Date: Sun, 26 Jan 2014 10:02:30 +0000
From: Spasm Two <spasm2@hotmail.com>
Subject: Hugo #5

Chapter 5: I'm ready for my close up now, Mr De Mille...

[Authors note: Oh dear, there isn't very much sex at all in this chapter,
stick with it, there'll be plenty more to come...]

 	After a restless night I was awakened by the usual combination of
squabbling birds, sunshine and the furious crowing of the roosters,
impatient to be let out. Anyone who talks elegiacally about the peace and
tranquillity of the British countryside has plainly never been there, most
of the time it's a sexual battleground of creatures all competing to
demonstrate that they have the loudest voice. By contrast, man's
interventions; the distant rumble of a tractor, a muted chainsaw or even
the sound of a fairly unskilled person practising the bagpipes outdoors can
appear to be quite benign.

	By now I'd pulled on my yellow shorts and a t shirt and stumbled
blearily downstairs, and, like an automaton, made my first coffee of the
day. I opened my kitchen door and wandered out into the morning sunshine,
plonking myself down onto the bench to enjoy my drink. As the caffeine
jolted my brain into life I realised that my earlier musing about bagpipes
had in fact been prompted by the perfectly genuine sound of someone
inexpertly battling their way through their scales. A musical instrument
crafted for use on the battleground is about as antisocial as they get, and
sadly they don't come with any sort of volume control. This particular
musician could have been anywhere within about a mile of me, but my
educated guess was that it was most probably Hugo over at the big house.

	Before the distant sound of inept cat strangling had time to grate,
it abruptly ceased, leaving a sort of deafening silence. It didn't last, of
course, like air rushing to fill a vacuum the routine cacophony of the
barnyard started up again. I finished my coffee, tossed the dregs onto the
grass and headed back towards the kitchen for a second mug. When I'd come
outside I'd failed to notice that there was a plastic carrier bag looped
over the door handle, but this time I didn't miss it, or the note pinned to
it; 'more washing, sorry, Hugo,' was the trenchant text, written in a
childish hand. I didn't need to be Einstein to work out that the bag
contained his sodden panties from the night before, although why he
couldn't just have rinsed them out in the sink was a mystery to me. I
opened up the bag to check and the whiff of stale and drying come confirmed
my suspicions, I'm all in favour of buckets of fresh jizz, but this
offering did nothing for me, other than confirm my impression that Hugo was
quite a prolific little spunker.

	As I'd washed pretty much everything on the planet the day before,
I couldn't justify putting one pair of panties through the washing machine,
even when I remembered I'd created my own stained thong last night, so I
filled the bathroom sink with hot water and hand wash and left both pairs
of pants to soak together.

	As I returned to my seat with a fresh mug of coffee, I heard the
sound of an approaching bicycle, sure enough, Hugo sped into view, and
after he spotted me sitting on the bench he screeched to a halt, propped
his bike against the wall and walked over to me. Today he was dressed in a
faded red sleeveless singlet that didn't quite reach to the waistband of
his very abbreviated white nylon shorts and the inevitable converse
sneakers.

	'Morning,' he said, a little shyly, 'I'm sorry I left you my
washing yet again, but I couldn't work out what else to do with them.'

	'Morning Hugo, you're looking very sporty today, and it's fine to
bring me your laundry,' I said, smiling and waving him over to the bench,
'I found that for some strange reason I needed to rinse out my pants this
morning too, but don't you have anywhere at home you could wash them?'

	'Not really, my bedroom's up in the attic, and the water pressure
up there is too low for a sink. I have to share a bathroom with Tom, and
even he'd be bound to notice if I was scrubbing my dirty knickers in
there.'

	'Ah well, you'll just have to keep bringing them over to me then,
should the need ever arise again.'

	'Oh I think it might,' he grinned, 'actually, I wanted to ask you
about that, and a couple of other things, are you busy?'

	'As it happens, I do have some free time today, especially since I
have a visitor, does your mum know what you are up to today?'

	'Sort of,' he answered, slightly evasively, 'she wouldn't let me go
out on my bike again this morning until I'd done half an hour of music
practise. I'll have to go back pretty soon, she wants to take me into town
to buy some new clothes.'

	'That's not so bad, maybe you could try and pick out some things
that you like for yourself this time.'

	'Oh yeah, I hadn't thought of it like that,' he visibly brightened
at the idea, 'I've always hated being taken shopping for clothes, maybe if
I actually tell her what I'd like to wear it mightn't be so bad.'

	'That's the idea,' I smiled, 'although I've not yet seen you
wearing anything that didn't look good on you, apart from those big pants
of course, and after your tour de force last night I'm even mellowing about
them. Right then, I've just made a pot of coffee, let me get you a cup and
then you can ask me as many questions as you like.'

	'Aha, that's why I thought I'd better put these shorts on,' he
grinned, and tugged momentarily on the waistband, pulling them tight
against his crotch and revealing that he was plainly not wearing any
underwear.

	This unexpected moment of casual eroticism was like a jolt of
electricity to my libido; he was getting under my skin, and while I thought
he was delightful and very horny, I still wasn't completely certain that I
welcomed the attention. On the other hand, he had evidently thought of
pleasing me when he dressed that morning, and he really was extremely
attractive. When I considered how intimate we had been the day before, I
realised with a shock that I'd never so much as kissed his scarlet lips (or
any other part of him for that matter), and furthermore, that I'd really
rather like to.

	Once we were supplied, we went back outside and sat back down on
the bench, 'Ok Hugo, fire away,' I smiled, 'what can I do to help you?'

	'Well, first off could you help me to buy some nice pants? Once I'd
got used to the idea I really enjoyed wearing those yellow ones; for some
reason I'd never thought of underwear as being sexy before. I've got a bit
of pocket money to spend, unless they cost loads of course, do they cost a
lot?'

	'Yeah, they can do, unless you know where to shop, I guess I can do
that for you, and it'd be my pleasure to help. We can have a look for some
online later, you're in luck, there's loads of places on eBay that sell
knickers, and if you're not in a desperate hurry, they can be pretty
inexpensive. What sort of pants were you thinking of?'

	'I dunno really,' he answered, 'that's why I need your expertise,
but I do like the look of those ones that have nothing much covering up
your bottom and I liked the horny feeling that the ones I was wearing last
night gave me.'

	'Ah, you're probably after a thong or a g-string then, good choice,
pick the right fabric and they feel really sexy to wear, and of course
they're a real statement of intent.'

	'How do you mean?'

	'When you're wearing a thong, you know that you're a sexy man,
doesn't matter that no-one will see what you're wearing unless you want
them to. It goes without saying that you probably shouldn't be wearing them
to school, under your kilt, or anywhere where you're likely be getting
publically undressed.'

	'Unless I've decided get my kit off for someone, of course,' he
grinned cheekily, 'and I'd never wear anything under my kilt. I learned
pretty quickly not to do anything at school that would draw any attention
to me either.'

	'That's very sensible, later on we can go and have a look for
something that fills your needs, I think our Chinese friends will be able
to sort you out.'

	'Eh?' he looked bewildered.

	'For some reason there are hundreds of Chinese underwear sellers on
eBay, and as Chinese men come in smaller and slimmer sizes than European
men there are plenty of choices that'll fit you very nicely.'

	'Oh, right, that's cool.'

	'We can check them out later when I go online, I haven't bothered
to check my mail yet this morning, you've not sent me another one of your
movies have you?'

	'No,' he stammered, 'I'm not sure you'd want to see what I look
like first thing in the morning, but since you've mentioned it, what did
you really think of it?'

	'I'm sure you look lovely in the morning, I love bed hair,' I
grinned, 'as for your video, I found it a huge turn-on, as my spunked up
pants would have demonstrated, if they weren't already soaking in the sink
along with yours. What made you decide to do it, and how come you're so
good at the technical side?'

	'I wanted to do something to thank you for looking after me. As for
the technical stuff you'd not be saying that if you'd seen the way I'd all
the desk lamps in the house propped up around the chair,' he giggled, 'I
remembered what you said about reading the instructions, then I just
thought how much I wanted to make it sexy and real, worked out the moves I
wanted to use, then I just went for it.'

	'Well, you certainly did that, I'm getting stiff again just talking
about it,' I leaned back comfortably on the bench, not making any attempt
to cover up my arousal.

	Hugo mirrored my relaxed position, and I was pleased and amused to
see that the flimsy fabric of his skimpy shorts was failing miserably to
conceal the growth of his attractive bulge, 'you won't let anyone else
watch it, will you?' he asked anxiously.

	'No, of course not, I've no-one I could share it with anyway. I
promise that if you ever feel uncomfortable about my still having it, I'll
delete it immediately, I'll never be able to get it out of my mind whatever
happens to the file.'

	'Thanks, it was only ever intended for your enjoyment,' he smiled,
'I have to admit that I found shooting it was a huge turn-on; I loved the
feeling it gave me and I think I want to have to try and make another. When
I watched it through afterwards I got a bit fed up with only having the one
viewpoint, but I can't quite see how I get around that.'

	'Hmm, for some reason I never lost interest in what I was watching,
and if you weren't turned on by what you were doing you're a bloody fine
actor. I know what you mean though; a movie director like Alfred Hitchcock
could sustain a very long single shot without any edits (although he was
able to move the camera), but, without knocking your efforts, you're not
quite Hitchcock yet.'

	'Um, who's Hitchcock?' Hugo asked.

	'Oh,' I said, having forgotten who I was talking to for a bit, 'he
was a pioneering film director, famous, apart from his genius as a
director, for long carefully choreographed shots and for always making an
appearance in his own films somewhere in the background.'

	'Eh?' Hugo was looking ever more bewildered.

	'He created some images that will stay with you forever, think of
the shower scene in Psycho.'

	'I've heard of Psycho,' Hugo said helpfully.

	'Well, that's a start,' I smiled, 'tell you what, you can come and
watch it with me if you like, then you'll see what I mean. I'd seriously
suggest that you don't watch it on your own though, you might never want to
have a shower again, and I don't think that'd be a good idea.'

	'I think I'd like to do that,' he smiled, 'but as far as improving
my own efforts goes, you're suggesting that I should move the camera about,
and try to include the director?'

	'Well, no, not really, as you are the director as well as the star,
it would be impossible for you to be left out, and if you have to keep
stopping to change the shot, you'd risk losing all the spontaneity. I was
thinking that there were a couple of things you could try; principally, if
you could shoot it with more than one camera angle, you could still do the
whole thing in one take, and then edit it all together later to make the
best picture.'

	'That's fine, but I've only the one camera, I've only just figured
out how to use that for filming and I've never done any editing.'

	'Ah, but I've got my slr camera that has the same video mode as
yours, and the little one I usually keep in the car has a film function
too. Not to mention your camera phone, so potentially that's at least four
different shots. If you want to borrow my kit of course, somewhere I've got
the video editing software that came with the cameras. I've never tried to
use it, but I'm happy to learn it along with you.'

	'That's very kind of you, and that might well be the answer, I'll
have to have a think about it, I hadn't really got much beyond thinking it
would be a fun thing to do again,' he smiled, 'anyway, you were going to
tell me the story of how you got into photography, remember?'

	'Oh yeah, so I was, what do you want to know?'

	'So, have you ever done any nudey stuff? You do seem to be quite
knowledgeable about it.'

	'Ah, you've uncovered my guilty secret; long ago, when I was about
your age, I'd a friend at school, he'd hit puberty on the gallop, and was
bubbling over with testosterone and suppressed lust, consequently he was
desperate to cop off with a girl, any girl would do.'

	Hugo looked confused, 'Eh?'

	'It may seem a bit confusing to you, (and it was to me at the time)
but he decided that he could use smutty pictures of himself as a means of
attracting girls, a bit like those menu cards you see outside foreign
restaurants I guess.'

	'So where do you fit into this?' he asked.

	'You've got to remember this was a long time before digital cameras
had been invented, pretty much everything was shot on film and you needed
to be fairly skilled and have access to lots of chemicals and a dark room
if you wanted to take any pictures that couldn't be developed and printed
at the chemists. As it happened I had those skills, and I was allowed to
use the dark room at school. Paul had mistakenly allowed himself to believe
that I had no sexual interest in him, and though he had almost no
inhibitions about showing off his body, he'd a bit of an issue about
anything that he thought might be poofy. He also thought that all a gay
person would ever want to do to him was to shove his dick up his
arse. However, as long as he believed there were no personal feelings
involved, and I steered well clear of his hole, he was surprisingly
unconcerned what we did together, "It's just like having a wank", was
always his mantra.'

	'Blimey, that's really complicated,' Hugo said, his eyes wide, 'so
what happened?'

	'In a nutshell? Originally Paul had asked if I could help him to
take some porno pictures, and after a few failures and a lot of
experimentation we started producing some quite erotic material.'

	'Wow, was that it?'

	'Of course not, eventually, of course, we got it together; he never
believed that there was anything gay about our having sex together (we
never made love, ever). Somewhere along the way I ended up in a
relationship with the first person that I unconditionally loved, and
eventually it ended up in a big old come fest with all three of us (and a
couple more on one occasion) doing several sets of photo shoots together.'

	'So what did you do with the pictures, and did it work for Paul?'
Hugo breathed.

	'Of course it didn't work, putting all your goods on display is no
way to seduce anyone, however, Paul discovered that we could sell our
pictures to a bloke who ran what appeared to be a fuddy-duddy gents
outfitters on the high street. I think he must have been part of a much
bigger organisation, there always seemed to be plenty of money available if
the images were good enough, and for a short time we had quite a little
industry going. So he bought a lot of our pictures, but eventually the shop
burned down and I never saw him again. I'd always assumed that our work was
destroyed along with it, until a few years back I spotted some of our pics
on a vintage porn website and realised that they must have survived after
all. Since then I've spotted quite a few, and of course, I do still have a
few treasured images stashed away somewhere.'

	'What happened to your first proper love?' he asked.

	I was strangely pleased that he hadn't made any assumptions about
my lovers gender, and that he seemed to be more interested in him than the
pictures, 'Ah, that was a bit tragic, after we'd had an amazing summer
together he was taken away by his dad to live in America, eventually I
found out that he was one of the first people to succumb to AIDS.'

	'Poor you,' he said, sliding along the bench and putting a
consoling arm round me, 'I heard a lot about AIDs when we were living in
Africa, that's terrible.'

	'It was very difficult at the time, my mother knew I cared about
him, but I don't think she ever worked out how much we meant to each other,
and we completely lost touch once he'd moved to the states, I still feel as
though I abandoned him.'

	'That's rubbish, couldn't he even be bothered to facebook you, or
skype?' Hugo looked outraged on my behalf.

	'Hugo, you sweet boy, I'm talking about thirty odd years ago, back
then the internet was only a vague idea in Tim Berners-Lee's head, forget
about facebook or skype, all we had was snail mail, and Ewan was very
dyslexic and hated writing. I spoke on the phone to him once or twice after
he left, but it was too difficult and expensive and we decided we had to
let it go.'

	'That must have been really hard,' he said, 'I don't know if I'd be
able to do that.'

	'Yeah it was, but we made the decision together, that was always
why things were so good between us.'

	'Is that one of the reasons it hit you so badly when you broke up
with your Sophie?' he asked gently.

	'Yeah, I suppose so, I hadn't really thought of it like that, but I
guess you're right.' I was a bit taken aback; Hugo had shown depths of
insight and empathy that I could never have anticipated from one so young,
forget about therapy; go get yourself a teenage boy. I realised he still
had his arm round me, and hugged him close to me so he wouldn't see that I
was welling up, he dropped his head onto my chest and we sat together in
companionable silence in the sunshine. I drank in the sweet scent of his
freshly washed hair and thought how fortunate I was to find myself in this
situation.

	Our idyll was brought to an abrupt ending by the distant diesel
rumbling that heralded the arrival of the farmer on his tractor,
reluctantly we moved apart, both realising that we probably shouldn't be
found in a clinch when he came round the corner. So, when the big orange
tractor came into view, we were sitting chastely at opposite ends of the
bench, sipping from our coffee mugs. Hugo waved a greeting to the farmer as
he passed, and stood up, handing me his empty mug, 'I'd best go home for
now, but if it's ok I'll come over later and we can carry on.'

	'That'll be fine,' I smiled, 'I'm not entirely certain what we're
carrying on with, but I'm sure it'll be fun. If I'm not here when you come
back, I'll probably be down at the burn having a dip, it's going to be
another scorching day.'

	'Yeah, I'm going to have to go and change into something less
comfortable now, she'll never let me go into town with no knickers on.'

	'That's a shame, it's nice to have a bit of eye candy about the
place,' I grinned, 'I think you look pretty horny dressed in those tight
little shorts, they certainly don't leave much to the imagination.'

	He gave me a look, 'that's probably why I'm not allowed to wear
them anywhere apart from round the house or on the running track at
school.'

	'Sad, but probably true, never mind, you're very welcome to wear
them round here any time you choose,' I agreed, ruefully, 'you'd better get
away home then, thanks for coming by, it does me good to see a friendly
face.'

	'Thanks, that really means a lot to me,' he said, looking serious
for a moment, 'it's nice to know there's somewhere I can come when I need a
moan.'

	'That's not fair,' I protested, 'I've not heard a moan from you
yet.'

	'Just you wait, your time will come,' he smiled and cheekily blew
me a kiss, completely aware that the farmer was loading hay bales onto a
trailer on the other side of the yard.

	'Was that a threat or a promise?' I asked.

	'That's for me to know and you to find out,' he giggled before he
hopped on his bike and raced off round the corner once more.

	Before I got down to work, I needed a shower to finish off the
wakening process and I was aware that my denuded pubic region had become a
little stubbly. I shaved myself carefully, making sure that my genitals
were smooth once more. Once clean, I dressed, picking out a micro thong to
wear in honour of my young friend.

	I spent the next few hours gazing at the computer screen, I didn't
have much by way of deadlines, so my will and enthusiasm for work was quite
limited. When it became obvious to me that anything I achieved by now I'd
probably have to undo later, I gave up trying to work. Before I shut the
wretched machine down and went for a dip in the burn I went onto eBay and
had a quick search for underwear for Hugo. I was delighted to find that
some enterprising vendors had got around the three week plus shipping time
from China and imported their scanties to the UK to sell at a bit of a
premium. So I made a few purchases on his behalf, just to get around the
inevitable disappointment when he discovered he'd have a long wait. I know
he wanted to have a look with me, but I also wanted to buy him a little
thank you present and I could still remember that, for a teenager, having
to wait three weeks for something could seem longer than a lifetime.

	Once my purchases were confirmed and the machine was switched off,
I stripped naked and carefully applied a thin layer of sun block all over
my body. My cock twitched into life as I smoothed on the creamy liquid and
recalled the pleasurable feeling of anointing Hugo's firm body. I dressed
again and after grabbing a bottle of water I headed out into the sunshine,
instantly grateful for the protection when I felt the sun baking my pale
skin.

	The burn was sparkling attractively in the sunshine, and without a
moment of hesitation I stripped off and dived cleanly into the deepest part
of my swimming hole. I have always loved bathing, even though my
experiences at school did as much as humanly possible to put me off the
idea, and an aversion to stale chlorine reeking water has always kept me
away from public swimming pools. It wasn't until I was a good bit older and
no longer beholden to the whims of others that I was able to rediscover my
love for wild swimming; the crystal clear waters of the Med or the Aegean,
or even on some occasions the north sea became my playground. My skill as a
swimmer owes more to my manoeuvrability and flexibility than flashy speed,
and I enjoy the sensation of diving as much as anything, although I'm no
Tom Daley.

	After half an hour or so of splashing around in the pool I could
feel all my tensions and aches ebbing away, eventually I'd had enough for
the time being and clambered out of the water. I've never been particularly
good at lying in the sun, so I sat on the big rock, my feet dabbling in the
water, watching the little fish dashing about in the whisky coloured water,
busily reclaiming their territory.

	As I have mentioned before, sound travels in the countryside,
although sometimes it's hard to gauge direction or distance, I heard the
remote sound of a car engine without being sure where it was coming from. I
wasn't concerned about being caught sunning myself in a state of nature,
the pool wasn't readily accessible by any motor other than a tractor or a
four-wheel drive and wasn't on the way to anything other than pheasant pens
and pasture. It was way too early in the year for pheasant poults, and the
cows looked perfectly contented to me, if a tad hot. So when the distant
engine stopped abruptly, I dismissed it from my thoughts and returned to my
contemplation.

	I can't deny that I was troubled by my feelings for Hugo, he was
damaged by his experiences and so was I, and yet, we seemed to have a sort
of synergy and I was in no doubt that there was a sexual chemistry between
us. This was all grinding through my head, when I realised that I could
hear my name being called by a powerful female voice somewhere over by my
house. Hastily I pulled on my clothes and after checking that I was decent,
headed across the field towards my place. I was right, a newish Porsche
four wheel drive was parked behind my old land rover, and as I approached,
a tall woman, dressed in "country casual" came out from round the back of
my house.

	'Ah, there you are, I was just looking to see if you were round the
back,' she boomed, 'you must be John, I've seen you bouncing up and down
the track in that,' She pointed at my battered old Landrover.

	'Yes, that's right,' I said, 'but I'm afraid you have the better of
me.' Of course I'd realised at once who she was, she was about my age, and
still had striking good looks; I could see that her young son owed her a
lot physically.

	'Oh, do forgive me,' she smiled Hugo's dazzling smile, 'I'm
Jessica, Hugo's mum, and I wanted to thank you for patching him up. His
father and I were away in the States, and his brother was supposed to be
looking after him, although sometimes I think it should be the other way
round, Hugo is so much more sensible than Tom. Anyway, we didn't get to
hear the whole story until much later, but I gather you picked him up and
administered first aid and a bit of common sense.'

	'I only did what anyone would do,' I said, 'and he seems to have
made a good recovery.'

	'Oh yes, he's fine, boys that age are made of elastic, they just
bounce back from injuries. Hugo said he's been back to see you since then,
I do hope he's not been bothering you?'

	'No Jessica, he's no trouble, I'm away a lot with my work and it's
nice to see a familiar face occasionally. He's an interesting lad, although
there's room for improvement in his piping.'

	'Oh God,' she looked horrified, 'I'd completely forgotten about you
when I sent him off to practise, it's pretty unbearable inside the house,
so he goes out into the yard to do it if the weather's ok, I'm so sorry.'

	'Please,' I laughed, 'it's fine, makes a change from the usual
sounds of the farmyard. Now, can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee?'

	'I could murder a cup of tea, I've just been into town with Hugo,
trying to coax him to try some new clothes and I'm parched. Although he
actually took a bit more of an interest this time, when I asked, he said
you'd told him off for complaining about it, and that if he didn't like
something he should say so and come up with an alternative.'

	I pushed open the kitchen door, 'come inside while I make it, then
we can sit out in the garden and talk.' I put the kettle on and busied
myself making the tea, thankful that I'd chosen to soak our spunky
underwear in the bathroom and not the kitchen sink.

	Jessica looked around my kitchen, 'it's changed a bit since the
last time I was in here,' she said, 'I used to be in and out all the time
when I was Hugo's age, that was when the farmer lived here of course. I
used to come over to help with the cattle sometimes; his wife makes the
most fantastic cakes, but you always had to earn your slice.'

	'That's what Hugo does now, I've seen him helping out with the
cows,' I said, 'I'd no idea you'd grown up round here.'

	'My father was the minister of this parish, he's retired now and a
bit frail. I was away at school most of the time, but I was always hanging
around up here when I was home. When he retired he made the house over to
me, and we bought him a flat closer to town.'

	'Very sensible,' I said, 'it can get very isolated out here,
especially in winter.'

	'Yes, it is,' she agreed, 'you used to live on the other side of
the valley didn't you.'

	'Yeah, I did, until we busted up of course.' I poured out the tea
and we went outside again, I indicated my bench; 'have a seat.' Jessica sat
down exactly where her son had been sitting earlier, and I was once again
struck by how similar they looked.

	'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to probe,' she said, 'you know how it is
when you live in the country, everyone wants to know everything about a
mysterious stranger.'

	'I know,' I laughed again, 'and I'm quite used to it, although I'm
not very strange or mysterious.'

	She laughed Hugo's laugh, 'I can see that now, but I had been
wondering what sort of bitter twisted misogynist I was going to find when I
knocked on your door. My lad said I shouldn't be so silly and you were a
very kind and thoughtful man who'd had a hard time, so I thought you'd
probably be ok, he's not usually wrong about people.'

	'That's nice,' I said, swallowing a gulp of tea to try and get rid
of the lump in my throat, 'he's an unusual boy, he seems to have had a bit
of a time of it lately too.'

	'I suppose so, he took it very badly when my husband was promoted
and we had to come back from Africa, he'd formed some very strong
attachments out there and bitterly resented being brought back. What he
didn't know, of course, was that we were always going to send him back over
here to finish off his schooling; the school in Nigeria was very good, but
I really wanted him to become a part of his own country again.'

	'He doesn't seem to be that happy at his new school, from what he's
said to me,' I said, trying to be helpful.

	'No, I don't think he is,' she answered, 'but we didn't have an
alternative.'

	I was a bit lost for words, but it really wasn't my business,
although I was beginning to see why Hugo might have felt he wasn't being
listened to.

	Jessica put her empty mug down on the bench, 'I'm glad I've met you
at last,' she said, formally, 'Hugo's said such a lot about you, and I'm
afraid I've been ever so rude not coming over to say hello. Now, you must
be firm and tell him to go away if he's getting on your nerves.'

	'No, not at all, he's an interesting and engaging young man and he
made me realise that I can't bury myself here forever. He's showing real
determination with this school art project too, he was asking my advice
about editing his pictures.'

	'Oh no, he's not been banging on about it to you too,' she looked
annoyed, 'it's all he ever talks about.'

	'I think it's great that he's showing so much application,' I said,
trying to defend my young friend, 'I don't think I'd have been able to get
up that early and go hiking in the hills when I was his age.'

	'No, I suppose that's true,' she acknowledged, 'in my defence he
doesn't take setbacks very well and tends to chew over them for ever, you
must tell him to drop the subject if he starts to bore you to death.'

	'He's been fine with me, and I'm happy to give him a bit of advice
from time to time, and don't worry, if I've got a deadline coming up I will
politely but firmly tell him to sling his hook.'

	'That's the ticket,' she said, 'it's really very kind of you to
take an interest, I'm afraid none of us are even slightly artistic, I'm
sure I don't know where he gets it from. I can't tell a good photograph
from a bad one, so I'm really rather grateful that he has someone to talk
to, but I must reiterate that you should tell him to stop pestering if he's
getting under your feet.' She rose gracefully to her feet, and handed me
her mug, clearly she had decided that the interview was ending.

	'Not a problem, it's nice to have a visitor from time to time, and
I'm happy to help him out with his project, unless you think I should pull
back, of course.'

	'No, if you can spare the time I'm very grateful that you're taking
an interest, candidly, the promotion has meant his father has had very
little free time since we came back, and I think he would really benefit
from more interaction with adults.'

	'I'm very flattered, I like the boy and I find his enthusiasm
infectious, it's done me a power of good to have him round the place, so as
far as I'm concerned, he's welcome here.'

	'Thank you,' she said, 'I've noticed a change in him over the last
couple of weeks, he's become much more assertive, I thought it was because
he was growing up at last, but maybe I should credit you with some of the
transformation.'

	'I don't know,' I blushed, 'all I've done is offer a little
encouragement and a friendly ear.'

	'Well, whatever it is that you've done, keep it up. I'll let him
know that as far as I'm concerned he can come and see you whenever it suits
you, and thank you again for looking after him,' with that she inserted
herself elegantly into the Porsche, and after waving a polite farewell,
reversed carefully out of the yard and turned back onto the track to the
big house.

	'Phew,' I thought, 'I think I've just been inspected, and I think I
may have passed.' I don't normally drink in the day time, but my legs were
feeling a little wobbly so I poured myself a glass of white wine from the
bottle in the fridge and went back out into the garden.

	Somehow I'd expected an unleashed Hugo to come roaring up the track
straightaway, and I was curiously disappointed when nothing of the sort
happened. Feeling slightly deflated I drained my glass of wine and decided
I'd take a hike to see if that would make me feel better. I went upstairs
to my bathroom, and pulled off my clothes again; topping up my sunscreen in
anticipation of another exposure to heat of the sun.

	Once I'd prepared myself I looked out my skimpiest pair of running
shorts and a cap sleeve t shirt, not that I was planning to keep either on
for very long, and made my way outside again.

	As soon as I was safely beyond the reach of civilisation I stripped
naked and stashed my clothes in their usual hiding place. Out of curiosity
I'd decided to make my way up to the peak where I thought Hugo had been
doing his shadow photos, it was about a twenty-five minute walk away, but
once I reached the top I recognised it immediately. I could see why he had
chosen it; with the sun rising behind you the shadow would be cast right
across the heather moorland and onto another hillside. I could also see why
he'd struggled to get the camera into a good position, there was almost
nothing on the hilltop except heather and gorse bushes, neither of which
make very effective substitute camera mounts.

	'Ah well,' I thought, 'he's got my tripod now, so he'll make a
better job of it next time.' Looking around me, as the sun was gradually
getting lower in the sky, I realised that this place offered considerable
potential for a sunset shadow image too. From my where I stood my shadow
was already cast all along the dusty track and back towards the farmhouse,
not as compelling and strong an image as the one Hugo had chosen perhaps,
but one that carried connotations of homecoming and comfort. I made a
mental note to suggest this to him, next time I saw him.

	Having achieved my goal, I made my way back down the hill and
across to collect my clothing. Rather than getting dressed, I decided to
carry on my way until I felt that I ought to put some clothes on, and as I
was heading back to the burn I was able to pick a route that allowed me to
stay naked all the way. I was a bit disappointed to see that the swimming
hole was unoccupied; no golden naked youth lounging in the long rays of the
slowly setting sun, just the usual suspects who took fright and flew away
as I drew near. I jumped in to cool off, but I couldn't get my thoughts of
the boy out of my mind and after a bit of splashing about I climbed out and
pulled on my shorts without even bothering to try and dry myself off. I
walked back to my house, expecting to see his bike propped up somewhere,
but there was no sign of it.

	I was feeling decidedly unsettled and out of sorts, and poured
another glass of wine to try and make myself feel better. I wasn't very
sure what had happened, had my apparent legitimisation by his mother just
destroyed our fragile relationship? My pragmatic side said not to be so
foolish and self-pitying; he's a boy, his life is not his own, he'll just
have been dragged off to do something he doesn't want to do, just as I was,
so many times, so many years ago.

	Eventually I realised that I was being silly, if he wanted to see
me, he knew where I was, and, perhaps foolishly, I decided to look back
over the work I had done that morning, not something I'd recommend when
you've had a couple of glasses of wine. When I got up to my study I
realised that I hadn't checked my mail since that morning, so rather than
destroy a carefully crafted drawing, I opened up my e-mail inbox
instead. Among all the work-related spam, the genuine messages and
occasional invitations to help transfer money out of Nigeria (this drew a
wry smile from me as I'd discovered a much more attractive Nigerian
export), there was a message from Hugo, and it had an attachment.

	I paused before I opened it, worried that this might be goodbye, I
needn't have worried, his message ran;

Sorry I missed you when I came round to see you, when I went home again I
had some bad news; my grand-dad has been taken ill and he's been admitted
to the infirmary, we're all going in to see him. Good news is that I
managed to persuade my mum to buy me some decent pants (see attachment),
I'll try and come and see you tomorrow.

Hugo x

	Somehow that lone 'x' meant more to me than any number of pictures
or videos, and I fervently hoped that I'd be given the opportunity to cash
it in sometime soon. I clicked on the attachment, it was a jpeg, and after
a moment it burst onto the screen; Hugo was sitting propped on a bed with
his feet up and knees apart, dressed only in pair of quite minimal white
slip briefs, positively diminutive by comparison to the mighty trunks I'd
seen him wearing up 'til now. He was smiling broadly and evidently in a
state of erotic excitement; his stiff cock exposed as a solid ridge up the
front of his pants. I drank in the image, my own cock springing into life
as I admired the way the boy had managed to combine his apparent innocence
and evident sexuality in the same picture.

	It was only as I began composing my reply that I realised there was
something else that was familiar about the picture, I couldn't put a finger
on it, so I wrote on;

Hi Hugo, I'm so sorry to hear about your grand-dad, please let me know if
there's anything practical I can do to help. Thanks for the pic, your new
pants are a great improvement, you must tell me how you persuaded your
mother to buy them (if you want to)...

	It was at this moment that the penny dropped and I realised that
the boy had taken his picture in my bed, I had to rush across the landing
to check, but it was as innocent and empty as you might reasonably
expect. I went back to my computer and continued;

Just realised that you've been in my bed again, very sorry I wasn't here
for that, some other time perhaps. It would be nice to see you tomorrow, I
should be at home most of the day, but I might well go for a swim if it
gets too hot, maybe I'll catch you there.  John xx

	He must have been online, because his response was immediate;

Thanks John, it's all a bit confused over here, my grand-dad's had a
stroke, he's out of danger, but he's going to be kept in the infirmary for
a while. My mum is going to be going in every day to see him. If you don't
see me tomorrow, it'll be because I've been taken in with her.  Hugo xxx

	I was intrigued by the kiss inflation, at this rate if I cashed
them in I was heading for a full-on snog. I replied;

No worries, if I see you tomorrow it'll be a pleasure, if not, then I'll
catch you later...  John xxxx

	Again, his reply was instant, if minimal;

Hugs xxxxx

	Either he couldn't spell or he was definitely flirting with me
again, and I think I liked it, I hadn't flirted with anyone for years. I
replied;

Time I got ready for bed, I'll be thinking pleasant thoughts about you.
John xxxxxx

	This time there was no reply. After waiting for a bit, I realised
that was probably all I was getting for the night, and shut my computer
down. As I was brushing my teeth I gazed at my reflection in the mirror,
was this the face of a dangerous pedatory pervert? On balance, I rather
thought probably not. Even I could see that there was a sadness in my blue
eyes but on the whole I'd have said my face was better designed for smiling
than for weeping. Thinking back over the events of the last few weeks I
pondered my developing relationship with Hugo, and I couldn't think of any
occasions where I had led him on. It would be completely fair to say that I
could probably have done more to discourage him, but he was a fragile
flower and by the time I'd worked out there was anything going on I think
we'd both recognised we were kindred spirits, besides, if he wasn't
bothered by the gap in our ages why should I be?

	I climbed into bed, my day certainly hadn't panned out as I'd
anticipated, poor Hugo had been subjected to another trauma (although I'd
no idea how close he was to his grandfather), on the other hand I seemed to
have been inspected and passed fit by his mother. My bedding held no smell
of the boy, this was a probably a good thing, as it might have been
unbearably poignant to fall asleep with his scent on my nostrils. I
marvelled at the sheer chutzpah that allowed him to think of posing in my
bed, I'd never have had the courage to do that when I was his age.

	Sleep came surprisingly easily to me, I guess spending several
hours out in the sun helps, my last thought as I drifted away was that I
was very lucky, half a mile away from my bed was a sleeping teenager who
wanted to spend time with me, and who seemed to share some of my tastes.
I'd no idea what tomorrow might bring, the only thing that seemed certain
to me was it would be a new adventure.