Date: Sun, 14 May 2006 22:16:21 +0100 (BST)
From: Mike Arram <mikearram@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in Finkle Road - 15

  All the Michael Arram stories are gathered together now on
www.iomfats.org, if you would like to investigate further the characters
featured here.
  The story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence, please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.

XV

David prodded Henry awake, got out of his beloved mini and stretched.
`Hey, Henry, get your bags out the back.  We're here.  It's Finkle Road,
and Gavin's bobbing up and down on the spot with anxiety to hug you.'
  David had driven Henry down from London that Monday, after spending the
time following the New Year's Party with Terry in Hawaii.  David was
looking fit and tanned, while Henry had the pallor of the office worker
about him.
  Henry yawned.  Gavin helped him drag his bags out of the boot and off the
back seat.  He was back and the excitement in Gavin's eyes made him glad he
was.  Eddie had not returned yet, so the two boys made the most of their
opportunities to couple where they normally could not.
  After dozing away the afternoon, Gavin got up and showered, pulling Henry
after him.  `It's our first shift at six, Henry.  Nice Mr Hutchinson will
be so glad to see us.'
  `Nice Mr Hutchinson!'
  Henry looked around the King's Cross when they got inside the door.  It
appeared to be unchanged.  The same somnolent regulars were still clumped
round the public bar, and Frank still glowered at them as he washed up
glasses behind the counter.  Then Henry noticed the gaming machines were
gone.  So the reign of Terry O'Brien had indeed begun.
  `You're here then, you two.  I'd almost given up on you.'
  `Happy New Year to you too, Frank,' said Henry cheerily.
  `That's to be seen,' was the sour reply.  Pointing at Gavin he said, `You
need to be on that infernal machine.'
  Gavin smiled, and said to Henry, `He means the computer.  He's got me
organising the new web pages.  Terry's putting them up on his office
server.  I'm doing the design.'
  `I hope he's paying you,' Henry grumbled.  Gavin disappeared happily
upstairs to the pub office.
  The pub was as dead that evening as it could be on a January Monday, but
it livened up around nine-thirty when a mixed party came in, men and women
on the way to a club, probably.  The clientele of the King's was clearly
changing, and the regulars were not too happy about it.  Young gays were
one thing, but women were quite another.  The party sat in the lounge bar,
and Henry soon began to have his suspicions about the women in the group.
As his mother would have said, they were a bit free and easy.  While maybe
not prostitutes, they certainly had more on their minds than just a quiet
drink.  But he served them with his confident smile, even when one of them
began to come on to him.
  `Sorry,' he grinned, `I'm gay ... this is the King's Cross, y'know.'
  The slight dark woman was very pretty, if a little ... he sought for a
word: hard-edged came to mind.  She leaned close, and he got a whiff of
what he imagined was quite expensive perfume.  `I find that men are men,
and given the right incentive, even a nice little gay boy will come
running.'
  Henry looked at her with astonishment.  This was a genuine and aggressive
come-on from a woman.  He was for once too taken aback to say a thing.  She
noticed and gave a low, throaty chuckle.  `What's your name, little gay
boy?'
  `It's Henry.'
  `Lovely name, so old fashioned.  I'll be seeing you again ... Henry.  I'm
Tina.'
  He served her the rum and coke she wanted.  She caught at his hand as he
gave over the change, stroking it while she looked into his eyes in a very
sultry way.  When she took her hand away, she left a fiver in his.
Although a very handsome tip, it was not the sort Henry wanted to earn.
  The party left before closing time, Tina hanging on the arm of a big,
wide man who was well on the way to alcoholic stupor.  Henry rather hoped
none of them would be in again.

The rest of the week was taken up with exam revision and assessment, so
Henry only worked a Thursday night.  Gavin was in most afternoons,
beavering away on his web pages, setting up links and investigating
advertisements on gay sites.  Even Frank had nothing to complain about,
because Gavin wasn't being paid for it.
  Eddie turned up in midweek, with the text of an essay to submit for
Paulie's module.  He had also signed up for Paulie's second semester module
on Postmodernism.
  `Do you have any idea what Postmodernism is all about, Eddie?'
  `Nope.  But I'll bet Paulie'll make it interesting.'
  Henry smiled.  `You're probably right.  That's the best way to choose
courses.  Did you have a good holiday?'
  `It was OK.  Great to see my sis -- she's a babe, ain't she?  Did you
notice that Prince Fritzy fell for her big time -- and she wasn't
interested!  Still, it's good to be back.  I miss the guys.  What did you
think of Andy's new place?'
  `It was really something.  He's got a butler!'
  `Nah, it was just for the holiday.  He was from an agency.  Normally Andy
relies on a housekeeper, who just happens to be Mrs Atkinson's
sister-in-law, would you believe.  She was responsible for the food, which
was totally ace.'
  `How did it go with your father?'
  `Dad seemed unusually happy with me for some reason ... maybe my being an
A student at last has smacked him in the head.  Harry was after him at some
point, and so was Momma Sylvia.  So I got a smile with the handshake, and
he promised me a car.'
  `A car?'
  `Oh yeah.  Andy's going to take care of getting it for me.  I'm signing
up for lessons to teach me how to drive on the wrong side of the road like
you guys do over here.  Hey ... maybe Davey'll give me some practice in his
mini.'
  `You can only ask.'
  As Henry put the last of his essays to bed on Saturday morning, with
Gavin still asleep upstairs, the postman rang the doorbell with a package
to be signed for.  Henry opened the padded bag and found old Mr
Wardrinski's notebook inside, together with a long letter from Dr Mac in
Trewern.
  Henry spread it all out on the lounge table.  The personal part of the
letter read as follows:
  `My dear Henry, I am returning the notebook of Stanislaw Wardrinski under
this cover.  The cipher in which it was written was a fairly standard
transposition code, with the key text the prologue of St Fenice's
Meditation, would you believe!  I am including that and my transcript of
the first ten pages.  It was an interesting challenge and I enjoyed the
mental exercise.  It reassured me that there is life in the old brain yet.
If you wish to go on and do the rest, watch out for the process marks he
places in the text where he has shifted the key.  It makes things a lot
easier.  From what I can see, the document is more than just his memoranda
on Rothenian right-wing politics in the 1930s and the progress -- or not --
of the KRB.  You may have more luck with the mystical passages than I did.
Your very dear friend, Neville Mackenna.'
  Henry looked at the size of the notebook and was daunted.  But when he
read Dr Mac's transcripts, he knew the job was one he was going to have to
do, not so much for Marlowe Productions as for that much more powerful
force, his own curiosity.  Dr Mac had read through the whole book and
decoded the folio headings with the aid of the process marks.  Some were
seriously intriguing: `Constitution of the Priory of St Veronica'; `The One
Hundred and Forty-Four Names of MENDAMERO'; `The Sacred Lineage of Ruric'.
The rest would have been interesting for a historian of the inter-war years
in Central Europe, but Henry decided to let them pass.  He began work
immediately on the mysterious priory of St Veronica, and was still
laboriously decoding when Gavin wandered into the lounge yawning, two hours
later.

`Now there's a bloody odd thing,' said Henry to Gavin, in a quiet moment at
the bar of the King's.
  `You mean Wayne with that girl?'
  `That's exactly what I mean.  I didn't realise he was bi.'
  Wayne Clanchy had taken a table with the woman Tina early on that
Saturday evening.  It seemed pretty obvious to Henry and Gavin that he was
sexually very interested in her.  He was buying the drinks, which for
someone as tight-fisted as Wayne was quite a declaration of intent.
  `She seems to be around here a lot, lately,' Gavin said.  `I think she's
quite cute.  She was very nice to me, and tipped me a fiver.'
  `When was that?'
  `On the Tuesday shift when you were at Gaysoc.  She came over and stared
at the "Achilles and Patroclus" poster, and asked me if the other boy who
served at the bar was the model for Patroclus.  So I said you were, and she
said some really nice things about you, how kind and helpful you were, and
how really good-looking.  So I just had to agree and tell her just how nice
you truly are, my Henry, and how you've made my shit life into heaven on
earth ...'
  `You didn't say that!'
  Gavin looked a little hurt.  `No ... not exactly those words, but I did
say you were the most wonderful boyfriend anyone could dream of.  Anyway, I
told her all about the poster and how you came to meet Bolslaw Meric in
Strelzen, and how you were a friend of the king of Rothenia and the
Peachers.'
  `What did she say?'
  `She looked really amazed, and asked me a bit more about how that had
happened, but a crowd came in and I had to get on with stuff.'
  Just then, as Henry was struggling to come to grips with a feeling of
unease that had descended on him, Eddie and the Surfing Soc arrived in the
pub from their training session in the City Pool.
  `Henry dude!' Eddie bellowed.  `The usual, and whatever the guys want!'
  The society was in a very good mood.  Eddie had announced the Malibu trip
was on, and they spent the next hour debating fund-raising events round the
table they had occupied next to Wayne and Tina.  Tina, Henry noticed, was
very interested in the crowd of muscular and cheery young hunks of
testosterone who had arrived in pheromone range of her.
  And Wayne, he also noticed, was annoyed that he had lost her attention.
Being Wayne, he could not let it rest, and the remarks he began making
about her proclivities drifted even over to the bar counter.  Tina was
unmoved and said some things to Wayne in a low voice that made him flush
bright red.  He leapt to his feet.  `Bitch!' he shouted and slapped the
woman so hard her head snapped back.
  There was a sudden silence in the bar.  Eddie, sitting at that end of the
table, saw what had happened and stood.  He took deliberate aim and hit
Wayne so hard in the face that Wayne crashed right over a table into a
group of denim-clad friends of Frank's.  `That's for you, Fuckweasel!' he
yelled.  `Now come back here, motherfucker, so I can give you some more
education!'
  `No!  No more!' the woman cried out, her hand to her face.
  The men who had cushioned Wayne's fall picked him up, took him to the
door and threw him into the lane outside.  Henry ran out after them.  Gavin
had raced upstairs to get Frank.
  Henry knelt down on the pavement.  Wayne was moaning, and had a red mark
on his cheek where Eddie's fist had connected.  He was coming round,
mumbling `fuckin' bitch, fuckin' tranny bitch.'  He began struggling to his
feet, and Henry helped him up.  He stood on his feet weaving slightly.
  `I'll get you a taxi,' said Henry.
  `Fuck off,' snarled Wayne.
  `OK,' sighed Henry, and left him.  After all, he reflected, the Good
Samaritan had at least a grateful recipient of his kindness.  I'll bet he
would have thought twice about putting the mugged Jewish traveller on his
donkey if he'd been told to fuck off.
  When Henry got inside again, the lounge bar was still in a turmoil.
Eddie was sitting on a plush bench holding up the girl, who was sobbing
into his shoulder, her face hidden by her long dark hair.  The Surfing Soc
were standing round uncertainly, while Frank was talking earnestly to his
mates, and casting ferocious glances over at the group.
  Henry started picking up scattered glasses and ashtrays.  Gavin had got
the dustbuster and was clearing up spilled ash and trodden crisps.  By the
time everything was tidy, Henry noticed that Frank was leaning over Tina,
talking earnestly to her as she burrowed into Eddie's muscular protection.
She answered in low tones.  Then she murmured something to Eddie, who
helped her up and took her out, carrying her handbag.
  Frank came back to the bar as Henry and Gavin began restoring normal
service.  He looked oddly pensive and even sad, which was not by any means
a usual expression on his face.
  In the end, Henry asked him, `Do you know that Tina, Frank?'
  Frank looked over at Henry, and instead of snapping at him, as he
normally would have done, grunted an assent.  And then Henry remembered
what Gavin had said about Frank over Christmas.  `Ah!  His name's not Tina,
is it?'
  `No,' Frank grunted, `it's Anthony Morris, and he's the most convincing
transvestite in Swindon.  He comes round here from time to time when he's
been thrown out of all the Swindon gay pubs and clubs.  Terry O'Brien and
him had quite a thing going when Terry worked here.  In the end, I had to
fire Terry, and he went off to Swindon with Anthony.  But it didn't last.
Terry calls him "Anthony the Acid" for a good reason.  He can give me a run
for my money when the mood's on him.  It's one reason why I respect the boy
and let him stay here when things get too hot for him.'
  Wow, thought Henry, working the King's is a real education.  Somehow,
Anthony/Tina had touched the heart of Heartless Frank.
  They didn't see Eddie again, and Henry and Gavin got home round midnight.

Henry woke early on Sunday and went down to the kitchen.  As he was poring
over the Wardrinski notebook, a soft footstep made him look up.  He was
astounded.  It was Tina, dressed in nothing but an old shirt of Eddie's.
Oh Jesus, no, Henry thought, please let this not be happening.
  Tina smiled quite nicely at Henry.  He was certainly pretty.  His legs
were slim, tanned and hairless, his feet small and perfect, and his
toenails painted.  Henry had sexual double vision.  Seeing Tina as a girl,
he could not be roused by her, but let his imagination once comprehend that
this was in fact a boy, not a girl, and his erection nearly split the
briefs which were all he was wearing.
  Tina sat down and asked for a coffee.  Henry obliged.  Tina looked at
Henry through the curling steam.
  `Er, how are things, Anthony?' asked Henry.
  Tina/Anthony laughed.  Henry could now hear the male resonances in the
voice.  Anthony shifted and crossed his legs, and Henry was given a
deliberate view of his genitalia.  He was a man all right, and better hung
than Henry.  He also took off his wig and placed it on the table.  This was
quite some good-looking boy.
  `Do I need to ask where you slept last night.'
  Anthony chuckled.  `Oh I found someone to keep me warm.  What a hunk.
He's not too particular who he screws either, is he?
  `You mean ... he didn't notice you were a guy?'
  `I keep my equipment out of the way unless I need it.  No, he didn't
notice, he was in far too much of a hurry to do anal ... an ambition of his
apparently.  So he wasn't looking, was he? Now for you, Henry, it'd be
different, but a girl needs to be appreciated as a girl sometimes.'
  `For God's sake, Tina, don't ever tell anyone what happened, particularly
Eddie!  There's just time for you to get away now.'
  `Why?  I usually find that the straight boys quite enjoy the experience
of fucking a male arse.  You'd be surprised.'
  `I have no doubt I'd be stunned, but I do not think Eddie is that sort of
boy.'
  `What sort of boy?' came Eddie's voice from the door, and then he
bellowed, `JESUS FUCK!!'
  `Morning, lover,' said Anthony, clearly enjoying the moment.
  `You're a fucking guy!!'
  `Not just that, but a guy you fucked.  It was my thank-you for your help
with that shit Wayne.'
  `But you're a fucking dude!'
  `Didn't seem to bother you last night, Eddie baby.'
  `But I don't do it with dudes.  That's my brothers, it's not me.  I'm a
straight.'  Eddie fell into a kitchen chair, genuine horror on his face.
  Henry was appalled.  Whatever the comic circumstances, this was no joke.
It was no joke on several levels, but the personal one was what concerned
Henry at the moment.  For all that Eddie was comfortable around gays, and
had two out-and-out gay brothers, he had defined himself by not being one.
Now he had blundered across the line.  He had taken a man up the arse.  He
had done the defining queer sex act.
  `Eddie ... I...' he began, but he was cut off dead by the cruel voice of
Anthony, feigning disappointment.
  `So that's it, is it Eddie?  Wham, bam, thank you ma'am?  The one-night
...'
  He stopped, choking.  Eddie had him by the throat, lifting him out of his
seat, struggling to throttle the life out of him.  Anthony's eyes were
bulging.  Henry grabbed Eddie's brawny arm and began unlocking the fingers
from Anthony's throat, appalled at the look of animal fury on Eddie's face.
Eddie was growling out staccato words from between his gritted teeth.
`You're ... dead ... you ... fucker.'
  With a heave, Henry managed to separate them.  Anthony went down on the
floor, his chest heaving.  Eddie collapsed once again on a kitchen chair,
putting his head in his hands.  Henry grabbed Anthony and pulled him to his
feet, pushing him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Eddie's tumbled
bedroom, before finally throwing his clothes at him.  `Get dressed and get
out.'
  Anthony was recovering as he dressed, and he looked mean.  `Young Mr
Billionaire hasn't heard the last of me, little Henry.  Oh no.  You don't
think I can be treated like this.  I was doing the boy a favour, and this
is how I get paid back.  Well, I can find other ways to take my pay.  How
does that sound?  Pay me £50,000 and it doesn't get to the papers that
Edward Peacher screws tranny rent boys.  Don't pay me and I have no doubt I
can make even more money with the story from other sources.'
  Henry threw Anthony's wig at him.  The transvestite caught it and stalked
out, slamming the front door.
  Henry's mind was reeling, but his first responsibility was to Eddie.  He
raced back down to the kitchen, where Eddie was still sitting with his head
in his hands.  Henry went up to him and did the Henry thing of taking Eddie
round the shoulder and hugging him, but the Henry thing was quite the wrong
thing in the circumstances.  He was shaken off roughly with the hissed
words, `Don't touch me, faggot.'
  Henry's heart lurched, but he strangled the feeling of rejection from a
friend he loved.  `We've got to talk, Eddie.'
  `What's to talk about ... seems I got the gay gene too.'
  `Eddie, you were tricked by a con artist.  It wasn't your fault.  Christ,
he fooled me too, and I'm gay!'
  `I've fucked a man.  What if the guys find out?'
  `But you wouldn't have done it, would you, if you'd known?'
  `No ... I guess not.  But Christ, Henry ...' Eddie's eyes were full of
tears.  `He ... she was so hot, he moved on my cock so fucking good.  It was
the best fuck I've ever had.  That's the horror of it.  I loved it while I
was doing it.  What does it say about me?'
  Henry couldn't help himself.  `It says your dick has been running your
life, Eddie, not your head.  And now it's time to take a reality check.'
  Eddie stood up.  `I gotta get outta here.'  He grabbed his jacket from
the banister and ran from the house.
  Henry sat stunned for a moment, then shook his head.  It was not a time
to go catatonic.  He reached for a card he had secreted in the back of a
kitchen drawer.  He rang a number, waited, and said, `Terry, it's
happened.'