Ring Finger

I sometimes wonder how I should feel, as an ostensibly straight guy, about the fact that I enjoy taking a bit of a tumble in the sack with other men from time to time. I mean, one minute I can be fixating on a girl, finding myself falling in love, showering her with affection and all the usual standard-fare hetero kind of stuff; the next, when a favourable opportunity with a reasonable looking guy presents itself, I'm right in there with him, the two of us going at each other like a couple of horny rabbits.

I suppose I just wonder sometimes if it's normal, or whether maybe I should be feeling guilty or anxious or something about it.

Take the night I proposed to Melissa.

We had an amazing evening: I surprised her by kneeling in front of her offering her the ring; afterwards we had a quiet meal together, romantic music in the background, atmospheric lighting around the room, all that kind of stuff, and then, after chatting for a while, we went upstairs and - well, you can guess the next part. But it was a nice evening for both of us; that's my point.

The next morning, while I was making us coffee as she slept, I got to thinking that maybe I ought to have at least a few hang-ups about my behaviour on the previous evening. You see, even then, on that unique and apparently perfect evening for us, I'd spent half an hour during the early part of it banging the arse of some guy I'd never met before and wasn't likely to again.

As the kettle boiled I wondered if I should be feeling guilt about it; or perhaps, more specifically, if I ought to have spent the previous evening - if I really was the decent, upstanding guy I like to think I am - gnawed away by guilt at what I'd been doing just a couple of hours before I'd proposed. Whether maybe I shouldn't have proposed that night; whether I should have left it until an evening which hadn't been sullied by one of my casual encounters with other men.

I reminded myself what I'd done; what had happened. It hadn't seemed such a big deal at the time.

I'd rushed to the jewellers straight from surgery; almost knocked people into the road as I dashed through the streets to get there before it closed.

Fortunately I'd managed to reach the doorway just as the last of the shop assistants was locking up and I'd managed to persuade him, with a few pleading smiles and a generous dose of charm, to let me collect the ring I'd ordered.

He let me in and relocked the door behind us. "If my boss catches me on my own in the shop with a customer, he'll kill me..."

I thanked him profusely and assured him it would take just a couple of minutes to find my order. "The ring's paid for and everything... I just need to collect it..."

He nodded as he went to a chest of drawers behind the counter at the back of shop and started searching through them for a package bearing my name.

He was in his early twenties; tall and attractive with a deep quiet voice. I thought I detected traces of asian ancestry in his face, but his accent was born-and-bred Yorkshire.

His name badge read, "Will". (And it turned out he would, too.)

I started picking up vibes - you know, like you do - when he made some joke about his ring finger while he was finding my order. I don't even remember what the joke was exactly but it had struck me as a little odd and I'd thought, "Aye aye..."

I'd replied, wanting to stoke the fire a little and find out if my suspicions were true, "Not much happening on my ring finger at the minute..."

And he'd looked over at me, his eyes a warm chestnut brown behind his specs, and suggested, "Maybe later this evening there will be..."

"You think?"

He found the small package with my name on it and walked back over to me.

He smiled. "Yeah... your girlfriend will have a ring to give you, won't she?"

I shook my head. "No... this is a surprise..." I held up my hand, deliberately wiggling my middle rather than my fourth finger. "Looks like this will have to stay ringless for now... unless I get any other offers..."

He looked at me curiously, a quizzical smirk only barely perceptible. It seemed like it was his turn to think, "Aye aye..."

I smiled warmly and mock-innocently at him.

He said, tentatively, "D'you like having a ring on your finger... I mean, a lot of guys don't..."

I continued smiling. "Yeah... it's okay... from time to time..."

He tore part of the label from the package he was holding and put it in front of me on the counter. "Okay... I've just got to get you to sign to say you received it, Dr Wallace..."

I signed the slip and said, "Please... call me Sebastian..."

I could tell that had made him smile even though I was looking down at the paper.

He took the slip from me and grabbed a file from beneath the counter to store it in. He asked, trying to make it sound casual, "So.. Sebastian... what sort of ring would you like for your finger... if you had the choice?"

I chuckled at that. I liked that one.

"I dunno... something with a warm feel, I guess... warm and inviting... and tight... yeah... very tight... I wouldn't want it slipping off..."

Now he chuckled and our eyes locked. We were both trying to figure out the other's intentions.

He seemed as if he was going to say something else but then it was like he censored himself and he made do with just smiling more broadly at me.

I thought, "He's not sure how far to go with this... he thinks I'm just teasing him..."

Then he turned to pick up a carrier bag from behind him and I noticed that his black work-issue trousers clung pretty tightly to his arse. He had very attractive, full, round cheeks.

He turned back to me and put the package into the bag.

I thought I'd throw him a line. Let him know I wasn't just messing around.

I said, "Your boss likes his staff wearing tight trousers..."

He looked surprised at that at first but then shrugged. I could see I'd disappointed him: he thought I was changing the conversation to mere small talk. He just muttered, "Yeah... I dunno why... I guess they're cheap or something..."

I smiled back, more warmly. "Not that I'm complaining... they look pretty good..."

Now he understood and grinned again. "You think so?"

I nodded. "Yeah... you've got the... ah... figure for it..."

He laughed. "Yeah?"

I ventured at being a little bolder. "Yeah... you've got the arse for them..."

He laughed more loudly. "D'you really think so?"

I laughed back. "Yeah... they show it off very nicely..."

He didn't say anything else. We just kept chuckling as he passed me the bag and I made to leave.

But then he said, slowly and a little nervously, "You know... Sebastian... if you want to try on a ring like the one you said you'd like... you could come through to the back of the shop..."

I looked at him and he wasn't smiling. He looked scared as hell.

I smiled broadly. "Really?"

He looked really tense. I guess he knew he was risking things turning pretty nasty if he'd misread things between us, not to mention losing his job if anyone caught us.

He nodded. "Yeah..."

I kept smiling. "A warm one... nice and tight...?"

He smiled a little. "If you want it...?"

I laughed. "'Course I do!"

We went to the backroom of the shop; a small, dingy kitchen with a kettle and a few cups, littered with boxes and surplus stock from the shop.