Date: Mon, 17 Nov 2003 16:37:54 -0800 (PST)
From: B J Courtney <jc23a@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: And still in love - Part 1 (relationships, beginnings)

AND STILL IN LOVE

Is this what solicitors really do?

James Andrews was a very lucky young man. Life had
been good to him so far. His father was Sir Mark
Andrews who had been undersecretary at Her Majesty's
Treasury. Sir Mark had chosen to retire early and ran
a highly successful lobbying firm at Westminster.
Mark's mother Marjorie was the youngest daughter of a
large landowner in Cambridgeshire. She had never
worked outside the home and lived comfortably off her
stock portfolio; all told they were a pretty damn rich
family!

Sir Mark doted on his sole offspring and James' recent
graduation from Cambridge with a first class Bachelors
of Common Law was his favourite boast. James had
applied to the law society to train as a solicitor and
had been accepted by Roberts & Grimes, a medium sized
solicitor's practice, as an apprentice. Sir Mark would
have preferred if his son had applied to Gray's Inns
and trained as a barrister but James was not keen on
that career path. Sir Mark relished the idea of his
son becoming a bright light at the Bar and imagined
him becoming Sir James Andrews QC or Lord Justice
Andrews some day but James was shy of that idea. This
was not the first time that Sir Mark had not got his
way in deciding his son's life path. At a younger age
it had been his wish that his son would attend a
public school but his wife had insisted that the lad
stay at home with them and James was the product of a
grammar school education. He had also hoped for Oxford
as a choice of university but his wife's family lived
in Cambridge and so James had been sent to reside with
them for the duration of his studies. James too would
have preferred Oxford. Ever since he was sixteen he
suspected that he might have had homosexual tendencies
and he longed for the freedom of university when he
might get a chance to explore the possibilities. Under
the watchful eye of his aunt Agnes in Cambridge he
lived a life of almost monastic celibacy with his
every move monitored by his watchful self-appointed
jailer. At another level this suited him because his
lack of social outlet gave him plenty of opportunity
to study. His examination success was not the result
of a sharp mind but rather the reward for four years
of hiding in law texts to avoid his draconian maiden
aunt!

Back now with his parents in Hertfordshire his ideas
of exploring his sexuality had long been shelved. At
twenty-one years of age he had neither kissed nor held
hands with another human being and had even become
accustomed to the lifestyle. His nocturnal retreat to
his room and the solace of his hand had carried him
thus far and as far as James was concerned it would
carry him further. You see, during his studies at
Cambridge he had decided that his parents would be
disappointed in him if they ever discovered his
sexuality. The long winter evenings in his aunt's home
had lulled him into a sense that he could devote his
life to his career and avoid the question that would
so upset and disappoint his parents.

In September 1997 the young trainee solicitor entered
the office of Roberts & Grimes as a junior. He liked
the work and got along well with his co-workers but
the daily train journey back home to Hertfordshire and
the early morning starts quickly took their toll. For
the first three weeks he had studied on the train but
gradually the exhaustion took over and he found it
difficult to concentrate on his books. His mother,
ever perceptive to the plight of her son, noticed this
and suggested to Sir Mark that it might be better to
find some weekday lodgings for James in London. Sir
Mark agreed and in mid October James moved into a
houseshare with three others in Baron's Court. The new
living arrangement would have easily afforded the
trainee a chance to hit on some of the Gay Bars in the
West End but the lad stoically set about his studies
and continued in his resolve to live an asexual life.
Every weekend he returned to his parents and after
returning from work on weeknights he studied until it
was time to sleep. Soon his life had become a tedious
routine of work, study sleep but he never really
noticed how routine his life had become.

His knowledge of the law impressed his employers and
soon James found that most of his superiors at the
firm landed equal amounts of praise and new portfolios
on his desk. One of the drawbacks of being good at a
job is that you'll get plenty of praise that is only
intended as a consolation for the fact that your
bosses are using you. James naively accepted the
praise as a sign that he was doing well. In the United
States he would probably have been given a better job
title in a similar situation but in the United Kingdom
all he had was the title of 'trainee' and the copious
praise of his colleagues to drive him on.

The junior partner at the practice, Mr. Simon Grimes,
noted the young trainee's workload and remarked to the
other partners that the lad was in danger of burnout.

"What school did he go to?" asked Grimes' partner
George Roberts.

"I think he's a product of the grammar schools" Grimes
replied.

"Oh don't be too concerned for the lad!" Roberts
laughed, "These grammar school boys are hardy and
he'll survive!"

"His father is Sir Mark Andrews," Grimes remarked.

"A spent force! The man should have stayed at the
Treasury! Relax Simon, the boy will be fine!"

But James was not doing fine at all! The work was
beginning to weigh him down and he was spending longer
hours at his desk obediently clearing his workload. By
the time he got back to Baron's Court he would eat a
quick Marks & Spencer's microwave dinner and then sit
at his books until the small hours. He became gaunt
and lost weight. Mind you James hadn't that much
weight to lose in the first place! At 5'10" he weighed
a healthy ten stone (140) when he arrived at the
office but by November he was below nine. He was too
tired to go home for Guy Fawke's weekend and was
beginning to look ashen-faced but everybody in the
office told him how great he was and he soldiered on
slowly driving himself into the ground.

On that November weekend when he didn't travel home he
realised for the first time that he was quite lonely
in London. His housemates invited him to go for a
drink on the Saturday and he agreed to go, but as he
got ready he began to have second thoughts and
desperately sought a way to avoid going out. He
couldn't concoct a decent excuse; he thought he might
simply tell them that he was exhausted and hope that
they'd be happy to leave it to another night. But
James didn't know them very well. He had lived with
these people for five weeks and he knew nothing about
them other than their names.

At nine o'clock he found himself standing in the
middle of a pub chatting quite easily with his three
companions. Mike was from New Zealand and was in
England on a two-year visa. He was a rugby fanatic and
worked with a networking firm in the City. Mike was a
very rugged handsome type. He stood over six feet and
although he showered regularly he was scruffy. He
sported two days of stubble even after he had just
shaved and his hair was thick and unkempt. James
realised that this man from the South Island was
rather handsome in his own way, he had never looked at
him before that evening and something stirred within
him as he thought to himself; "I wouldn't mind waking
up beside him some day!" Cindy was a Scot and apart
from having a fiery temperament she worked for a small
firm near Marble Arch as a recruitment consultant.
James was amazed that the girl would have worked in
this capacity. Around the house she was the bossy one
who never said please at the end of any of her many
instructions to the others. James wondered whether it
was Cindy's accent or her general attitude that made
her sound so fearsome, even in the pub she seemed to
be in control of the conversation. She wasn't
beautiful but she was a very sexy girl (not that that
interested James). She had shoulder length hair that
was somewhere between brown and red and amazing green
eyes. She also had a figure that would rival the best
of them and looked great in a pair of jeans. As the
conversation progressed James discovered that she had
been Mike's girlfriend for about six months. They were
no longer an item but now that he had the information
James could see the cold tolerance that they had
developed for surviving each other's company. Barry,
the third housemate, was a quiet Irish accountant
working in private banking. He was by far the quietest
of the three housemates but James presumed that this
was because he was somewhat older. In fact at
thirty-five he was ten years older than Cindy who was
the next eldest. He was a gifted musician and often
played in pubs and clubs, he wasn't fat but he was
heavy set and balding. He cut his hair very short and
had a small goatee beard which he trimmed almost as
short as the hair around his crown. In any given
situation he wasn't much to look at but when he smiled
he had the most perfect set of teeth and his eyes
sparkled with a joy that made their blueness
captivating.

Now if you've ever been to a London pub you will know
that they will gladly serve you a drink just before
they close and then send their staff around and herd
you out of the place ten minutes later. Often they
will give you a plastic beaker to take your beer with
you but all told it is one reason why drinking in
London is unpleasant at closing time. Barry was
infuriated because back in Dublin you drink until
either you're finished or the Irish police raid the
place. He explained to James that a raid amounted to a
Guard walking through the pub and everybody got up and
walked away quietly. James laughed at this idea.

"On the telly when you see the police in Ireland they
always look deadly!" James said, "You see them lined
up and riot shields and people throwing stones and
petrol bombs and..."

"That's Belfast and it's in ..."

"... the United Kingdom!" Cindy cut in, "it's all so
different in Dublin which is nothing like Belfast
because Dublin is nice and great, give it a break Baz
we've fucking heard it all before!"

Barry didn't reply, he simply shrugged his shoulders,
hitched his trousers and said "I suppose you lot are
off clubbing? I'll get the last Tube home!"

"Off course we're going clubbing, c'mon James let's
get fucking locked!"

James looked at Cindy and a sense of panic crossed his
mind and his stomach.

"Fuck me!" he said, "I've had one shit of a week and
I'd fall asleep on my feet if I don't get to a bed
soon!"

"You could be in one in two hours!" Cindy laughed,
"Just it wouldn't be your own fucking bed! Come on!"

"If it's all the same with you guys I'll just go home
I'm whacked!"

Just as Cindy was about to open her mouth again Mike
reached out and tugged at her sleeve, "Come on ya big
Scottish tramp the little bugger is tired, leave him
alone!" and she skipped off beside him.

James stood agape watching as Cindy staggered along
beside her seemingly sober antipodean ex-boyfriend. He
couldn't believe the words they had just used. He had
used the F word and Mike had called him a bugger, he
wondered did Mike suspect that he was homosexual? Just
then he heard Barry call him back to his senses.

"Oi Jim Boy! The Tube may be great but they don't
fucking get off the tracks and collect ya from the
pub! Shift yer arse or we'll miss the last one!"

James scooted along beside Barry and they walked
briskly to the station. The rapid pace seemed to have
an instant effect on him as the cold November air
revived him. By the time they reached the platform he
was wide-awake and chatted to Barry the whole way
home. They talked about where they were from, their
families and life at college. Barry had spent some
time in Germany and the United States because work was
impossible to find in Ireland in the 80s so he had
quite a few anecdotal tales to amuse the young
solicitor. James was a bit envious that he had no
experiences to speak of. His sheltered life had been
comfortable, but as Barry told him stories of twenty
Irish lads living in a basement room in Boston and
avoiding the immigration officials, or the stories
about roughing it around German building sites James
just wished that he was a bit older and had some
stories to add. He began to feel a bit empty, in
twenty-one years of life he had no stories to tell.
Realising this made him feel bad about himself. He
might be the most praised trainee at Roberts & Grimes
but he had nothing in his life history worth bringing
up in company!

They got back to the house and Barry boiled a kettle
and started to toast some bread.

"Want a cuppa?" he roared.

James had thought that he might go straight to bed but
joined Barry in front of the television eating toast
and drinking tea. He was very quiet and was thankful
that there was an episode of The Bill on the box. As
Barry watched the programme James looked over at him
and a thought crossed his mind. In the pub he had
thought that he would like to wake up beside Mike, now
the idea of waking up beside Barry seemed a more
attractive option. As he thought he felt a stirring in
his loins and he quickly checked himself. He gulped
his tea, excused himself and went upstairs to his
room.

As James lay in bed he found he couldn't sleep. He
reached into his pyjamas and started to squeeze his
dick. He thought about Mike first but that didn't do
anything for him. The fear that Mike knew he was a
bugger scared him. He tried to sleep but he couldn't.
He thought about Barry and found he was getting hard.
Then he thought that Barry was too old for him and he
deflated quickly. He turned over but couldn't sleep.
The pillow was too warm, the room was too warm, he got
up and he opened a window and let the cold winter air
enter the room. Then he went back to bed and tried to
sleep. He wanted to wank but he couldn't and somewhere
around three in the morning he dozed off Mike and
Cindy weren't home yet!


Comments welcome to jc23a@yahoo.co.uk - not fishing
for complimets but I like to learn from feedback.