Date: Thu, 18 Jul 2013 06:39:09 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - chapter 7

Thank you for your encouraging feedback. I respond to all comments,
questions and positive suggestions.

I remind you that this is a work of pure fiction - just an expression of a
fantasy. The resemblance of my characters by action, name, location or
description to any real person is purely coincidental - if it seems to be
you, or somebody you know, I apologise.

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!


Chapter 7

On Sunday afternoon, as I drive to pick up Will from Jake's place, I'm
suffering pangs of guilt. Even though I know he mucks around with Jake and
Karl and Kurt, I feel like I've betrayed some unspoken bond between him and
me, almost like I've two-timed him. Yep. I reckon that's what I've done. I
feel that I should have been exclusively his. How badly will he react when
he finds out that the guy he considers his `big brother' has so readily let
his cousin do what I've continued to deny him?

I reflect on the purely physical fun that I've had with Marty and, even
though I really like the guy, there is not the same emotional attachment
that I feel for Will. I can't explain it. There is a kindred spirit with
Will. We both want each other. We both need each other to fill a gap in our
lives. I want to do stuff with Will, but cannot countenance the same
freedom with him that I've just allowed myself with Marty. If I was Will's
brother and not his teacher, life would be much simpler. But, if I wasn't
his teacher, I would never have met him. I feel sick. I'm torn between
doing what is right and doing what feels right.

On the way home, Will's chirpiness helps dispel my gloom and he gives me
the run-down on how he's filled in his weekend. How to put it in a
nutshell? Food, frolics and `fun' with Jake. While divulging some but
without going into too many details, and knowing that I suspected as much
already, he confirms that he `got lucky' while they were alone - out along
the river and also in bed. I'm happy for him, but it doesn't ease my
guilt. Then I cop a question right out of left field. He shocks me with,
"And did you enjoy your `alone time' with Marty?" Fuck! How did he know
about what Marty and I did? When did he find out? What happened to the
House Rule? Marty's in big, big trouble, man! Shit! So am I. My facial
expression is probably more than Will was expecting and, feeling myself
blush, I bite my bottom lip. It is totally self-incriminating.

"So my guess was right, eh?" he says grinning cheekily.

"You bloody little sod!" I throw back at him quickly. "You were only
fishing weren't you?" I see a look of apprehension suddenly cross Will's
face, as if he thinks that I am going to have a heated rant at him. "How do
you think I feel right now, Will?" His fearful blank stare tells me that he
doesn't know how to answer. I can't possible hurt him so, controlling
myself, I smirk and say, "Hey. Gotcha! I'm not mad at you Will, but I'm
just feeling very outplayed by an altogether too-smart 16 year old! Looks
like you caught me out - big time!" Then I add, "This time!" He actually
starts breathing again, and the change I see in his countenance simply
endears him to me even more. A flash of white teeth in a sun-tanned face!
Was he actually expecting Marty and me to `have fun too' as he wished me on
Friday afternoon? Is he OK with `sharing' me with his older cousin?

Then for some reason he says, "Haha! You'll have to learn to be careful
around me, Tom. I notice things that other people don't." Now that's
creepy! It quickly crosses my mind that Will's perceptive ability could be
one factor in why his paintings and drawings are so incredibly detailed.

Then he goes on to add some interesting titbits. "I've seen the way Marty
checks you out when he thinks nobody is watching; he's always looking at
your sexy backside." Interesting slip-of-the-tongue comment! So, Will
thinks that I have a sexy bum! "Before you came here, I also noticed how
many trips he was making to the `mens' room' so I snuck down behind it one
day to find out what was going on. And, yeh, I saw what he does down there
- from the outside. Very hot. I just had to jack off while I watched his
slick cock keep coming out of the hole and disappearing almost in again
until he spurted. I never told him though. He doesn't know that I saw
him. But once, when I came down here and he wasn't around, I went in there
and had a go. Have you done it too?" Shit! Can this kid actually read
minds, or is he just fishing again?

Either way, he knows from my silence and blank stare that he's got me once
more! Twice in two minutes. "Don't worry Tom. Brothers keep each other's
secrets! So... I know about you and Marty having a bit of fun, eh? Just
like you know about Jake and me. But... nobody knows about us, you and me,
right? It's all good." He smiles as gives me the `H'. If I wasn't driving I
would hug and kiss the kid. What the hell! I stop the car and do it
anyway. Who's gonna see us in the middle of nowhere? He totally understands
about how special the fun is that he and I share, and we both know where
we've drawn the boundary while ever I am his teacher. But I can tell that
he also understands that a man has other needs beyond jacking off. I know
that he's `read' the Porn mag, and I wonder how long it will be before he
wants to progress to other things with either Jake, or with me. We need a
good brother-to-brother talk.

As we draw closer to the village, travelling smoothly at about 80 km per
hour, I spot a large mob of sheep off to one side, a little way ahead, with
a few `loners' much closer to the road. "Hey, you'd better slow down, Tom,"
Will says in a serious tone that I haven't heard from him previously.

"Why?" I reply. "There's none on the road. And I'm not going to hit them
out there," indicating the mob off to the left.

"Believe me. You'd better slow right down! If just one decides to cross the
road, all of the others will follow. Seriously! I'm not joking, Tom." He is
squirming in his seat and his voice has now taken on a tone of urgency.

I don't argue and take Will's advice, even though I am sceptical. 20 km per
hour. Then, without warning, sure enough, one of the `loners' looks at my
approaching car and dashes across the road about 15m in front of us. I know
the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence but I've never
heard of sheep feeling safer on the other side of the road. Just as Will
had warned, the entire mob looks up and bolts off after the first
one. Another country lesson for the city schoolie! So, I think, are sheep
just oversized lemmings, willing to follow each other to their doom? I
brake to almost a standstill, but then continue, very slowly. Suddenly, the
last third of the mob give up their pointless exercise and turn back.

"Thanks Will. You're smarter than they are stupid." I mean it as a
compliment, but I'm not sure that's how Will takes my confusion of words.

"Huh?" he grunts. So I explain to him how clever I think he is, and the
smile returns to his angelic face.

We approach the pub and I ask Will whether he wants me to drop him at home,
or if he's coming down to Marty's for dinner. "Tom, let me grab a few
things and I'll come down with you," he says without any hesitation.

"Make sure this is OK with your mum, OK?" Also, I don't verbalise it but I
am fearful of Lilly getting offside with Will or with me, even though I
haven't met her yet. I don't want to arouse any suspicions in her mind, no
matter how rational or irrational. They might just be true, and impossible
to explain. Gossiping inebriates can be unpredictable, and I wouldn't want
her to say or do anything that I could regret.

As we slowly approach the shack, the sun is setting below the river gums
and I experience that particular déjà vu yet again. Why? As I search
my conscious memory without any satisfactory explanation, I stop the car
and Will dashes inside. I soon become aware that he is taking a lot longer
than on the previous occasion. I wait. Nearly ten minutes drag by. Fearing
that something has happened to him, I am about to go and investigate when
Will emerges, carrying some clothing. He jumps in and looks upset.

"What's up buddy?" I ask, laying a consoling arm across the back of his
shoulders and drawing him slightly towards me. He stares straight ahead,
avoiding direct eye contact. It's obvious that he is fighting back tears.

"It's OK Tom. She was almost off her face and blamed me for the place being
in such a stinking mess. It's impossible to reason with her when she's in
one of those moods, so I just had to clean it all up. Her clothes. Her
dirty dishes. Her half-eaten food. Her empty bottles. Her cigarettes and
other rubbish. She said I couldn't go to Marty's unless I cleaned it all."

He turns to look at me. All I can do, here, is draw him close enough to
rest my forehead on his and say, "Hey, Will. I'm here for you! Whatever you
need! We can talk about it later. It's probably time that we had a
discussion about you and me anyway. Nothing bad. I really like you, you
know - probably more than I should!" I smile into his eyes, which brighten
considerably. As he pulls his face back from me a little to focus, the
worry lines on his face morph, slowly but surely, into smiley lines.

Getting out of the car at Marty's we both scream in unison at the barking
dogs and go in, to find Marty already `slaving over a hot stove'. "Lamb
roast with vegetables followed by rice pudding," he states as if we had
asked him what was on the menu. It suddenly hits me that both brother and
sister, Marty and Anna, are accomplished cooks, and great housekeepers. And
both overtly sensual. He adds, "And I thought I might see you for dinner,
Little W... umm, cousin!"

Relaxing in my lightweight grey track pants with my two favourite guys
beside me at the dinner table, I have a hard time deciding whose lamb roast
is better - Marty's or my mother's. Both are excellent. And Marty has made
a tangy but sweet mint sauce to go with it. Nice. The pumpkin is soft, the
potatoes are crisp and the roast onion, parsnip and steamed peas are just
full of flavour. Sorry Mrs Grant, you only take second prize on this one!
Will is already into his second helping of rice pudding. I stop at one. I'm
stuffed already, despite my taste buds demanding to be further tantalised.

Will and I go into our dish washing, drying, putting away routine as Marty
makes no pretence about staring at us. I am starting to feel uncomfortable
about what could be going through his mind when, pointing his finger
backwards and forwards between Will and me he says, "You know, there is
something about you two...!"

`Fuck!' I think. `He's worked it out! Will and me. Now I'm in deep, deep
shit.' How could he possibly know? I've said nothing. I've been careful
around Will. Apart from the first time he saw me comforting Will, I've been
ultra-careful not to do or say anything in Marty's presence that could
arouse his awareness of my feelings for his young cousin. And, with Will's
perceptive ability, I'm almost certain that he has been careful as well. We
always sleep with the bedroom door closed, to `keep the mosquitoes out',
and are very quiet in there when we talk and touch. Has Will said anything
to Jake? Would Jake say anything to Marty? I look at Will who pouts
slightly and shrugs as if to say, `Don't ask me.'

Marty seems to verbalise his thoughts rather than directing them at
us. "Why didn't I see it before?" Then he looks straight at Will and points
at him. "You," he starts, "you seem to be coming down and staying an awful
lot since the Schoolie, here," pointing at me, "moved in. And, you also
seem to be very happy with yourself nowadays. What gives?"

Now, at this point I feel like my world is about to cave in. My stressed
brain tries to think of words to say on Will's behalf that will appease
Marty and deflect his thoughts from the truth. However, I am dumbfounded
when Will jumps in.

"Very funny Marty! I would have thought that it's as obvious as the nose on
your face or, in your case, the cock in your jeans..." I'm tempted to smile
but my heart simply jumps into my mouth. Then Will continues, "Ever since
Mr Grant moved in here, your cooking has become restaurant quality. Why
wouldn't I want to come and eat with you two, instead of having cold baked
beans with bread and margarine at home? Am I happy? Yes, Marty. It's
because you take such good care of me, and because Mr Grant is helping me
with my reading and other stuff. And, you two are fun to be with. I feel
great. Why shouldn't I smile?" Then he adds slowly and deliberately, "but,
now that I think about it, Marty, just tell us why you have started cooking
such great food for Mr Grant? What gives, yourself? Eh?"

Well, have you ever seen the tables turned so fast! The hunter has suddenly
become the hunted. There is stunned silence, both from Marty and from
me. After a time-stands-still moment, Marty jumps up, grabs a tea towel and
flicks Will on the bum with it, making a loud whip-cracking noise.

Will absorbs the impact and stands his ground. "You cheeky young bugger!"
Marty laughs at him. Now it's Marty's turn to feel uncomfortable and
vulnerable. He turns to me and says jovially, "I see what you mean about
the big smart arse being a handful. He's all yours." Then, he turns on his
heels, grabs a couple of magazines from the corner table and goes to his
room, closing the door quietly behind him. I guess he didn't want to
continue any dialogue where he might have to answer Will's question and,
perhaps, divulge a real motive.

I stand and look at Will, amazed by his quick thinking and daring. All I
can manage is an admiring, "Well, done, sport!" Will smiles and walks up
very close to me, takes one of my hands and places it directly onto his
crotch, holding it there while he says in a low seductive voice, "So, I'm a
handful, am I?"

Giving him a little squeeze, I reply, "Yes, indeed you are, but I think
we're done here. Time to have that you-and-me talk, in private," nodding to
indicate our room.

I grab two cans of lemonade from the fridge for Will and me and head to our
room for the now-necessary talk about our relationship, including the
`brother' fantasy that we have both been embracing.

I hand him a can, shut the door and sit on my bed. Will looks nervous. I
pat the space next to me so that we can sit alongside each other, instead
of opposite. I don't want this discussion to appear in any way
adversarial. I pop my can and lean back against the wall. Will follows my
lead.

I begin, "Will, although I've only been here for a couple of weeks, it just
seems that I've known you a lot longer. A lot has happened, hasn't it?" He
nods. "I get to call you `Will' when we're alone, and you've done well
remembering when to call me `Tom', Mr G.' or `Sir'."

"Although it seems that Marty can't make up his mind between `William' and
`Willie', you've got everyone calling me `William' instead of `Little
Willie'. I can't tell you how much that means to me. Thank you." He leans
his shoulder against mine.

I continue, "and we understand the importance of Marty's House Rule for him
and us - especially for us. It means that we not only keep our mouths
firmly shut about things we don't want anyone else to know, but it has
helped us to trust each other in what we do."

"Yeh," He says as he lays his hand on my crotch, gives my `package' a
friendly jiggle, then removes it again. "I love that you let me do that,
Tom, like in Marty's truck that first morning and then in your car, and
even like this. And I love you rubbing me as well. I would really like to
do more, you know, like I do with Karl and Kurt or, even better, like with
Jake. And you and I have seen each other naked and hard, and even jerked
off together with Marty into the bath. Remember that morning?"

I reply, "Yes, Will. How could I forget it? It was at that point that I
thought of you more as an equal than as one of my students. And I have seen
you playing naked with the twins, and I appreciate that you've told me
about you and Jake jerking each other off. You really like having sexy fun
with guys don't you?" I suddenly feel very guilty for my unintentional
suggestion of Will's sexuality. I try to make amends, "Will, I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to imply that you are..."

"Gay?" He asks, then pauses. "I know what that means, Tom. And, I'd never
admit it to anyone else except you, but, yes. I believe I am. I wasn't sure
till I met you. It all makes sense now - I get stiff seeing Marty without
his clothes, and I get `sexcited' with Karl and Kurt, and I have a lot of
fun jacking off with Jake, but I feel different with you somehow. Even
though you've never let me play with you naked, I'd really love to. And I
want you to do lots more with me, too. Like Jake and I do,
but... more. Even like in Marty's sexy magazine. I feel like I want to do
all that with you." I know that Will is talking about sucking and fucking,
and it's impossible for me to stay soft. I quickly tent out my lightweight
trackies and make no attempt to hide it from him.

He places his hand back on my crotch and, this time, gives my erection a
squeeze. "I think that you'd like to do stuff with me too. Am I right?" I
get another lump, this time in my throat. OK. Crunch time!

"Will, I've told you that I really like you, and much more than I
should. My problem is that I'm your teacher, and the law frowns upon
teachers taking advantage of their students. I could end up in prison. You
really wouldn't want that to happen, if somebody found out, or put two and
two together about us, would you? It might be your mother, or Marty, or
Anna, or even Jake's sister. I really think that I've gone too far with you
already, let alone doing more!" Will withdraws his hand, and looks
absolutely devastated. Can I possibly balance my desire for him and my
professional obligation? How can I stop his heart from breaking? I endure
the silence for a very long minute. Then I slowly move my hand onto his
crotch and ask gently, "Would you really like to do stuff with me like in
that porn magazine? Because I'd love to do stuff with you, Will, but I'm
too shit-scared to." That stuns him.

"Tom, I don't know if you are gay too, but all I can tell you is that I
want to do stuff with you. I really want to get naked with you and do that
stuff. If you want to do it too, what's stopping us? We can be careful, and
quiet and keep it a secret. Nobody will know."

"Will, you told me that you notice things that other people don't, like
Marty checking me out. Well, let me tell you that I've also seen the way
that you and Jake look at each other, and touch each other. And the way
that Karl and Kurt and you whisper and smirk at each other. You'd better be
careful yourself. Do you really think that nobody will see, in our faces,
how much we mean to each other? There is something of a bond between us
that I can't explain. It's going to get harder to hide. I thought that
Marty had already seen it tonight. Maybe he already has."

Will says, half-pleading and half-justifying his feelings, "Tom, I just
want to tell you that every time I jack off now, I think of you. At night I
dream of being with you; not just lying next to you, but enjoying your
body, and you enjoying mine. I don't know how long I can pretend that
there's nothing going on in my mind, and my heart, and in my pants." He
smiles and returns his hand to my crotch yet again. "Oooh, and in your
pants too, I see." He grins at me.

We enjoy a mutual massage of each other's firmness for a few minutes until
the wet patch on the front of my trackies becomes too large and too wet. I
am about to give in to Will's desire by sliding my hand inside his shorts
and letting him do the same to me, when I stop myself! I have to keep
reminding myself that Will is just a vulnerable boy inside a very desirable
young man's body.

"Will, I'm aching for you, but I just can't do anything at the moment. Can
you understand? Please don't be upset with me. Can we just continue to
enjoy doing this for a while, and take things really slowly? And, I want
you to know that if you and I were really brothers, I'd let you do whatever
you want with me, everything you've seen in the porn mag. But..."

"Tom! Karl, Kurt and I like being naked and grabbing each other's cocks,
and Jake and I love jacking each other off, whenever we can. I love playing
with them, but if I have to wait until you think that it's OK for you and
me to do that stuff, then I will. I'll settle for doing anything with you,
even just this. I just don't want to lose you. I think I love you more than
just as a brother. I don't know. I can't explain it. I feel like that
science experiment with the two magnets and the iron filings. There's an
attraction between us that I can actually feel. I want to be close to
you. I want to be closer than just close."

Oh God! I feel exactly what he feels. But I can't give in to my lust. Not
now. Not yet. It's too soon. Perhaps a compromise... "Will, I think we
might be able to get away with doing a little more than just playing with
the front of each other's pants. I tell you what. If you absolutely promise
that you won't do anything, or say or even hint at anything while anyone is
around in case they see us or pick up on the magnetism that I'm feeling
too, I'll agree to us exploring stuff that does not involve skin-to-skin
contact with our private bits. So any touching would be OK so long as there
is material between us. What do you think?" Of course he's going to agree!
I don't need to ask, but I want to hear him say it.

"Really?" He asks as excitedly as if he has just won a racehorse in a card
game. I can see the wheels already turning in his head, and I can't imagine
what measure of sexual activity he's dreaming up. "Is that all? No
skin-to-skin contact with your cock and balls or your butt? But everything
else is OK if we have some clothing on? What if one of us is just covered
by a sheet? Does that count as material between us?" His mind is in
overdrive and I can tell that his brain is lining up a whole lot of stuff
to do already. I want him as much as he wants me but I hope I can control
my urges from overstepping the mark and giving in to him. I know it's
skating on very thin ice.

"Yes, Will. Really," I tell him. "Just the material rule - clothing or a
sheet, or a towel. Deal?"

"Hell yeh, Tom! Deal!" I hope and pray that Marty's not listening.

And as I place my hand over the now-throbbing big cock in his shorts, he
grins and lowers his face towards the wet spot on my track pants. He's
gonna push this rule to its very extreme, I can tell.

-----

Will and I are now some weeks into our newly-defined relationship with
restricted benefits. LOL. We have spent a lot of time alone together, and I
explain to Marty that I am helping him with his reading, using the Motor
Traffic Handbook for Learner Drivers as a basis. I feel that it's far more
practical for a sixteen year old than any of the Elementary Readers in the
school's store room, with their juvenile language and artificial
stories. Judging by his expressions, although he doesn't say anything, I
don't know whether Marty fully believes me, but Will corroborates my story
whenever the need arises, telling Marty how good he's getting. On a couple
of occasions, Marty has grabbed the book and asked Will to read to him, to
ensure that he hadn't just memorised it and was reciting it, prompted by
relevant pictures. Some kids can do that, pretending to read.

He's getting really good all right, and not just at his reading. Will, as
expected, has taken full advantage of the `material' rule. Not that I'm
complaining.

Only a couple of days ago, having just pulled up my clean underwear after
taking an early shower, Will came up behind me and pressed his naked body
against mine, holding me around the chest. I could feel his stiffness press
between my cheeks. He nestled his rod into the length of my crack and
started thrusting movements. Feeling him slip up and down, the extremely
thin material did not detract from the sensation at all. "Will..." I began
to speak.

"Hey, I'm not breaking the rule Tom," he quickly jumped in. "You've got
your undies on."

I continued, "Will... can you at least close the door first?" After giving
me a goofy grin, more of an embarrassed, `oops' face, he did. I stayed in
the same position but glanced over my shoulder and enjoyed watching his
cock bounce up and down as he hurried the few steps back. He held me again,
and resumed his frotting, alternately bending his knees and stretching up,
sliding his cock from near my hole to the small of my back, then down
again, dry humping me.

"Oh, Tom, I just needed to try this. Wow. It feels so good."

"We are seriously going to get into trouble, you know." I said to him. "But
don't stop now." My own breathing was quickening at the sensation of his
rock-hard cock sliding up and down my bum crack. He rested his head against
my back and just went for it a bit faster, grunting each time that he
pushed. He reached around me and took hold of my underwear-covered cock,
which was straining to one side, and started rubbing it, and squeezing it,
and fondling my balls. I savoured every moment. After a couple of minutes
or so I felt his body tense. "Oh, no you don't!" I laughed. "I've just had
a shower." I grabbed for my towel, turned quickly and grasped his cock with
it as he erupted. Will wrapped his arms around my neck, and finished
thrusting into my hand and cumming into the towel. I let go, leaving the
towel hanging from his erection, like a shirt on a fence post, and told him
to go to the bathroom to `clean up and cool off'.

"Thanks." He said, grinning. "I really needed that."

This morning, as I look over at him, I can see his morning wood seriously
disturbing the flatness of the sheet that covers him. He appears to be
still sleeping. My turn to instigate something!

I creep out of my bed and over to his. My own cock is rock hard in
anticipation as I kneel astride his slightly-parted legs, and lower my
crotch onto his. I support myself on my elbows with my face only
centimetres from his own. As his body regains consciousness, he smiles
first, then slowly opens his eyes. He pushes the sheet down off his chest
so that, from the waist up, there is nothing between us. He reaches up,
takes my head in his hands, kisses me, then lays my head alongside his
own. He gently thrusts his hips up into me, and I reciprocate. This time, I
take the initiative, and play `sword fights' with him, lifting myself up
and down, moving myself from side to side, and sliding our poles against
each other. I can feel his hot breath against the side of my face for the
many minutes that we silently enjoy each other. We both start breathing
harder and panting. The next thing that I feel is his pulsing cock and the
emergence of a warm wetness between us. I restrain my urge to cry
out. Within a matter of seconds, and a couple more thrusts, I add massively
to the wetness of the sheet and relax onto him fully. We just lie together
in silence, waiting for our breathing to return to normal and for our
erections to subside.

It's only when I hear the toilet flush, and thereby know that Marty is up
and about, that I move. As I pick up my towel for a quick cleansing shower,
I look at the huge mess that Will and I have made of his sheet. It will
soon dry in this heat. I hope that Marty doesn't come in and see it in the
meantime. As I head for the bathroom, I call out "Morning, Marty!" He
echoes that he will have breakfast ready in ten minutes, then adds, "Is
that lazy cousin of mine even awake yet?" I smile to myself and call
out`Oh, yeh! He's up!' as I close the bathroom door.

I relieve my bladder first then take a quick, cleansing shower. I'm
enjoying the new level of my brother fantasy with Will although, from time
to time, I suspect that playing out this fantasy might simply be the
attempted justification of my unprofessional lust for him. However, deep in
my heart, what I actually feel for Will is much more than lust. I feel a
very strong connection with this young man. Apart from the vision of his
muscular, blemish-free body and an undeniably handsome face, he's witty and
radiates a magnetism that I've never felt previously - with anyone. I'm
happy just to be in his presence and to look at him, and to take in the
fluidity of his every movement, and to feel his every grin and wink and
smirk causing my heartbeat to quicken. The sexual play is a bonus - but
what a great bonus! He appears satisfied with the freedom we've agreed
because I believe that, apart from the skin-to-skin restriction, our
playfulness complements, for him, what he's doing with Jake, or rather what
he isn't doing with Jake.

We pass each other in the doorway. I flinch as he makes to grab my naked
crotch, but he stops centimetres short, whispering, "It's OK, Tom. I know
the rules!" My heart jumps yet again. He smirks then closes the bathroom
door. Oh, yes, he's playful!

Over breakfast Marty asks, "It's Saturday. You guys want to come into town
with me this morning?" I reflect on the possibilities and the opportunity
to look around, with Marty as a guide, recalling that the town was just a
blur on my first day out here as I passed through.

"Great idea. Thanks, Marty. I can do my preparation this afternoon when we
get back."

I look to Will for his response. He says, "Thanks, Marty, but if it's all
the same, some other time. I told Karl and Kurt that I would spend some
time with them today." He glances at me ever so briefly. I detect an intent
that I'm sure Marty doesn't.

I simply smile and say, in the most unemotional voice that I can muster,
for Marty's benefit, "OK, William. Have fun." But, as I pick up my plate
and mug and walk behind Marty to the sink, I turn and give Will a smirk and
a wink. He looks from me down to his plate, I suspect so that Marty cannot
see any give-away expression on his face.

We soon drop Will near the pub then do a U-turn and Marty's metallic blue
SUV roars towards the big town.

I fully expect Marty to quiz me on the way about me and Will, given his
previous statement of `there is something about you two'. He starts with,
"So, what do you think of... Willie... umm... William?" Then he adds,
"Damn, it's hard not to call him `Little Willie'!"

I'm not sure that I can withstand 90 minutes of cross examination, but I
start with, "He's a good kid, Marty. And I might joke about him being a
handful and a smart-arse, but he's really eager to learn. Not to mention,
he's an incredibly talented artist."

Marty appears to ignore what I have said and, for once, I am thankful that
he launches into an O'Brien soliloquy. "He really likes you, you know,
Tom. You are the only Schoolie who has ever really taken an interest in
him. He tells me that you praise him, help him every day with his reading,
offer him advice when he asks for it and you seem to go out of your way to
ensure that the kids respect him, and each other. I suppose this is the
first opportunity that I've had to thank you for that. I used to worry
about him so much, especially with his mother the way she is. And, now,
you've even got me calling him just plain `Willie' and `William'."

I can tell that Marty does not know the full extent of Lilly's abuse of her
son. I'm happy to leave his understanding at her drunken ranting, raving
and abandoning him to fend for himself around the house. My ego is boosted
by Marty's recounting of many positive things that Will has told him about
me - without a single hint of anything physical. Marty even apologises for
his `lovebirds' jibe on that first Saturday night. I smile but guiltily
think, `If you only knew, Marty!'

The trip to the big town doesn't seem long. Interspersed with his thoughts
on everything and everyone in the village, Marty points out various
landmarks, homesteads and other `country' features along the
way. Fortunately, he omits any linking of me with his sister, Anna. Maybe
he's saving that for the drive home.

The morning is well advanced when we pull up in the shade of a row of large
peppercorn trees. As I get out of the SUV, I am immediately confronted by
the dusty heat, by the buzz of cicadas, by the annoyance of flies and by
the strong scent of eucalyptus oil from the gum trees.

Our first stop is the grocery store, with its lingering smell of old wooden
floorboards, so different to the daily-disinfected marble tiles of the
arcades and malls at home. Marty introduces me to the friendly and rotund
grocer, gives him a list and says that we will be back later to pick
everything up. I reflect that this is what `customer service' must have
been like prior to `self-service' supermarkets.

We walk up one side of the main street and down the other, the only strip
of shops in town. Marty identifies each shop and introduces me to almost
everyone that we pass. After half a dozen encounters, I have developed
`stock, standard' answers to their usual questions of `How do you like it
out here?' and `Where are you from?' Marty's answer to `And, how's your
Mum?' is also well-practised.

We end up at the `Acropolis Café'. It seems that just about every
country town that I've been to has one of this name. The Greek pictures on
the walls seem so out of place here. But I've never found one yet that
didn't serve great food at a reasonable price.

There are two rows of horseshoe-shaped booths with tightly-studded red
vinyl seats, each of which will accommodate about six people. We sit at one
near the front of the shop. As people come in, Marty introduces me to
them. Many of them are rouseabouts or general farm hands and, judging from
the handshakes and shoulder jabbing, many seems to know Marty very
well. One pair, a handsome man and a curvaceous young woman, continue to
their own seats after our obligatory introductions and pleasantries. It is
only as they walk away that I become aware of that scent. The one in
Marty's car. Was it him? Or her? Was it after-shave or perfume? Maybe I'll
get a chance to talk to them separately, isolate the source of the aroma,
and put another piece of my Marty-puzzle in place.

We order coffee and I add a custard tart - one of my many weaknesses. I'm
half way through it when I look up to see a police officer walk in and
stand by our table. He looks directly at me and asks, "Excuse me sir, are
you Thomas Grant?"

"Yes, sir." I answer.

"Could I please have a word, Mr Grant - outside." I look at Marty who
shrugs then, laying down my half-eaten pastry, I get up nervously and
follow. My heart is pounding as a dozen scenarios race through my mind,
foremost of which are many about me and Will.



To be continued...

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