Free Secret Of The Manor by Taylin Clavelli

wasn’t sure how his shoulder would hold up on the sea. The lake offered a safer environment to try it out.
    Come Saturday morning, Warren avoided going to the grave. Instead he loaded his van, did some schooling work with Argo, had a cuppa with Carl, and disappeared to Worcester.
    His shoulder twinged as he set up, and he had to use his other arm to zip up his wetsuit. Out on the water there was enough of a breeze to catch his sail, but nothing to put too much strain on his shoulder.
    Even so, he only managed an hour on the water before he was in so much pain he had to call it a day. Disappointed by his performance, he made it back to shore and gingerly released his shoulder from his wetsuit, followed by his other arm. He dried off his upper body and applied some Tiger Balm to the painful area while manipulating the muscles before returning the menthol-smelling salve to his kit bag. He was carefully dismantling his equipment when he heard an excited, “Mr. Blake. Mr. Blake.”
    Warren looked around and groaned. He recognised the chap from A-Genet.
    The enthusiastic man, who Warren guessed was in his late twenties, jogged over. “I thought it was you, Mr. Blake.”
    “Yes, well. You weren’t wrong.” At work, Warren always kept conversations polite and to the point. However, this fellow had caught him at the wrong time. Warren was mithered, annoyed with himself, and a host of questions about the mystery continued to run through his head. He’d taken to the water for some time out, and even that hadn’t gone to plan.
    “Derek. Derek Chambers—IT.” Derek held out his hand to Warren, who shook it briefly. The man had a strong grip.
    “Yes, I remember. You’ve fixed my PC before.”
    “Yes, that’s right. Good memory.” Derek was like a puppy looking for a bone.
    Warren shot him a short smile and a nod. From the way Derek was fidgeting, Warren assumed their encounter was a spur-of-the-moment thing the man hadn’t thought out.
    The young man pointed to Warren’s shoulder. “Nasty bruise you’ve got there.”
    Warren shrugged it off with a clipped, “Downside of sports.”
    Derek bounced from his heels to his toes a few times. “Anyway. You certainly seem to know what you’re doing out on the water.”
    Warren knelt back down and continued unbolting his boom. “Been doing it a long time.”
    “Wow, I’ve just started.”
    “That’s nice.”
    “Any tips, or chance at a lesson?”
    “Aren’t you having lessons from the centre?”
    “Well, yes, a group of us were towards the end of our lesson when the lady teaching us pointed out a couple of things about your technique that we should aim to copy. That’s when I realised it was you. I fell in the water after that. I was....”
    Warren stood and interrupted him. “Then my tip to you is to listen to her. The people here will be able to teach you much better than I ever could. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
    Derek’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Okay. Well, erm,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, “I’d better be getting back, then.”
    “Okay. Good luck with the lessons.” Warren held his hand out to the ponytailed Derek, not only to shake the other man’s hand, but also to make it clear the conversation was over.
    Warren felt a smidge sorry for Derek. Had Warren not had so much swimming around his brain, he’d have been more polite and maybe even chatted a little. Still, Warren disliked being recognized outside the office. Logically, he understood he would eventually bump into someone who knew him. It was something he would have to get used to.
    In three trips, Warren lifted his equipment into his van and changed. Soon after, he was headed home for another dip in his hot tub, followed by a shower. As the water cascaded down his body, he took his cock in hand and relieved his frustration to memories of his last trip to Bournemouth.
    On Sunday morning, he felt pretty good and was tempted to retrace the route he’d ridden in the