By lthr_jock
As I park my BMW in the quiet street, I’m feeling nervous. I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m not used to this queasy roil in the pit of my empty stomach. I look up at the house I’m visiting and part of me wants to turn around and drive home – and it’s a big part. But I made a deal, and I don’t back out of deals. But this deal is such a tough one. I lean back in the leather seat and close my eyes. What was I thinking? How did I get myself into this stupid position? I think back to yesterday evening – it all started so normally.
I look at myself in the mirror before getting dressed to head out to Backstreet. I’m 40 now and while I’m not as fit as I was when I was 25, I’m still muscled and give the gym bunnies a run for their money when I hit the weights – which is most days. At 6ft2” I’m a natural top and I have the rugged face that comes from my Polish heritage. My black hair is greying and I keep it short – No 1 crop at the sides and longer on top. I have a thick moustache and neat goatee and am hairy most everywhere else. Everything about me screams “Top” which makes life very easy indeed as that’s the role I love to play. I grin as I imagine what everyone else at the bank would say if they saw what their manager gets up to in his free time. I run my hands through my hair, using some gel to spike it in place and then I get ready to head out.