George groaned as he ordered a double espresso; his knee was playing up again. He got it reasonably comfortable under the table, then sat back and gazed at the passing parade - it was the first time he'd been to the Pride event for ages, but this time he'd been determined to make the effort as it was 20 years to the day that the Jupiter had closed down. That club had been his stamping ground when he'd first moved to the city and it held fond memories. The coffee arrived and he took a sip, then put the cup back on the saucer. Ah, those had been happy days.
"No, it can't be! George?"
He looked up to see a short, plump, balding gentleman of advancing years staring at him. The face was familiar, and then it clicked. "Good grief. Jacob?"
"Indeed it is."
"I thought you were dead."
"Not yet, though I suspect it won't be long. May I join you?" He pulled a chair out and sat down.
"I see you already have."
Jacob flagged down a passing waiter and ordered a coffee.
George frowned. "It must be ten, twelve years since I saw you last. So what brings you out for Pride?"
"The Jupiter closed twenty years ago today so I thought I'd come."
George nodded. "Yeah. Same here."
"So how you been?"
George adjusted his flat cap and got his pipe out. He shrugged. "As you'd expect: bits falling off slowly."
"Tell me about it. My prostate's a pain and the back's not good."
George finished filling his pipe and lit it. A plume of blue smoke issued from the bowl. A look of contentment passed across his face but was replaced with a frown as he watched a metallic blue lady in fishnet tights and rainbow hair go past on a penny-farthing bicycle. He shook his head. "Wasn't like that in our day."
Jacob gazed at the passing apparition. "Too right. You'd have got arrested looking like that."
They sat in contemplative silence for a while.
I liked the Jupiter," said Jacob. "Was fun being a top in those days. I remember one boy I picked up there, fucking beautiful, but he knew it. Thought he was God's gift. Arrogant little prick. I took him home, inserted the biggest butt-plug I'd got into his arse and made him crawl around licking all my boots. I'd lined them up on the playroom floor. Not what he'd been expecting," he chuckled.
George nodded. "Hmm. Your playroom was in the cellar wasn't it? I think you told me once."
"It was. Spent a year getting it together. 'A' frame, suspension posts, a small cell. It was a good space."
"Mine was on the first floor. I fitted it out with some good lighting. Could adjust it to light up just the electric suspension hoist, or the St Andrew's cross or the mummification board or the restraint table or the motorised dentist chair or anything else you wanted."
Jacob frowned. "Sounds good. Later I saw a second-hand examination table on eBay so I bought it. The room was plenty big enough so I put it in the middle."
George smiled. "Aye, I thought about one of those but there was a proper motorised operating table for sale so I got that instead. Took four of us to get it up there but it was worth it. Moves in lots of places. One boy came as soon as he saw it. I strapped him down to it, got him horny again and spent an hour edging him insane on it. He loved it."
"Edging for an hour? Ha! My record was five hours. For the last three the little sod was cross-eyed and hoarse from begging."
"Oh I wasn't talking about records," said George. "I had a lad over a weekend once. Didn't let him cum until ten minutes before I chucked him out. Two full days of almost continuous edging. He must have produced a bucketful of precum."
A Chinese dragon was passing. They watched it.
Jacob finished his coffee and ordered another. "You know, I think the longest time I had a sub in the playroom was a week. There was a lot of edging, but he was mainly into gunge. I got tubs full of goop. It took ages to clean the place up after. Mind you, he loved it. Must have shot his load twenty times during that weekend."
George nodded sagely. "Subs aren't what they were. Was a time you could do anything that turned you on with them and never mind what they wanted. And they knew it. It was the way things were then. Not any more. I had a lad in the playroom last week; wanted to be fucked, and to suck cock. Nothing else, he said. Bugger that, I thought, so I put him over the adjustable spanking horse, attached a Vacuglide to his cock and set about him with assorted paddles. Shouted the place down so I gagged him. That was a good session."
"Oh aye. It's horny doing something to a sub that he doesn't want. Some mates kidnapped a boy for me once – was my birthday and they did it as a present – kept him hooded the whole time. Had no idea where he was or who we were. Did all kinds of stuff to him. Kept him the whole day."
George inspected his pipe. "A day? I remember getting a homeless lad off the street back then. Offered him a warm bed and food. Was before RoHypnol had been invented but a good old-fashioned mickey finn worked a treat. He woke up strapped down in my playroom. Had him blindfolded for three days before I dumped him back. Collected a great deal of spunk from that boy. He didn't give it up easily though. Oh no. Struggled like fuck every time. I loved that."
He covertly adjusted his leg – the knee was playing up again – and Jacob ordered more coffee for them both.
"When I got the extension to the playroom done things really took off," said Jacob. "A whole floor of the house to use. Bought more gear as well. Now there's different sections: one's done up as an operating theatre, another's for interrogation, there's a gunge space with a drain in the floor, a dedicated spanking area, you name it. Lads come from miles around."
"Hmm. Mine got a lot bigger as well. I always wanted a stone-walled dungeon, and I thought about extending into my own cellar but it wouldn't have worked too well. So I sold up and bought a bigger place in the country. Had the whole ground floor and the cellars fitted out professionally by a friend, Guy. He makes film sets. Aye, it's a grand place now."
Jacob seemed impressed. "Is that right?"
The coffees arrived as a float playing loud disco music passed so George refilled his pipe and got it going until he could hear himself think again.
"Do you remember Carl?" George asked. "Hunky guy. Tightest leather jeans you've ever seen. Always wore a belt with a big silver star on it."
"Oh aye. I remember Carl. Everybody fancied the arse off him."
"That's right. Came for a session once a while ago and I ended up keeping him for six months. He coulnd't get enough of the place."
Jacob was thinking furiously. "What was the name of that boy…" His frown abruptly cleared. "Axel! That was him. Axel. Long blond hair past his shoulders. Looked like something out of Mad Max. Fucking sexy. And fucking beautiful. And hung like a horse."
"Oh aye, never know his name, though."
"He wanted to move in with me. I told him to fuck off – too full of himself."
George nodded sagely. He puffed at his pipe as a few minutes went by. "So, do you still play?"
"I certainly do. Got a stable of hunky young guys. Come round every week. They love the enormous playroom. Takes me all my time to keep up with them at my age. But they're stunners. Often keep a few in the fitted cell area for a few days."
"I've got a separate room for my cells. Guy – the film set builder – did a grand job in one part of the cellars. Stone walls and floors, sconces with real flames on the walls, ancient-looking wooden cells with iron bars all long two walls. There's a brazier in the middle – it's electric but it looks real – with branding irons in racks around it. Chains and leather restraints hanging down from the ceiling. I tell you, Jacob, it's real."
A shadow fell on the table. Both men looked up.
"George? Jacob? Fancy seeing you both here!"
The shadow resolved itself into an elderly guy with white hair and a beer gut. He pulled out one of the white plastic chairs and sat down.
"Greg," said George. He straightened his leg in preparation for getting up. "Nice to see you - but I must away, I'm afraid. Been sitting here chatting for far too long."
The new arrival put a restraining hand on George's arm. "Nonsense. Haven't seen either of you for a couple of weeks and it's Pride." He snagged a passing waiter and ordered coffees all round.
Jacob was looking uncomfortable. "So how are things?"
Greg beamed. "Things are good." He stared intently at the other two's faces. "God it must be years since you two have seen each other."
"Yes, quite a while," muttered George.
"So, Jacob. How's things with you? How's the bungalow? Have you finished that tiny garden yet?"
Jacob was cringing. "Erm, I think you've -"
George's eyebrows raised and a grin slowly appeared on his face. "Bungalow? What about the 'whole floor of the house' playroom with separate sections?"
Jacob muttered unintelligibly. He stood up. "I have to go."
But Greg wasn't listening. He'd turned to the other man. "And George. Meant to phone you. I must have left my keys in the little bedroom after last week's session – they're probably on the floor by the doorframe you tie me up in."
George was going red. He thought quickly. "Oh, in the little house?"
Greg laughed. "Don't be daft, you've only got the one."
"Well, I…" He ran out of steam.
"Ha!" A look of triumph lit up Jacob's face. "Bedroom? Doorframe? George, you're full of bullshit."
After a while George sighed. He looked sad. "Yeah, we both are, Jacob."
Greg made a face. "Oops. Have I put my foot in it?"
They looked at him. They were sulking.
"Hmm. I think I'd better go, then."
They watched him leave.
"Prick," George muttered. He smoked his pipe and Jacob watched the parade.
George adjusted his flat cap. "So," he said eventually, "No stable of hunky young stunners then?"
Jacob shook his head sadly. "Just one guy. Every other week. He's older than you and he has a colostomy bag."
They sat in silence for a while.
"One guy? And he has a colostomy bag?" George looked wistful. "You're lucky."