I could be tempted.

London got it's second chance this week as I wound my way southward cocooned in the comfort of a new virgin train, a red blur that cut swiftly through the green countryside,through town and city coming to rest in the all embracing arms of Euston.

Or something like that, anyway.

The thought of the recent bombing's were far from my mind as I caught the Victoria Line to Green Park, I was busy soaking up the people around me, the noise of the tube as it raced through the warren-like tunnels. I read the small adverts along the length of the carriage, I studied the faces of these Londoner's who adopted the city as there home, regardless of where they had hailed from.

And I used to be one of them.

After checking into the hotel I headed out to the Kings Arms, walking as I always used to, no matter where I was headed.

The Kings Arms.

A spiritual home to all of us with an ursine nature.

The place was the same and so were some of the faces. Willy's ghost lurked around a corner or a pillar.

When I go into a gay bar I don't need to be picked up or pick up .

Sometimes for me,for somebody who considers himself to have been towards the back of the queue when God was distrubuting the good looks, having a handsome stranger come onto me is enough, my ego is satisfied.

I can go home or to the hotel satisfied at least to a degree.

Yes, I go through periods like every other gay man when I just have got to have cock and can usually find it, but other times a look or smile is more than satisfying.

And I scored twice that night.

And twice the next night.

The chunky barman with the bushy gotee caught my eye and I his, he was especially sexy.Maybe another time.

The next day I had meetings to attend, the usual company bullshit but had most of the day to myself, so I did my favourite London thing.

I just wandered.

No route or destination, just impulse and curiosity.

And a feeling slowly crept up on me and tapped me on the shoulder.

When I turned to acknowledge it's prescense I realised I had missed this. I had missed London.

Wow. I thought I wouldn't, but I did.

And if the time was right, if the job was right or if there was a boyfriend waiting, I could be tempted.

Very tempted.

Canal Street was alive last night.

There was hustle and bustle and queens galore.

Every now and again a straight couple would walk passed and I wondered if the husband had protested about going down to queer street but was actually and secretly curious about the gay life style.

There were one or two who were very handsome, in a rugged sort of way.

But they had wive's or girlfriend's.

What a waste.

I met a friend and colleague -johann and in turn we joined his frends which made for a small group of us which in turn (again) made for a great night out.

Johann has recently met Ed through Daniel, all nice guys and not one of the a bear!! Just tight tee shirts,ripped jeans and white trainers.

But I didn't hold that against them.

I had a nice enough time chatting outside the REM and looking at the beutiful sights.

The Army and Navy stores must be constantly sold out of combats.

Manchester is certainly blessed by some horny looking guys and if wishes were horses, I would like to be introduced to every one of 'em.

Except one,one guy really stood out amongst the rest-

There was one middle aged guy who was wearing white trousers,a rainbow coloured silk shirt and highlights in the grey hair.

Somebody please have a word.

It give's the rest of us a bad name.

I come on duty at 7.30pm, half an hour early after a slow walk from the apartment to the hotel, only stopping to have a look in Toys R Us at the Star Wars goodies.

I know, what a geek.

I didn't buy anything but the thought of buying the Star Wars version of Mr PotatoHead (Darth Tater!!) is in the back of my mind.

Probably tomorrow.

I enter the hotel and I get the buzz that I miss. The hotel is busy and there are a lot of guests around. A lot of stuff is going on and it feels great.

The only time it is better than this is when there is a big awards dinner upstairs and on nights like that the hotel truly comes alive, playing host to it's diners.

I walk into the back office and say hi to a few people, I check who is on duty and have a mini tantrum as the day team has left me short staffed.

The mini tantrum works and I have some guys doing some overtime.

I don't work night's as a rule, but I am the only guy -bar the night managers- who can do it so I am the obvious choice when the night managers have managed to screw their holiday dates.

And I don't really mind.....part of me actually enjoy's it. I make a mental note to raise the rotaring issue in the morning and I've learnt from experince not to raise these issues with the GM but to raise it with the right person in front of him, as his presecence usualy galvinises them into action.

I check the arrivals (30 to come and we are fully booked) and J on Customer Services tells me of an issue with the aircon in room 1417 and that she will have to be moved to 1212 but the guest has gone out so I make a mental note to contact her during the evening and move her.

My mind, made of grey post-it notes.

I walk around the building,letting all the relevant people know that I am here should I be needed.

The restaurant first -it's busy and the atmosphere is electric. Then the kitchen, again busy but under control. Room service is quiet and I head to the back doors and the canteen to make sure everything is in order.

Back in reception I get caught on the desk and end up checking a lot of people in. I love this and I am good, I can do the tech stuff with my eye's closed. I can roll with the punches and juggle the room allocations easily and I'm happy to chat to the guest about this and that. Regis is next to me and we fall into our little competition of who can do it quickest and best. I win.

I get talking to a guest who has just returned from a retaurant that was recommended to him. While the place he went to was fine, I give him another recommendation for the following night, knowing he'll like it better as the place rocks.

I notice some bags sitting on a luggage trolley and I ask who they are for, the receptionist tells me they are for room 1403 who has gone to park his car.

One piece is a laptop.

I grab the bags and head up to the gods. I exit the elevator and go into 1403, deposit the bags on the bed and turn on the aircon for the guest.

When I arrive downstairs I walk in to the guest and inform that his bags are in his room and that it should be nice and cool by the time he reaches there. He smiles and heads to the bar for a drink, happy.

I get stopped by a member of the Saudi group that has been with us for the last week. He wants the address to the Royal Lebanese restaurant. I google it but nothing. I call directory enquires and the same. I try to explain to him and he asks me to look into one of the restaurant guides we have.

I do so and come up with the a resturant called the Cedar Tree. He says this is the one.

Royal Lebanese. Cedar Tree.
Yep they sound alike.If your from Mars maybe...

I move into the back office and sit down and start to go through the forty or so emails sitting in my inbox (this from one day), most of them are consigned to the ether via the delete button.

Before I know it, it is 10.15pm

I try and call 1417, no answer.

I get called out to speak to a guest who complains that his toilet is blocked and if it cannot be fixed then he would like to move rooms.

I send one of the porters with him to investigate and move the room if necessary , the porter informs me later that the guest will move tomorrow as he has a lot of luggage and does not want to pack. I leave the necessary traces for the day guys.

I get called into the lobby as a guest who has dined in the resturant wants to express how pleased he was and describes the food as magnificent.

I'm a little taken aback as I am usually only summoned when a guest who wants to complain.

He goes on to say that whoever served him was charming and he offered some genuine constructive critiscm. I ask him for his business card and promise to pass on his comments.

Which I will do.

Whilst talking to him it occurs to me how sexy he is. He's a big guy with a bald head and hairy chest.

Just my type. Well, one of them...

Having sex with hotel guests is a fantasy all hoteliers have, only in my case I've done it.

But that's another blog...

I call 1417 and the guest is in the room, I inform her that I have another room to move her too but she declines saying that she will be fine and thank you anyway.

I sit down at my desk and begin some of the paperwork, the balancing of the days business, this takes me through to 1am and I begin to feel hungry.

I like nights because at night the kitchen is mine.I have access all area's. I could cook myself anything.

But I don't.

I have a cheese sandwich with fries and chow down whilst continuing the paperwork. Apart from the night stuff that has to be completed I do some of my own stuff I usually do during the day and I stream the radio through my PC.

The bar manager asks me if it is ok to call last orders in the bar at 1.30. I say fine, it's quiet anyway.

Just because our guest's can legally drink 24 hours a day does not mean we have to serve them 24 hours a day.

I take another walk around and everything is fine. Our guests are sleeping tight,with no bed bugs that can bite.

At 4 am as the sky begins to get light outside I take down the various systems in preparation of running the night audit.

Most systems go down nicely, some need persuasion.

The night audit kicks in and for about 30 minutes the hotel is without a computer.

The night audit stops with error messages. I dial the support number by heart and speak to sweet sounding Irish voice who dials into the system and works her support mojo.

The night audit completes, puking paper after paper with statistic and revenue out of the printer. I collect them and memorise the revenue figures.

The GM will call around 6.30 and he'll want to know how we did.

I do a floor walk and it takes me thirty minutes to walk the whole hotel from tit to ass.

On the 14th I get a stunning view of Manchester, grey skies and quiet streets. I can see all the way to the Penines and the sun is being smothered by the sombre clouds.

I don't have to do the floor walks, I mean I could get away with not doing it but I would feel guilty.

And our guest's trust us to look after them while they are here, they are in our care and we have a duty to them.

I return to the lobby and pick up a morning paper.

The night is nearly finished and I will take a slow walk home along the canal like I do every morning but this time in reverse.

I'll climb into bed and fall asleep whilst watching some dvd.

I'll wake around four, get up and sit down with cup of tea and just chill until it's time to go back to work, stopping off briefly to buy the Darth Tater toy that I liked.

So I've been chatting to these two chubbears, a couple on Eurowoof, and they want to have a threesome with me.

*WOW*

Only once before have I had a threesome and frankly I shouldn't have bothered.

I was the goosebery.

The fifth wheel.

An american couple I met in the Rembrandt last year and went back to their hotel.

It was a little fun to begin with, but they were more into each other than me.

Very rude.

Americans,no manners.

So this couple keep flirting with me online and I with them. I know the sex would be great and one of my fantasies would be realised.

So.

Why am I hesitating?

I've noticed that some guys describe themselves as a hopeless romantic.

Surely this is wrong.

Shouldn't it be hopeFUL romantic?

Me, I'm a hapless romantic.

I'd send you roses but get the post code wrong by one character. I'd get up early to make you breakfast in bed and fall asleep waiting for the kettle to boil. Remember your birthday the day after then go overboard making it up to you.

You get the picture.

I'm going soft in my old age.

At the hotel last year I employed a young girl called Tanika.

Or if your from Manchester, like she is, she is called Ta-nee-kah.

A friend of mine with whom I used to work had asked me for a favour, could I interview her and if possible sort her out a job.

She told me the history, without going into too much detail she came from a damaged background.

Poor kid.

So what I was expecting to meet was a quiet, shy young girl with zero confidence.

What I met was the complete opposite.

She was bright, funny ,warm and lit up the room when she entered.

I hired her on the spot.

She was a little rough around the edges but did very well when she was thrown onto the Reception desk. She made mistakes but so do we all.

She took to it like a duck to water.

But she always smiled with our guests and i had huge amounts of time for her.

So everything was fine.

Then along came THE LONDON GUY.

He hated her, He said she was not 5 star material.

I said she had the potential to go far, but we need to harness that potential.

He didn't agree.

Anyway there was a simple misunderstanding over a rota - she had requested specific days off and because the rota was not completed by the time she went off shift she assumed those days were her's.

No biggee right?

Wrong.

The LONDON GUY claimed it was gross misconduct.

He said if she come into the hotel he will sack her.

And guess what she never came to the hotel. Why come in to give somebody the satisfaction of firing you?

Well, I was pretty stoked.

I tried to talk him around but I was talking to a wall.

I really , really tried.

The BOSS was on holiday.

This is one of those issues I would love to talk to him about.

What the LONDON GUY was doing was not the company way.I know because I have been with the company for eight years.

But it was also one of the issues that I find it impossible to talk to him about.

I would love to go for a coffee with him and just talk.

Anyway, Tanika was fired.

I called her to see if she ok on several occasions but did not get through to her.

In fact the next time I spoke to her was when she called me,desperate because she had no money and was about ot be evicted from her flat because she could not pay her rent because the hotel had not paid her final wage.

Well, when I heard this I was I more than angry.

I organised her money in less tham hour and made sure she payed her rent and registered for benefit the next day.

I feel we have let her down.

I feel we have taken this person who was incredibly damaged by her childhood, showed a possible future and then taken it away from her.

Tossed her back onto the scrapheap of council estates and the dole.

Just thinking about it makes me angry.

I would employ her again tomorrow.

And I feel fucking impotent that I cannot go to my boss or anybody in the hotel and tell them.

If this was a few years ago I wouldn't have cared less, but these days I find myself caring more.

Maybe because other people in the hotel care less.

Maybe because I'm getting soft in my old age.

It's a good thing right?

I'm thinking of going to EBMC in Rhodes in October.

I've never been to one before and I've heard they are fab!

Binky, get with the programme.

It's the European Big Man's Convergence.

Lots of big bears from around the world come together and well, enjoy each other.

All those big bears.

In one place.

Yum.

But apart from the obvious sexual opportunities the idea of sun bathing and swimmming in the pool-maybe even naked- without feeling self conciouse appeals no end.

Could be fun.

Leave it with me.

Work has been a lot better lately.

Mainly due to the LONDON GUY being in bahli with a wealthy ex boyfriend.

The BOSS is in better humour since he returned from his holiday and is depending a lot more on me, like he used to before the LONDON GUY came on the scene.

And I like that.

I've spent a lot of my time preparing his Six Sigma presentation.

There is very little I do not know about Six Sigma and Adobe Acrobate. It has changed on a daily basis -sometimes even more- and I have just rolled with the punches.

I'm all SIPOC'd out.

He made the presentation today to our Chairman today and it was a success.

So he was pleased.

And I was pleased.

But I know it is temporary

When the LONDON GUY returns it will return to how it was.

Damn.

Sitting at work today I got talking to an ex boyfriend of mine by email.

Alan from London.

We've chatted before but his conversation always seemed very terse, like I was intruding, but today was a little different I am glad to say.

We had a good chat and even reminisced.

Alan taught me a few things during the brief time we were together.

He showed how unimaginably pleasurable it is to be fucked by a guy.

There is that first moment of slight discomfort and then the pleasure engulfs you and you just ride that wave.

Sometimes I would shoot my load with no effort on my part, just him behind me pumping away.

And boy did we fuck.

Sex between us was always good. It was sweaty and raunchy.

This was the guy I blew in Hyde Park after hours.

Now that IS horny, with the prospect of being discovered always being present making the excitement level go off the scale.

He emailed a picture and I have to say he has got sexier.

And not for the first time, I missed him.

Of course he is in a relationship and I wish him the best but I do admit to feeling a slight pang of jealousy and regret.

The ending of the relationship was totally my doing. At the time I was obsessed with my friends and job, I never gave him the what he neeeded and well, I was a selfish prick for want of better.

And now it's nearly three years later and we have both moved on.

Although a part of me hasn't.

When I'm online I generally hang out at EuroWoof.

Maybe you followed the link here.

I like the site a lot. I like it mainly because of the sexy guys who also hang out there. I enjoy flicking through the profiles and sending a few messages of hello.

And the occasional 'MEGAWOOF'.

I have a met a few nice guys on there and have had some really raunchy,sweaty sex with some of them and hope to have more of the same.

For me, I like sex in the morning or the afternoon best.

In the morning because there is no better way to wake up when a guy is teasing your erect manhood with his toungue or your doing the same to him.

Sex in the afternoon just seems a little bit naughtier somehow. It's nice to jump into bed and make love as the world busy's itself outside.

I only have one issue with EuroWoof and that is the amount of partnered guys looking for fun.

I don't know if we as gays are more enlightened about relationships or we're just horny fuckers.

Hmmm. A bit of both I think.

I think where have it better than -for example- straight women is that for us sex is not love. Sex is sex.

Wonderfull,wonderfull sex.

And love is love.

But purely from a selfish point of view - I want more single guys on EuroWoof!!

I want you to do something for me.

When you see the pictures on the news of the devastation caused by the bombs that exploded in London today, when you are reminded of the bombs that exploded on the trains in Madrid, or when you think back to nine eleven, just remember one thing.

Those people didn't die in those attacks.

They were murdered. In cold blood.

We have become de-sensitised by the pictures of horror we see on TV.

But we also have a tendency to lower a veil over the various acts of terrorism and their effects to make them more palatable.

We constantly hear that ''10 people die in suicide bomber attack'' for example.

People never die in a terrorist attack.

They are murdered . In cold blood.

And let's hope the bastards who perpatrate them burn in hell.

When I was a lad and going to school in Birmingham, the city centre was my playground.

I knew all the streets, the back streets and alleyways intimatly.

I knew exactly where all the gay bars were.

I could be found after school in a shop called 'Nostalgia and Comics' as I killed the hour I had to wait for the bus back to Cannock.

Nolstalgia and Comics.

This place was my spiritual home.

Row after row of comics,books,magazines,toys.....this was the place where my comic habit took hold and I was addicted for a number of years.

I got to know the staff and they would recommend something to me such as THE WATCHMEN or THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS or V FOR VENDETTA.

I lived through the CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS and was a member of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS.

No,Binky not really, use your imagination!

I would get the bus home to Cannock, reading a comic on the way, my lunch money fed my comic habit but rarely fed me.

Not that I was a small child,I wasn't. Quite the opposite.

I would arrive home to the usual scene; mother reading the paper whilst smoking a cigarrette, brother watching tv.

My mother has been smoking since she was sixteen, she is now sixty one.

Do the math.

I get afraid that it's going to catch up with her one of these days.

Amyway I would ask with childlike innocence what was for tea.

And my mother would look over her paper, take a deep drag on her cigarrette and say ''Whatever you can find , son.''

I guess you get the picture.

It was around this time that I had my first sexual experience.

It wasn't a quick fumble in the school toilets, it was proper sex.

I never had any angst over my sexuality.

I had angst about other stuff but that's another blog.

When I was sixteen I desperately wanted to go to a gaybar. I would walk past the Jester a few times after school just to see if anybody went in or walked out.

To me what lay behind the dark doorway was mysterious. It held the answer to all my teenage fantasies of being with a man.

Or so I thought.

I didn't have the courage to walk in there by myself so one friday night I went into Birmingham and went to one of the counselling organisations with the intention of asking one of the guys there to escort me into the bar so I could meet somebody.

I called them and then went over to their offices where I met a counsellor by the name of Harry.

We talked for along time, with me reassurring him I did not need counselling, I was fine.

We ended up being alone in the office and yes Binky we had sex.

Well kind of sex.

But it was the first I had ever been kissed and even now I remember my reaction to his unshaven face and how rough it felt.

Afterwards we lay together on the floor. The scent of sex and cum in the air and it smelt great.

I refuse to judge him because he opened a door for me that night, and for two years after we continued to have sex even though he had a partner who did not know.

Thursday afternoon's, 4-5.30 I was in the arms of a man, for that brief time week in week out I was myself.

You could say that he took advantage of a young lad but I am grateful for having that safe enviroment in which to learn.#

It could have been so much worse.

And I was a great student.

Sometimes late at night, usually when I'm in bed and trying to drift off I get gripped by a small fear.

A small fear that is growing larger.

It's at this point on some night's when I would like to roll over and wrap my arms around a guy and just cuddle, kissing the back of his neck occasionally.

Or let him lie on his back and take me into his arms and rest my head on his chest, allowing the rythmic beat of his heart to send me to sleep.

Am I always going to be alone? Am I destined to have meaningless sex when what I want is meaningful sex with a guy I love?

Christmas is coming up fast and I know the small fear I feel will begin to hurt a lot more.

During my daily life at work, I have to be the tough guy.I have to deal with staff and guests alike. I have to make some tough decisions sometimes -not life threatening- but the decisions I make can have an impact on the revenue of the hotel.

Sometimes a positive impact, sometimes a negative.

When people find out I'm gay they usually don't believe it.

It's hard for them to believe that the big tough guy likes to smoke
dick.

And I used to think that this was a good thing, that my overt masculinity was a strengh and while I don't think it's a weakness, it certainly is a hinderance.

But I can live with that.

I'm pretty much secure in myself, but I want more, I demand more!

Is it possible to feel so safe and so open with a lover that you can just give yourself so completely and totally?

I think part of the reason that I am single is that when I do meet a guy who I like-and more importantly he likes me- I put up all the barriers thinking that something is going to go wrong.

And of course the other guy thinks I'm not interested.

When I am very interested.

I need to learn to leave the tough emotionless guy at work and try to learn to be a bit more thoughtfull, a bit more tactile and a bit more affectionate.

Inside this big ole' growly bear there's a great guy trying to get out.

A poet.

A romantic.

A lover.

Walking back home this afternoon with shopping in one hand.

A guy walks in front of me and on the back of his t-shirt it reads;

''Fuck your God''

No, asshole, FUCK your God.

My God, is full of stars.

I took a trip to Sin City tonight and I didn't leave until my front door was shut and firmly locked.

The monchrome world spilled out onto the Manchester streets along with the other movie goers when the credits rolled;a splash of colour, a neon reflection, puke and blood.

Raindrops danced in the light of a puddle.

Manchester is a different city at night, it's mean and dark,wet and electric. There is an honesty to it's brutality, take a wrong turn and it'll fuck you over good.

You take your chances walking home, winding through the shadowy northern quarter, down a dark back street under the rusted fire escapes.

You pass a bar, and pause a moment to look in. It's 2am and it's going strong.

You look at the punks,the geeks, the goths,the trendies and the zombies. Is that Marv sitting at the bar chugging back a brew and some shots with Jackie Boy?

The big black bouncer with the gold eye moves you on and you start to feel a little exhilerated from the potential danger. Tonight may be the night you don't make it home, tonight could be the night you die in a pool of your own blood, looking at the moon and tasting the rain.

You take a left and there is a bad smell all around you like puke and rotting flesh, something rushes past you in a blur of yellow but you keep walking,not looking around, not looking over your shoulder.

That Dirty Yellow Bastard

You leave the back streets and walk along Ancoats, past takeaways and rundown shops, crumbling walls, pubs that are no more than shitholes with beer. Dwight falls out of the Admiral Nelson, cigarrette ash scuffing his red trainers. You don't stare.

A police car rushes past you and wherever Hartigan is going it's not good for the creep he's after,you keep on walking as the siren disappears into the distance.

You can see the neon of the Mill in the distance, you cross the big loud road and walk over the canal and you see a figure up ahead standing outside the metal gates of the converted mill.

THE MAN calls your name and you look, he offers you a cigarrette but you decline, you fumble for your key, you open the gate and close it firmly behing you, you made it.

You get to live another day.

And die another night.