked and he moved his hand to Victor's cock. He stroked it through his jeans and pushed hard. His fingers released the button of his fly and both hands worked free the zipper.

"Mmm . . . ," Vic moaned into Sam's ear. "I want you baby," he whispered. He put his hand over Samuel's and entwined his fingers with his. He brought them to his lips and sucked on each one, watching Sam's eyes grow thick with hunger. Samuel shivered with lust as he watched Victor move to his knees.

"Ahh Vic. . . oh fuck baby. You know how much I love that," Sam felt Vic's tongue lapping at his cock. He watched as Victor helped him remove his shoes. He cooperated while Vic moved his hands up under the pin-striped pants and pulled the black socks off of each leg.

Victor slid his palms over Samuel's legs, kneading the muscles underneath the soft, expensive material. His eyes locked on Sam's and he leaned in, ran his tongue over the cloth-covered cock.

"Oh fuck Vic don't tease me." Samuel's cock strained against his pants and he placed his hands on Victor's shoulders. His fingers curled into the material of the black polo-shirt that Victor was wearing.

Victor smirked and pulled the button from its home and slipped the zipper down until he opened the fly of the pants completely. He then laced his fingers over the waist band and pulled both the pants and the boxers down in one quick jerk. He groaned as he watched the eight inch cock spring free and bob in front of him. Vic licked his lips in anticipation and waited for Sam to step out of his pants.

Samuel watched Victor's hand move to the inside of his thigh and he felt the grazing touch of his lover's fingers begin a waltz upon his skin. Victor leaned his head in and slid his tongue over Sam's velvet package. He pressed it back and forth several times before guiding the first jewel into his mouth. He suckled it, rolled it around his mouth; his teeth grazed it gently. Sam groaned and pushed his fingers into Victor's thick black hair. "Oh shit baby, suck all of it. Take them both," he muttered.