The Reading Room

Chapter 1

The invitation

The email arrived on a Tuesday evening from a university address that looked official enough to make Tom hesitate.

Mr Callum Hale, Department of Economics, would like to discuss an exclusive extracurricular opportunity. Discretion required. Come to Room 4B after your last lecture tomorrow.

Tom was eighteen, second year, living in halls, short on money and shorter on anything that felt like it belonged to him. He showed the message to his flatmate Jamie. Jamie was eighteen as well, also Economics, the sort of boy who still looked slightly startled by how quickly his body had filled out.

Jamie read it twice.

“That is the lecturer who stares.”

“They all stare,” Tom said.

They went anyway.

Hale was mid-forties, rumpled in an expensive way, wedding ring still on, voice low and amused. He did not waste time. There was a private members club, he said, old, quiet, particular about new blood. The university had an unofficial arrangement with it. Certain first and second year boys were invited to attend a few evenings a month. The dress code was simple. Tiny briefs and socks. Nothing else. Members paid a considerable annual fee for the privilege of using the boys however they liked, whenever they liked, for as long as they liked.

Payment came in cash, in an envelope, at the end of the night. No photos. No names if you did not want them. You could leave after two hours or stay until dawn. The only real rule was that you did not talk about it on campus.

Jamie’s ears had gone pink. Tom’s mouth was dry.

“Think about it,” Hale said, sliding two cream cards across the desk. “Friday. Nine o’clock. Side door on Gower Street. Say my name.”

They thought about it for eleven minutes in the corridor outside.

They went.

The side door opened onto a narrow staircase that smelled of old wood and polish. A man in a dark suit checked their cards, took their phones, and pointed them toward a changing room that looked more like a gentleman’s anteroom than anything belonging to a university.

“Names stay in here,” he said. “Clothes in the lockers. Briefs and socks only. You know the rest.”

Two other boys were already stripping. One was a tall, pale second year from History with a soft stomach. The other was broader, South Asian, already down to black briefs so small they barely covered him, and white sports socks.

Tom chose navy briefs that sat low on his hips. Jamie went for white, almost see-through when he moved. Both kept their socks on.

They walked through together.

The main room was large and dim, wood panelled, with deep leather chairs and a polished wooden floor beyond the rugs. Ten or twelve men were scattered around. Some Tom recognised from faculty corridors. They looked up when the four boys came in. No one clapped. They simply watched.

Hale lifted his glass.

“Tom. Jamie. Good. Come here first.”

They crossed the carpet. Hale did not stand. He reached out, hooked two fingers in Tom’s waistband, and tugged the front down enough to free him.

“Still shy,” Hale said. “That will not last.”

A silver-haired man in a charcoal three-piece crooked a finger at Jamie.

“On your knees, lad. Do not make me ask twice.”

Jamie went down. The man unbuttoned his trousers, drew out a thick half-hard cock, and rested it against Jamie’s cheek. Jacket on. Shirt tucked. Only the fly open.

“Open.”

Jamie opened. The man slid in slow, one hand on the back of Jamie’s head, the other still holding his whisky.

“That is it. Good boy. You can take more than that.”

Jamie made a wet sound. Tom watched, cock twitching where Hale still held his briefs down.

Hale’s voice stayed lecturer-calm.

“Turn around. Hands on the chair.”

Tom turned. Hale pushed the briefs to mid-thigh and worked one dry finger against him, then a slick one.

“Relax. You have done this. Breathe out.”

The finger went in. Then two. Hale talked over Tom’s shoulder as if they were in a seminar.

“He clenches when you first go in. Give him a minute.”

“I noticed,” the silver-haired man said, still using Jamie’s mouth. “This one gags if you go too fast. He will learn.”

Hale scissored his fingers. Tom’s thighs shook. The socks wrinkled at his ankles.

Hale withdrew his hand, unbuttoned, and pushed in. Suit still perfectly in place. He held Tom’s hips and fucked him in short, measured strokes.

“Quiet. Members are talking.”

Across the room the History boy was already bent over a low table. A man in navy pinstripe had his trousers open and was using him the same way, one hand flat on the boy’s back. The South Asian boy sat in someone’s lap, briefs pulled to one side, bouncing while the man stayed fully dressed except for the cock in him.

Jamie pulled off with a gasp. The silver-haired man wiped his mouth with a thumb.

“Good. Now the other way. Over the arm.”

Jamie draped himself. Briefs caught on one ankle. Socks stayed on. The man spat, lined up, and pushed in without taking off a single other piece of clothing.

“Fuck,” Jamie whispered.

“Language,” the man said, and thrust harder.

Tom came first, untouched. It sprayed across the leather arm and the seat in a sudden, uneven stripe. Hale did not stop. He finished inside him, stayed buried, and then clicked his fingers without looking away from Tom’s neck.

“Cloth.”

A steward in a dark waistcoat appeared with a folded white cloth as if this happened every Friday. He wiped the leather in two neat passes, checked the stitching, and stepped back. The chair looked unused again.

Hale patted Tom’s hip.

“Stay like that. Someone else will want you. And keep it on yourself next time if you can. The leather costs more than your envelope.”

Davies from statistics unbuttoned, stepped in behind, and took him while Hale watched and sipped.

They were given envelopes and their clothes at two in the morning. In the taxi back to halls they did not talk much.

Jamie said, “Same time next Friday?”

Tom looked out of the window.

“Yeah. Same time.”

Chapter 2

Second Friday

The changing room smelled of polish and clean cotton. Jamie tugged his socks up so they sat neat.

“They really care about the socks,” he said.

The History boy did not look at them.

“Hale will tell you why if you ask. I asked. I wish I had not.”

They went through.

Hale was in the same chair. The leather was clean.

“Tom. Come here. Jamie, wait.”

Tom crossed the carpet. Hale hooked two fingers in the navy waistband and drew the front down. Then he turned Tom by the hip so the room could see the briefs at mid-thigh and the white socks still on.

“You wanted to know last week. I will tell you once.”

A man in a navy suit had already unbuttoned and put Jamie on his knees. Jamie’s mouth was full. The man kept talking over his head.

Hale’s voice stayed even.

“Nude is finished. This is still in use. The socks keep you looking like you were interrupted getting changed. Halls. Gym. After a lecture. Not like you arrived meaning to be fucked. A naked body can look like a decision. Briefs and socks look like you were handed over halfway.”

He slid one slick finger into Tom. Tom braced on the chair arm.

“It also keeps the picture right. We stay dressed. You keep the one cheap thing we told you to keep. White pack socks. Not dress socks. When you are over the chair the heels come up and the socks wrinkle and everyone in the room can see you are still wearing house kit.”

A second finger. Tom’s breath went thin.

“Some of them like the sound. Some of them simply do not want bare feet. I like that you cannot pretend this is private. You wear what you are told until the door on Gower Street opens again.”

He glanced at the polished boards beyond the rug.

“And there is the floor. You get nervous. You get used. You sweat. Bare feet leave marks on the wood and then someone has to explain it to the staff who think this is only a reading room. Socks keep the boards clean. Practical. Do not make it poetic.”

He withdrew his hand, unbuttoned, and pushed in. Jacket on. Shirt tucked. Only the fly open. He fucked Tom in short strokes while he finished the point.

“That is why they stay on. Do not take them off unless you are told.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. And if you spray the furniture again, you wipe it. The steward should not have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

Across the room the navy-suited man pulled out of Jamie’s mouth, wiped his lip, and turned him over the chair arm.

“Briefs down. Socks stay. I am not mopping up after you.”

Jamie’s briefs hung off one ankle. The man spat and fucked him without removing anything else. Jamie’s socks lifted off the carpet each time. No damp prints on the boards.

Tom came onto his own stomach this time, catching most of it in his hand. A little still hit the leather. Hale clicked his fingers. The steward started forward. Hale stopped him.

“No. He can do it.”

Tom took the cloth, face hot, and wiped the seat while Hale was still inside him. The leather came up clean. The steward took the cloth away without comment.

Hale finished, patted his hip, and stepped back, already buttoning.

“Better. Stay like that. Davies wants him.”

Davies took Tom from behind while Hale watched. Jamie was moved from mouth to chair to lap. A second man used his throat while he sat on the first. All of the men stayed in their suits. All of the boys stayed in their socks. The wood beyond the rug stayed unmarked. When Jamie came, it hit the side of a chair. The steward wiped it in two passes and was gone again.

When Davies tucked himself away he spoke as if he had only stood up to take a call.

Jamie caught Tom’s eye, mouth shiny, voice wrecked.

“He was not joking about the socks.”

Tom shook his head, still bent, still wearing them.

“No. Floor as well. Leather too.”

Hale set his glass down.

“Same two next Friday. Socks on when you walk in. I will check. If I see bare feet on the boards you will both stay late and clean them. If you mark the chairs, you wipe the chairs.”

They dressed without much talk. In the taxi Jamie turned one white sock over in his hands before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Same time?” Tom asked.

Jamie looked out at Gower Street.

“Yeah. Socks and all. Apparently we are saving the parquet. And the Chesterfields.”

The envelopes were thick.

They both knew they would be back.