Caught in Possession

Pandora's Box

Bubbles swirled and frothed incandescently as the clear, boiling kettle flicked itself loudly off, Gulf's focus grounded back to the present by the sound, away from thoughts of Mew's veiny hands on his pliant, submissive body some hours earlier - the click of a hypnotherapist's fingers to bring a patient round to full consciousness.

He added teabags to the two waiting mugs on a kitchen worktop below, pouring in the scaldingly hot water - Mew had offered courteously, of course, to do the brewing, but English tea had become a curious passion of Gulf's, and one he liked to take charge of, no matter the venue or circumstance - calling out then over his shoulder to enquire:

"Do you take milk or sugar, Phi?"

Reaching to open the door of the large - near-barren - fridge, spinning on his heel and then almost dropping the chilled, plastic milk bottle, mouth hanging momentarily agape, as Mew sauntered into the open living room area, casually, stark naked.

"Just milk for me please", the apartment owner replied coolly, blatantly unaware of the deadly impact of his choice of outfit. He retrieved his phone from the coffee table, fired a passing wink of encouragement to Gulf, and slid open the glass door to make a call outside. Apparently the balcony - and thus the inhabitants of the neighbouring elite skyscraper communities of the borough, Gulf suspected, must be well accustomed to the nude Adonis who paced back and forth as he spoke.

Odd, isolated fragments of the phonecall in progress drifted through a forgotten, adjacent window, propped slightly ajar, as the younger man added milk to two, and sugar to one cup, metal teaspoon tinkling melodically - almost the sounding of a high pitched alarm - as he stirred the rich coloured liquid, comforting steam trailing out into the quiet of the room.

"Did anyone come, Mild?...don't answer...shai, two weeks...flight to Bangkok...mai dai krub...complicated...tell Paithoon-" - and then the dull thud of the window being suddenly noticed, and closed from the outside, Mew's dark eyes catching Gulf's, unreadable, as the younger turned unwittingly at the noise, before breaking the gaze to carry mugs to the table, searching for coasters, since his host was clearly not one for mess - or signs of life in general.

And as if on cue, there was the busy sound of a key card bleeping at the front door, a brightly smiling further-end-of-middle-aged lady with a comfortable waist entering the room in a mint green uniform of some persuasion - presumably cleaning, judging by the products and utensils wheeled behind on a small trolley.

"Oh hello, duck!", the woman chirped at Gulf as he perched, blushing and uncertain, both cups still in hand, on the leather sofa. "I'm Pauline. Here you are lamb, this is where the coasters are kept. Don't worry, I won't be in your hair for long, there's never much to clean for 'His Lordship'. It's really not worth him having a daily facilities service, but perhaps being that rich, it's doesn't matter anyway!" - then, noticing Mew out on the balcony, she tutted "Ach! He'll catch his death of cold...", to herself, before retreating off down a hallway to begin her work.

Gulf swallowed in bewilderment, at last lowering the ceramic tea cups, placing each onto the coasters the agency worker had cast out onto the table from the drawer beneath. Had she even noticed Mew's naked buttocks? It must be a regular occurrence for her, the younger man summised. Finding the previous night's left over conquest present, as the 'master of the house' prowled unclothed and unabashed about his lair.

There was something so naturally dominant about it - butterflies suddenly awake to flutter giddily about Gulf's stomach and groin, intricately patterned wings leaving a glitter of heat in their wake. The elder man was that lion, chief of his pride, roaming majestically about his grassland kingdom as buffalo and gazelle grazed around him. Ever-watchful of his powerful presence. Waiting his deadly pounce.