Date: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 23:23:46 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 33

If you are new to this story, may I suggest that you read from the
beginning, to understand the plot and the characters.

If you are a regular, thank you for your continued interest!

Warning: If relationships between boys and men is not your scene, or if
you're under age, or if it is not legal for you to be reading this, then
please leave, now, before somebody finds out!

Otherwise, enjoy!



From Chapter 32


Will and I sort our things into three piles - `needs to be washed', `needs
to be worn tomorrow or Tuesday' and `everything else to be packed'. We also
end up with a fourth - `undecided', which includes our computer
tablets. Maybe we will play some games, or need them to Google something,
or to take photos. And, we need to set up Facebook accounts. We should have
done that with Tony and Rocco, but maybe Jarrod can help us.

Sorting done, Will and I lie side by side on the bed, holding hands,
reminiscing about our day with Tony and Rocco and how, realistically, we
can be friends with them. Our discussions also include Simon and Luke,
Jarrod, Joey and, of course, Andy.

It's inevitable that we also re-visit what we need to say to Marty. Our
hands end up in more intimate touching but without the need to `do'
anything apart from holding each other. However, I feel the real desire for
both of us to `brush' our teeth' tonight.


Chapter 33

It's early. After a day and night of ecstasy and complete physical
draining, my body is slow to `get going', as my heavy eyelids do battle
with the rest of my head.

Both the sensation of Will's body against mine and my tired eyes, both
whisper, `stay'. My full bladder, the need to shower away the excesses of
the night and the awareness that today we will meet the architect for our
new home, all shout, `get up'. Noise must be mitigated and urgency wins.

I love `saving water' with my little brother, but, this morning, I
appreciate the relaxed freedom to massage my scalp while shampooing my
hair, matted from some misdirected nocturnal activity. I allow the unshared
stream of hot water to power onto my head, down my neck and shoulders then
warm my back and lower body. I rotate slowly. My whole body delights in
absorbing the heat. My tired cock stretches yawningly to `normal' length,
aided by a liberal application of scented body wash.

The second hardest thing to do in the morning, after forcing my feet out of
bed and onto the floor, is turning off the hot water.

I dry off and then enjoy vigorously towelling my back and butt, which
shakes my `stuff'. I use my hair dryer, firstly as its maker intended, and
then to deliver a blast of hot air up and down my naked body - avoiding
dwelling too long on one part.

Re-entering the bedroom, I see Will struggling to escape our love nest. If
we had had any alcohol last night, I would think that he was nursing a
hangover. Yes, we really wore each other out. He heads for me, arms
outstretched for a hug. Instead, I grasp his hands and interlock my fingers
with his and say, "After you've cleaned yourself up! How did you get so
messy and smelly?"

He smirks, "I can't remember all of the details, but it must have been one
hell of a wet dream!" I kiss him then give him a swat on his cute bum as he
heads for the bathroom.

I delay dressing until Will emerges. I extend my arms for the promised
hug. He wraps his arms around my body then slaps me hard on both cheeks,
holding on and pulling my hips to meet his. "Hey! That stings!" I
remonstrate with him.

"Payback! Would you like me to kiss it better?" he asks.

"Yes... but I don't have the strength left for anything else," I complain
to him. He turns me around, kneels down, kisses both my cheeks then,
standing up, swats them again, and runs!

Within the confines of my room, he dodges and weaves from my grasping
hands, laughing so hard that he soon collapses face-down on the bed.

I move to him and say, "Now, I've got you!" He doesn't move. I lower myself
onto him and kiss the back of his neck. My cock nestles into its favourite
position. "Thanks for last night," I whisper in his ear while continuing to
plant kisses around his neck and shoulders, which cause him to shudder.

"Hey, you were great yourself. That was the best night ever!"

I remind him of our appointment with the architect and our opportunity to
plan `our' house.

"Hell, yeh!" he rasps, then rolls me off him, kisses me and heads to get
dressed. Staring at ourselves in the mirror he stuns me with, "We make a
great couple, don't we?" I let the word `couple' sink in and my eyes mist
up with happiness. I hug him and we head down to seek out the source of
some delicious aromas. It's only midway through breakfast that my brain
does one of its customary catch-ups... surfing... Simon, Luke and Joey.

I glance outside. It's not raining but a little overcast. I know that there
won't be many people out at this time of the day, only three dedicated
surfers that I know of. "Hey," I put to Will. "How would you like one final
session of body boarding this morning?"

He looks up at me and gives me a smirk of realisation as to why. "Yeh!" he
says enthusiastically, omitting the `hell' bit, probably because my mother
is right next to us. Then his face drops and he says, "But haven't we
packed our swimming togs away? In a plastic bag, in another bag, in with
something else? We'll have to pull everything out to find them.

"They wouldn't be too hard to find," I comment, "but I do have others that
we can use instead."

Mum floors me with, "Well, you could always go skinny dipping!"

I'm sure that she meant it as a joke. Will slowly raises his eyes to mine
and gives me a wicked smile. I instantly know what he's thinking.

"It's OK," I tell Mum, and give Will a stern look. "We'll find something to
wear, and we'll finish breakfast when we get back."

I know that we should wait an appropriate time after eating but we'll have
our boards as flotation devices. Besides, I've never experienced
post-ingestion cramping!

Will and I head upstairs. "Do you honestly believe that you can parade
around naked in public? This isn't one of those nudist beaches, you know,"
I tell him. "We could both be arrested! And this isn't the weir at The
Village, either."

"That won't happen," Will replies, almost too dismissively. "Anyway, most
of the time we would be in the water. It would be fun to do it!"

I'm not sure what to say. The thought of it is naughty enough to be mildly
exciting, but is the risk worth it? I don't think so!

I fish out a couple of pairs of spare Speedos and give Will the red
pair. We put them on, cover our well-defined bulges with shorts and pull on
T-shirts. We grab towels then head down to the garage for our boards.

As expected, there are very few heads visible in the surf. Reasonable
swell, though. I count only four - Simon, Luke, Joey plus one more about
50m away.

We walk down towards the water and drop our towels a few metres above the
wet sand line. They should stay dry here - the tide's on the way out. I
remove my shorts and shirt and place them on top of my towel. Will does the
same, except, he doesn't stop at the shorts. I see a flash of red nylon
added to his pile.

He laughs, "Ha ha," grabs his board and races across the short distance to
the water then wades in. There are hoots from the three in the surf and I
watch the body of my young Adonis progressively concealed by the water. He
pauses to attach his leg rope then, as he paddles and kicks out to the
boys, all I can see is his head, shoulders and bare contracting arse
mounds. I have to admit, it's a stirring sight!

Will is almost out to where Simon, Luke and Joey are waiting when the
latter all wave their Speedos high above their heads and cheer. I can't
believe what I'm seeing! I look around nervously. Nobody else,
except... the other guy out there seems to have drifted a little closer to
the boys. I point to him, but they all take it as a greeting, raising their
arms, with Speedos pushed up to their shoulders. Then, pointing back at me,
they beckon.

Keeping my gaze fixed on the lone surfer, I attach my leg rope and head for
the water, still fully `dressed' in my Speedos. This elicits hoots of
derision and calls of "coward" and "chicken" from the four skinny dippers.

The gap to the loner appears to be slowly but perceptibly narrowing. I
don't know what his intentions are, so I start to paddle out with all haste
to alert the boys. Then, suddenly, they all catch a wave and four naked
arses flash past me - literally. I turn to look but they are concealed by
the bulk of the wave which they've caught. I paddle out a little farther.

The lone surfer is a lot closer now. He's older than me, maybe early
thirties, and I can see that, below his muscled upper body, he's wearing
board shorts.

I look towards the beach and see Speedos being deposited on the sand
together with two of the body boards. Shit! I know what that means - tandem
rides... naked. In `normal' circumstances I would be thrilled.

"Hi," I hear quite close to me. It sends a shiver through my whole
body. The guy has paddled up close to me while I was distracted.

"Hi," I reply, without really wanting to encourage any conversation that
might lead to him hanging around.

The naked quartet is on its way back out - two paddling and two
swimming. "What do you reckon they're up to?" he asks, nodding towards the
boys.

I have no idea who this guy could be - anything from the local inspector of
police to a serial murderer. He's showing altogether too much interest in
them to just be a casual surfer who might be expected to just ignore a bit
of juvenile flesh.

"You know them?" he continues.

If there was ever a time that I needed my brain to work quickly, it's now!
I've got my little brother and three friends frolicking naked in the surf,
intent in riding atop each other on their boards and this unknown guy is
asking questions about them, or is he interested in my involvement with
them?

"My little brother and I are visiting from out west. He's made friends with
the other boys since we arrived, but we're heading back home tomorrow," is
all I say. Is it enough? Too much?

He replies with, "I hope they all don't do anything that they could be
arrested for. This isn't a nudist beach." His voice has a tone of authority
to it and I'm thinking that he could be a cop or a council ranger. So he's
definitely taken some interest in their nakedness!

"Just boys being boys, I expect," I say, hoping to downplay any serious
intent in his mind, and thankful that I've left my Speedos in place.

At that moment a large swell looms behind us. "This looks like a good one!"
I exclaim and set myself to catch it and, maybe, intercept the boys. I
paddle furiously and am relieved when he catches it too, which leaves the
boys to their own devious devices, for a while at least.

We ride the wave all the way to the beach. I stand and glance seaward,
hoping to give the boys a sign to stay out there. However, they are just
about to take off on wave - tandem! This could quickly turn into a
disaster!

"I'm feeling a bit queasy after breakfast," I tell the guy. "I think I'll
sit out for a while... actually, I might shower and get dressed."

"I should probably be going myself," he replies. "I've been here too long
already."

I want to shout for joy and relief but I still feel uneasy about him being
around the guys. And now that he suddenly wants to take off, having put
himself in a position of being observed and recognisable, he has me on high
alert.

Hoping to lure him away from the water's edge, I pick up my clothes and
towel, put them over my left arm then extend my right hand to him. "I'm
Tom, by the way," I say.

Taking my hand and shaking it, he replies, "Mark... Mark Golding."

I'm curious about him, for a number of reasons, so I ask, smiling, "So what
do you do Mark, when you're not surfing?" I take a couple of steps towards
the dressing shed.

He takes the bait. Yes!! He walks alongside me, and I keep my back to the
surf and tandem surfers.

"Gold Coast Police - sergeant for the local area command," he answers. It
sounds well-rehearsed.

My heart sinks. No it doesn't! Just the opposite! It starts pounding. I
hope he can't hear it. Thinking on the run I ask, "I've often
wondered... what's the biggest challenge? Is it the weekends? Drunks?
Hoons? Drugs?" I know better than to ask a closed `Yes / No' question when
you want to keep somebody engaged and talking.

"Yeh, all of the above," he says, smiling. "But we get our share of serious
crimes as well - car thefts, break and enter, rape, murder - the usual, you
know?"

"Wow!" I exclaim. Then I add, hoping to keep his focus away from the water,
"Tell me, Mark, does all that have an effect on you personally? I mean, how
do you cope with that and `switch off'?"

"You learn to live with it," he replies matter-of-factly. "The worst part
of the job is knocking on somebody's door to tell them that their son or
daughter's been killed in car accident. What about you?" he asks. "What do
you do?"

"School teacher. This is my first year out of uni and I scored a
one-teacher school out on the Warrego River." I immediately realise that
I've already given him too much information about me and Will, as little as
it may be. There are far too many questions that he could ask me, like,
`have you always lived out that way?' and `if so, how did you get a school
so close to home?' and `does your brother live out there too?'

Hoping to maximise Will's innocence in what's going on behind us I add,
"Even though I went to university here, this is my little brother's first
visit to The Coast. We do have some relatives here, but, being still at
school, he hasn't travelled much. He's made quite a few friends in the past
two weeks and I'm sure that he'll want to come back next school holidays."

We reach the dressing sheds. A backwards glance reveals that the boys are
back out in deep water again.

The sergeant and I shower, without dropping our swimming costumes. We chat
- policing, teaching, undisciplined youth.

I soon become very aware of laughing and multiple loud voices, coming
closer. I pray that they've all put their Speedos back on!

"Oh, well, I'd better go. Duty calls," Mark says, stepping out of the
shower. Without a towel or a change of clothes, my guess is that he must
live reasonably close to the beach. "It's been good to meet you, Tom," he
says. "Good luck out west." We shake hands then he heads towards the
doorway and is almost bowled over by Joey, followed closely by the other
three - thankfully, all clad.

Joey floors me with, "Oh, hi dad, I thought that you'd gone home already."

"On my way, son," Mark replies, ruffling Joey's hair. "Don't be late for
breakfast, or your mother will blame me for it. You've got about fifteen
minutes."

"Hello, Mr Golding," Simon and Luke say respectfully as he passes them and
bumps fists with them.

I wait until he's gone. "He's your dad?" I say with surprise to Joey. "I
thought that he might have been some pervert who was going to make a move
on you guys, which is why I tried to get him away from you all. He could
have lured you into the dressing sheds, got you naked and done
who-knows-what to you." Even as the words leave my mouth I can't help but
think that they could apply to me. I suddenly feel amused, yet guilty at
the same time. I smile at him.

He slides down his Speedos, revealing a cold-water-affected boy cock, and
hangs them on a wall peg. He's a handsome specimen of a young boy, entering
puberty, with a small patch of hair `down there' and a nice pair of
low-hanging, smooth marbles.

"He's going to think that's hilarious, when I tell him," Joey laughs.

"Just don't tell him too much!" Will throws in.

"Dad and I have this understanding," Joey smiles, "he doesn't talk to me
about his work, and I don't talk to him about my friends and what I do with
them. And he's always said, `ask no questions and you'll be told no
lies'. But, having you trying to protect us from a potential pervert - him
- is funny. I've got to tell him that!"

Joey fills his hands with liquid soap and holds them invitingly. "So who
wants to be washed first?" he puts to all of us, yet to nobody in
particular. His boyhood is expanding and rising.

Three Speedos are discarded as quickly as they were at the water's
edge. Again, I'm the laggard, as I process what I've just seen and
heard. Playing around with the young son of a cop could be very risky, and
yet it doesn't seem to worry Joey in the slightest!

"Take them off! Take them off!" The chanting comes from the four naked guys
under the showers. I slowly remove my `covering' and they all clap and
cheer. I join them, laughing, sure that the five of us will make the most
of the next ten minutes, if we're not interrupted.

I step into the midst of them to be welcomed by multiple slippery hands
that proceed to soap up my entire body, neck to knees, front and
back. Needless to say, I rise quickly to the occasion.

There is much communal rubbing, jiggling, jacking and frotting. My first
5-way! Lol. Even though Joey is the youngest, he is really worked up and is
the first to spurt - accompanied by a loud `Aargh'.

"I'm close, too," Will tells him. "You wanna finish me off?" Joey is not
slow in accepting Will's offer and he quickly brings my little brother to a
powerful climax, wearing the result of it all over his chest.

"Me next!" Simon urges him. Joey works on his cock while I slip my middle
finger between Simon's glutes. Joey is quickly sporting another set of
white streaks.

As the shower cleanses Joey, I nestle against his firm little backside
while he services Luke. I have to pull away from him before I cum. He turns
to me. "Righto, mister!" he chirps. "Let me have it." He cups my balls with
his left hand and uses his slick right hand on my aching
stiffness. Needless to say, it only takes a few strokes and I erupt onto
him too.

We share a communal hug and delight in ensuring that everyone is clean,
doubly clean.

Will tauntingly says, "Don't be late for breakfast Joey. You don't want
your dad asking questions and being told lies about what took you so long."

We all laugh. Will and I dry off, don our shorts commando-style, pull on
our T-shirts and roll our wet Speedos in our towels.

There are more hugs all `round with promises of `catching up' when we are
back for the next holidays, with the hope that young Andy will be able to
join us. Joey heads off first, at a run. Simon, Luke, Will and I all walk
together and talk - thankful for having met each other, and expressing our
anxieties about Andy.

We wish each other well for the coming school term. We have each other's
phone numbers and, thanks to Uncle Bill's generosity with the new phones,
we will be able to keep in touch.

When we re-enter the house, Mum tells us that there is bacon in the
foil-covered dish in the oven, together with some fresh scrambled
eggs. Will says, "Thank you, Aunty Susan. We've just worked up a great
appetite." He smirks at me. What a little devil! "If you put on the toast,
Tom," he tells me, "I'll make the coffee."

I fleetingly wonder where Amelia is, and then then the thought is erased as
the house phone rings. Bill will be here with the architect in 30 minutes.

Will and I have enough time to eat and then change into something more
comfortable. In the privacy of our room I tell him, "Bro, you worry me
sometimes. You know that?"

"What do you mean?" he replies. I can't tell whether he's genuinely unaware
of the risk he has just taken or whether he's dismissing it. I don't want
his newly-found bravado and self-confidence in public to lead him into
trouble, nor do I want to quench his spirit. I almost feel responsible for
helping to awaken this dragon within him.

"Will, I don't want you to imaging that you can just drop your pants
whenever and wherever you like," I lovingly admonish him while, at the same
time, reflecting upon the beauty of his body in its natural state in a
natural setting. "We have been unusually lucky with all the guys that we've
met in the past two weeks, but not everyone is like them. And, things could
have been very different if that guy hadn't been Joey's dad. I just don't
want you to get into trouble or hurt."

"Thank you, Tom. I know that you want what's best for me. I'll try to be
good," he says.

His words reflect a sincere sentiment and yet they have a certain
hollowness to them. I have genuine concerns for his naiveté in a cruel
world. "Just be careful in future, OK?" I put to him.

"Yes, Tom. I'm sorry if I upset you. I guess I suddenly missed the freedom
of swimming in the weir with Karl and Kurt. I'm glad that we'll be home on
Wednesday."

"Me too, bro," I tell him, but then warn, "You know that things will never
be the same back there any more, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, appearing suddenly and genuinely concerned.

"Well, to start with, you are no longer a naïve little... virgin. We've
both experienced thrills beyond the grabbing games that you played with
Karl and Kurt, and more than your jacking off with Jake. It will be hard
for you to go back to just that with them, don't you think? You may feel
like doing more with them but they may not be ready for what you want. You,
yourself, told me that Jake has already said that he doesn't want to do
more."

"Yeh, I know," he replies, with an air of sadness.

I continue, "And it would be wrong to push them into anything more than
they want or are ready for." Then, after a reflective pause, I add, "It was
different for you and me. We were both `up for it', weren't we?" I nudge
him playfully.

"Hell, yeh!" is expressed with a little less intensity than usual -
pensively.

"And, if anything, just so you know, I tried really hard not to give in to
my urges, or to your urging," I confess. Will looks at me quizzically. I
continue, "But then, I hadn't counted on your determination and incredible
magnetism, which wore me down - but it didn't take much!"

He giggles, "Do you remember the day in your car when I asked you if you
wanted to `get lucky' with me?"

"Hell, yeh!" I smirk to him. "I'll remember that day for the rest of my
life. That was the moment when my moral resolve totally collapsed. You had
me from that moment on. It was the thrill of my life. At least it was
then. But now we've experienced much more beyond simply feeling each other
up, haven't we?

"Hell, fucking yeh!" he responds fervently, then grabs me and wrestles me
to the bed. We enjoy each other's lengthy and firm embrace, but restrain
ourselves from getting `too excited', with Uncle Bill due soon.

When they arrive, I'm impressed with Uncle Bill's architect, introduced to
us as `Ash - short for Ashley. He is friendly and declines the offered
caffeine, preferring water instead. He gets straight to business, spreading
some documents on the dining table. I am surprised to see an aerial
photograph of the property, clearly showing the river, school, church, pub,
Karl and Kurt's house and even Will's house. It's obvious that this is not
a recent photo.

We all move to the one side of the table - Ash between Uncle Bill and me,
with Will on my other side.

The full extent of `our' property is evident only when transparent boundary
outlines are placed over the photograph, showing some potential sites for
the house. The possibilities opposite the pub or close to the school both
have practical up-sides, but lack a degree of privacy. Will and I agree
that the one farthest from the school, backing almost to the river, is our
preferred option. It has the added benefit of potential summertime shade
from the tall river gums.

That settled, we turn to the expansive floor plan. Ash has designed us a
double-storey, `U'-shaped house and advises that the `U' will incorporate a
private courtyard and spa pool. According to our choice of sites, it will
open directly towards the river.

In a nutshell, upstairs, the western arm of the `U' building would be taken
up completely by the enormous master bedroom and huge walk-through wardrobe
to a large ensuite. The other arm would house three double bedrooms, two
sharing an adjoining bathroom, the third with its own private ensuite. The
remainder of the floor, to the front, is open space.

Downstairs, below the master suite is Will's studio. The other side is
designated as a `games area'. Ash explains that this could include anything
that we want - computers, pool table, gym equipment, and more. Will looks
at me and raises his eyebrows. I think, `No, we're not putting BDSM stuff
in the house,' in case that's what he's thinking! The front part of the
downstairs is an open-plan lounge / dining / kitchen.

So, essentially, the master suite and studio will face west but with
additional windows north and south. The other bedrooms and `games room'
look east to Karl and Kurt's place, the school, church and pub.

The front of the building with upper and lower open areas face the `road'
but, with the house sited towards the rear of the block, Ash suggests
extensive front-yard landscaping would be appropriate.

The design of the structure, I am pleasantly surprised to see, is of a
style that matches the pub. Is it Victorian? Edwardian? Georgian?
`Heritage'? I have no idea, but it looks grand!

Ash explains the differences in these periods and we decide to call it
`Colonial Victorian' as it incorporates broad frontal verandahs, upper and
lower, with decorative cast-iron lacework.

He tells us that the house will be powered by banks of solar panels with a
diesel generator as a backup. The insulation will minimise the need for
heating / cooling and the adjustable cover over the courtyard can admit
sunlight in the cooler months while blocking it at other times. Many
features of the house will be controllable by computer - a full home
automation system, as we had previously discussed with Uncle Bill

There will also be a large satellite dish sited on the eastern side of the
house which will enable powerful radio communications.

Over all, a very modern house inside an exterior of impressive period
design. This is going to cost a fortune! But, Uncle Bill has said that he
is happy to pay for whatever we want. Will and I are truly blessed!

Ash also mentions the potential, if desired, to replace the existing house
on the property (Karl and Kurt's place) with a single or double row of half
a dozen Victorian cottages. These, together with the main house and the pub
would almost bring a re-birth or re-invigoration of The Village. The
possibilities for these could be numerous and he suggests that we consult
`the locals' for ideas as to their potential use, prior to actually
committing to anything.

I am surprised to hear Ash say that, on Uncle Bill's say-so, he has already
arranged for some heavy equipment to be moved onto the site, and has begun
making enquiries regarding local tradespeople and labourers. I insist that
Marty's name be included for any long-term work.

Uncle Bill adds, "It is also my intention to do some restoration work on
the pub, with the owner's permission. Do you think that they'd refuse my
offer?" He smiles.

"Wow!" is all that Will can reply. He's normally the one with all the words
when I am deficient.

"How could they not accept?" I ask. "I'm already starting to think of some
possibilities as a tourist stop-over."

Uncle Bill informs us, "Ash and I have already had a brainstorming
session. We'll have another one with you and the locals when we come to
visit."

"What?" I ask. "When are you coming to visit? It's a long way, you know."

"Soon," he answers. "But, don't worry. We'll be flying, not
driving. "There's some on-site organisation to be done with builders and
contractors."

So many thoughts run through my mind. Will our house be more of a landmark
than the pub? What will the locals think? How much should we tell them?
What if Will becomes famous and UB wants him to go away with him? How long
will I remain as teacher? Is the new house overkill? At what point will we
need to declare the ownership of the land and the new house? What will Mr
Andersen and the twins think when they find out that they're living on our
land? Did they buy their house? Who from? Or, did they just move in, like
Will's mother?

They all seem to be problems. But, for every problem there can be a number
of solutions. These must be taken one at a time, or they have the potential
to become overwhelming and depressing. Will and I have a lot to discuss.

Will has already been thinking. He asks, "What about statues and a fountain
in the front yard?" I think, `No, you're not getting a statue of David!'

Ash doesn't give a definitive answer, but replies by way of a question. "Do
you think they would be in keeping with the character of the village? Do
you think they'd be more at home in an Italian villa?"

This guy, handsome, I realise, in his own way, is a smart cookie! He's
right, but I don't want to override any of Will's suggestions, so I let him
process Ash's thoughts and reply, unprompted, "Yeh, I see what you're
saying." Only Will and I know where his thoughts came from. "But what about
the satellite dish?" he asks.

Ash ponders the question and then proposes, "We could disguise it from the
street by a semi-circular hedge of native plants so that it's not `in your
face'."

"What about including it in the front yard landscaping? It could actually
be the centre piece instead of the fountain or statue," Will responds.

"Interesting," Ash says. "Leave it with me."

My turn. "Ash, what do you think of swapping the smaller bedrooms upstairs
with the games area downstairs? That way, visitors need never leave the
lower level if they were not interested in playing games."

Will looks at me and smirks one of his `I get it' smiles. "Yeh!" he
says. "Let's keep them totally separate from us." He shows nervous signs of
suddenly realising the implication of the `us' pronouncement. His look
towards me changes to one of consternation. He looks at his father.

"It's OK," Uncle Bill says to both of us. "Ash knows about my two sons
wanting to share the master suite."

We both look at Ash, who smiles in return. Then he adds somewhat
philosophically, "Personal lives are personal. No problems, especially from
me." He passes a knowing wink.

I instantly like him, pat him on the back and say, "Thanks, Ash."

Will kicks me in the ankle. I know why. I remove my hand.

"We can discuss furniture, furnishings and appliances later," Ash
says. "What I need next are the reports from the geologists and engineers
that I've asked for. Then, if it's all OK, I'll draw up a set of plans for
your final approval before submitting them to the local council. I also
need to factor in provision for water, electricity, waste disposal, et
cetera. I don't anticipate that there will be any hold up. Bill has
connections."

UB looks at us and touches the side of his nose. I immediately wonder
whether his `connections' are female.

"Anything else?" Ash asks. When there is no response, he declares, "Then
we're done for today." Smiling, he proffers one of his business cards to
each of Will and myself. "Call me anytime if you have a question or
suggestions."

Will kicks me again. I kick him back and smile.

We shake hands and thank Ash for his work. Uncle Bill gives Will and me a
hug and tells us that he and Ash will see us out at The Village sometime
next week.

More questions in my head! How will the O'Brien clan take to meeting the
guy who got `their Lilly' pregnant and set her on the path to debauchery?
Or, was she actually that way inclined prior to their `interlude'. Maybe
Will shouldn't reveal that Uncle Bill is his father. Then how will we
explain to Marty and others that we are brothers? Another complication!

As they drive off, Will says to me, "He's not exactly what I imagined."

I look at him and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought that an architect would be old, fat, glasses, neat and
tidy with a white shirt and tie. He certainly wasn't any of those - young,
slim, strange hairdo, bit of a beard, hoodie and skin-tight jeans." Then he
taunts sarcastically, "Or didn't you notice?"

"Yes, of course I noticed," I reply, "but I was more interested in the
house."

"As if!" Will says, a little snappily. "I notice that you had to touch him,
didn't you? I'll bet that if I hadn't kicked you, you would have had your
hand on his cute arse soon enough."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" I put to him playfully.

"Hell, yeh!" he replies. "If I was standing where you were, I would have
tried it, and a lot sooner than you did!"

"You're really incorrigible," I tell him. "I really hope that you can stay
out of trouble!"

"Anyway," Will jokes, "we'll catch up again next week. Then we'll see what
happens!"

What can I say? Nothing! So I just kick him in the ankle and run.

Even hobbling, he does a good job of chasing me up the stairs. I run into
our room. By contrast, Will ambles in behind me, closes the door and locks
it. "Now, I've got you!" he grins with a leer, parroting my words from
earlier in the morning. He pounces on me, wrestles me to the bed and we
resume our earlier embrace. This time we don't stop, and we allow our
passions full freedom until, fully naked and perspiring profusely, we are
both wet and sticky.

After saving water by showering together, Will and I decide to visit Jarrod
as we probably won't want to hang around until the shop is open
tomorrow. We can have a couple of hours driving done by that time. Jeans,
T-shirt and sandals are the selected `dress code' to visit the mall. It's a
good time to go there - prior to the lunchtime `rush'.

There's a couple of young schoolkids looking through the games when we
arrive. Jarrod's focus is on them and, with his back half-turned to the
door, he doesn't see us standing there, observing. The pair of browsers are
not much to look at, so Jarrod must be more focussed on preventing
shoplifting.

It's only when they see us and leave and as Jarrod's gaze follows them
through the door, that he notices us. His face brightens considerably.

Same uniform. Tight pants. Nice bulge. We enter. He shakes my hand. He
holds Will's. I let Will do the talking.

"Mate, Tom and I just wanted to come down to say goodbye and tell you how
great it was to meet you. Thanks for everything."

"I should be thanking you," Jarrod replies. "When will you be back? You
will keep in touch, won't you?"

"Sure thing," Will tells him. "I expect we'll be back during the next
holidays." He looks to me for confirmation and I nod. He continues, "I hope
you'll be up for some fun when we see you again." The statement, with an
upward intonation, turns it into a hopeful question.

"Absolutely!" Jarrod replies. "Games are my specialty."

He and Will look at each other then burst into laughter.

"Jarrod," I ask, "While we're here, can you show us how to set up a
Facebook account? It's about time that we got into that.

"No problem," he says. "Let's do it right here, instead of at the back of
the shop. That way, I can keep an eye on any kids. We lose a lot of stock
during school holidays."

Will says, "If you show Tom, then he can show me later. Right now I need to
find the men's toilet. Too much coffee, I expect."

Jarrod indicates where it is. Will leaves, somewhat hurriedly.

Jarrod then proceeds to stop me through the process, basically doing it all
for me as he asks me for the relevant personal details, but checking that I
understand the procedure. "I can be your first friend," he says, "Will's
too, when you've got him set up."

It has taken a short while and I'm beginning to wonder where Will is, when
he comes through the door. His T-shirt is splattered with red, and he's
holding paper towelling to his face.

"What happened to you?" I ask, stepping to him and holding his shoulders to
peer into his teary eyes.

"A bit of an accident," he says, removing the paper to reveal a bloodied
nose and face.

"Oh, my God," Jarrod exclaims, hurrying to the back of the store and
re-appearing with some ice in a cloth. "Hold this on it. It will help to
stop the bleeding and reduce the swelling." Jarrod also produces a second
cloth and helps to remove the blood from Will's mouth, cheeks and chin. I
don't see anything split that might require medical attention.

"What happened?" Jarrod repeats my words.

"I... I ran into something," Will responds hesitantly.

"What really happened?" I ask with a touch of school-teacher-like
persistence, fearing that he has been mugged for his phone and money.

"I feel stupid. Can I tell you later?" Will almost pleads.

"OK. Maybe a cool drink and a custard tart will help you feel better," I
say.

Will smiles and then winces in pain.

We know where the coffee shop is. We, again, shake hands and also
shoulder-bump with Jarrod and express our desires to catch up next
holidays, but to keep in touch in the meantime. Jarrod also receives a
grope on the backside from Will.

The bleeding has stopped, and, with Jarrod still showing genuine concern
for Will's condition, we leave.

I tell Will to find us a table, where we can talk, while I place our
order. I get lemonade with ice for him, coffee for me, two custard tarts
and a small cup of ice. I also grab some paper serviettes on the way back
to the table.

We take a minute to clean him up as much as possible. It looks as though
the worst he can expect is a fat lip and some soreness around his mouth and
nose. He uses some ice to sooth his lip.

He continues to apologise until I say, "Enough, Will! Now tell me what
really happened. What did you `accidentally run into'?"

"Somebody's fist," he mumbles, with his head bowed.

"What?" I ask him. "Were you mugged? Did they take your new phone or demand
money?"

"No, nothing like that," he adds without elaborating.

It looks as though I will have to prise the truth out of him, piece by
piece. "Will, why did he punch you?"

"I don't know."

"Where were you?"

"In the toilet."

"Did you say anything to him to provoke him?"

"No."

"Was he cute?" I ask, following an instinct.

Will lifts his eyes to mine and confesses, "Yes.. very."

"Did you do something to him?"

"No, Tom, I swear. I didn't touch him. I didn't get a chance to."

"OK," I say, trying to remain calm and suppress my impatience and
displeasure at his terse answers. "You'd better tell me exactly what
happened - all of it - now."

There is a pause. He starts slowly, looking at me momentarily with
tear-filled eyes. "I was in a hurry when I followed him in. There were
three urinals and he went to the middle one. I just stood to his left,
unzipped and let fly. I just let it hang out while I enjoyed the relief."

I don't interrupt and wait for Will to continue. "I noticed him turn his
head and look at my cock, so I didn't worry about having a good look at
his. He was holding it and then it looked like he started to rub it, but he
must have only been getting rid of the last bit of piss. I thought that he
was doing something else and giving me a sign, so I started jacking mine
and looked at his face. He yelled, `Fuck off!' then zipped up and stepped
back.

When I finished, I put it away, did up my pants and turned around to wash
my hands. He was waiting and punched me in the face, growling, `Fucking
poofter!' I fell down. Then he left. When I got up my face hurt and my
shirt was covered in blood. I got some paper towels and wiped most of it
away by my nose kept bleeding."

I really want to say, `I told you so!' but my sympathy for Will's plight
overcomes the urge to drive home my previous warnings to him. "OK," I
say. "Let's finish up then get you home to clean you up properly."

"I'm really sorry, Tom," he says, giving me a quick hug in an attempt to
make amends for his actions.

As we pass the Games shop, I note that Jarrod is busy with a customer, so
we keep walking.

When we arrive home, I go in first. There's nobody around, so I motion to
Will and we hurry up the stairs.



To be continued...

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