Date: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 06:02:38 +1100
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 36

If you are new to this story, may I suggest that you read patiently 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 35


Only moments later there is a quick knock on our door and Marty enters,
without waiting for an invitation. He looks at each of us in our own
beds. The surprise on his face betrays that he was expecting to see
something different. Very different, I expect, and I am thankful that I
didn't give in to Will's need immediately!

"Yes, Marty?" Will poses to him, with an air of rebuke at his intrusion.

I expect that Marty had a speech already prepared; something like, `Aha! I
thought so!' in anticipation of finding us in the act of doing something
together. However, he stumbles to find replacement words. "Umm, I, umm, I
forgot to ask ... Are you planning on sleeping late after your long trip,
or would you like breakfast early?" Not a bad comeback!

I am anticipating a smart-arse response from Will, along the lines of,
`Well, you may as well poison us earlier rather than later!' but I beat him
to a reply. "Early would be great. Thanks, Marty. I'm looking forward to
whatever it is. Good night."

"Good night," he replies, knowing that he has been dismissed. Then he adds,
"I knew that fat boy wouldn't want to wait!"

"Fuck off Marty!" Will firstly hurls the words, and then Marty ducks a
flung pillow, closes the door and escapes to his double bed.


Chapter 36

Despite being excited with expectancy, I don't want to hurry Will along, so
I relax and close my eyes. I contemplate our `welcome back' at the hands
(or rather, tongue) of an appreciative Marty. Memories, anticipations and
sensations blur into a darkening fogginess, and I am aware of my
progressive softening down below. I surrender consciousness.

I am now so accustomed to having Will's body next to mine that the vague
sensation of our touching thighs does little to rouse me. My delightful
dream is an accurate replay of that first night: shared body warmth, Will's
arm between us, his `creeping' fingers, his first tentative touch of my
cock, playing in my pubic hair and me reaching for him.

Just like the few seconds before the climax of a wet dream, when the
impending release rouses the body from the land of Nod to urgent
consciousness, I realise what is happening. He is with me! I am not
asleep. Despite the urge to make passionate love to him as last night in
the motel, I resist.

I crave to live again the thrill of that initial seduction, in our big
brother / little brother fantasy. I play my part as accurately as I can
remember it.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"Yeh, I guess. I didn't want to be alone right now."

Our bodies settle into relaxed positions on our backs. Will's right arm is
resting along the depression between our two touching thighs. I lay my left
hand on his right one. He turns his hand over, interlocking our fingers and
I give his hand a gentle squeeze. I whisper, "Will, I never want you to
feel alone. I will be here for you as long as you want me." He squeezes my
hand back, in acknowledgment. I break our grip and move my arm away from
him.

I am aware of Will's hand as, from between our bodies, he moves it so that
it's resting palm-down on my pelvic bone, with his elbow on my abdomen. I
say nothing. Soon he moves it again, in the same direction - only a couple
of centimetres, and then a few more. I feel the little finger of his right
hand now against my cock that is dormant on my abdomen.

I recall that previous end to the `material rule'! His finger tips are
resting in my pubes. For a painfully long time there is no further
movement. Then he begins to gently rake and rub my tight curls with his
fingers, back and forth, up and down, but with no attempt to grab anything
- yet.

"Will, are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him, breaking the silence
and easing the sexual tension that has been building.

"Do you mind, Tom?" he whispers back.

"No. Not really." I want him to re-live the magic of this moment. I
refrain, as previously, from telling him how thrilled I am. I move my left
arm and place it on his body, and begin to gently copy his pube play.

"God, I wish you were my brother," Will sighs with much emotion. He's
remembered exactly what he said, and dreams do come true. I smile.

There are no further words, just touching. Occasionally Will moves his hand
from my curly hairs to run his fingers up and down my abs. I respond,
conveying the message that I'm willing to follow his lead, whatever he
does.

He begins to regularly brush the back of his hand against my cock as he
explores my abs. My willpower to stay soft is waning. The dragon awakes.

He reaches down and his hand envelopes my balls which start to tingle in
the delight of his touch. He fondles first one then the other then both
together, lifting, rolling, weighing them, exploring differences in size,
shape, firmness - nonchalantly, lightly, firmly, surely. I slowly proceed
to copy his movements. It only takes the initial brush of my fingers for me
to realise that Will's manhood, as previously, and expected this time, is
totally rigid.

Will presses the firmness below my balls, my perineum. I open my legs, then
slowly move to do the same to him, running my finger up from near his hole
across the lowest part of his hard-on to his balls. And again. He continues
to do the same until we match each other in stiffness.

He strokes upwards, encouraging the releasing of my pre-cum. He stops short
of the top and returns his fingers to the base of my cock and repeats a
full `milking' stroke, this time, all the way to the top. His slight pause
indicates to me that he has encountered my discharge of natural
lubrication. He spreads it around the head, causing me to shudder and sigh
with pleasure at the sensation, then he moves south for another stroke. Oh
my! I synchronise my stroking with his. His cock twitches. Mine twitches.

When Will's fingers return to my head there is much more slickness waiting
for him. He cups his hand around my shaft and spreads the oil around and
down its length. I gasp at the feeling. Back for more - spreading, and
still more. His hand is now sliding up and down my cock, lubricating it,
grasping it, pushing it down, milking it up. OMG! My senior school student
is jacking me off! Not for the first time, now!

"Will?" I break the long silence.

"I'm sorry, Tom. Did I do too much? Sorry!"

"No, Will. You didn't do too much. I just want to tell you how fantastic
this feels. It's OK if you want to keep going, but if you do, you're going
to have me shooting my load very soon." I remember the words as if it was
yesterday.

He giggles. He reaches down to the floor with his other hand and produces a
towel. He even remembered the towel! The smart little bugger! He pushes
down the sheet and lays the towel across our chests and stomachs. We
stretch it out so that we are covered to prevent our now-inevitable
conclusions from making too much of a mess.

"So, big brother, we really enjoy doing the same things, don't we?" He
recites from memory.

I loudly whisper, "You're a sexy little sod," pondering the absolute sexual
maturity of this 17 year old - even moreso than when we first did this.

We resume our mutual stimulation. My mind turns from my own cock to what my
hand is occupied with. It milks him once more and as it reaches the top, it
is met with a flood of his pre-cum. I spread it down his stiffness and up
again. And down. His cock twitches and he moans very loudly. I'm glad that
Marty is asleep - at least I hope he is!

We continue stroking each other, now breathing heavily, and I coordinate
with his rhythm. On each of his downstrokes I raise my hips, pushing my rod
hard into his slickened fist. He increases his own pace a little, conveying
a sense of urgency. I respond similarly, and when he starts to suck in air
and exhale rapidly, I know that he is close. His hand freezes. His body
tenses. He arches his hips off the bed, thrusting himself into my hand. I
feel his cock swell and then it spasms, pumping
strongly. ...three...four...five...more. With this stimulation, my own mind
and body surrender with a long, muffled `ohhhh', and my cum ejector quickly
follows his lead. I feel a massive spurt hit my chin. I don't know where
the rest of mine or where any of his ended up, apart from the flood in my
hand!

The replayed experience is explosive. Draining. Ecstatic.

We have crossed many lines and broken much etiquette since that night when
the short-lived `material rule' was so readily discarded.

While enjoying the pawing of each other's body, non-fat (despite Marty's
prolonged assertions - albeit at Will's instigation in reference to me) we
rehearse our approach for tomorrow's revelation over lunch, considering
that so many of Marty's (and Will's) family will be present.

We agree that each of us should sleep in his own bed, for now, lest Marty
make a further sudden entrance. I feel an emptiness as Will reluctantly
removes himself from my embrace. In the dim, blue light from the digital
clock that I have brought back with me, I turn on my side to stare at him;
at his youthful naked beauty, at his manly physique. It's a pleasant but
unworthy substitute to feeling his warmth pressed against me. On his side,
he smiles. I ache for him.

My sleep is anything but restful, impacted by dreams, no - nightmares, of
Will being kidnapped by his mother's `friends', of Will being whisked away
to fame and fortune by his dad, of Will hiding with Karl and Kurt beneath
the overflow of the weir and then not re-emerging and unable to be located
by anyone.

I wake multiple times to ensure that none of these is reality, at one time
in a lather of perspiration, at another with heavy tears in my eyes. Each
time I check that he is still there, still here.

Finally, in the semi darkness, I imagine that I can discern his eyes, open,
staring back at me. I stretch an arm in his direction to test my
perception. He extends his arm towards mine. Even metres apart we connect
emotionally. He beckons. I succumb. We connect physically - arms, chests,
legs, hips, lips. We move our bodies and, even in the current confined
space, bring each other slowly to another climax, this time without the use
of the towel. I savour his magnetism and his salty sweetness and he mine.

I turn onto my side and Will nestles, purring, into his favourite position,
hugging me tightly.

After a restful sleep, undisturbed by Marty, I answer the need to pee then
crawl back into my own cold bed - just in case!

Not two minutes later, I hear the toilet flush again. Marty's up - on the
prowl for a bit of early-morning voyeurism perhaps? Having not fully closed
the door, I focus on it, anticipating some movement at Marty's
hand. Nothing. Will and I have only been back in town a little over 12
hours and I'm already living in a state of anxiety, which can only be
dispelled by revealing the truth, and then what?.

Kookaburras laugh.

The day has arrived.

Pleasant aromas begin to permeate the room. Bacon and coffee are easily
discernible.

I decide on a quick shower just to `freshen up'. I deliberately leave the
bathroom door open, wondering who will be first to investigate.

I'm not surprised when I look up from rinsing away the shampoo to see Marty
leaning on the door frame, watching, smiling. Being naked isn't exactly a
house rule, just one of the benefits of his female-free retreat. Hanging
free, well, not quite dangling, but not yet standing!

Did I just think `female-free'? Hmm. I wonder again about the mystery
aroma.

"It's good to see you back," he chuckles.

"And front?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows and rinsing off the object of his
apparent attention.

"You haven't changed, have you?" he smirks.

"Maybe," I reply cryptically, and shut off the water. I step out, grab my
towel and begin to briskly dry myself. We make small talk about the weather
and `another interesting day coming up'.

At that point a third naked body eases past his cousin and heads for the
toilet. Will stands with his back to Marty, noisily empties his bladder,
then flushes. He steps straight into the bath and turns on the shower taps.

I'm waiting for an opening comment from either of them, which is bound to
set the tone for any ensuing morning conversation.

Silence.

I decide to break the ice. "Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well,
back in your own bed again?" I know that Marty and Will will interpret this
differently!

Will turns his head sufficiently to see me wink at him. He smirks and
returns to soaping himself, then chirps, "I'd forgotten about those bloody
kookaburras. At least the seagulls used to wait until a decent hour before
squabbling over scraps of food."

Food? The use of that word gives Marty a perfect opportunity to pursue his
`fat' line from last night. However, perhaps circumspectly, he says,
instead, "Oops! Can't let the bacon burn," and he disappears.

Will turns and stares at me. "Sunshine?" he asks.

"Yep!" I reply. "You're pretty hot, and you certainly brighten my life." I
think that the words sound really corny, but they're true. Then I add,
nodding towards the kitchen, "Go easy on him, eh?"

"Hey! He started it," Will commences, sounding again like a young schoolboy
deflecting blame.

I retort, "No, actually you did! Or don't you remember your wisecrack about
me needing a double bed because of all the food I eat?"

"Ouch! Yeh!" Will says with a hint of humility and slightly flushed
cheeks. "Sorry about that!" I expect him to say `Sorry about that, Chief'
but then realise that he would have had no exposure to Maxwell Smart's turn
of phrase.

"No worries, Sunshine!" I say, grinning at him, then add, "Don't be too
long playing with that thing, or all the bacon will be gone by the time you
eventually get to the table." He suddenly becomes aware of what he's been
unconsciously soaping up since Marty left, and the arousal that he's been
inducing.

He giggles and waggles it at me. "Would you prefer my sausage, or Marty's
bacon?"

I step towards him, extend my hand towards his near-full erection, but
deftly bypass it and twist the cold water tap fully on.

Then I run.

"Aaargh!" he screams which is much more polite than what I was
anticipating. Grasping the door frame for stability in my haste, I spin to
look at him. His ego isn't the only thing deflated.

"You'll pay for that!" he proclaims, pointing an accusing index finger at
me.

"Have your go, William," I tease, and poke out my tongue at him, just as my
sister Amelia would do. He smirks and licks his lips provocatively in
response.

Marty's head appears from the kitchen. "What's up?" he asks.

"Nothing, really," I tell him. Then, looking at Will's shrinkage I add,
"Nothing's up at all." I smirk at Will, who gives me a different finger
sign. Then, looking back at Marty, I comment, "Good cold water pressure!"
He catches on immediately and, smiling, gives me a `thumbs up'.

I quickly put on just a pair of jogging shorts and attempt to dash to the
kitchen before Will catches me. However, just as I pass the bathroom door,
he emerges and flicks me with a loud `crack' of his wet towel.

Marty looks to me for any explanation. "Just being playful!" I tell him,
with no specific reference to either Will or myself.

Marty laughs. "I've really missed having you two around." Then he adds,
"Like I said yesterday, he's changed. He seems so much happier. I'm looking
forward to hearing why." He smirks at me and sets down three plates on the
table, all loaded with inviting food - bacon, scrambled eggs and
toast. "Coffee's coming," he adds.

Looking at his nakedness and then at my shorts, I comment, "I feel
overdressed."

His response is unexpected, but not uncharacteristic, as he focuses on my
shorts. "You can always take them off... if you like."

Will appears, similarly dressed - shorts, that is, not naked. I can see the
wheels turning in Marty's head: to dress or not to dress. Will sits
down. Marty stays put.

As the bacon and eggs progressively disappear, I see Will checking Marty
out. And I'm not the only one who is aware of it.

I try to save his bacon (or is that sausage?) by commenting, "You know,
Marty, I'd forgotten how comfortable it is here! Will and I weren't able to
get around like that (nodding towards his crotch) at my parents' place with
my Mum and little sister around.

I stand up and remove my shorts. Marty has a good look. So does Will. As I
sit, Marty and I both fix our gaze on him. No words.

"Hey! No pressure!" Will responds to our non-verbal imperative. He stands,
drops his shorts then looks at each of us. "Satisfied?"

"More toast?" Marty asks. Will nods. "Then, you know where the bread and
toaster are," he comments to Will without looking up. "And, while you are
at it, a couple of extras for Tom and me would be nice."

Will is trapped. He is forced to make a trip into the kitchen, `strutting
his stuff'. Marty winks at me, and he deliberately turns his head to follow
Will's body. He gives a low whistle.

Then Will smirks. "Marty, can you please do some fresh coffee, while I
handle the toast?"

The smile initially drains from Marty's face but then it returns as he
stands, slightly chunked up. Once again he has not succeeded in getting the
better of Will.

No anatomical comments from anyone, but three members are rising
noticeably.

Marty surveys the scene then throws in, "Only natural, eh guys?"

I think that Will is surprised, but not shocked. Me too. Marty appears to
be the most visibly excited of us all.

There is suddenly the opportunity and perhaps the temptation for any one of
us to initiate `something'. But, for me, that would take the fun out of our
planned `revelations'.

So, in a semi-aroused state, I walk to the sink, wash my hands and forearms
in cold water. It `cools me down'.

I deliberately steer the conversation towards lunch preparations, Di, Reg,
Marty's Mum and sister (Anna). This quenches their fires!

I take all the empty dishes to the sink, quickly wash up and do most of the
talking while the other two drink their coffee. I conclude with, "What time
is lunch, Marty? I might go up to the school first, open some windows and
check that everything is OK for next week."

"Twelve o'clock. Noon." Marty replies. "Country time is regulated by a
man's stomach."

All is well, until he nods towards Will and adds, smugly, "I'm glad that we
don't run off his body clock. We'd never know what the real time was!"

I turn and glare at Will in the hope that he will not take Marty's bait. He
winks at me and says nothing.

Getting no response from Will, Marty focuses on him then throws in, "So are
you going with Mr Grant, or would you prefer to help Anna prepare lunch?"
He's really pushing the boundaries!

I fully expect Will to hit Marty with a `FOM', but, instead, he steps
towards him and raises both of his hands. Instead of punching him, which I
thought was imminent, he places one on each of Marty's shoulders and kisses
him on both cheeks, Italian style. "Love you too, cousin!" he says to a
stunned Marty. For fun, Will throws in, "Did Tom tell you that his
girlfriend, Karen, was Italian?" Then, as he wiggles his hips walking back
towards the bedroom, he throws in, "Ciao, bello!"

Marty and I are left staring at each other. His mouth is hanging open. "It
seems that he has learned a lot at my place in the last few weeks," is all
that I can say. I add, "I'd better get dressed," and leave him looking like
an oversized garden gnome, frozen to the spot, mouth open, naked.

I think how much fun it would be for Will to draw him with this shocked
expression, rivalling that of Kurt under the weir overflow the day he
grabbed my cock and balls by mistake.

"What was that all about?" I ask Will, puzzled, as I join him in our room.

"Just playing with his mind," Will replies. "I've just realised how much
fun that is!"

"Why?"

"Hey, you told me to go easy on him. So I've decided that I'm not going to
play his trading-insults game." Will smiles wickedly. "I'm just gonna
confuse him instead. Full on. He won't know what to say! Think about it -
he won't know the difference between me telling him the truth about us or
whether I'm just pulling his leg. By the time I'm finished, he won't know
what is black and what is white."

I have to admit that it could certainly `soften the blow'. I wish I'd
thought of it! "Brilliant, but cruel!" I comment, then break into a smirk
myself. We do our secret-pact handshake and hug each other. "Hey, let's put
some clothes on before we get carried away, you handsome brute!"

When we re-emerge, Marty has also `covered up' with his cut-offs, not that
they disguise much!

"I've decided to help Anna," Will announces, which elicits another
jaw-dropping expression from Marty. And me. I turn and look at Will. He
winks at me.

"Then, again, she probably wouldn't get much done, would she?" he adds to
Marty. "She'd be too busy watching me or trying to touch me. I wouldn't
want to upset your Mum. I'd better go with Tom after all." He heads for the
door, leaving me to shrug at Marty.

"What have you done to him?" Marty asks. "Are you responsible for creating
this monster?"

"I think you can blame Karen and my sister for that!" I put to Marty,
leaving him to ponder some possible implications - red herrings. Will is
right. Confusing Marty could be a lot of fun.

I virtually chase Will down the steps. He beats me to the car and to the
driver's seat. As he extends his hand for my keys, he commands, "Hey, it'll
save you the trouble of removing my `P' plates."

I laugh, "Yeh, that would be a major effort!" and dutifully hand them over.

As he drives, Will asks, "So are we going to tell them everything today?"

"Let's follow our plan," I reply, "but leave a bit of room to play it by
ear. I still want to find out from Marty about that aroma in his
bedroom. Let's not scare him. I want something left to trade off for his
secret. I don't think he'll tell us the answer to that with all of his
family present, do you? I have a hunch about that."

"Hey, I'd like to play with him a bit more," Will answers.

"With what part of him?" I ask, smirking.

"With his head of course," he shoots back.

"Which head?" I tease.

Will looks at me. "Incorrigible!" he laughs, shaking his head.

"That's something else you've learned, eh?" I put to him.

Him: "You're a good teacher."

Me: "You're a quick learner. Too quick, I think, sometimes."

"Can we stop by Karl and Kurt's place?" Will asks as we arrive at the turn,
then drives straight ahead before I can answer. He stops the car, jumps out
and knocks on the door.

No answer.

"They must be away," I console him as he returns to the car, looking
disappointed.

"They didn't say they were going anywhere before the holidays," he replies.

"Maybe they've gone to work with their dad, or are staying out on the
property that he manages," I offer by way of explanation. "Or perhaps their
dad has taken them into Big Town for the day."

"Or maybe they're swimming," he adds, hopefully.

As we exit the car at the school, I head for the building and Will takes
off towards the weir.

My footsteps resonate on the wooden verandah. The key turns. The lock
clunks. The door squeaks and stale air rushes to escape.

Nothing has changed since the last day of term - nor should it have. It's
like stepping back in time, even though only two weeks, except that I'm not
the same person who locked the door that afternoon. As I proceed to raise
the blinds and open the windows, I ponder...

I have a different biological father from the one I've always known; I have
a brother; I'm no longer a virgin; I have a long-term lover; I have new
friends - young friends, sexy friends; my Mother is dying of cancer; I own
property, right here, right across there!

I've made a difference in Will's life and he's changed mine.

My day dreaming is interrupted by a loud, "Nope! Not there!" and Will
proceeds to help me straighten desks and generally clean up. Then, without
further comment, he asks, "Can I drive up and see Jake?"

"May I?" I correct him.

"May you what?" he says, looking puzzled.

"May I drive up and see Jake," I reply.

"Why do you want to go and see Jake?" he questions me.

"Not me. You," I tell him. "You said, `Can I?' I'm sure that you can. But
you're asking my permission to take my car, so you say, `May I?'"

His brain works fairly fast. "OK. I get it," he answers. "For a moment I
thought that you were doing a Marty on my brain."

I toss him the keys. He thanks me and he hurries out. His driving, on the
other hand, is unhurried, and I am thankful.

I decide to plan some work for the first week. When I next check the time
it's almost eleven o'clock. I wonder what Will and Jake are up to and what
he's telling him. Then I remember that I can now phone him. I press his
number and wait.

"Hello?" he answers tentatively.

"Hi Will. It's Tom." I initiate the conversation. "Are you having fun with
Jake?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he's not here."

"What are you doing then? You've been gone a fair while."

"I'm having a cup of coffee with Aunty Di. She was just making some scones
when I arrived, so she asked me if I wanted some. We've been chatting for a
long time."

"Where's Jake?" I ask.

"He went into Big Town with Uncle Reg to pick up Jane who's been staying
with her friend."

"It's nearly eleven. Are you coming back to get me? We need to get ready
for lunch, and I hope you haven't filled up on scones."

"No," Will giggles. "Aunty Di had some fresh cookies too."

"Tell Di that I said hello and that I'll talk with her over lunch. Now can
you please come and get me?"

"May I?" he corrects me and giggles.

"Smart arse!" I tell him, hoping that Di cannot hear with her good ear.

"OK. Bye!"

I decide to leave the schoolroom windows open for better ventilation, then
come back to close them later. I lock the door and wait for Will on the
western verandah. While surveying the land which Will and I now own, from
the school to the weir and around the bend in the river, I hear Reg's Land
Rover before I see it. He turns at the pub to head for home. He
toots. There is a flourish of arms from Jane and Jake and I wave back.

I hear an exchange of car horns - Reg's and mine and a minute or so later
Will pulls up.

"Home, James," I tell him, and we both laugh about the occasion, months
ago, when he said the same thing to me when our seating positions were
reversed.

We again rehearse our proposed lunchtime revelations and arrive back at
Marty's. It's good to see him in full-legged jeans. Blue shirt. Handsome as
ever!

"I'm going across to Mum's now," Marty says, "just to help move a few
things around. Come over when you're both ready."

"OK. Won't be long," I tell him.

His SUV departs. Will and I look at each other. We have the place to
ourselves. There is a flurry of clothing and we are both naked.

We make quick work of bringing each other to our third ecstatic release
within a few hours, spraying our stuff on each other, like animals marking
out their territory, stimulated by a total freedom on the lounge room cow
hide that is not possible behind closed doors and within the confines of a
single bed.

We save precious water by showering together and savouring each other's
soapy, firm muscles. Will's tender touch heightens my realisation that he
wants me as much as I want him. I used to think that my desire for other
guys was one-way - satisfying my lust while they simply `played along'. It
is a totally different feeling, being wanted, being needed, and being able
to satisfy those needs for another person. Unselfishly. My own pleasure is
of secondary importance, yet, is heightened by pleasing him.

We dress - neatly but not formally, following Marty's lead. A touch of our
now-popular deodorant is a precursor to pulling on our colourful Polo
shirts and our jeans.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Let's do it," Will replies, giving me a hug.

I dangle the car keys between two fingers and, with a grateful smile, his
hand envelops them. No race to the driver's seat this time.

We pull up outside Acacia and Anna's place and `park' between Reg's Land
Rover and Marty's SUV. Chad's police car is also not far away. I guess that
everyone is here. I reach for Will's hand and give it a squeeze before we
get out.

"Nervous?" I check with him.

"A few butterflies, but excited too," he responds, gripping my hand, and
squeezing back.

Inside, there are handshakes all `round and some back-slapping. As if what
we are about to disclose will not be surprising enough, the irrepressible
Will practises his double-cheek kissing on Acacia, Di and Anna. The older
two relish the attention. Anna flushes with apparent embarrassment. I
didn't think that was possible! Jane dodges behind her mother, avoiding
Will's greeting altogether.

There is hearty laughter from everyone when Will, grasping next-in-line
Chad's hand and shaking it, jokingly puckers his lips. "Don't even think
about it!" Chad exclaims, holding a restraining hand between his face and
Will's.

Jake and Will give each other a quick hug and slap on the back, and
immediately draw each other to one side for a rapid exchange of some
`catch-up' information.

Sean plays the waiter, ensuring that everyone has a cold drink.

Without announcing anything, the ladies begin to load the extended table
with food.

Reg calls a halt to the chatter and gives thanks. Then there is mild
confusion over seating. Di, Acacia Jane and Anna are closest to the kitchen
end. I am invited to sit next to Di. Will is directly opposite me and `ends
up' between Anna and Jake. Reg is on my other side with the trio of
brothers (Sean, Chad and Marty) taking the end seats farthest from the
kitchen. Separation of the sexes.

`Announcements' from Will and me are not high on `the agenda' and small
talk around the table quickly homes in on the primary purpose for the
gathering - what is going on up in The Village.

Marty extols the logic of fixing the road.

Reg doesn't think that the Council would bother and, anyway, the machinery
is not owned by them. He's had a close look at it.

Acacia proposes that they might be going to build a second weir downstream
from the first.

Sean can't see any purpose in that, and agrees with Marty that the road
should be of much higher priority.

Propositions and counter-propositions continue for a while until Chad
finally says loudly, "OK! I've listened to all that. Now do you want to
hear some facts?" All eyes turn to him. "I've been able to find out from a
friend in the Council that all of the land from near the school, along the
river and over to where it bends, has been bought by someone."

"How can they do that? Who sold it to them?" Acacia cuts in indignantly.

"Apparently, it never had an owner and houses, including Lilly's, were
built on it without permission or Council approval."

Acacia is not done. "Reg, didn't your father own that land? Didn't he build
the houses - the one that Lilly lived in, and the one that Mr Andersen has,
and another one that was pulled down opposite the pub because it became an
eyesore for patron?"

"Well, that's what I understood," he replies. "But I was only a kid myself
then, and we all just assumed it was Father's."

"Apparently not," Chad continues.

Stunned silence, head scratching and ear tugging. Also, much forking and
chewing of food.

Trust the ever-practical Jane to ask the obvious question. "So, who bought
it? Who owns it now?"

"Me!" Will tells them.

For that, he gets a slap on the back of the head from Jake and a tirade of
ridicule from the brothers, led by Marty. "You should stick to eating
custard tarts and getting fat. That's more your style!"

Will winks at me. I'm sure that everyone else at the table is amused at his
`attempted' humour. Only the two of us know the truth. I decide to join in,
"Hey, didn't I buy half of it from you in a Monopoly game that you were
losing?" I direct at Will.. Everybody laughs because they think that I'm
`taking the Mickey' out of him.

Truth revealed, and truth rejected!

Marty can't let it go. "And just what are you planning on doing with it?
Going to build houses and a hotel?"

"Of course!" Will replies boldly.

"How much rent will I have to pay if I land on it?" Marty asks smugly.

"Hmm. I'll have to discuss that with my partner," Will says, extending his
hand across the table to me. We shake while he says to me, "What about the
same price as a deluxe double bed or a thousand custard tarts?"

"Deal!" I add

"Have you two comedians finished?" Chad asks, looking from Will to me. Then
he continues, "Well, somebody has bought it, and a Development Application
been submitted but is unavailable for public viewing at the moment."

"Why would anybody want to build anything out here?" Anna offers.

"Maybe they discovered gold or oil or gas, like the Beverly Hillbillies,"
Di suggests.

"I think I might build a castle on it instead of a hotel," Will tells
everyone.

He is bombarded by a flurry of rumpled napkins.

"OK. No castle! Just a big two-storey house, then!" Will's enjoying
this. So am I!

"I'll keep on it and find out what I can," Chad reassures everyone.

"Me too!" Will adds. "I think my new partner and I will have our architect
and financial adviser fly out here next week to discuss the details with
us."

"Deal!" I say, reaching across the table and shaking his hand again.

For that, Will receives another slap to the head from Jake and I cop a
napkin in the face from somebody, probably Marty, who says, "Don't
encourage him!"

Acacia laughs, "This reminds me of how Chad and Marty used to carry
on. They had a lot of fun. It is good to hear such mirth again."

"It was fun until you chased us with a broom," Chad says. "And you didn't
stop until you caught us either."

"Yeh, and it was fun until you learned to throw dog bones," Marty adds.

Everyone chuckles.

Marty persists with Will, "I suppose the next think you'll be trying to
have us believe is that you've seen UFOs or that the two of you are
married."

Will shoots me a quick, meaningful, look amid the family chortles and
titters.

"Is same-sex marriage even legal in this state, yet?" I inquire of Chad, in
an attempt to generalise the topic.

"No," Chad replies, then adds jovially but with sincere factuality,
"Besides, he couldn't get married at 17 without a parent's permission, and
he doesn't know who his father is, or where his mother is."

"Yes I do!" Will retorts. I think that Chad has just struck a nerve.

"Yes you do what?" Marty puts to him. "Know who your father is or know
where Lilly is?"

"Both!" Will states bluntly.

Well, after a couple of gasps from the ladies, that stops the conversation
and laughter around the table dead in its tracks! What do they call it? A
`barbecue stopper' or a `party stopper'?

Reg speaks up. "All right! That is not funny, William. You're carrying this
just too far now."

"But it's true, Uncle Reg." Will pleads, this time serious that his
truthfulness is not believed.

"You know where your mother is?" Chad asks. "We've had police looking for
her for ages now!"

"Well, I did a few days ago. We saw her with some guys on bikes, near where
Mr Grant lives."

All heads swing towards me for confirmation.

"I noticed the people as we passed them in the street," I tell them, "but I
didn't really look at them. When Will told me later that one of them was
his mother, he seemed too upset to be making it up. I suggested that he
could have been mistaken, but he even described one of her mannerisms."

"Flicking her fingers?" Di inquires.

"Yes. And that's why I know that it was her," Will answers

"Where is she now, honey?" Acacia asks him.

"I don't know, and I don't care," Will replies with a sneer of contempt for
his mother. I'm sure that many of the people around the table can
understand why.

"Sean asks another, more pertinent question, very calmly, "William, did I
just hear you say that you know who your father is?"

"Yes," Will answers plainly.

"How could you possibly know that, son?" Reg asks his nephew tenderly.

Will stares at me and breaks into a faint smile. That's my cue to take it
from here.

"If I may," I begin, "I think that I'd better tell you the saga."

Riveted silence.

"When I first came here, months ago, I kept having feelings of déjà
vu, as though I'd been here once before, but, of course, I hadn't. I seemed
to recognise the pub, Lilly and Will's house, the line of river gums, the
sunsets and more. I had no idea why. That is, until Will said something on
our way to the Gold Coast.

"We were just chatting about things, and Will commented that he didn't know
anything about his father, except for a few things that Lilly had told
him. She gave `Little Willie' his father's name, William, and she used to
tell everyone that the `Big Willie' was a world-famous photographer."

"Yes, we all heard that, many times," Acacia adds disdainfully.

"Well, that little piece of information actually caused the penny to drop
for me," I continue. "When I was young I went to an art show, a
photographic and painting exhibition, that included a series of amazing
photos taken in a little country town, And Will's words instantly triggered
my memory of those photos - the cause of my flashback images. And, yes, as
you might have guessed, they were taken right here in The Village. The
dates of those photos placed them here... it would be 18 years ago now.

"The point is... I knew who that photographer was, and is. So, when I put 2
and 2 together, I knew immediately that he was Will's father."

I can see that each person in the room is hanging off my every word, in the
expectation of hearing the solution to this long-standing family mystery.

I look at Will. He has tears in his eyes. "Are you OK?" I ask him. He nods
and places his hand, palm-down, in the middle of the table. I lay my hand
on his. Di, alongside me, can see Will's eyes. She adds her hand to
mine. Reg, on my other side, does likewise. Acacia and her three sons leave
their seats and give Will consoling hugs which, because of their expressed
tenderness and affection because of his many years of pain, only ensures
that his moist eyes overflow.

There is a retrieval of napkins and a mopping of eyes - many eyes, not just
Will's. The brothers pat Will on the back or shoulder and return to their
seats. Acacia remains behind Will, with her arms softly and protectively
around his neck. Kissing the top of Will's head, she asks me, "Tom, what
did Will say when you told him?"

I look her in the eyes then at Will and say, "I didn't tell him."

"What?" Marty says, shocked. "Why on earth not? Didn't you think that
he..."

"I had to think things through," I cut Marty off. "I wanted to pick the
right time and place, and definitely not while we were driving."

There is a cacophony of questions: "So, who is it?" "What's his name?"
"Where is he?" "Does he know?" "When did William find out?"

Will silences them all with, "I actually met him the next day, but please
let Mr Grant finish telling you the rest." He gives me a teary, but at the
same time, cheery, smile.

"While I was working out the best way of breaking the news to Will, at
home, I'll bet that you can't imagine my shock when Mum told me that Dad's
brother, my Uncle Bill, was in town and coming to dinner. I hadn't seen the
globe-trotting photographer for nearly five years."

I let my words sink in and I can see, and almost hear, the wheels turning
in their heads. Will is smiling.

"What?" Marty finally exclaims. "Are you saying that your uncle is Will's
father? The guy who..." He stops short of saying what I know he is
thinking, then he adds, "That would make you and Will..." He pauses.

"Cousins!" Jane lets out. "The Schoolie and Little Willie are cousins!" She
quickly covers her mouth then apologises to both Will and me for her
remark.

Jake adds his bit, "Does that mean, because Mr Grant and I are both Will's
cousins that I'm related to Mr Grant too?"

"I'm afraid not, pet," his mother, Di, tells him. "I'll explain it to you
later."

"Well, that certainly accounts for the similarities in their appearance,"
Acacia says.

Will's face has a broad grin from ear to ear. He nods at me. It is a sign
to go ahead and shock them further.

"However..." I continue, and pause, which draws their total
attention. "It's a bit more complicated than that. The short version of
what I have only just recently learned myself is that when my parents were
trying to start a family, years ago, they had to finally resort to an IVF
programme. And `to keep it all in the family', so to speak, the sperm was
donated by..."

"Don't tell me!" Acacia exclaims. "Oh, my! It couldn't be!"

"No way!" Marty adds, catching on.

"...By my Uncle Bill." I answer them. "To be honest, I didn't know whether
to cry or laugh when my parents told me. I was totally confused. That meant
that my uncle is really my father and my Dad is actually my uncle. And that
one of my school students, from a place I never knew existed, was, briefly,
my cousin and is, in reality, my little brother!"

I allow Will to explain the moment when Mum unveiled Will's gift to her and
Dad as being a `copy' of one of Uncle Bill's photographs, and how they
compared notes, and... bingo! Father and son were united, for the first
time.

There is a moment of silence and then... "Bullshit!" Marty exclaims,
drawing looks of astonishment from everyone. "Nice try!" he continues. "How
long did it take you two clowns to dream up this April Fool's joke? A bit
late, aren't you?

Looks bounce around the table, at Marty, at Will and at me, seeking
clarification, confession, denial or a retraction. I agree that it is all
highly improbable.

Will responds, "Hey! Why would I make that up? And he..." indicating me,
"is not that creative!" He receives two smacks to the head from Jake. "What
was that for?" Will complains.

Jake justifies his actions, "One was for lying to everyone and the other
one was for insulting Mr Grant!"

"Sorry, Marty." I say, as though confessing to a ruse. Then I add, "It's
your choice whether you believe us or not, but I'm not changing a word of
it!"

"Oh, yeh? Well, what about the land and houses and hotel, or castle, or big
house, or whatever?" Marty hurls at us.

"I won't mention it again," I tell him. "But... if you're wrong, your Mum
won't be able to make a humble pie big enough for you to swallow!"

"If I'm wrong," Marty shoots back, "I'll eat one full of horse shit! But if
I'm right, you two will have to eat half each!"

"Deal!" Will says, on behalf of us both, without having to consult me.

Acacia, still behind Will, leans down and whispers in his ear. Will nods
positively. Acacia hugs him tightly and kisses him. Then she comes around
to me. The hug and kisses are repeated. "I'm so happy for you both," she
whispers to me.

"OK. Apple pie time." She announces to everyone, which lightens the
somewhat sombre mood. Then she directs at Marty, "And you'd better enjoy
this pie, Martin Charles O'Brien, because I have a feeling that the next
one that you eat is going to taste very different!"

Laughs and jibes are mostly directed at Marty. Mostly. Even though I'm no
expert lip reader, I can still discern Jake's grinning words to Will,
accompanied by a nudge to the ribs, "You're gonna eat horse shit!"

Over dessert, Will's `more believable' holiday experiences are sought and
shared. His encounter with the shark/dolphin is met with gasps then
glee. Marty looks sceptically at Will.

The drama with young Andy is not mentioned. That is a story for another
time, with Chad.

The issue of the machinery in The Village remains (in their minds)
unresolved. For now.

I thank the ladies for the tasty lunch and for their efforts. Everyone
begins to disperse.

Anna has remained quiet and aloof for most of the afternoon. I thank her
for the cookies that she sent over for our return. She smiles and says, "It
was a pleasure."

Back at Marty's I reflect that things have gone better than Will and I had
planned. Everyone has heard the truth. Some people may believe some of
it. Marty appears to believe none of it. He's in for a nasty-tasting
surprise! I think that Acacia is going to be an ally for Will and me.

There's one more thing to discuss.

"Marty," I begin, coffee in one hand and Will close by my other side, "we
have some unfinished business."

"Uh-huh," he acknowledges.

"Some secrets to share?" I remind him.

"And the house rule applies, right?" He adds his own reminder. "What's told
in the house, stays in the house."

Will checks, "Regardless of what it is?"

"Regardless!" Marty replies. I know he's busting to confirm his hunches
about Will and me, but with some reluctance relating to his own situation.

"Let's do it this way," I suggest. "You ask one question which we will
answer 100% truthfully. Then it's our turn to ask, and we expect your
response to be as truthful. Are we all agreed?"

"Yes," is the reply from Marty and Will.

"You first, Marty," Will tells him.

Marty pauses, perhaps framing his words appropriately or reflecting on what
he will answer, given that he already suspects what our question will
be. He begins, "You two were acting strangely around each other even before
you left but it's been more obvious since you got back yesterday. My
question is, have you two been mucking around with each other? You guys
know what I mean."

"Yes," Will and I answer together, without hesitation and without giving
any details.

Marty breaks into a broad grin. "Thought so! But be careful. It was too
bloody obvious! There's no problem with that as far as I'm concerned."

After a huge sigh of relief, Will says, "Our turn," then starts, "Marty,
that smell from your bedroom..." He looks to me.

I continue, "I've smelled it before. Firstly, in your SUV and, next, the
day in the Acropolis Café when that handsome young guy and curvaceous
young woman, both about my age, walked past me together after talking to
you. My question is, who did you have in your bedroom while we were away,
assuming that it was for a bit of `mucking around' as you so delicately
described things a moment ago. Was it her or him?"

Marty looks at me, than at Will, swallows hard, and answers, "Both of
them."



To be continued...

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