Declan had the bare minimum of house rules that he expected me to follow. I had chores and if I didn’t do them then my dirty clothes piled up until even I couldn’t stand recycling underpants for one single day longer, or eating off plates that had lain in the sink so long colonies of mould had set up civilisations and declared independence. Little by little, I began to appreciate that Declan’s system was based on trust so, by the time I was fourteen, I respected the man and wanted him to be proud of me.
That’s not to say I didn’t sometimes go way beyond the boundaries he’d set. On those occasions he was downright scary, baring his fangs in a temper so that I swore I would never do it, whatever ‘it’ was, again. That was the one problem Declan had: when stressed or angry, his fangs would show. It was one of the reasons he did not want a confrontation with our new neighbours over their dog.
The reason I was reluctant to take on the task was Wolf. Short for Wolfgang. He and his father had migrated from Germany, his mother having died in a car accident when he was ten. Wolf was the man I had set my mind on marrying. He, of course, had no idea of my plans as I hadn’t as yet let him in on the secret. That might have had something to do with the fact that from the day I knocked on his front door he had treated me with the utmost contempt, deliberately going out of his way to avoid me. Perhaps he could sense my intense attraction to him.
At any rate, he had not invited me inside, perfunctorily accepting my welcome and then pointedly asking, “Is that all? Is there anything else?”
I was so stunned I merely shook my head and he closed the door on my gaping mouth.
Storming back home, I swore vehemently under my breath, slamming into the house loudly enough that a troubled Declan came to see the cause of the problem.
“What an asshole!” I fumed.
In between curses, I managed a short explanation of what had occurred. Declan smiled knowingly, “Ah, so you like him a little bit.”
“Fuck, no!” I yelled. “I like him a lot!”
My hormones were in a twist. No one had ever made me feel like this before. I didn’t believe in love at first sight and all that mushy shit. How could I like him so much after a conversation of less than twenty words and his appalling rejection of my friendship?
I determined to put him out of my mind but I’d reckoned without running into him at college, plus the fact he made the same football team that I played for, meaning he was a constant distraction, continually turning up in places I had deliberately chosen in order to avoid him. It was almost as if we were stalking each other. We were both popular and it was inevitable we’d end up dating the same girls although my appetite for pussy, as well as cock, dwindled so much under his pervasive allure I was in danger of developing blue balls.