Under a Falling Star

Under a Falling Star

A Short Story

Fabian Black

EB00K EDITION

Copyright © Fabian Black 2010

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Published by Chastise-Books

Cover Art by Jade
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Under a Falling Star

Tay always tells people we met at Christmastime under a falling star. He has a romantic nature, and there’s no harm in that. I like his romantic nature. I suppose in essence we did indeed meet under a falling star at Christmastime, but it was not, as implied, a heavenly star streaking across a winter sky. It was a heavy ornament that sat atop a huge department store Christmas tree.

As well as being a romantic, Tay is as curious as a cat. He simply cannot resist
investigating
. The department store tree caught his attention as he wandered around choosing seasonal gifts. Was it or was it not a real tree? He decided it was real and attempted to snap off a needle in order to release and enjoy the clean spicy scent of pine resin.

Alas he was mistaken in his assumption. The tree was not real. It was a faux tree and his efforts to twist off a plastic needle unbalanced it from its holdings. It began to shiver and shake, tremble and flounder, shedding baubles, lights and tinsel and finally the glittering five-pointed star at its pinnacle. Shoppers scattered with squeals and shouts of alarm, but not Tay. He stood there frozen and wide-eyed as the star plummeted earthwards. I acted quickly, grabbing his arm and yanking him away before the meteorite could strike him. It struck the floor and exploded into fragments. The tree then felled itself, crashing to the ground.

Tay looked at me and then at the devastation he had wrought and took to his heels, dashing for the store exit. In his embarrassment he quite forgot about the unpaid for items clutched in his hands, a striped wool scarf and a Simpson’s key ring. As soon as he crossed the shop threshold the security tags set off the alarm and a security guard gave chase, mistaking him for a shoplifter.

He was caught and brought back to the shop protesting his innocence and trying to explain he hadn’t meant to steal the items. I stepped into the fray as a witness. The shop manager was a kind and sensible soul and accepted my account as well as Taylor’s apologies for touching what he should not have touched and accidentally wrecking the store’s Christmas centrepiece.

We left the store together, walking in silence. Once outside he turned to me and offered his thanks for saving him from injury and also for standing up for him, his cheeks flushing a little as he did so. I told him it was no problem, my pleasure. Suddenly for no apparent reason we both started laughing. We then introduced ourselves. He was Taylor, or Tay as he preferred and I was Julian. ‘Ju,’ he had inquired, eyebrows raised, ‘Jules?’ Just Julian I told him. He gave a cheeky grin, asking, ‘and are you, just I mean?’ I replied that indeed I was, as my actions had proven, I had defended him had I not.

On impulse I asked if he fancied a coffee to help him get over his fright. He said yes and I took him to my favourite café by the quayside. He asked what I did for a living and I confessed to being the curator of the town’s small museum. In turn I asked what he did and he said he was only an assistant in a care home, as if afraid I would deem it a lowly job. I certainly did not. It soon became clear that he genuinely cared about the people he worked with.

There was a bowl of what appeared to be tiny polished pebbles on the café table and I could see Tay’s eyes wandering to it as we talked. He’d obviously never seen brown sugar in such a fancy form. In the end curiosity got the better of him and he reached long fingers into the bowl to pick up a piece of the confection to examine it. Somehow he upset the bowl sending sugar pebbles scattering across the table and pattering to the floor. He made an effort to clear up the mess only to knock his coffee cup over and then the cream jug. His skin flamed once again as he uttered sheepish apologies and tried to make good the chaos he had caused. Once again we found ourselves laughing.

We enjoyed a second cup of coffee without mishap and then went our separate ways after wishing each other the best of the season. We shook hands and it might have been imagination but I fancied his hand stayed joined with mine a fraction longer than strictly necessary, or perhaps it was my hand that lingered.

That evening I went to a party with friends, a Christmas event. I went through the outward motions of socialising but in all honesty my thoughts were elsewhere. For some reason I couldn’t get Tay out of my mind. I kept picturing him, a lean young man with chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes, dressed in impossibly scruffy jeans and a semi-smart jacket. Something about him had spoken to me. I permitted a memory. He reminded me of Josh, my sweet, clumsy Josh whose life had been all too short. Mindless hatred had ended a relationship I had lifetime hopes for. Two strangers attacked him and left him dying from his injuries.

After the party I went home, my home, with a man called Scott and we had sex, but even while fucking him I was visualising the man I’d had coffee with that afternoon, imagining it was his naked body beneath me. It was ridiculous. I was too old to be fantasising in such a manner about a man who in all likelihood wasn’t even gay.

Scott left my bed in the early hours of the morning. Kissing my cheek he told me to call him. We both knew I wouldn’t, what we’d wanted we’d had, sex. There was no more to be said between us.

In the days that followed I put Tay out of my mind. There was no point dwelling on a man I would probably never see again. As things turned out I was wrong. He crashed back into my life on Christmas Eve, exactly two weeks after our first meeting.

I was at work. It was afternoon and the museum was deserted. Few people put visiting a local museum high on their list of Christmas Eve priorities. I was working alone having let the rest of the staff leave early in order to begin their Christmas Day preparations. I had no real preparations to speak of. I would be lunching with my brother and his family. All I had to do was turn up at the appointed time bearing gifts.

I was making a start on clearing one of the exhibition rooms; carefully packing away photographs, ration cards, gasmasks and other paraphernalia relating to the town’s wartime history. The room was to be used for a nomadic exhibition in the New Year, showcasing a variety of curiosities from private collections, everything from dinosaur fossils to science inventions, some as early as the sixteenth century. I was looking forward to it. I’d lobbied hard for the museum to be used as one of the venues for the show. It would bring in more visitors.

I was in process of labelling a box of photographs ready for storage when the bell on the museum door jangled, indicating that someone had entered the building. Heavy clattering and crashing noises soon followed the jangling.

My immediate reaction was that someone was attempting to rob the till in the small gift shop situated in the reception area, perhaps hurling it to the floor in an effort to open it. It wouldn’t be the first time. They wouldn’t find much in it. It had been a slow week. All the same I hurried to investigate.

It was not an attempted robbery. I stared in disbelief. It was Tay and he appeared to be engaged in a fight to the death with the suit of armour that usually stood guard by the entrance door. It lay in pieces on the stone flagged floor with him kneeling amongst its constituent parts, a sword grasped in his hand.

I helped him up from a mess of greaves, breastplate, helm and gauntlets. He stammered apologies, saying he hoped he hadn’t damaged a valuable historical artefact. He hadn’t meant to touch it. It was just he had been impressed by it and had wondered if it were real or fake - plastic made to look like metal. He had touched the hilt of the sword and somehow dislodged it. In trying to prevent it falling forwards he had managed to bring the entire suit crashing from its pedestal.

Poor Tay. His face was a mask of embarrassment and horror. I assured him that the armour was an aluminium replica and undamaged. It represented the town’s mediaeval past and the grand castle that had once reputedly graced it, though no hard evidence of a castle had ever been found.

I locked the museum door and asked if he would like a coffee. He nodded acceptance and I led him to my office where I had a kettle for my personal use. I filled it and switched it on and then turned to him with a smile, trying not to rake him from head to foot with appreciative eyes. If anything he was even more attractive than I remembered and a certain part of my anatomy reacted accordingly. I was glad to have chosen casual, loose fitting cargo pants and an over shirt to wear to work that day instead of my usual snug trousered suit, shirt and tie ensemble.

‘What brings you here on a cold Christmas Eve?’ I asked as I waited for the kettle to boil. He gave a shrug and said he’d had time to kill on his day off work and thought he’d check out some local history. He hadn’t realised the town had its own museum until he’d met me. He then said he’d have come sooner only he’d been working double shifts because of staff shortages. A wash of warm colour highlighted his cheekbones at that point and my heart rate picked up speed. Could it be possible he was as interested in me as I was in him? Our eyes met and held for a second and the colour in his cheekbones deepened. He looked away first leaving me wondering whether I’d imagined the spark of interest.

He turned his attention on the large 3D jigsaw model of a T-Rex that adorned my desk, asking if I’d done it. I nodded and he asked what material it was made from, reaching to touch it as he did so. I had visions of it disintegrating before my eye and playfully smacked his hand telling him it was made of wood and it had taken me the best part of a week to complete, so no touchy. He took no offence at my words or action, ruefully admitting he had a compulsive habit of touching things best left alone.

We drank our coffee and talked with comfortable ease and I liked him better with every passing second. He was anxious about the armour, apologising again for wrecking it. In order to reassure him I reassembled it, describing each piece and its function as I fitted it back onto the iron frame.

I offered him a guided tour of the museum and its exhibits. He seemed genuinely interested, asking questions as he perused the cases. He stood close by me, I could feel the heat from his body and again I blessed the providence that had made me choose clothes suitable for hiding an erection. I aimed several discreet glances at the crotch of his jeans, but his jacket did a similar job to my shirt and I was unable to ascertain whether my proximity was having a similar effect on his cock.

We toured the ground floor first and then the upper galleries. As we descended the narrow staircase on our way back down, him ahead of me, he lost his footing on the last few steps. I shot out a hand to steady him, but a fraction too late to save him from making an undignified landing on his bottom at the foot of the stairs.

I pulled him to his feet and he thanked me, making no effort to free his hands from mine. Looking me straight in the eyes he made a comment about needing a minder to keep him safe and out of trouble and if I ever tired of being a curator I was welcome to apply for the post. Invitation was issued and accepted in a heartbeat and sealed with a kiss that left both of us breathless. There was no mistaking his eagerness, or mine.

More urgent, passionate kisses followed during which we quickly undressed each other. His body was as beautiful as I had imagined and I took pleasure in running my hands over his smooth skin. Sex was oral seeing as neither of us had a condom to hand.

I knew I would never again be able to walk up or down the museum’s Georgian staircase without thinking of Tay and what we had shared there.

Afterwards as we re-dressed a part of me regretted our impetuous action, fearful it was all my relationship with him would amount to. I wanted more from him than a single sexual encounter. After Josh I never thought I’d ever be ready or willing to commit to love again, but I was. I’d just been waiting for the right man. Some instinct told me that Tay might be that man.