'air' Bnb 2

Chapter 1: West Coast Arrival

Neil stepped out of the cab, the autumn breeze gently brushing his thin face as he took in his surroundings. The AirBnB looked even more charming in person than it had online—quaint, with ivy climbing up its brick walls and large windows that promised sunlight streaming through cozy rooms. He slung his bag over his shoulder, sweeping his fringe of brown hair out of the way and adjusted his grip on the suitcase handle as he walked up the steps, feeling the weight of weeks of work still sitting on his shoulders. His excitement to explore the United States simmered beneath the exhaustion, but even now, he couldn’t shake the dull sense of being drained.

‘This is what I need. A change of scenery. Something new.’ Neil thought, as he regripped his suitcase, electing to use the roller wheels on the bottom. Even though his suitcase was an old and battered hand me down from his sister, stiff wheels beat the alternative of carrying it again.

His mind wandered to the cities he planned to visit, the national parks he had mapped out to hike through. Working a remote tech job had its perks, but it had also started to feel like a cage. Neil could wake up in one country, attend meetings in another, and answer emails without ever leaving his room. It was thrilling at first, but the novelty had worn off, leaving him feeling isolated.

‘Lately, it’s been too much.’ He thought as he smoothed the creases out of his clothes, the same ones he’d worn for the better part of a twelve-hour journey from his home, an apartment, in London. A faint animal smell, not unpleasant, permeated through the neckline of his clothes, even though he’d showered and put on deodorant before he left all those hours ago. ‘I think a shower is needed when I get settled in.’ he thought.

The meetings, the constant digital noise, the endless tasks piling up on his to-do list—it all blurred together. Neil loved the idea of freedom his job provided, yet ironically, he felt more trapped behind the screen than ever.

“Have you ever thought about renting a place abroad?” one of his coworkers had suggested at the end of one Zoom meeting.

“No, not really. Why? Have you?” Neil had asked.

His coworker picked up the laptop he was using and made to stand up. Neil grinned as he watched his companion bobble around, looking like there was an earthquake happening at the other end. His worms eye view from how the laptop was being carried gave his companion the unflattering look of a double chin, even though the man was quite skinny. Neil watched as he eventually turned the camera of the laptop around.

“Oh my god. Brazil!?” Neil said aloud, leaning further towards his own screen.

“Yep. Sick, right?” said the coworker offscreen, panning the laptop so that Neil to take in the stunning view.

“Damn, how can you afford that?” said Neil. Mentally, he was counting the money he’d had in his bank account. It was more zeros than ones.

“It’s actually not that hard, really.” Said the coworker, finally taking his laptop back and finding his seat again. “All you have to do is check out Air BnB globally, pick a place you’ve been itching to visit and find a place that fits your budget that offers a few weeks, or even a month. I’ve been here two weeks already and plan to stick around for two months.” The man added confidently.

‘Wow, two months. I dunno if I can afford that.’ Neil thought.

The look on Neil’s face must have shown, for his coworker added. “Hey, we’ve been friends for a long time, right?”

“Yeah?” said Neil, a crease furrowing on his brow. He was wondering where the conversation was headed.

“You strike me as the kind of dude who values time for money spent, right?”

“Yes…” said Neil, thinking that this was a very polite way to call Neil ‘cheap’.

“Tell you what, I’ll send you a discount code for Air BnB. I’ve been doing it for a while now, and it will knock any place you choose down by 20%.”

Neil leaned further towards his computer. “What, really? Wow. That’s—wow.”

The man on the other end grinned. “Hey, you helped me in those meetings over the last two weeks, covering me for that technical stuff I had no clue on.” The man leaned closer to his own computer screen, “to tell the truth, I was a little drunk most of those meetings.” He winked at Neil, making him laugh.

“I thought those sunglasses were a little bit of a giveaway.” Said Neil, pursing his lips, his face twisting into a slight smirk. “Though, I don’t think anyone else caught on.”

The man on the other end tapped the side of his nose in agreement.

“So, yeah. I’ve got to run. There’s a tour group leaving in a bit to see Christ the Redeemer—but when you select a place, let me know and I’ll email you the code. Neil, you owe it to yourself. You work really hard. Deal?”

Neil smiled and nodded. “Deal.”

++++++

Shortly thereafter, Neil had spent a few nights after work scanning various locations across the world that would fit his interests as well as his budget, minus 20%. He eventually settled on the West coast of America, in a place called San Diego. He’d read all about the warm weather they experienced all year round, as well as a whole host of things to see and do there, from beaches to museums, to fine dining to zoos. He would explore new places during the day, then return to work in the evenings, finding the balance that had eluded him.

Neil was glad he’d taken his coworker up on his offer. Renting this particular AirBnB for a month (yes, he found a willing renter who would offer him a fourth week at no extra expense after some gentle haggling) was his escape plan and already he could feel it paying off. The weather alone was a major upgrade, he’d told himself, shivering at the thought of the iron-grey skies of the London he’d left behind which were in direct contrast the bright blue ones he was now experiencing.

Neil slowly made his way up the steps, when a small cloud of doubt floated into his mind.
There was something else—a deeper weariness that made him uncertain. He was excited to see new things, but a part of him worried that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy them. The constant tiredness weighed on him, a subtle tugging at the edges of his enthusiasm. But he reminded himself, after having a conversation with his sister, Clara, who was a few years older, that Neil’s problem was that he had inherited their mother’s bad habit of ‘never allowing himself to stop and smell the roses’.

“If you keep that up—” Clara had said one FaceTime chat they had had a few weeks before Neil had finally made the decision to travel.

“—the flowers will be dead by the time I put my nose to them, yeah.” Neil had said, completing his sister’s mantra.

As Neil’s mind drifted from his ability to give himself the grace to explore his new surroundings, another thought slid into his mind, unbidden: what was he going to do about food?

Neil’s relationship with eating was…complicated.

‘It’s just fuel’, he reminded himself. He had never been one for extravagant meals or indulgent treats. Food, to him, was purely functional—something to get through, something to maintain energy. He rarely took pleasure in meals and often found himself grazing on snacks throughout the day just to keep hunger at bay. The thought of sitting down for a proper meal felt like a chore. Moreover, Neil didn’t see the point of going to great lengths to make an overly detailed recipe when the meal, which would take days to plan and hours to prepare, would be gone in only a few bites anyways.
His mind drifted to every holiday and Christmas meal he’d ever sampled, and he could hear his mother’s voice. ‘Oh, shame it took so long to prepare. It’s gone in minutes.’ He had a point.

Neil sighed softly, pulling himself back to the present moment as he reached the front door and knocked.

A minute passed, then another. Still no answer. Neil, tall and lean with a healthy young man’s figure that was at present covered in a sweater, took a step back to examine the number on the door. For one horrible second, he thought he might have climbed the wrong stairs to the wrong house. He reached into his bag to retrieve his phone. Perhaps he was supposed to call ahead? But the Air BnB advert stated that the homeowner would be present, sharing the living space, but on a separate floor, giving Neil complete autonomy. Moments later, however, the door swung open, and a man appeared, beaming with warmth.

“Neil, welcome! Or, do I say ‘cheerio?’. You must be exhausted from the trip. Come in, come in!”

“Uh, Mr. Topazzo?” Neil said, uncertainly.
The man looked no older than one of his uncles and was perhaps a decade older than Neil’s 21 years. Still, it was hard to guess a person’s age these days.

“That’s right. But you can call me Martin if you like.” He repeated the gesture and Neil stepped across the threshold.

Mr. Topazzo ushered Neil inside with a sense of practiced hospitality, his smile wide and his eyes glinting with a touch of paternal concern. He was in his early forties (though he was routinely mistaken for a man much younger), his hair was medium-length, and he wore an apron over a casual clothing that looked like it had seen many happy days spent in the kitchen. The smell of fresh-baked bread and something savory hit Neil immediately, filling him with a warmth he hadn’t realized he needed.

“The house is all yours to relax in,” Mr. Topazzo said, closing the door behind him. “I know you’ll be busy with work, but I’ve made sure to give you plenty of space to enjoy yourself when you’re not staring at that computer of yours.”

Neil smiled politely, grateful for the man’s kindness. “Thank you, it’s lovely. Really.” He and Martin had corresponded via several emails prior to Neil finally booking the location. Neil had a habit of overexplaining things when he got nervous and had overexplained what he did for work and stated in his emails that he might be keeping irregular hours due to the time zones he sometimes had to work in. All of which did not matter in the slightest, at least, according to Mr. Topazzo’s email replies.

Mr. Topazzo led Neil into the living room, which was just as cozy as he had imagined—soft couches, bookshelves lined with novels and cookbooks, and warm lighting that made everything feel inviting. Neil could already tell he’d have no trouble settling in here.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Neil said, hesitant. “I’ll mostly keep to myself, I promise.”

“Oh, don’t be silly!” Mr. Topazzo waved his hand dismissively. “I’m hardly a bother. In fact, I was thinking—since you’re here for a month and it’s just the two of us, how about I cook us dinner every evening? I love to cook, and it’d give me a chance to share some of my old recipes with you.”

Neil hesitated. The idea of sharing dinner with someone, of committing to meals when he usually just ate sporadically, wasn’t something he had planned on. But he didn’t want to seem rude, and besides, Mr. Topazzo looked so hopeful.

“That sounds…nice,” Neil said finally, his voice uncertain but appreciative. “I don’t want you to go to too much trouble, though.”

“Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. It’ll be my pleasure.” Mr. Topazzo’s eyes twinkled. “You just sit back and let me take care of the cooking. Any allergies?”

Neil shook his head and Mr. Topazzo beamed. “Right, now that that’s settled, did you want to tour the rest of the house, or did you want to head to your room upstairs?”
Neil confirmed the latter.

“Of course. The long flight. You’ll likely want to freshen up. The full bathroom is upstairs across the hall from your room. It’s just for you.”

Neil felt a tad self-conscious about the ‘freshen up’ comment and took the moment to delicately lift one arm to evaluate his travel ripeness at the same time Mr. Topazzo chose to pick at a spot of fluff on his shirt. ‘Just a tad in need of a deodorant reapply’, thought Neil.

Mr. Topazzo gestured to the staircase just off to the side of the living room and Neil made to head towards the stairs. He turned back, the idea just coming to him, “Ah, Martin? Has anyone ever told you that you really look like Chris Pine, but with longer hair?”

Mr. Topazzo put a hand reflexively to his lips, a faint pink dusted his cheeks from apparent embarrassment. “Oh, you’re too kind. Yes, I do get that from time to time.” He looked at Neil, who smiled back, glad he didn’t offend his host.

“I meant that as a compliment. He’s one of my favorite actors and in fact, he was on one of my in-flight movies. Coincidence, eh?” Mr. Topazzo beamed but said nothing.

As Neil wandered upstairs to unpack, Mr. Topazzo watched him closely, a sense of satisfaction settling in his chest. There was something about this young man that immediately intrigued him. The way he carried himself—slender, a little fragile—reminded Mr. Topazzo of a time when he himself had been more vulnerable, more cautious. But now, he was older, wiser, and he found joy in nurturing others, in watching them grow and bloom under his care.

‘Neil is just so... small.’ Mr. Topazzo mused, his eyes lingering on the young man's thin frame as he disappeared upstairs. Neil seemed so unaware of the pleasures of life—like good food, like indulgence. Mr. Topazzo had always loved cooking, not just for the flavors but for the transformation it could create. He had once been a professional, and he had seen the joy that a well-cooked meal could bring to people’s lives.

‘He doesn’t enjoy eating, does he?’ Mr. Topazzo thought. The way Neil had spoken, the slight discomfort at the suggestion of shared meals—there was something telling in that. Most people jumped at the chance for home-cooked meals, but not Neil. No, Neil looked like the kind of guy who saw food as nothing more than sustenance. Functional. Dull.

Mr. Topazzo’s smile widened as he turned back to the kitchen. He would change that. There was something beautiful about watching someone grow under his care—seeing them transform, seeing their body soften as they learned to appreciate life’s pleasures. And he would teach Neil. Slowly, gently, he would coax him into enjoying the meals, into savoring every bite. He would watch Neil’s body fill out, his curves becoming more defined with each passing day.

‘Yes,’ he thought, stirring the pot on the stove. ‘I’ll take care of him. I’ll make sure he learns to love it’.

Neil had no idea what was coming.

++++++

Neil found his room easily and instantly approved its functionality and spartan layout. This, he already knew from the advertised photos online, but it was always nice to start off on the right foot when the place he booked was ‘as advertised.’

He wheeled his suitcase over to the bed and unslung his bag and placed it also on the bed. The weight now off his shoulders, Neil reached up reflexively towards the sky and the pleasant sound of his joints clicking provided him with relief and he smiled. He felt a little air around his navel and looked down, arms still raised in the air, to see a pale sliver of exposed skin from where his sweater had ridden up. Toned, though skinny, Neil lowered his hands and straightened the shirt back into place.

Unhurriedly, he took out his phone, consulted the little ‘welcome’ note set on the small writing desk which provided him with the house’s WiFi password and sent out a few texts and emails to family, friends and coworkers. While he did so, Neil picked out a snack bar he’d packed with him and chewed it absent-mindedly while he reconnected with the world.

Next, he took out his electronics and set them up on the writing desk and plugged in his laptop. ‘Bigger correspondence can wait until tomorrow.’ Thought Neil.

He unpacked his suitcase and stowed his items away, though his mind occasionally dwelt on the smell that seemed to be coming from downstairs. It was the one that had greeted him when he’d first arrived when Martin had opened the door. The smell of fresh-baked bread and something savory. Just thinking about it now made his mouth water.

Neil was kneeling to put his underwear away when he turned his head towards the open door. It was as if a fan were blowing from downstairs, enticing Neil to follow his nose back downstairs. He considered, but then there was the reward of a shower. Something not only to cleanse the body, but also to help set his mind for the month ahead in a new place. He’d already taken to America during the flight over and the cab ride to Mr. Topazzo’s house. Still kneeling, Neil selected a pair of comfy bottoms and a loose-fitting t-shirt and stood up, heading across the hallway to the bathroom.

Inside, it was a spacious and luxurious and most importantly, spotless. Neil surveyed the various soaps, lotions and creams that decorated the counterspace, picking up a bottle here and squeezing, or else uncapping a jar to scent the product within. Even though he did not recognize many of the brands, Neil could tell they were of a high quality. He headed over to the shower and opened the glass door. He surveyed the handle and turned it on. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but if there was any trouble or quirks with the faucet, he was sure that Martin would have told him. He seemed to be the friendly, forthcoming type.

Satisfied that the shower seemed to be in fine working order, Neil walked over to the bathroom door and shut it with a soft click. While he waited for the water to warm up, he undressed and gently folded his clothing and placed them on the countertop. Sensing the urge to void, he went to the toilet and, naked, reached forward to raise the lid.

Neil let out a contented sigh as the pressure from his bladder eased. He leaned luxuriously as the steady flow became a trickle, then a drip before stopping altogether. As he stood there, Neil looked down at the space between his legs. He had recently given himself a trim and marveled at the tasteful triangle of pubic hair that topped his manhood.

Standing up and flushing, Neil rinsed his hands in the sink, then headed for the shower. He opened the door and stepped inside.

The water was a perfect temperature and the pressure against his skin felt like a thousand little hands massaging his body. He spun around, allowing the water to hit every angle of his body. It was a near perfect way to end his first day abroad.

Minutes later, Neil was out of the shower, dressed and was patting his hair dry while sitting on the edge of the bed when he heard a familiar voice calling from downstairs.

“Neil? It’s me, Martin. No pressure, but I’ve just pulled out a lovely loaf of bread from the oven. Homemade, obvs, and gluten-free. It’s cooled down enough to slice. There’s some rosemary butter, jam or marmalade to go with it, if you’re hungry.”

“Thank you Martin. Just finishing up getting settled. I’ll be down in a minute.” Neil said. He had in fact, at that very same moment, been considering reaching back into his bag and grabbing another snack bar. But suddenly the thought of having homemade bread seemed to supersede the hard foiled bar he now held in his hand.

He rolled it over in his hands once, twice, three times. Then tossed it back in his bag. Neil stood up and headed downstairs to join Mr. Topazzo.

++++++