Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 23:34:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Slave Show, Part  Twenty Five

THE SLAVE SHOW

By Pete Brown.   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  Twenty Five

Over the next couple of weeks things settled down, as
they have a way of doing after an initial shock.  I
reckon I helped a lot, not only by letting Shane and
Jason use my place for fucking, but by always
reminding Dan that his position was little short of
hypocritical!  After I'd fucked him and when we were
lying companionably close, just enjoying the sensation
of our bodies being together, and having those little
half-serious, half-funny conversations you do after
sex, I'd deliberately do something he liked, such as
pushing my tongue in his ear and then nibbling the
lobe gently.  When he stirred and moaned and moved his
body closer to mine as you do when you're aroused by
something like that which you enjoy, I'm whisper "I
wonder if Shane enjoys this sort of thing as much as
you do, Dan?"

"It's not the same, Steve.  He's still a kid...."

"...and he needs to experiment, to find out what he
really likes.  It's better for him, actually - he's
confident enough to come out and tell the world that
he likes other men, not like some people....."

"Steve, let's not go there again!  You know I love
Julie, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt her..."

"...and you're supposed to  love me, too, remember?"

"Steve, you know I like you, mate. I'd rather be in
bed with you than anywhere else....", and as usual he
avoided the "L" word.  But I knew the message had got
home, and although he continued to refuse to allow
Shane to have Jason in his own bedroom, things went
back to "normal" in the sense that Dan and Shane were
talking without shouting at each other, and Jason was
mostly around the place after school and at the
weekend, and had meals with us, and so on. But it all
blew up again when Shane produced a contract for Dan
and Julie to sign, explaining that it was his
"apprenticeship" to Manchelsea.

"No, son", Dan almsot shouted.  "You are going to
university...."

"Dad, you promised....  It's what I want to do.  I'm a
footballer...."

"See reason on this, will you?  I want you to have a
good life...."

"...I want a good life, too!  And you're going to deny
me the one chance I'll have...."

"After you've got your degree, then you can go off and
play football to your heart's content...."

"It will be too late then, Dad!  If  I start now, I'll
get the very best training, work with the best players
and coaches in the country.... By the time I've
finished uni some of my best footballing years will be
over anyway...."

"Shane, I gave in over you and Jason, now at least be
prepared to meet me half way....."

"Give in?  Give in over me and Jason?  Dad, that's got
nothing to do with it.  I love Jason, and there's
nothing you could do to separate us!"

"You are not, I repeat not, going off to that football
club.  You'll stay here, go to school, then on to
university...."

"You can't make me..."

"Yes I can, actually.  You're not allowed to enter
into legal contracts on your own until you're
eighteen.  The stupid laws in this country allow you
to have sex at sixteen, but fortunately they don't
allow you to sign your life away.  So no contract with
a football club."

"...and then when I'm eighteen, I'll quit, I tell you,
dad!  I'll quit this house for good, and then I'll
never speak to you again.  Not ever."

I was there, listening to this, and I couldn't stand
it.  "Shane!  Don't ever say that to your father!
Families are too important..."

"I might know you'd side with him.... Keep the fuck
out of this, Steve...."

"Side with him?  It's me who's letting you and Jason
use my place, remember?  And I happen to think he's
wrong about the football thing, too.  But don't ever
threaten to break apart from your family, whatever the
problem.  Sometimes we say these things in anger, in
the heat of the moment, and then they take on a life
of their own.  'I said I'd never speak to him again'
turns into 'so he wouldn't speak to me' followed by 'I
can't stand being in the same room, with the silence',
and so it goes on.  What started as a little argument,
that could be fixed, ends up with all sorts of
unhappiness as people don't see each other for
years..."

"Don't interfere, Steve!".  It was Dan now.  "You
always undervalue education, because you had none
yourself..."

"Dan, shut up, will you?  You're angry, and you're
just firing this crap off at everyone in sight.  I
don't undervalue education - I got a really good one,
to be a soldier.  And I was fucking good at it, too.
But you're wrong here - Manchelsea have a proper
apprentice's scheme, where they really look after
young lads like Shane and 'bring them on'.  You're
stupid not to see that, and stupid not to realise that
you can't win this one:  you may be able to force
Shane to stay at school another two years, but after
that he'll be off, and he won't come back, or, if  he
does, he won't value your advice and opinion.  You
need to let him go, Dan - let him go off to
Manchelsea."

"And what if he's no good?  I know he plays for Essex
and all that, but what if he can't hack it as a
professional?"

"Well then he comes and asks you for advice, and you
go off and research universities and all that stuff,
and persuade them to let him in as an older student,
or whatever....   Under your system, whether he's any
good or not he'll end up hating you.  Under my system,
he gets to find out whether he's any good, and he
still loves and values his dad, whether he's any good
or not!  You're a fucking moron, Dan, if you can't see
that!"

As he did when he'd lost but couldn't admit it, Dan
just stormed out of the room.  Shane stood there,
beginning to calm down, and Jason was still a bit
shell-shocked.  Shane then began to smile a bit.
"Thanks, Steve.... It's a done deal, I reckon.  Dad
always storms off like that when he knows he's not
going to win, but doesn't want to be seen to be
losing."

"That's pretty sharp of you, Shane!  I thought your
mom and me were the only ones to know that, as we've
seen him do it before..."

"I do love him, Steve.  He's my dad, after all, and
you notice that sort of thing...."

"Not everyone does, Shane.  A lot of blokes quarrel
with their fathers and never notice stuff like
that..."    He put his arm around Jason, and went on
"But Jason and me... We're never going to be like
that, are we?  We're never going to quarrel and not
notice each other's reactions."

"Oh, I don't know - you're as stubborn as your dad
sometimes.....", Jason added, and both lads laughed.

So, after a decent interval of a couple of days, Dan
did of course sign the apprenticeship agreement, and
then we had the usual tears from a mom seeing her
eldest son leave home for the first time as Julie
waved goodbye to Dan as he drove Shane off to the
training headquarters for the first time.

Jason came around to our place that evening, looking
like a puppy that was lost, and just sat around,
having supper with Dan, Julie and me.  "It's odd to
think of Shane not here", I said, perhaps unhelpfully.
 "...I wonder what he's having for dinner tonight.  I
suppose they do pretty good food there, for all the
footballers...."

"It's a really nice place", Dan added.  "They all have
their own rooms, and there's a TV lounge, a
restaurant, a gym, a pool, all that sort of stuff."

"It sounds better than a university!", I cut in.
"When are you off, Jason?"

"Two weeks from now...."

"Well if you've got nothing to do before then, you're
welcome to come around here... I can always find you a
bit of work to do, keeping the slave records up to
date, and that sort of thing.  And we can pay you,
can't we, Dan?  That will be a help for next term...."

Jason looked a bit more cheerful.  "Thanks, Steve...
That would be nice.  I've kind of got used to being
here....  And the money would help - since dad left
things are really tight at home.  I'm getting my
tuition paid for but I'm going to have to look for a
job at Cambridge to stay alive..."

Jason was a nice bloke, actually.  Well, he would be,
wouldn't he, if Shane loved him?  And I gave him stuff
to do that was really pretty marginal - but he set up
a database for us to keep track of our slaves and the
prizes and such they'd won, and from that made a
website so that people could see pictures of them and
read their history - he said it would add to the value
of our assets, as people would get to know that we had
all these prize-winning slaves:  not only in terms of
the value of the slaves themselves, but in making our
reputation as trainers even more widely known.

The cynics amongst you will be thinking that I only
did this as I was after his body, and that just wasn't
true!    Although at eighteen he was potentially very
desirable, especially with those long, rangy limbs and
a body that was in nice condition, I really didn't
want to fuck him - anyway, I had slaves in the barn
about that age with much more firmly muscled bums, and
I could of course have those whenever I chose.    But
I began to notice that Andy was taking an interest in
him, and was hanging around where Jason was working,
and tried to sit down near him when we broke for
lunch, and things like that.

I was giving Jason some data for input one afternoon
when he stopped and suddenly asked me "Steve, is it OK
to talk to the slaves and stuff like that?"

"Oh sure!  We're really liberal here - none of that
artificial distinction between free men and slaves in
stuff like that.  They've got to be properly civil and
respectful, of course, but if you want to talk
football, or about the food, or just generally hang
out with them, providing it doesn't interfere with
their training...."

"That Andy seems to know a lot about football.  He's
over the moon about Shane.... And I thought that he
could tell me a bit more about the game, that sort of
thing, so I'd have more to talk to Shane about..."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Jason."

"Why not?"

"Well, Andy's a fan, in fact probably the ultimate
fan!  If he wasn't a slave, he'd be spending all his
time and money travelling around after his favourite
team.  And he does know a lot about it, I grant you,
or, at least, seems to... as a fan.  But Shane's a
player, and he's spending all his time with the other
players, and I reckon they know a lot more about it -
or know about it from a different perspective. And
they must get pretty sick of hearing the drivel a lot
of fans talk... If I were you, I'd let Shane tell you
all about it."

"But I want him to know I'm interested...."

"Don't you think he knows that?  He'll be a lot keener
to have you listen intently to what he says, rather
than giving him your half-baked ideas after you've
pulled together what Andy says.  And I reckon Shane
and you have got things other than football to talk
about when you get together.  And, anyway, I reckon
Andy's got another motive, too."

"Oh?"

"Well you probably don't know, but he's a sort of
Casanova figure - he never stops trying to make out
with all the other slaves!"

"You're kidding!  I thought he was Joe's...
Joe's....." He stopped, seeming to lack the right
word.

"Bum boy, lover, bed companion?  Sure, Joe loves him,
and whenever they can, he sleeps with him and, as far
as I know, Joe fucks the shit out of him. But Andy's a
young bloke, much the same age as you - and he likes
to fuck:  you must have seen him in the showers?"
Jason nodded.  "Well then, you'll have seen that hung
on that scrawny frame there's a pretty impressive
cock.  And, rumour has it, our Andy really knows how
to use it!  You'd never think so, but Andy's fucked
more of the other slaves here than anyone else has.
And I reckon he's got you in his sights...."

"You can't be serious..."

"Oh, come on, Jason!  You're both horny eighteen year
olds!  Why shouldn't he at least try to get you into
bed...."

"But I'm with Shane...."

"So?"

"Bu I love Shane...."

"So?  We're not talking about love here, we're just
talking about sex.  Two blokes can have a bit of sport
with each other without it meaning anything more than
that."

Jason looked thoughtful.  "Firstly, Steve, does that
mean I could fuck the slaves, if I wanted to?"

"I don't see any reason why not. You're a free man, on
the staff here - just pick the one you want and order
him to go with you."

Jason licked his lips.  "Well that's interesting...
You see.... Well....  I've never really fucked anyone.
 When Shane and  me are together...."

I grinned.  "There's nothing wrong with that, you
know.  It's not better to be doing the fucking than it
is to be enjoying the cock... In spite of what all the
erotic stories say.  If you like taking it, and Shane
likes giving it, that's perfectly natural and normal
in my book."

"I think Shane and I are both liberated enough to
understand that, Steve!"  Jason sounded mildly shocked
that I might even have been hinting at a point of view
somewhat more prevalent at the start of the century.
".... It's just that, well, I'd like to try fucking."

"Well, as I said, pick a slave!"

"But most of them are much older than me - and even
the blokes just a bit older are more, more sort of....
mature."

"...which is why you thought of Andy?"

"Well, yes."

I laughed.  "I reckon it might be quite amusing,
actually - let him chat you up a bit more, then take
him off into my room, and then as soon as you're
naked, and he's looking forward to chalking up another
notch in the bedpost, order him down on his knees, or
however you like it, and fuck the shit out of him!
Then let all the other slaves know - it will do Andy a
bit of good to remember that his role in life is to
please a free man...."

Jason smiled too.  "I reckon I'll try that.  But...
Secondly, well, I suppose it's not being disloyal to
Shane...?."

"No more than wanking yourself is, I don't think.  All
men need sexual relief, and it's supposed to be OK to
wank when you're away from your partner.  And sucking
another bloke, or fucking him, isn't any different,
really.  It's when the 'love' thing starts that the
problems begin."

Jason suddenly went sort of sad.  "So do you reckon
Shane's fucking the other guys at that training camp?"

"I don't know about that, Jason.  But look, they're
all horny sixteen to twenty year olds..... And they
all need sex, especially as they're all so fit and
stuff.  On the other hand, they're all footballers -
and there's still that macho thing about footballers
having wives and girlfriends and things, and still
trying to get their leg over any other woman in
sight.... I don't reckon there's any good fucking of
the other trainees, actually."

"I think I'm glad about that...."

".... But, on the other hand, they'll all want to
'prove' themselves.  So if someone suggests a circle
jerk in the showers.... That kind of harmless, pretty
juvenile stuff....  You must have done that....?"

"Not at our school.  But it goes on, I know."

"..as you'd expect, as it's a bit of harmless fun.
But whether Shane and the other lads at the Club are
doing it, I don't know:  from what I've seen, there's
an awful lot of pictures in the papers with those
young footballers with some pretty spectacular women
hanging on their arms...."

Well, I never did find out whether Jason did in fact
fuck Andy, or vice versa.  I suspect the answer was
no, as even though Jason could have kept it quiet, I
don't think Andy could have.  But Jason was a bright
guy, really bright, you could tell, and I did see him
speaking to one of the slaves in his early twenties
one day, and then found my door locked from the inside
in the early evening.  When I did get to go to bed I
found the sheets were freshly changed, and I reckon
something had been going on.  I did ask Jason about it
the next day as he sat there working, but he muttered
something about "feeling tired" and "he hoped  I
didn't mind."

"...and that Mike's a pretty good fuck", I added, and
Jason's reflexes cut in as he nodded in agreement.
And then we both bust out laughing!

I think the next few months were really tough for both
Shane and Jason - the one settling in to the training
centre, and the other into university.  Jason was only
free at weekends generally, and Shane went with the
teams to watch their matches at the weekends mostly,
so there weren't all those many opportunities for them
to be together.  But when it was "half term" at
Cambridge, and Shane did come home for a couple of
evenings midweek and they seemed to be as fond of each
other as they always had been.

Life went on, as ever:  Dan and I carried on our
relationship in hotel rooms up and down the county, we
bought an sold slaves, and I did the "proper thing"
with the new ones, to establish my authority over
them.  And a year went by, almsot, without anyone
noticing.

The shock came when, following a series of transfers
abruptly followed by a couple of spectacular injuries,
Manchelsea found themselves without a striker for some
fairly important match or other.  It was Andy who
alerted us to this, daring to knock on the door as
Dan, Julie and me were eating supper, to say the match
was just about to start on TV and that Shane was
playing!

The commentator made such a big thing about how risky
it was for Manchelsea to be chancing almsot everything
on such a young, unknown player (Shane was only just
seventeen), and he looked so young and vulnerable as
he stood out there amongst the team before the match
began as they sang the club song in that way they do.
 Manchelsea were definitely outclassed, I'd say, as
someone who doesn't know all that much about it.  And
at half time they were two nil down.  But incredibly
and amazingly, ten minutes into the second half one of
their men scored (the commentator said it was "set up"
by Shane), they got another one from a penalty after a
vicious foul, and with the score at two all, with only
three minutes to go, Shane tackled a big, tough black
player from the other team, and with control of the
ball used his speed and skill to get right down the
pitch, then slam it into their goal!

The stadium went wild, and afterwards, in that stupid
way that they have, everyone said it was Shane's goal
that won the match.  I'm not belittling his skill,
obviously, but if the score is 3-2, every one of those
three goals won the match, didn't they?  Still, it's
the "vital" goal that sticks in everyone's mind, and
in the obligatory interviews after the match the
reporters all wanted to talk to Shane, and were barely
interested in what the Manchelsea captain had to say.

He stood there, just in his shorts as he'd been headed
for the baths, and his whole being screamed joy and
happiness - not just the look on his face, but his
posture, everything.  But whether it was from being
with Jason, or because he was pretty bright anyway (or
perhaps it was that pat of the stuff at the training
centre was to learn how to deal with the press), he
seemed to say exactly the right things. And say them
in the right way!   By that I meant that the British
public expects its footballers to be a bit "working
class", and Shane was far from that.  Even though he'd
been brought up in Essex, Shane had a "normal"
speaking voice, learned from Dan and Julie, of course.
 But now he definitely sounded like an "Essex boy" as
he clipped the end of his words, and used all sorts of
colloquialisms usually only used in the poorer parts
of that county.

At the end of the interview they finally sad "So,
Shane, what now?"

"Back to the training centre, and off to bed, I
reckon.... I'm still an apprentice officially, so I
don't live at home..."

"So no girl friend, then?  No one to make that special
'thank you' tonight?"

Shane gave a leering grin.  "No, it's back to the
training centre, as I said.  I don't get home until
this weekend, and the other stuff will have to
wait...."

And thus began Shane's deception of the public - or,
rather, he continued to tell the absolute truth, and
let them draw their own conclusions.

It was Dan of course who negotiated Shane's contract
after that - his one-year apprenticeship was up, and
Manchelsea clearly wanted to sign him as he'd now
"proved" himself.  And Shane wanted to stay, but Dan
insisted they talk to other clubs, and dramatically
raised the amount Manchelsea were prepared to pay him.
 So much so that Shane went out and bought an
apartment, close to the Club, but which Jason could
get to easily (in the car Shane bought for him).

He was a regular first team player after that, making
a lot of money, especially with the playing and
winning bonuses, and the offers of sponsorship and
advertising deals began to flow in - he was, after
all, a good-looking bloke, one who could talk
intelligibly.  Dan and he were really reconciled, but
Dan still tried to control him somewhat, reminding him
that his career was relatively short and that he
needed to invest his money, not waste it.  Shane took
all of this very good naturally, and even poked a bit
of mild fun at Dan about it.  I heard him say once
"You don't have to worry about me, dad!  I don't need
a Ferrari, not like most of the other players!  I've
got Jason and he's excitement enough...."

When Shane was eighteen he was being talked of for the
England World Cup squad, the youngest player in the
squad, and the public adulation got even worse.  It
was so bad that on those occasions when he could come
home to our place, we needed to keep a line of slaves
standing across the entrance to the yard to
(respectfully) keep the reporters out!  Fortunately
young Liam didn't seem affected at all by any of this
- he did well at school, and ploughed his way through
the almsot obligatory number of girlfriends that a lad
of his age has.  He even joked about it, saying that
it was easier for younger brothers:  Dan had exhausted
himself arguing about sex with Shane, and so didn't
seem to mind what Liam did at all.

The British public, or, rather, the British press,
seems to like nothing better, though, than to tear
down an idol that it has helped create.  Even though
Shane didn't get drunk, didn't smash up hotel rooms,
was never caught for speeding, or any of those other
things for which footballers are renowned, they kept
on trying to find something that they could accuse him
of or criticise him for.

Their opportunity came when, as usual, the press
wanted to turn the World Cup into some sort of war
substitute, and began to be stupidly jingoistic  -
incredibly, they still kept harking on about 1966 when
English won, against Germany ("Two world wars and one
world cup..." England fans were always chanting at
their German counterparts.).  As part of this, the
assorted wives and girlfriends of the England team
members were "invited" or "persuaded" to take part in
some idiotic programme on TV where they worked up a
song and dance number "to celebrate England's
victory".

It only took one of the gutter papers to begin a
campaign to say that Shane and his girl were too
snooty to take part, for the tide to begin to turn
against Shane!  In days he went from being the hero
who was going to win the competition for England, to
being reviled as "the overpaid brat who doesn't care
about his country" (a charge so unfair, as he was
still earning less than most of the other players).

Shane was really upset about it, and I know that he
went to Cambridge to talk to Jason about the
situation. The storm broke the next morning, as he'd
been followed - and there was a "candid" photograph of
he and Shane sitting in a Cambridge pub surrounded by
other students, with Shane's hand resting casually on
Jason's thigh.  The pub was described as a "notorious
haunt of homosexuals" and the papers brayed on and on
about the need for "real men" in the England squad.
There were some really cruel jokes, too:  "How many
men in the England team?". "Ten and a queer".  All
that sort of stuff.

Shane was now absolutely furious, and he drove over to
see Dan and Julie, with a swarm of reporters in hot
pursuit.  We were all in that familiar, safe, kitchen,
and Shane was almost sobbing.  He told us how Jason
was the only thing that mattered in his life, and how
this publicity was tearing at their relationship.
Finally, I cut in.  "Look, Shane, I know Jason pretty
well.  And I reckon you two will survive this - you
love each other, and that counts for an awful lot, you
know.  But how far are you prepared to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were prepared to risk breaking up with your mom
and dad for Jason.  Will you give up football for
him?"

Shane didn't even hesitate.  "Of course!  It's my
career, my passion.... But Jason's much more
important."

One of the blokes Dan and I used to play football with
all those years ago had gone into TV as it so happens,
and was a minor sports reporter.  We found his number,
and I called him and asked him to broker an exclusive
interview that night on the BBC, to follow the nine
o'clock news.  It was amazing how much interest the
story was generating, and the BBC, always keen to
snatch audiences, from lunchtime onwards had
saturation coverage of their planned interview with
Shane.

Manchelsea went frantic, and demanded that they sent a
PR person and/or a lawyer along, or, better still,
that the interview was cancelled totally.  But Shane
refused, as he did all requests to "go through" the
type of questions that he might be asked.  He spent a
lot of time on his mobile to Jason, and then as we
drove down to London to the studios, he looked at Dan
and Julie and me in the car and said calmly "You
always taught me not to be afraid, mom, dad.... And
this is scary.  But you won't mind what I say, will
you?"

"Son, it doesn't matter!", Dan told him. "You're our
son.  Whatever you do is all right by your mom and
me", and Julie hugged him.

We had terrible problems getting through the crowds
outside TV centre - the public had turned up in their
thousands, as well as the press, and there was a
special big screen on the outside of the building to
relay the interview.  Shane was booed and jeered as
our car nosed its way through!  And as we were led to
the studio, there was Jason!

They embraced and kissed, and Shane seemed to be
calmer.  Then Jason and Dan and Julie and me were
taken off to the side to watch as the preparations
were made.   Personally I thought it was a mistake to
use one of their really hard-nosed belligerent
reporters, and as the interview began he summarised
the press comment of the last few days, and then, the
cameras zooming in to Shane so we could see every tiny
expression on his face in the monitors, he rapped "So
you do admit that you're a homosexual, don't you?"

"No."  Said Shane quietly.

"...you were seen in a homosexual pub, your hand on
the thigh of a student, a student you were at school
with...."

"I was there, and yes, my hand was on Jason's thigh."

"...and yet you refuse to admit that you're a
homosexual..?"  The programme had cut to a view of the
interviewer now, with an almsot triumphant look on his
face."

"I do refuse to 'admit' it!  That's the problem.  Your
use of the word 'admit' is so grossly prejudicial that
it's a disgrace.  I am a homosexual.  I have never
denied it.  But I refuse to 'admit' it - that makes it
sound as if it's somehow wrong, or strange.  I might
admit to being a rapist, or an alcoholic, or something
like that.... But I am a homosexual, I always have
been, and I always will be.  I don't need to 'admit'
it."

The interviewer appeared stunned for a moment.
"...but your behaviour in a pub....?"

Shane smiled.  I recognised the look.  He was in
control now.  "Do you go to pubs?"  The interviewer
nodded.  "With your wife, or girlfriend?"  Another
nod.  "And do you never touch them, just for the
pleasure of it?  Not sexually - it is  a public place
- but a gentle touch, a touch that says 'I love you' ,
a private sharing of your regard for each other?"

"No!"

"Well then, I feel sorry for you, and your wife!
Couples who love each other share such little
intimacies all the time.  And if you don't, you're cut
off from really important things in life.  I bet there
are millions of men and women out there tonight who
have brushed their fingers against the skin of their
partners in a pub...."

The interviewer was on the run now.  "But you're a
role model for a generation of young people..."

"Quite so.  I have a long-term, loving relationship
with my partner.  And that's an excellent role to
have.  There would be a lot less misery in our society
if everyone was like us."

"You can hardly expect the public to accept an open
homosexual representing the nation, though....
Especially one who has consistently denied it...."

"I have never denied it.  It's sloppy journalists who
took my silence when they talked about 'someone
special' and things like that as some sort of
confirmation that I had a woman.  I do not believe you
can ever find anything I've ever said that's a lie
about this.  I'm proud of Jason."
Shane stood up, and called out for Jason, who got up
from where he had been sitting with us and staggered
into the blazing lights.  Shane put his arm around
Jason's shoulder, and kissed him lightly.  "I asked to
do this interview tonight", he said carefully, "And I
asked Jason to come, too - there are two of us in
this, you know - as it's his life, his privacy, that's
an issue here as well.  We've talked about it, and
we're both agreed:  If the public doesn't want me to
play in the World Cup, that's fine.  Jason and I will
have a chance at last to take a good long holiday
together as his exams at Cambridge are almsot over.
But under no circumstances will I continue to put up
with gross intrusions into my private life - a private
life that is, I might say, rather more spotless than
that of most of the journalists who seem to be so keen
to revile us.  Jason and I are leaving now.  We're
going home, with my mom and dad, and we're going to do
what we've been doing ever since I was sixteen - we're
going to bed, and sharing our love."

He had one parting shot, though. "There's a well known
example in this country of someone giving up
everything for the one he loved - Edward did, for
Wallace Simpson - and in my small way, I am going to
do the same.  Football means nothing to me, compared
to Jason." He now took Jason by the hand, tore off his
microphone, and walked out!

They had to use a heavy police escort to get our car
out of the TV centre - the crowd had seemed to have
turned very ugly indeed, and Julie was shaking with
fear - not for herself, of course, but for Shane and
Jason.  We drove home talking about this and that as
if it was "old times", and when Dan went to turn on
the radio, Julie stopped him and whispered "Time
enough for that tomorrow, Dan.  Let's live tonight
like we used to."

When we got home Andy was still up.  He looked totally
shattered!  "Traitor....", he hissed as Shane walked
past, and I lost it.  I screamed for Joe to go and get
my cane, but Shane stooped me.  He put his hand on
Andy's shoulder and said quietly "I know you love
football, Andy.  But you love Joe, too, don't you?
Suppose you had to choose...?", and walked off into my
room with Jason.

Those of you not around at the time can't imagine the
hysteria this broadcast caused.  The BBC was accused
of being prejudiced, even after years and years of
supposed sexual equality. It was also accused, by
different people, of showing a "depraved and
disgusting scene of men kissing".  The riots outside
TV centre that night were mostly caused by fans who
had started the evening by criticising Shane, but who
now wanted to kill the journalists that might have
deprived England of its best chance of winning the
World Cup.  And the papers the following morning were
a complete mess - all blaming each other for being out
of touch with the popular mood.

There were riots in Central London later that day as
marchers were prevented from heading for Downing
Street to demand that the Prime Minister intervened to
"insist" Shane was a  member of the squad, and the
hapless Minister For Sport could do nothing right,
being hammered by the Christians for "condoning
unnatural acts" when she suggested that the England
management and Shane should get together, and for
"total cowardice" by the football fans who just wanted
to see Shane play.

Shane's Club was furious about the unauthorised
interview with the press, and summoned him to the Club
to be reprimanded.  Shane and I talked about it, and I
reminded him that all contracts were a matter of where
the power lay - and with the semi-finals of the FA Cup
on later that week, Manchelsea needed Shane rather
more than, at that moment, he needed them!  So I'd
have loved to have been a fly on the wall at that
meeting when they threatened to tear up Shane's
contract, and he pointed out that he had enough money
by now anyway, and that he thought a year or two off
just travelling around the world with Jason might
actually be fun.

We were all nevertheless very nervous about the
semi-finals that Saturday afternoon, so much so,
indeed, that Dan and I (and Andy, who begged and
pleaded to be allowed to go and see a real match),
actually went to the ground.  The crowd seemed to be
in a funny mood, with Manchelsea's opponents taunting
the Manchelsea fans with horrible variations on the
old song "Two little boys", replacing "there's room on
my horse for two..." with "room up my arse for you",
and the Manchelsea fans very unusually not responding
at all - it was as if all the fire had gone out of
them.  Things looked very bad indeed, as the teams
were finely poised and they needed every ounce of
support they could get.

When the teams ran out on to the pitch the opposing
fans started shouting "Ugh, ugh, ugh..." and pointing
at Shane to imply he was being fucked.  He stood
there, looking pale and unsure as the teams all shook
hands, and then, in an utterly spontaneous and totally
unexpected gesture, the Manchelsea captain, well known
for shagging every woman who got near him, went up to
Shane and hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek!
Every one of the team then did the same, and the crowd
reaction was instantaneous and electric:  there was a
huge roar of applause and congratulations from the
Manchelsea fans, and Shane seemed to change from being
hunched and worried, to being about two feet taller
and supremely confident.  At the end of the match,
with Manchelsea winning 1-0, the goal coming from
Shane, they went wild and the chants from both sets of
supporters of "Shane for England!" went on and on.

The next week was of course the FA Cup Final, and all
of us went - Dan, Julie, Jason, and it seemed as if it
was becoming a habit - Andy.  We went to the
directors' box at Wembley hired by Manchelsea, and as
we went to the window, were completely amazed:
instead of the usual dark red and blue flags of
Manchelsea, it seemed almost all our fans were now
waving the once-reviled "rainbow" ones!

Shane was "man of the match", and afterwards he
insisted that if the press wanted to interview him it
would be with Jason at his side.  The two men stood
there, proud in their love for each other, and took
the questions.  No one, it seemed, wanted to ask about
the match they'd just played.  They all wanted to know
if Shane would play for England as the World Cup was
now only six weeks away.

Shane gave one of his slow smiles, looked straight
into the camera and said casually "I might, but only
if Jason gets the same deal as the other lads'
partners!  I told the England Manager earlier in the
week that I'd play providing Jason could come, but he
said it was for wives only.  I now understand that
several of the other lads have said they won't go if
their girlfriends cannot...."

There was more uproar then, and someone even dared to
ask Dan about the kissing incident (which had been
repeated at this match) and Shane smiled again.  "Well
all my team mates have always known about Jason - the
first time I played for the Club, I thought I ought to
tell them. They're just showing solidarity - I don't
think any of them really want to fuck with me!"

There was a lot of laughter at that, and then "..and
they don't mind, in the showers, and everything....?"
the same hapless reporter asked.

"Anyone who's ever played sport or used a public
changing room knows that all blokes look at each
other, don't they?  It's only natural - all men like
to compare their cocks with the opposition!  So of
course I look at them, just as they look at me - do
you think I'm some sort of pervert, or something, not
doing what other men all do?"

Even more laughter this time, and a reporter called
out "And what about the future, Shane?"

"After the World Cup, Jason and I are getting married.
 I want to do it now, but Jason thinks we owe everyone
a huge party!"

"You never asked me....", Jason butted in.

"Well I'm asking you now, idiot!  You and me -
together for ever, straight after the final, OK?"

Jason nodded, and the two men threw their arms around
each other, and began feverishly and perfectly
unashamedly to deep kiss.

End Of Part Twenty Five