Tread the Boards: Sky High Scaffolders, #3

CHAPTER ONE

TOM

HE PULLED AN EXCESSIVE amount of toilet paper from the roll and used it to wipe his hands. After tossing it into the toilet, Gary focused on doing up his belt. He didn't glance at Tom.

See you around. Gary unlocked the door and left. 

Not one moment of eye contact after they'd both come.

Was that it? Tom wanted to ask but didn't. When would he ever learn? Guys like that wanted him for one thing. They took what they could get, and then they left.

TALL, BROAD, AND BIG guns, Gary was all cocky bravado in the bar. The sort of guy who could throw a couple of twinks over one shoulder. Masculinity oozed from every pore. Nothing was too big for this man to conquer. 

No one was going to call out 'fag' across the street at him. 

And he reeked of sex appeal. The way he held his pint. The way he stood: his legs slightly apart as if the contents of his pants needed some space. One thumb hooked inside the belt loop of his jeans, the rest of his fingers hung pointing, inviting anyone checking him out to also check out his crotch. 

A knee up and one foot resting on the bar rail added to the relaxed, casual stance when they made eye contact. Big, tough, and macho, Gary could have had any man he wanted, or so Tom assumed. 

Therein lay the problem: That kind of man was Tom's weakness.

Gary turned to focus all of his attention on Tom. 

At thirty, far too old to act twink, Tom still played to his strengths when chatting up men. He had elegance and sophistication. Despite all the, for want of a better word, shit he'd faced over the past few years, he still liked to think he had a certain je ne sais quoi that appealed to butch trade like Gary.

Gary was a charmer, the perfect gent; he'd bought Tom a couple of drinks right off the bat. They spent an hour chatting at the bar, and Tom thought they were hitting it off. Gary told humorous tales of his life as a construction worker. He looked like he'd stepped out of a world wrestling advert, or a superhero film in which, of course, he'd play the role of the handsome, muscled protagonist. Gary ticked all of the boxes that made Tom's blood pump faster, and all in one direction.

In retrospect, Gary was probably a straight guy just looking to get his ego stroked and his cock sucked before going home to his wife. 

And he got it. 

If the signs were there from the start that Gary was a prize jerk, Tom had ignored them. Tom shone like a beacon, signaling to the Garys of the world that he was easy prey, a willing victim for pricks like Gary to use. Take me, and I require nothing in return.

Fuck that. 

He wanted a lot and was willing to give a lot to the right man. 

When the big guy suggested they find a little privacy, the smallest room at the drinking venue didn't spring to mind. Tom went there anyway. Following the stranger's lead.

Action in the men's room should have sent alarm bells ringing. Who does that? It had seemed hot and sexy when they went in there. Like they couldn't wait a moment longer to get somewhere more private and more conducive. But a guy who might want to stick around for more than just one orgasm doesn't take you in the bar bathroom within an hour of meeting. Tom knew this. He swallowed down his pride. 

He hoped it might lead to more; he knew it wouldn't. 

There was only one guy in the bathroom, using the urinal. 

All right, Gary said. Who did that? Spoke to a stranger in the men's room?

Tom stayed behind as Gary opened the door to the cubicle. He then stepped aside. After you.

First, Tom entered, then Gary followed; he locked the door behind them and grabbed Tom's face. The grip was more forceful than Tom would've liked, but the kiss was perfect: passionate and full of hungry lust.

Tom couldn't forget that there was a man at the urinal, but the noise of water spraying into the sink followed by the hand drier's mechanical whirring indicated he'd soon be gone. Finally, the sound of the door opening. Either that man had left, or someone else had entered. Whatever happened beyond that locked door took secondary importance to the fact that Gary's jeans were already down around his thick, hairy thighs.

Gary had a hand on his hard dick and the other pressing into Tom's shoulder.

His real name probably wasn't Gary.

Tom was a regular here, and he'd never met Gary before. 

A few minutes later, Gary was reaching for the toilet paper.

Just a few minutes.

And then he was gone.

Where did that leave Tom? Still in the cubicle of the men's room with his pants undone, dirty knees, and the taste of cum in his mouth. Humiliation coiled in his stomach. 

He'd come too. Gary had stuck around to give him a hurried handjob, but hadn't offered to get down on the floor. He had turned his face away to make it clear kissing was no longer an option, not after he'd come.

Tom was such a sucker for a masculine guy. That was exactly what he was: a sucker, and easy prey for guys who wanted just that. 

And with all he'd received in that cubicle, he might as well have been home alone with his hand, his lube, and his toys. Oh, and his imagination. Sure, there was something good about getting his hands on real man-flesh; a real cock filling his mouth. 

But this guy hadn't even returned the favor. 

Did he really believe Tom had only wanted a handjob? 

Not a kiss? 

Not a fucking BJ? 

Not a fuck? 

Not a 'see you again tomorrow'? 

Gary didn't know, or didn't care, that Tom wanted all of that and more. A lover, a companion, a man of his own. Gary was gone and didn't give a fuck, not in any sense of the word. 

Whereas Tom felt humiliated and used. He'd agreed to come into this cubicle and had some idea of what would take place. He'd consented every step of the way. He wished he'd spat. 

Now, Tom was going to walk back into that bar with his head held high and act as if he didn't care. 

After all, that was what Tom did: he acted. 

If Andrew could see him now, he would turn in his grave.

CHAPTER TWO

BEN

AS PER THE INSTRUCTION received by text message while he'd been asleep, Ben drove to the headquarters of his employer, Sky High Scaffolds. SHS occupied a spacious pitch on the edge of farmland, a couple of miles out of town. It was a relatively short journey, but long enough to worry about the reason for the unexpected summons. 

Ben had expected to walk from his house to the main road where he would wait to be collected by Frank in the SHS company truck. From there, they'd travel to the worksite together. He'd woken up in the morning to discover the message on his phone, sent from head office in the middle of the night, telling him about the change of plans.

Ben's first reaction was to contact the blokes he'd expected to work with that day. Frank had had the same message and was none the wiser. A couple of the other guys confirmed they received the same text. It seemed that, in the night, the boss had summoned the entire, sixty-strong labor force to a rendezvous. 

The last-minute change to Ben's morning routine gave cause for concern. This was typically the way construction company bosses delivered bad news; perhaps the company was going under. There was plenty of construction work, plenty more scaffold businesses; he should get a new contract easily enough. Although competing with the rest of the blokes from SHS wouldn't be great: out-of-work scaffolders would flood the local job market. Ben jumped to all the worst conclusions.

Other workers' vehicles packed the yard by the time Ben arrived. There was nowhere left to park, so Ben turned around, drove back out, and parked along the lane leading up to the depot. A huge sign, red writing on a white background, stood by the gate, and another hung on the wall of the office building: 'Sky High Scaffolds.' Ben was no stranger here because it wasn't just the site for the office staff and for storing company vehicles. It was also the store for miles of steel scaffolding tube and thousands of couplers, clamps, netting, and bright, spongy safety accessories.

Judging by the full parking lot, it appeared every man had arrived ahead of Ben, and each man had driven in separately. However, they weren't all there now.

At a glance, Ben would estimate about twenty construction blokes were milling around, not sixty. Ben knew them all by sight, some better than others. He'd worked with most of them, and socialized with the rest, from time to time. There were periodic get-togethers, such as the notorious, wild Christmas parties.

A few men were loading trucks with netting and scaffold boards, preparing for the day ahead. Most were standing around, talking, smoking, stamping their feet, and rubbing their hands for warmth.

Many of the company vehicles were gone, which would be expected under normal circumstances as those working further afield should have set off two hours earlier to get to sites in London, Surrey, or Essex.

If other scaffolders had been and gone, left their cars there for the day, and taken out the SHS trucks and vans, then maybe there was no need to worry. Perhaps the company wasn't in trouble, and they weren't about to lose their jobs or forced to accept a pay cut.

What's up? Ben asked the first group of guys he encountered when he approached the gate. They stood smoking, off SHS premises.

No idea, mate. There are hot drinks for everyone on arrival. And the boss is gonna talk to us all before we go to work.

Ben could see the boss, Mr. Lisk, a short distance ahead of him talking to some of the men.

We've still got jobs then?

Yeah. Lisk says it's all cushty. Nothing to worry about. We're the last to arrive, and the rest of the blokes have already left for work.

Rita is sorting out hot drinks, and Lisk is acting friendly. They seem happy enough, so I don't think it can be bad news, but we've got no idea. I think they've been here since five o'clock this morning, meeting with the guys who started earlier than us.

Thanks. Any ideas what it's about?

No. I called one of the guys who starts earlier; he wouldn't tell, said to wait and hear it from the boss.

I don't want to have to look for a new job, said Ben.

Who does?

It's the traveling. I can't leave home at six in the morning or earlier every day of the week. I've got my kid to think of. Ben didn't expect sympathy, just had to voice the concerns that had been going through his mind.

Don't worry, mate. The early crew said there's no cause for concern. Let's find out what the boss has got to say.

Be great if we're all due a bonus.

Ben nodded his head to the guys at the gate and left them to their cigarettes. He went directly to the office. A hot beverage to chase the morning chill away sounded good, and he'd welcome caffeine too.

Before he reached the building, Ben was approached by Mr. Lisk, the company boss and founder of SHS.

Good morning, Ben. Thanks for coming in.

Ben wasn't aware he'd had any choice but appreciated the polite comment and the cheerful, reassuring tone of the boss's voice.

Frank has your itinerary for the day. You're working with him and Eugene. Go and get yourself a cup of tea, and then I'll have a few words with everyone.

How is Connor? Just before knocking off work yesterday, Ben had heard that Connor Lisk was taken to hospital due to an on-site injury. That was all he knew. Connor wasn't just a fellow scaffolder but the boss's son. I heard he was injured.

He is fine, thanks for asking. I'll talk about that to everyone.

Mr. Lisk seemed in good spirits and, of course, perhaps he wanted to talk to everybody about health and safety issues after his son had an accident at work the previous day. That made sense. Health and safety were a priority for any construction company. 

Despite every protective measure, occasional workplace injuries and deaths occurred, especially in a field such as construction. Fortunately, SHS hadn't been party to any serious incidents ever, as far as Ben knew. Dangerous working conditions and practices could close a company and put its directors in prison. No wonder they were having a workplace meeting after a man had to go to hospital.

A few minutes later, the men gathered to listen to Mr. Lisk. Holding a mug of hot tea in his hand, Ben stood toward the back of the crowd. Easily able to see over everyone else, he was the tallest man present. 

"Thank you for all coming here. You all know my son, Connor. Yesterday he had a fall and broke his wrist. The good news is, it wasn't the company's fault; the second lot of good news is that it was only his wrist. He'll make a full recovery. The bad news is, he'll be off the scaffold for months. He is off work, of course, for a few weeks. When he comes back, initially, he'll be in the office working out your rosters as usual, but he won't be able to drive or work on the boards, so Sky High Scaffolds is short one senior man right now.

Mr. Lisk stopped speaking and looked at everybody. Every man stared intently back at the CEO. There must be more. Connor may be heir to the Sky High Empire, but this news hardly required delaying every man from getting to work.

And there is something else that you might want to know. Connor got married a couple of weeks ago when he was off work. It might come as a surprise to you, and it certainly came as a surprise to me. I had no idea. It was a secret wedding.

Stunned silence. This got their attention. One of the blokes getting married was hardly announcement-worthy, but to hear it was so secret even his father didn't know about it was indeed interesting.

Ben glanced toward the door into the office building where Mrs. Lisk stood listening. A neutral expression on her face, giving nothing away. It was impossible to tell whether she was pleased about the wedding or about the announcement this morning.

Sneaking away to marry in secret, it sounded romantic. Ben thought best not to mention that to anyone; he'd probably watched too many rom-coms.

I only found out yesterday, and I want you all to know, so there's no gossip and speculation. And if anyone has any issues, we can get them out of the way.

A weird thing to say, Ben thought.

Anyway, it won't be a secret for much longer, so I can tell you now, Connor has married Lee.

Mr. Lisk said it as if everyone already knew Lee. Was she someone who worked in the office? Ben wondered. The name meant nothing to him. He did not recall Connor having a girlfriend called Lee.

Everyone else remained silent, their faces displaying equal ignorance.

Mr. Lisk continued. You all know Lee, the scaffolder. Most of you have worked with him at some time. He is married to my son.

As if they had suddenly come to life, the group seemed to respond en masse with a shuffle, gasp, or a whispered word of surprise from every man.

Are you saying Connor is gay? One of the men was the first to say the sentence out loud that was forming in everyone's mind.

Connor is bisexual, but I suppose that's irrelevant now he is married to Lee.

What's the date? Is it April Fools' Day? said another voice in the crowd.

No, Joseph, it's no joke. Mr. Lisk looked at Joseph and then around at everybody. They are now married, two blokes, because they can do that these days.

The crowd fell silent again.

"I know you'll make jokes about it. I will too. But let's keep it friendly. I wanted to make sure you all know where we stand. Connor is my son. One day he may well take over SHS. Lee also works for the company. None of that is going to change. So, if there's anyone not happy working in a