A Second Chance: Chapter 7

Oscar’s first reaction on rousing was to turn instinctively into the comforting warmth at his side. Just for a moment he thought he was lying once more beside Marie but, as he banished the confusion of sleep, he became conscious of a more pronounced dip in the mattress and a more solid presence in the bed. Instinctively, he drew back, not wishing to invade the personal space of the man he still thought of, first and foremost, as his boss. 

Then he recalled all they’d done together the night before and smiled at his own unwarranted reticence. Tentatively at first, he edged towards Simon until his head rested on the older man’s chest and their legs became entwined. He didn’t want to wake Simon but he couldn’t resist the lure of snuggling up against another human form after months of loneliness in the big bed.

Once comfortable, he lay still, anxious not to disturb his bedfellow. But Simon responded, even in sleep, to Oscar’s light touch by turning towards him and extending a protective arm across his shoulders. Oscar found himself clamped firmly against Simon’s body and he stiffened, holding his breath until he was assured by the slow rise and fall of Simon’s chest that he wasn’t about to wake. Then he relaxed in the embrace, overwhelmed by the closeness, the strength, the scent and the security of lying in Mr Carlyle’s arms. 

Unable to see the alarm clock, he judged from the wan light penetrating around the curtains that it was after dawn and he resolved to remain awake until Simon stirred in order to savour the glorious sensation of being held and the illusion of being loved. In the stillness, he could feel the beating of Simon’s heart against his chest and Simon’s sweet breath wafting past his ear and he closed his eyes to try and imprint the moment upon his memory. 

The next sensation he registered felt like a minor earthquake as Simon woke, stretched and sat up in bed, effectively tipping the sleeping Oscar out of his arms in the process. Oscar hastily began to scoot across the mattress in order to give his boss space but he was arrested by a restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going, gorgeous?”

The handy excuse of a trip to the bathroom died on his lips as Oscar suddenly realised he was stark naked under the covers and, in the cold light of day, he didn’t fancy parading in the buff. 

“No, you can wait for the bathroom, can’t you, if moving means I get to see you naked in the daylight!” observed Simon, wickedly.

Oscar was about to prevaricate but then caught Simon’s eye and laughed. “How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?” he enquired in exasperation.

“I always know what you’re thinking. You’d better get used to it.”

That sounded both ominous and promising. It seemed Mr Carlyle had long term plans for the two of them and they involved closer supervision than Oscar was accustomed to. But for the moment, Simon seemed quite comfortable engaging in his morning routine in a strange house without any of the uncertainty which Oscar would have felt in similar circumstances. He swung his long legs out of bed and walked naked and unashamed across the bedroom floor, heading for the bathroom. Oscar’s reticence did not extend to averting his eyes when such a glorious view was on offer but once Simon had disappeared he hastily jumped out of bed and pulled clean clothes from the chest of drawers, determined to be fully dressed before Simon reappeared. 

In fact, the older man deliberately took his time in the bathroom in order to afford his shy and inexperienced lover the privacy in which to make himself decent. When he returned he was wearing a towel around his waist, his damp hair showed he’d taken a quick shower and he was clean shaven. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I had a rummage in your bathroom cabinet and found a pack of disposal razors and a new toothbrush.”

“Of course not. I should have told you to help yourself to anything you needed. What would you like for breakfast? I bought a selection, just in case.”

“I can’t start the day without a cup of coffee, I”m afraid, but other than that, I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Well, there’s porridge, cereal or eggs and bacon. Take your pick.”

“There’s no need to make a cooked breakfast. Could you microwave a bowl of porridge? I rather like the sound of that.”

“Okay,” said Oscar as he headed for the door, “coffee and porridge coming up. And I’ll do a couple of slices of toast if you’ve got time for them before for work.”

“There’s no hurry. I’m not rushing off and leaving you this morning, Oscar. There are things we need to talk about.” He saw the sudden flash of anxiety in Oscar’s eyes and hastily added, “That was no one night stand we just had. As far as I’m concerned this is the start of something serious, something very special, and I hope you feel the same. I think we need to be honest with one another, right from the start, about our desires and expectations.”

“That sounds a bit scary.”

“Well, it isn’t. It’ll be fun. I’ll ring the office and tell them I’ll be in later on this morning. We can have a leisurely breakfast and a bit of a heart to heart.”

It seemed there was to be no formality to the ensuing conversation — nor any delay. Once Simon had come down to the kitchen and taken his first sip of hot coffee he lobbed an opening question at Oscar. “So how was it for you last night, then? Did the earth move?”

Oscar was glad he could turn his back on Simon and busy himself with setting bread in the toaster because he wasn’t sure how to reply. He knew he was being teased but he couldn’t think of a funny answer because, for him, the truth about his experience was too precious for laughter. He hadn’t bargained, however, for Simon’s immediate comprehension nor for the speed with which he put down his coffee mug, crossed the kitchen and encircled Oscar’s waist from behind. “The earth certainly moved for me,” Simon whispered in all sincerity. “I think I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

Oscar twisted round, startled. “But I wasn’t any good! I didn’t know what I was doing and I couldn’t give you what…”

Simon’s expression had darkened and he cut in sharply. “Do you remember what I said last night about nobody judging your performance?” It appeared he was expecting an answer.

“Yes, sir,” responded Oscar, meekly.

“Then you know it wasn’t about awarding marks for style.” It was said firmly but then Simon smiled and Oscar’s anxious expression began to dissolve. “I’m sorry,” Simon added as he looked into Oscar’s wide eyes. “I didn’t mean to alarm you but I hate to hear you put yourself down. Have you any notion of how exciting it was for me to make love to you? There’s nothing like winning the trust of someone inexperienced and taking them to the heights of bliss.”

“But we didn’t…” Oscar struggled to find the words for what he wanted to say, “we didn’t go the whole way.”

“So what? I don’t know when I last experienced such an intense orgasm and I seem to remember you were practically senseless with pleasure. We’ll experiment gradually, as and when you’re ready. By the time I enter you, you’ll be begging me for more!” Oscar blushed and averted his gaze but Simon wasn’t about to abandon the topic just because his lover was embarrassed. There were things that needed to be said. “There are no rules about this Oscar. There are no right or wrong ways for us to have sex, only ways that we both enjoy.”

“So last night was good for you too?” Oscar asked with dawning hope that he hadn’t proved a disappointment to this confident and experienced man.

“How can you doubt it, Oscar? It’s been a long time for me but it was worth the wait to finish up in bed with you.”

Oscar’s blush deepened, but with pleasure rather than with embarrassment. It was novel but exciting to learn that he was so desired, that he’d been able to give as much pleasure as he’d received. He felt a weight of anxiety fall away to be replaced by a growing sense of optimism about the future. “So when can we do it again?” he asked with a deceptively innocent face. 

Simon was just about to answer in reassuring terms when he detected the glimmer of mischief in Oscar’s eye. It was good to be reminded of the young man’s underlying sense of fun as he swiftly amended his own response. “We’ll do it when I say so and not before.” His tone held a hint of menace but Oscar now knew there was nothing to be scared of. “Remember I’m in charge in this relationship”, Simon continued. “I did warn you what to expect!”

“And showed me what I’d get if I cross you,” Oscar retorted with deliberate provocation.

It took Simon a moment to make the connection. “Ah, that time in my office. I got the impression then that a brisk spanking wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Or did I misjudge your reaction?”

“I thought you claimed always to know what I’m thinking!”

“Oh, I see I’m going to have to keep my wits about me when I’m dealing with you. Either that or turn you over my knee at the first sign of insolence!”

“You wouldn’t!”

“But you already know that I would. Seriously now, come and sit down and we’ll talk about this. The same principle applies as in our sexual activity; I’m not going to do anything unless you enjoy it too. I need to know how you’d feel about the occasional spanking.”

Oscar turned and collected the cooling slices which had popped up in the toaster. Then he sat down at the kitchen table, as instructed, and took a spoonful of porridge while he considered his response. Simon retrieved his mug and resumed drinking his coffee, apparently content to wait for Oscar’s answer.

“I’m not sure,” Oscar finally admitted. “I won’t deny that I’ve always been rather intrigued by the whole idea.” His eyes were firmly fixed on his bowl of porridge and a slight blush revealed his discomfiture. “And, yes, I have fantasised about being spanked by a man who gave me no choice in the matter. But when you spanked me in your office… Well, it hurt.” Oscar’s head came up in indignation. It damn well hurt.”

“It was meant to,” confirmed Simon with equanimity. “I wasn’t playing games.”

“But you might spank me as part of a game?” Oscar asked rather tentatively.

“If you thought it’d be a turn on.”

“And it wouldn’t hurt if it was a game?”

“Oh, I make no promises about that.”

“So you’d stop if I didn’t like it.”

“Of course. You’d always be in control.”

“No. I mean, I like the idea of not being in control.”

“I see; I can understand that. I like being in charge and I get a thrill from a submissive partner. But you would always have the means to call a halt.”

“Then I might be prepared to give it a try.” Oscar’s less than enthusiastic consent disguised the extent of his arousal and his trepidation. On the one hand, he could hardly believe he might be about to experience a spanking the like of which he’d been imagining since the onset of puberty. He’d only just had his first sexual encounter with a man and now there was a possibility he might end up over Simon’s knee for a punishing encounter with his firm hand.

Oscar’s breathing quickened at the thought and he felt a stirring of excitement in his loins. Would he be naked? Would he have to lower his underwear or would Simon do it for him? His heart beat faster as he considered the exquisite humiliation. Would Simon just use his hand or would he employ an implement? What would it sound like on bare flesh? How would it feel? He swallowed convulsively and then took a desperate gulp of coffee to relieve the dryness in his mouth.

“Well, that’s something for a bit later on. When we’re more established in our relationship.” 

Oscar didn’t know whether he felt disappointed or relieved. “Of course. There’s a lot to get used to first.”

“For me too. I’m enjoying getting to know you better. How about you come round to my house after work today? I’d like to show you my home and we could talk some more.”

“I don’t know where you live.”

“I’ll drive you straight from work.”

“I’m still on suspension, if you remember,” objected Oscar with some asperity.

“Of course I remember. But that doesn’t prevent you from coming into the office this afternoon. You could kill two birds with one stone if you dropped off the completed project and started to make your apologies to some of the ladies. You have written the letters, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Oscar rather uncertainly. “I’ve written them all but I wasn’t expecting to have to deliver them so soon. I need a bit of time to think about what I want to say.”

“I suspect that more time will only lead to more worry. Say what’s in your heart rather than anything you’ve rehearsed. It’ll come across much more naturally.”

“Would you mind taking a look at what I’ve written? I have tried to personalise the letters but the main bit is the same in them all. I hope that’s all right. It took me a long time to work out what to put.”

“I’d be happy to look through them, Oscar. I’ll do it after we finish breakfast.”


“And, Oscar, bring an overnight bag with you into the office. You may want to pack some toiletries, a change of clothes for the morning and a pair of pyjamas for tonight. Yes, definitely bring pyjamas.” Simon paused as Oscar lifted his coffee mug to his lips. “I’ll enjoy stripping them off you,” he finished.

The effect was all that Simon had hoped. Oscar spluttered with shock and coffee sprayed all over the table.